#inspired by the fact that i am finally sitting down to watch the new season of black mirror

[menlove]

you are a dyke in the early/mid 2010s. that one episode of black mirror (san junipero), carmilla, the 100, orphan black, and unfortunately orange is the new black is all you have. there are so many white people. you are writing genderbends of popular male ships to make yourself feel something. you put on but i'm a cheerleader for the 10th time that year. you are in high school and you just changed your pronouns.

[sweetprfct]

Bookshop Conversations

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: A meet-cute with Joe at a bookshop cafe was something you didn't expect. Being a lone wolf for a year now and still being haunted by your past, could you open up your door for him and give love another chance?

Author's Note: I have been staring at a blank page for more than a couple of months, almost every day. Wrote unfinished one shots and series and then scrap it up and toss it in the bin. Been going through a really dark time personally (and still is). Events of the last few days after election didn't help either. Writing is art and art always gets me through a tough time, so that's why I'm here. I haven't been updated to any news in this fandom, and I plan to stay that way. I plan on coming here and publishing and interacting through DMs and ask box about positive stuff about my fics only. This idea appeared just a couple days ago, and it started igniting back some inspiration. Am I back? The answer is: I don't know. I'm taking it slow. Let's take it slow, okay? So, here's a new short series. I've missed some of you, and I hope you enjoy this because I'm winging it with no plot notes. LMAO.

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 1.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The soft pitter patter of the rain hit the wet, glowing pavement outside. Cars passed by from time to time and people walked down the streets, holding their umbrellas above their heads. There was something about this weather that made you feel warm on the inside. Most people would feel doleful with this kind of weather, but not you. It filled you with a warm feeling that it would pool in your stomach, almost bursting and invading your veins. 

It felt peaceful. 

This cute bookshop cafe that stood on the corner of your street was the only place that made you feel safe lately. Autumn season was starting, and the trees were turning into their orange and yellow hues, surrounding the city of London. The string of light bulbs that hung around the bookshop cafe and the dark wooden shelves made the place feel cozy. It was almost like you were stepping into another world when you entered this place. 

Claire De Lune was playing in a low volume around the shop as you picked up your cappuccino and took a sip. You have been sitting at the small table beside the window for about an hour now. Your head had been stuck in your book, your focus totally disappearing from the world around you as you indulged in a different universe. 

Moving to London was something you had been thinking about for several years now and, knowing the fact that you finally made it, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. The troubles you left behind in California seemed so far away now, even if it still lived in the back of your mind. There were certain things that you still thought about, still feel the pain from the experiences, but you pushed it away. Something you seemed to be an expert on lately. 

This place has been a peaceful solitude for you. It was quiet enough for you to enjoy the peace whilst reading your book, but also enough crowds for you to not be able to drown in your own deep thoughts, unlike when you were all alone in your flat. 

“New book?” 

You had paused from your reading and had been watching the raindrops roll down the glass window, letting your brain play the game of which raindrop was going to roll down first. Turning your attention away from the window, you looked up to see Sara, the owner of the bookshop cafe. Her light brunette hair was in a ponytail today, hazel eyes twinkling in curiosity. She was wearing her usual apron, while carrying a coffeepot in her hand. 

“Um… yeah. Just got it the other day.” You smiled softly. 

As much as you and Sara had a lot in common and actually had pretty good, interesting conversations, you couldn’t help but distance yourself from her. She was always kind, and her eyes always twinkled with sincerity. It wasn’t like she was the problem. It was you. You had closed yourself off too much from other people, especially strangers. As much as you would love to be friends, there was a part of you that kept hesitating. 

Sara tilted her head and squinted her eyes towards the title of the book you were holding. 

“Oh, Little Women.” She smiled. “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah.” You gazed down at the book cover before looking back up at her. “I have never read the book. Thought I should finally do it this time.”

Sara nodded her head in agreement. Just right before she could say something else, Sara's attention turned to the front door when it opened. 

Both of your eyes caught a man with curly brown hair walking in. He was wearing a navy trench coat and carrying an umbrella. The cold breeze trailed behind him, blowing it through your hair. Sara immediately walked up towards him with a smile. You watched as she greeted him kindly and asked if there was something she could help him with. 

You couldn’t help but reel in the sight of him the moment he gave her a soft smile. From the two months of you hanging out in this shop, you have never seen someone so alluring walking into the shop before. Your eyes were glued to him, and you couldn’t seem to peel them away. 

“Thank you.” He murmured to Sara before disappearing between the tall bookshelves. 

Looking away, you cleared your throat and felt your cheeks ignite as you tried to focus your attention back on your book. You picked up your cappuccino and took another sip when you caught sight of him again when he passed by in front of you. You looked at him through your lashes until you realized how ridiculous you must look in front of him. 

His chocolate button eyes immediately caught yours, making you glance away from him instantly. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato at this point as you set your cup down on the table and focused on the book you were reading. There were a million thoughts running through your mind, cursing yourself for being so weird. He must have thought you were strange for staring at him since the moment he entered the shop. 

From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was smirking slightly as he looked through the books in front of him. Your eyes studied the shop and there were only a couple of people hanging around, looking through the books or sipping coffee and reading their books. You couldn't help but curse at yourself mentally again for bringing so much attention to yourself in front of him. 

You hated the attention, and you certainly didn’t need a stranger’s attention when all you wanted was to enjoy your book and mind your own business. 

“That’s a classic.” He interrupted your thoughts.

You just now realized that you have been reading the same line in the book repeatedly because your mind was distracted by him. When you slowly gazed up at him, you saw a kind, soft smile tugging on his lips, and you swore you felt your knees went slightly weak. 

“So, I’ve heard.” You replied, giving him a slight smile back. 

There was no going back now. 

Now that he was standing near to you, you could see the freckles on his face and his long lashes fluttering softly. A strand of curl fell perfectly on his forehead and little drops of water from the rain covered his trench coat.

Your eyes fell on the book he was holding before biting your lower lip. You have read that book because Sara had recommended it to you before, and you knew what was the text behind it. It sure made you glad that he wasn’t afraid to read things like that. The man glanced down at the book he was holding before snickering.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, biting down your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling. It wasn’t like the book was all… sex. It was about finding yourself and knowing what you want. Although, knowing the people you had before in your life, they certainly judged you for reading something like that. So, you couldn’t help but have that glued to your brain that maybe those kinds of books weren’t really everyone’s cup of tea. 

“Nothing wrong with a little… erotica.” You murmured before he chuckled softly. 

“I think it’s sexy.” He gave you a small smirk, studying the cover page of the book. “I’m assuming you read it before?”

“Um… maybe.” You gave him a playful smile.

He hummed approvingly, “So, tell me… Is it really just about… sex?”

He squinted his eyes at you, and you could tell he was teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you marked the page that you were reading and closed the book. 

“No, it’s about the characters finding themselves and how intimacy can be in different ways other than just physical. I don’t want to spoil too much for you, though.” 

He stared at the book cover again and nodded in agreement.

“I guess I’ll just have to give back a review when I finish it.” Smiling, his eyes studied you for a moment before walking away. 

What did he mean by that? 

You stopped yourself from getting up from your seat as he made his way towards the coffee counter. It was rare for you to encounter certain people that pull your gravity towards them. The moment he entered the shop, you felt that pull already. That micro conversation that you both just had, you already felt the spark between you two. 

Letting out a small sigh, you pushed the thoughts away and told yourself that he was just a stranger. 

A stranger with a nice smile. 

For a few minutes, you went back to indulging yourself in your book, finishing your cappuccino before you heard the front door open. Feeling the breeze through your hair again, you glanced up to find him giving you a warm smile before walking out the door. 

Accepting it, you knew it was one of those rare occasions where you would meet someone interesting and lose them forever. It wasn’t like you were interested in meeting somebody these days, but sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that it would be nice too to have a small meet-cute in a bookshop.

God, you have been reading too many books lately. It was getting in your head.

“Seems like someone has taken an interest in you.” Sara smiled, placing an apple turnover on a plate for you. 

“I didn’t order this.” You shook your head, pushing the plate towards her lightly.

“Someone did for you.” Sara winked. 

You turned your head to the side, side eyeing her before Sara chuckled softly at your reaction. 

“That cute man just asked if you were a regular customer here.” Sara explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give out any details. Though he insisted on at least getting you a pastry.”

Staring at the apple turnover that was in front of you, you bit back a smile before looking out the window. He was gone, and you didn’t even get the chance to thank him. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why he did such a gesture. 

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @reoalessandra

[wanderersrest]

Wanderer's Rest Presents: An Abbreviated History of Mecha

So... I decided today that I'm going to start writing a series of posts based on the history of mecha. Not just mecha anime, but mecha as a concept in fiction. See, it should come as no surprise to anyone who reads this blog that I love mecha. I am also aware that there are a lot of misinformed takes fueled by halfwits like Gigguk that the genre is "dead," and while I am aware that mecha as a genre is not the biggest genre in 2024 as it was in the 80's or the 90's, I do know that the idea that the genre is "dead" is, like Gigguk's podcast and Gigguk himself, trash.

What I aim to do with this series is highlight the rather long history of the genre, as mecha is about as old as modern manga. This is inspired by the fact that the mecha genre is both really old and really massive. And in case you're wondering, this is inspired by Professor Otaku's complete history of mecha series. There are just a couple of differences:

Unlike Professor Otaku, I like G Gundam. That means that I'm a cool person and definitely not petty.

Also unlike Professor Otaku, I want to give the series that I mention in these posts a fair shake, even if I don't like them. I'm not going to watch every series mention here (as even watching every series I plan on listing would be insanity), but I do want people to be aware that they exist.

As hinted at above, I don't plan on covering every single series out there. The sheer amount of just mecha anime is already too much for one person to watch through.

Okay That's Cool, Wanderer. But What's a Mecha?

Good question, actually. Pop culture often defines mecha as being giant robots that are usually piloted by someone. And while that is correct, it is still a narrow definition. It cuts out a lot of influential works that don't quite fit the mold. Things like Astro Boy, Space Battleship Yamato, and Magic Knight Rayearth are series that are worth talking about when it comes to mecha even if they don't quite fit right in with the rest of the canon (and from here on out, I will be saying canon as opposed to genre due to the fact that canon can mean "a collection or list of sacred books accepted as genuine"). And to me, those series are just as worth mentioning as things like Mazinger Z, Getter Robo, and Mobile Suit Gundam. And in case you're wondering, yes, I will venture a little bit into video games and tabletop games. So sit tight Battletech fans, I'll eventually get to you.

Some Transparency Required

I do think, before I start working on this series proper, I should be transparent about things. After all, I am human. I have my own preferences and biases, and I feel it would be disingenuous of me to not disclose this before I started running through all of these shows. For transparency's sake, I will disclose the biases I know that I have. I don't know if I will cover every single one, but I will certainly try to.

My favorite mecha series are Mobile Fighter G Gundam, Patlabor, The King of Braves GaoGaiGar, Magic Knight Rayearth, and Gun x Sword among others.

My least favorite mecha series are New Mobile Report Gundam Wing (both the TV series and Endless Waltz), 86: Eighty Six (no 86 fans, your series isn't special because it's gritty. Iron-Blooded Orphans did everything you were doing but better IMO), and Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (Mostly thanks to the second season).

Due to how fans often use the series as a means of talking down Japanese-styled mecha, I may have a tendency to be a bit more dismissive towards Battletech.

I actually prefer Prince of Darkness over the original Martian Successor Nadesico. As for GaoGaiGar, I prefer the original series over GaoGaiGar FINAL. I do like regular Nadesico and GGG FINAL as well though, just not as much. This shouldn't be surprising if people remember that this is similar to my tastes relating to Patlabor.

I have not watched Gundam SEED. So if you're expecting me to dunk on it, I probably won't. Likewise, if you're expecting me to say that it's underrated... I also won't say that.

Likewise, I haven't watched a single Ryousuke Takahashi mecha series, nor have I watched either Macross or Giant Robo. I'll get to it one day though, I promise.

I love the idea that Attack on Titan and Ratatouille are mecha shows.

Due to my past of being a contrarian teenager as well as dipshits on Reddit constantly overhyping everything, I tend to be averse to the more popular shows.

I'm also more skeptical of the "Not Like the Other Girl" shows like Evangelion, Code Geass, Gurren Lagann, and 86.

There is a non-zero chance that I will sneak Gintama into this somehow.

But those should be most of my biases out of the way. I hope you'll join me on this long journey. If you're worried about my Gintama post, don't be. I'm still working on it, but I do think it's going to be a bit different from the rest of my posts.

[returntosaturn271995]

December 20th-25th: Holiday Roundup

This year is a definite improvement over last year. For one thing I'm not crying over a break-up and a lost job. Lately, things have just had a lot of potential, and thanks to a well-placed Botox needle and my commitment to sunscreen and hydration: I have aged backward (I'm sure).

Reading: Finally finished "Shrines of Gaiety" - very Peaky Blinders with a dash of Agatha Christie and at 450 pages, not a small feat. I love ambiguous endings, happy or unhappy. I will definitely read more Kate Atkinson. I'm in the middle of "You Are More than You Think You Are" (daily meditations, meant to be consumed slowly), "Sapiens" (600 pages on all of human history, casual), and was gifted two more Samantha Irby essay collections from Zach and Natalie for Christmas. In order to hit my 50 book goal next year, I've got to get 5 down in January.

Writing: Before I'm out of this year, I am transferring all the written quotes from my well-worn journal into three places. The jokes are going into my tight ten, the stories are all getting dumped into a narrative doc, maybe even a Google Drive for organization, and my daily inspirational quotes I'll crib for the next notebook. Maybe I'll even write some of them hear and rank how great of advice I think it is in hindsight/how I can improve upon it. Also I have very much enjoyed how good I've been about Journaling this year, starting in March it got really consistent and that's where the progress got better too. That's the thing about journals: they have the side effect of turning your life into a narrative (even if it's a boring one) and then you can start to find a way to root for the main character. God forbid, you could even learn to improve her behavior (except for all the dirty stuff because let's face it, that's fun).

Cooking: Ugh. This one is brutal. I'm trying to order less takeout and it's like taking a banana away from a gorilla. Except I'm the gorilla and the banana taker. My likely insane goal is to not order takeout for the rest of the year, but how about we (me and the voices in my head) allow me to order it on the 27th? One more time for the day I'm least likely to have groceries/the will to grocery shop.

But also really Erin? You can't make it 9 days without ordering food.

...

I don't know. We'll have to see.

For the family's '70s-themed Christmas party, I made Dad's green bean casserole with potato chips as breadcrumbs. This was actually an unnaturally impressive feat as our kitchen was filled with people, dishes, incorrect ingredients (used buckwheat flour in a pinch) and the burners and oven were temperamental at best.

Political Awareness: Donald Trump is just fully quoting Hitler now. Abortion rights and regulations are cruel (and bigger in texas).

Loving Relationships: Mom and I spent a day together shopping at Stanford for Dad's present (a space-themed lego set because he is a child at heart). Dad and I watched Love Actually with George (giant German shepherd, settled between us as a very unlikely lap dog). We spent Christmas Eve at Barb and Jack's who are basically the godparents I never had. Lauren and Eric came over with Rosie who is just now starting to walk and talk and IS in fact the love of my life. Ash and Zach braved a visit from their Dad and Zach, Natalie, and I shared a joint on the porch. Got a Schitt's Creek Monopoly game and Chanel Perfume from the White Elephant and Dad respectively. Lots of family love. Lots of Mess.

Saw Nathan (from the Southwest flight) in Palo Alto and we ended up driving back to SF together and making out all night. His new place is gorgeous and weird like most San Francisco apartments. There's even a little rabbit in a hutch outside.

Getting Outside: Stanford is beautiful, Half Moon Bay is gorgeous, and I love the look of the Redwood trees. My goal is to go on a hike before I leave...but I leave in 2 days so that goal may have to take a backseat to me sitting and watching old seasons of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

Dressing with Style: I rocked the '70s theme with high tops, acid-wash jeans, and a loud Apres Ski-style sweatshirt. There was also a delightfully tacky tree headband that lit up. Lauren also gave me a ton of her old clothes because the woman has a shopping addiction. Not that I'm complaining- I'm currently organizing and tallying everything. I'm going to have to ship some of this stuff separately.

Cleaning/Organization: This place is a zoo, but I've managed to keep my private space as neat as possible. Even making my bed even though the bed keeps changing because it's chaotic here. I've also managed to get mass amounts of laundry done and a set of dishes in the kitchen. Also in January, I'm going to have cleaners come in for the kitchen and bathroom (and maybe my room while they're there.) Organized spaces = organized mental states.

Yoga: My yoga has been on and off, but stretching is key. Even if it's only 10-15 minutes at a time. Even if it's only 3 minutes. My mat isn't here with me but I can groan over my hamstrings on the carpet- I assume. Haven't actually done it since I got on the plane.

Cardio: I walked barefoot on the treadmill to Christmas music for a mile and it was weirdly life-affirming. Any walk is a walk. And I also downloaded an app called TreeCard that plants a tree for every 10,000 steps you take. I'm currently at two tress because mama loves a walk. Also got reunited with my running shoes I left here last month and plan to purchase another pair in the new year.

Meditation: Kept up with it 5/7 days this week which isn't as amazing as I have been doing, but it's always a great reminder to drop vertically in the moment instead of constantly reaching for a distraction as a form of release. Meditation is healing and important. It stretches time.

Comedy: While I haven't really written any new stuff, I've definitely enjoyed watching a ton of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and general funny shit. I need to find a different angle in to incorporating it in to my routine.

Sleep/Hydration: I'm actually so impressed with how my sleep sorted itself out naturally with the new job/and how much tea throughout the day helps me feel physically and emotionally lighter.

Job: Looks like I'm getting a raise mothahfuckahs!

Good shit is coming. I am so so so so lucky.

[bwbatta]

The five times James Potter asked you to marry him

(and the one time he meant it)

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Sexual content, swearing

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I saw this done with Fred somewhere but can’t remember who it was that wrote it, so thought I’d do the same with our boy James. There is also a lil bit of smutty goodness within this so please don’t read if this offends you or if you are underage! 

One

The first time James Potter asked you to marry him was when he first met you. 

Quidditch season had begun and Gryffindor vs Slytherin was the first game, enticing everyone to the stands to watch the two rival teams battle it out. James was aware of the new team members he was playing against, but blissfully unaware of how one of them was you. 

Their Gryffindor keeper had just saved a goal from your teammate, throwing the quaffle to James, only for it to be stolen from his grasp before he could blink. 

“What the-”

His eyes caught sight of your green quidditch robes as you zipped away, throwing the quaffle for another goal and succeeding as it soared through. The Slytherin stands erupted into cheers, but James could barely focus on it as he was too focused on you. 

Shaking it off, James pushed himself to focus on the game again, more determined to score, yet when you somehow stole the quaffle away from him another time, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Had Slytherin finally recruited a decent quidditch player?!

The sarcastic thought barely slipped through his mind before the quaffle vanished from his hands a third time. 

“Prongs!” Sirius flew up beside him, pointing his beater’s bat towards him in an accusing way, “stop giving her the bloody quaffle!”

James just rolled his eyes before flying off towards you with the intent to nick it back. 

Whilst you easily avoided a bludger that Sirius had hit towards you, James quickly pinched back the quaffle in the split second you were distracted. With a cheeky grin in your direction, he winked and flew towards the Slytherin goals. 

After that, it became more of a game between the two of you rather than the actual match. Stealing the quaffle back and forth had you both snickering at the other when they lost it. 

With the commentator suddenly breaking the information that the two seekers were in a battle to catch the snitch, James’ attention shifted for just a moment to watch, which was just long enough for you to steal the quaffle away once more, just as the game ended.

Noticing the quaffle no longer in his grip, his attention shot to you where you held up the ball with a grin, winking back at him. 

Despite the two of you messing around with each other the whole game, neither of you had said a word to the other. Breaking the silence between the two of you, James couldn’t help but laugh, despite the fact Gryffindor had just lost after Regulus Black had caught the snitch for Slytherin. 

“Marry me.” He grinned widely at you as you smiled back just as big. 

“Not today.” You snickered, winking at him once more before flying down to join your team. 

Sirius appeared beside his best mate with an odd expression on his face, having just witnessed the exchange. 

“Am I missing something?”

James just chuckled, but his gaze stayed on you, watching as you cheered along with you team at the win. He wasn’t aware of who you were before the game, but he was very aware of you now. 

Two

Despite the fact you were sorted in Slytherin, you didn’t get along with certain members of your house. The common room always seemed to be the hotspot for wannabe dark wizards who publicly shared their common views on blood status and who wasn’t worthy of studying magic. 

It was something you didn’t agree with and so avoided as much as you could. This was why you sought your refuge in one of the alcoves off the third floor corridor. It was quiet and you didn’t get nearly as distracted as you would if you had stayed in the common room, or even the library for that matter. 

Hearing a loud swear and then the sound of feet pounding down the corridor, you couldn’t help but be curious. Sticking your head out, you had to admit you weren’t surprised to see a panicked James Potter and Sirius Black running down the corridor towards you. 

The loud shout from behind them, which could only have come from Professor McGonagall, followed them as it echoed down the hall. 

The corridor came to a dead end and the two friends shared a look of dread. Before you knew what came over you, you stuck your head out and whispered to them.

“Psst,” their attention was immediately on you, “in here.”

Stepping out of your spot, the two boys clambered in as you walked down the corridor to come face to face with a furious Professor McGonagall. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” she controlled her anger as she questioned you, “have you seen Mr Potter or Mr Black come down here?”

“The two Gryffindors?” You inquired, your face void of anything that would give you away, “not down here, no, though judging from the noise and smell of chaos, I think they went that way.” 

Pointing down the direction of the opposite hall, the professor thanked you before turning and storming down it, turning the corner at the end and disappearing from sight.

With a snicker, you turned and headed back to find both James and Sirius with huge grins on their faces. 

“Oh, you’re not just a normal Slytherin are you?!” James gleamed, stepping forward, out of the hiding spot. 

“A normal Slytherin?!”

“Conniving, back stabbing, selfish.” Sirius listed off, “my entire family’s full of them, but you are different.”

“Glad I could break the Stereotype.” You shrugged a shoulder, before your attention shifted to James. “What did you two do anyway which set off McGonagall like that?!”

The pair of Gryffindor’s looked slightly sheepish suddenly as if they were reluctant to say. 

“Uhhh, maybe because we set up a prank for some Slytherins’ to drop honey and feathers on them as they walked through the Great Hall, but McGonagall ended up walking through it instead.” James grimaced at the memory of how furious the teacher was. 

“Well that was stupid,” you snorted whilst grabbing your bag from the floor, “she obviously just vanished it. Next time you should definitely add a sticking charm so they can’t just magic it away. Oh and get the right target. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherin’s that are the biggest dickheads are fair game, deal?”

“Marry me.” James gazed at you like you just discovered the stars.

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, your attention was quickly drawn to a piece of folded parchment on the ground which you were sure wasn’t yours.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you caught sight of the front. “Messers Moony, Wormta- hey!”

“Nothing!” Sirius said quickly, snatching it from your grip and tucking it away.

“Yeah because if it was nothing, you wouldn’t just rip it out of my hands now?!” You snickered, “you know if you really don’t want it to be read, you should put a password phrase on it to at least make it look like it’s nothing.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Sirius grinned, “you know, you’re not that bad.”

“So I’ve been told.” You laughed back at him, completely missing how James was grinning at you with utter wonder in his eyes.

Three

After inspiring the Gryffindor duo with both the prank idea and how to further the map, you didn’t expect that James and Sirius would rarely leave you alone. 

Because of this, you were introduced to Remus and Peter since both James and Sirius had determined you should be friends, especially when you could give them inside knowledge on which Slytherins to go after.  

You weren’t sure how to feel about it at first, but after a while it became natural to sit with the boys for breakfast or dinner. 

You also didn’t expect to see Amycus Carrow walk through the common room late one evening, mysteriously covered in honey and feathers after relaying a snide comment to you about your newfound friends.

The satisfaction you got from seeing Carrow try to explain there was obviously a sticking charm, preventing him from vanishing the sticky mess to his friends, was so much better than you could’ve imagined. You told the boys that very thing the next day. 

It also wasn’t long before James took the plunge and asked you out to Hogsmeade. 

The two of you had grown close despite your different houses, yet you both couldn’t deny there was a major attraction between you. (Something Sirius constantly commented on.)

Which was why you found yourself in the Three Broomsticks with James, laughing over butterbeers with story he told you.

“So then Remus enters the room to find it destroyed with Sirius handcuffed to his bed, naked, with only a pillow covering him. And you know what he said, like any other Tuesday? ‘I heard they’re serving Pie for dinner tonight’.”

“I’m telling you, those Ravenclaw girls are devious! Maybe even more so than us Slytherins!”

“Well if it’s any consolation, I would hate to get on your bad side.” James grinned at you, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.” You snickered, clinking your glass with his. 

“Well well, I wouldn’t have expected to see you in here with this riffraff, Y/N.” A cold voice was heard from behind you. “Then again, you did always hang around with the wrong sort, a blood traitor no less.”

Turning around, your eyes met the steely blue ones of Lucius Malfoy. 

“Don’t call me by my first name like we’re friends, Malfoy. And for the record, at least I don’t associate myself with wannabe death eaters, like your friends.”

To further your point, your eyes flickered over to the group where Malfoy was originally sat, the group containing the Carrows, Mulciber and Snape.

Lucius’ expression was tight, yet both James and you could see the look of hate in his eyes. 

“You should leave.” James stood to match Lucius’ height as he rounded the table, effectively putting himself between the two of you. The two men stared each other down.

“And why should I?” Lucius questioned back, his voice cold. 

“Because it would be an absolute shame if anyone found out about your midnight visitor the other night. Right, Malfoy?” You questioned with a innocent look on your face. 

Standing up and linking your arm with James’, Lucius’ eyes snapped to you as you held his expression with a stern one of your own. 

“A Hufflepuff, wasn’t she? And a muggleborn no less. Which is weird because, aren’t you engaged to Narcissa Black? I wonder what her family would think, them being the ‘Noble House of Black’ and all?” 

Lucius looked furious, but you held his glare firmly, only for him to step back a few moments later, allowing a space for you to pass. Pulling James along with you, you headed towards the door with a spring in your step like you hadn’t just blackmailed one of the Slytherin prefects.  

“Ooh, can we go to Honeydukes? I need to stock up on chocolate frogs.”

James was stunned, captivated and slightly aroused. 

Watching you take on Malfoy like it was nothing more than a brain training activity, made him laugh in wonder as the two of you exited onto the street. 

You kept talking about the new limited edition sugar quills before you paused, realising James wasn’t really listening to you anymore. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“Marry me.”

With a grin, you just linked arms with him again, the two of you heading in the direction of the sweet shop, a growing list of sugary items to buy. 

Four

With a groan of pleasure, James pulled you tighter to him as you moaned out his name, your hands wound in his hair making it appear a lot messier than usual. 

The two of you had graduated Hogwarts only a few months ago, and after dating for just over two years, James asked you to move in with him once you finished school. 

The small flat the two of you shared was found in Diagon Alley, above the quidditch shop, which you wondered whether he had planned or not when he first suggested you view the place. Sirius and Remus had their own flat which the former had bought for the two with the money he had inherited from uncle, after being disowned from his family. 

Your small group of friends supported him the best you could, which included Sirius moving in with James and his parents for a while as they finished Hogwarts. Yet, when they entered the final months of their seventh year at school, Sirius insisted he would look for his own place, not wanting to intrude longer than he already had, not that the Potters’ would call him staying with them an intrusion of any kind. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” James gasped out as he quickened his pace, thrusting into you faster as you christened the different rooms. 

You had both started in your bedroom before moving to the living room, kitchen and then the bathroom, before ending up back in your room once more. 

His lips met your own as you pulled him by his neck closer to you, wrapping you legs around his waist tighter, effectively getting James to hit a spot deep within you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

Quickening his pace, James used his expert fingers to bring you closer to your brink, before you gasped out loudly, quickly reaching your climax. The feeling of you coming around him had James grunting out, thrusting harder to chase his own release. 

Gripping your headboard, he came with a groan, muttering your name over and over as he pulled you close to him, both of you basking in the bliss that came from the several orgasms you’d both experienced over the last few hours. 

“Marry me.” James murmured into you hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Maybe later.” You chuckled, exhaustion now hitting you hard as you both relaxed back in bed. “Too tired now.”

James snickered as he pulled a blanket over the two of you, finding a comfortable position as you curled up together, both utterly content within that perfect moment. 

Five

A lot had changed since you left Hogwarts and being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix was just one of them. 

Your closest friends were also recruited which both reassured you and terrified you. As much as you were glad that you were fighting on the right side of the war with the people you could trust with your life, if anything happened to any of them, you don’t know what you’d do. 

It was suppose to be a small mission, just quick enough to gain intel for the Order which was why Moody chose only a select few of you to complete it. 

James, Remus and you, accompanied by Lily Evans, who you had been properly introduced to in your seventh year, were the four chosen for the task. This of course had annoyed Sirius to no end as he hadn’t been picked and constantly moaned about it the few days prior. 

Accidentally setting off the taboo alarm, death eaters apparated before you causing the four of you to split into two’s, fighting back to back. 

Quickly hitting the three death eaters before you with a stunning spell, you turned and shot another ‘stupefy’ at one who had their wand aimed at Lily. She successfully took out a couple more as she was back to back with you, sharing a grin at how well both of your training had helped you.  

Glancing over at James unconsciously, you spotted one sneak up behind him as he was separated from Remus after one death eater blew up the floor beneath them. 

With the first spell that flew to mind, you aimed your wand at the advancing threat, shooting a bat bogey hex at them, just as their killing curse missed James by inches, only for him to be hit by a weak confundus charm.

You were certain your heart skipped several beats due to the stress and anxiety as you dropped to your knees next to him on the ground. His nose was obviously broken from one spell shot at him and a dazed expression was present on his face.

Taking his face in between your hands, you quickly got a good look at him to check for more injuries as Lily and Remus stunned the last of the attackers and started to round them up. 

“James, can you hear me?”

“Y/N,” he grinned widely, “what are you doing here?”

“Saving your arse from being killed.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile on your face at how dopey your boyfriend looked. 

“You always save my arse, I think you quite like my arse really.” James snickered loudly like he had just told a funny joke. “I think you might want to marry my arse. Ooh, I think you should really marry me though.”

You chuckled at him, quickly fixing his broken nose and helping him up. 

“It means you’ll have to actually propose to me then, with a proposal better than that, my love.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

James nodded, deep in thought before his eyes lifted to spot Remus and immediately he waved an arm to try get his attention.

“MOONY! I NEED YOUR HELP TO PROPOSE.”

Six

The truth was, as much as James joked about it, and as much as he said it within the span of meeting you, you did not expect it for one moment when he actually asked you to marry him. 

Saturday started off as any normal weekend would.

With the promise from Dumbledore to call only if it was an emergency, your group of friends was given the day off and so a plan was set in motion to have dinner at yours and James’ flat. Despite popular belief, James could actually cook very well and so insisted on whipping up a roast dinner for you all, shooing you out of the kitchen when you tried to help. 

Sitting around your dining table with your closest friends, you couldn’t have asked for a better day. It was the first in a while where everyone could relax slightly and take the time to enjoy themselves. 

Remus and you were in a discussion about a book he had recommended to you, when James entered the room with the meal, putting it in the centre of the table. Whilst Sirius was avidly denying James could cook, Lily and you snickered between you as you watched the boys interact with each other. 

The meal went by quickly, everyone enjoying their time together before Lily and you cleared the plates away as a compromise, after James cooked everything. 

You didn’t suspect anything going on until you reentered the room to find the boys in a hushed discussion, giant smiles on their faces, jumping away from each other after noticing you return. 

“Everything okay?” You asked slightly suspicious as the four boys shrugged off your concerns. 

“Yeah, absolutely perfect, wanna sit down?” Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the living room with the others following. 

“You’re acting weird, Siri.” 

“I am weird, honey, I was born into the House of Black.”

With a smile and narrowed eyes, you decided to ignore whatever secret it was the boys had, and focused on enjoying the time you had together.

It wasn’t until James stood and grabbed your hands, pulling you up from your seat, that you became slightly suspicious again. 

“Y/N, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say something to you and all our friends.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he brought you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your head. Wrapping your own arm around his waist in turn, you cuddled close to him, feeling absolutely content. 

“As we all know,” James began, catching the attention of the small group, “it had been an absolute shock for most of you hear today, that I can actually cook a meal and not poison anyone.”

A round of snickers passed around the group as James rolled his eyes at your reactions. 

“We also all know that me being able to cook, is far from the most shocking thing to happen to us all. The biggest shock, was of course, the Gryffindor quidditch team losing to Slytherin when this little minx showed up and stole the show!” 

“Here here!” Sirius agreed, lifting his glass of Firewhiskey in agreement.

“Another shock was also when I asked her on a date and she agreed, yet I think that was more Y/N’s mistake than anything.” James chuckled out, now looking slightly more nervous than he did before. “If we’re talking about biggest shocks throughout our relationship, her agreeing to move in with me was another, along with my shock when I discovered what she could do with her tongue-”

“James!”

“Ow! Okay, fine, no bedroom talk!”

The punch to his arm barely phased James’ smile though as he grinned at you so wholeheartedly, you think you might melt on the spot. 

“Anyway, one thing that probably isn’t a shock is the countless times I’ve mentioned my intentions to you. Which is why...”

James unravelled his arm from your waist as he quickly caught something thrown at him by Remus, before dropping to one knee in front of you.

You were sure your heart had stopped. 

“I’m now going to ask you again, legitimately this time.”

Opening up the small white box, a gorgeous diamond and ruby ring was readily positioned, shining up at you as your eyes flicked from the ring, to James and back repeatedly. 

“Y/N, I know I’ve said this before, but please, marry me?!”

Throwing your arms around his neck, you must’ve repeated the word ‘yes’ over and over again as James proceeded to kiss you, before slipping the ring on your finger. 

In that moment, surrounded by your closest friends and the man you loved more than anything, you felt the happiest you ever had and wished for nothing more than to live in that moment forever. 

Harry Potter Taglist:

@ochrythum @hahee154hq @loonyslytherin @fleur-tysworld @la3divine @fiantomartell​

Permanent Taglist: 

@whatthefuckimbisexual​ 

[eri-cheri]

Now that we have reached the last chapter of the year. It is time to do a 2020 roll call of what I like to call, “State of the Shippers”:

1. IzuOcha. Status: Placated.

-IzuOcha’s could celebrate several cute tidbits throughout the year. Mini moments as they say.

Anime Highlights: The OVA’s came in clutch with moments for shippers all around and IzuOcha is no exception. We got a cute tidbit where Izuku and Ochako bumped into each other and were flustered.

Manga Highlights: Christmas kept on giving to this fandom as the AM doll Izuku gave Ochako made many appearances. A cute fist bump between the two was also exchanged and Mina was right there bouncing with y’all.

Heroes Rising: Izuku super man carried Ochako to safety. And was Angy she was injured. Fans could enjoy the small Lois Lane moment.

Troubling Signs?: Ochako said “I would like to be excluded from this narrative” when it comes to her feelings for Deku. She’s a hero damnit! So if they are in for something, probably won’t be while they are still in school.

II. DabiHawks. Status: Yikes.

- Dabi and Hawk’s very public breakup set this fandom in disarray but also kind of disayay?

Anime Highlights: None yet. This fandom was cruelly cock blocked by Bones. Sorry DabiHawks stans.

Manga Highlights: Where to begin, my goodness. With these fans, I guess the good and the bad is a plus in this homoerotic double agent relationship. We have the notion that Dabi may have known Hawks when they were kids, which may be a positive? Hori sure loves his childhood friends. Other than that. The GIRLS WERE FIGHTIN’. Hawks is now permanently scarred by Dabi and I don’t think it was kinky folks. Tokoyami inserted himself in the middle to White Knight Hawks, Dabi broke up with him via YT expose and overall, shippers could anguish in the absolute MESS that this ship endured this year. But I’m sure that’s part of the appeal. So...yay?

Heroes Rising: They were both in it.

Troubling Signs?: The entire relationship is a troubling sign which again, is part of the appeal. Maybe Hawks will cuddle up with Dabi’s father after the war. That’s troubling! Speaking of...

III. EndHawks. Status: Yearning and Burning.

-If there’s one thing Endeavor couldn’t stop worrying about, it was his hot (in more ways than one) new side piece who probably should have looked at the fine print when signing a contract to be a recurring guest star on “Keeping up with the Todoroki’s”.

Anime Highlights: A fateful meeting finally in high definition for all our eyes to see! Hawks’s unwavering support of his biggest hero was endearing to watch and their shenanigans together spurred the anime onlies to finally jump on the biggest May-December ship in the series.

Manga Highlights: Endeavor’s admiration and concern for Hawks seeped through the pages as we entered our most exciting arc in the manga yet. Fate split these two up yet entwined their downfall together. And that Fate’s name was Dabi...or should I say ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️ or should I just say Touya!

Heroes Rising: “Don’t bite my head off, Endeavor.” Geez, can you flirt a little less loud Hawks?

Troubling Signs?: They say never meet your heroes and Hawks is in for a rude awakening. We shall see just how deep his admiration runs or if Endeavor’s past will split our dynamic duo up for good.

IV: TodoDeku. Status: “Precious”

-Shoto’s “Midoriya is in Danger” radar was highlighted in both manga and anime. 4th User’s quirk, who?

Anime Highlights: “Midoriya hasn’t returned yet.” “Where’s Midoriya?” “Midoriya! Grab my hand!” “Have some of my Soba Midoriya.” Shoto gets it. His emotional support friend is a danger magnet. TodoDeku’s also enjoyed tiny tidbits in the OVA such as a hand grabbing scene. Gotta hold tight to those crumbs.

Manga Highlights: Two Words. “Precious Friend.” Deku comes in w/o arms or legs fighting for Shoto and Shoto’s honor. These two spent the entire year worried sick about each other, and going against all odds to save each other. Precious Friends indeed. TDDK fans ate.

Heroes Rising: Shoto kicks some dog ass and then faints thinking of Deku (and Bakugo but shh. Let the shippers rejoice.) On the bright side, we have a 3rd movie coming featuring “The Three Musketeers” so shippers of TdDk can HOLD TIGHT to what’s to come.

Troubling Signs?: Shoto still doesn’t know about OFA and he’s gonna have LOTS of questions after this arc. Will Deku finally tell him? If not, it could make or break the ship.

V. TodoBaku. Status: “Shining through the city with a little funk and soul.”

-Who knew the greatest comedy duo we needed was Shoto and his hot headed “friend” or not friend? It still remains unclear to Shoto. Regardless, these two had a fun year.

Anime Highlights: “I wanna see your cute face”, disco dancing, and more fun in the provisional license training. Plus the OVA added some cute moments between the two such as Bakugo staying behind to save Todoroki during a dangerous excercise and his adorable plan neatly animated for us. I’d say TodoBaku’s really were resurgent and energized this year!

Manga Highlights: Shoto, that is not how you properly Catch a Kacchan, I’m sorry. But at least you did it you mad lad. As with Deku, Shoto spent the year worried sick about Bakugo. While the anime let us have our fun, these two were suffering in the manga.

Heroes Rising: Again, Shoto put a dog down and then fainted with Bakugo on his mind (and Deku but we ignore that. Shush.) TodoBaku’s have the 3rd movie to look forward to which is bound to have some amazing content!

Troubling Signs?: They have a lot of trauma to deal with. And a lot of Deku to worry about. I also imagine Shoto will be hurt about being left out of the OFA secret. We shall see what 2021 has to offer.

VI. KiriMina. Status: Unbreakable.

-Changing your hairstyle to match the gal who inspired you in middle school? Sorry y’all but if Mina were a guy, I’d say that’s gay af.

Anime Highlights: We got that backstory Bois. Red Riot’s origin might as well make him be called Pink Riot. Again with Hori and the childhood friends though I wouldn’t exactly call them friends. They just went to the same middle school but Kirishima was highly influenced by Mina’s Chivalrous spirit! A ship is born!

Manga Highlights: The influence is mutual! Mina creates a move based on Kirishima’s unbreakable and we all let out a collective “awwww”. Also in the war arc, we got Kirishima making sure Mina’s chivalrous spirit shines through right into Gigantomachia’s mouth! KiriMina may just be the unsung MVP’s of this arc.

Heroes Rising: They were in it.

Troubling Signs?: I can’t think of a single one. KiriMina’s can enjoy a peaceful sailing.

VII: KiriBaku. Status: Crumb Collectors.

-2020 was an uneventful year for KiriBaku but Bones made sure there were crumbs aplenty! Thank God for OVA’s!

Anime Highlights: KiriBaku’s did thrive in one episode! Kirishima reflects on the sludge incident and evolves his quirk based on inspiring words from Bakugo! Hooray! KiriBaku’s can thrive in their blossoming friendship. The OVA also has Kirishima (and Kaminari but shh) once again following Bakugo’s lead when it comes to the training excercise. How can you not? He’s so manly!

Manga Highlights: Not gonna lie. There is nothing much here this year. I did find a teeny tiny flake in Aizawa’s flashback. Kirishima and Bakugo are sitting next to each other. Oh! And at the hot pot gathering, Bakugo sits next to Kirishima! Eat your crumbs KiriBaku’s! There’s always next year!

Heroes Rising: Kirishima hangs with a lazy Bakugo and delivers the most hilarious line in the whole movie. “Silly Bakugo, there won’t be villains here!” Hahah... Silly Bakugo. Oh you~ KiriBaku’s can inhale the fact that those two sure love to hover around each other!

Troubling Signs?: With great crumbs come little responsiblity. No trouble if there’s no content! 🤔

VIII: KamiJirou. Status: Singing their hearts out 🎶

-If there’s any ship that’s coming close to canonization, I think this is it, folks! “Think of the person most important to you!” Can’t argue with Midnight!

Anime Highlights: Kaminari does non stop encouraging of Jirou and her hobbies! He works super hard to learn guitar for her sake! We love a king who can encourage his queen!

Manga Highlights: Kaminari thinks of the most important person to him and surprise! It’s Jirou! All of the feels can commence.

Heroes Rising: They were in it!

Troubling Signs?: Kaminari does love his women. And men. Kaminari overall is a huge flirt. But Jirou appears to have his heart strings. ❤️

IX: BakuDeku. Status: Rising. 👑

-Alternative Statuses include Winning, Thriving, Soaring. It’s just been non stop content this year. 2020 is truly the year for BakuDeku. The shippers can rejoice.

Anime Highlights: Three words. Be. My. Cane. The OVA’s helped fan the flames of the BkDk hearts with a surprise! Deku tops! Not only that, we got a lovely shoulder tap of encouragement in the canon material. While in season 4, Deku’s primary focus was Eri. Bakugo and Deku still had their moments to be hella gay.

Manga Highlights: Where do I even begin? I guess we’ll just cut to the chase with Bakugo Katsuki: Rising. We finally saw Bakugo’s true feelings manifest for Deku and if getting stabbed for him isn’t the ultimate showing of love, then idk what is. BakuDeku’s rounded out the year with the Volume 29 cover AND the volume 29 cover drafts to eat at our heart strings. Overall, their relationship got the spotlight in the manga this year. And we’re bound to start 2021 with a dramatic confrontation. Hand holding seems to be the key with these two and it didn’t stop with Heroes Rising...speaking of.

Heroes Rising: The entire movie. Like....yeah. That’s it. [OP, your bias is showing. You have to be SPECIFIC.] {But random criticizer in my head, if I lay out the entire plot of the movie, my post will be too long} [OP....] UGHHHH Okay okay. The POPSICLE MELTING. THE HAND HOLDING. THE CHARACTER DESIGNS OF WHAT MIGHT AS WELL BE THEIR LOVE CHILDREN. Did I mention? “It’s fine if it’s you?” CAUSE YEAH. Oh and All Might randomly officiating their wedding in their heads like idk. Isn’t it just simpler if I say the whole movie??!

Troubling Signs?: Well these two’s relationship is extremely delicate and while it has non stop soared this year, Deku might not take too kindly to Bakugo almost dying for him. Will they stop pushing each other away? Time will tell.

That’s all for this year folks! Happy Shipping and good luck to everyone next year!

[ktinastrikesback]

Alright, here it is: The meta post about Eddie Diaz and mother figures and how it all leads to Buddie (I think). Thanks to @yramesoruniverse for your help with this, and @kitkatpancakestack and @evanbucklies for inspiring it! I really have been thinking about this nonstop and had to get it all down. This got quite long, so I'll include a cut in order to spare everyone who doesn't want to continue reading!

We first get an idea of Eddie's complicated thoughts surrounding mother figures throughout his whole storyline with Shannon in season 2 when he romantically reconnects with her for Christopher's benefit. I do want to keep the focus here trained on Eddie in season 4, but I want to point out a season 2 line that is pretty fitting. As much as I don't want to use a Shannon quote as a starting point for a meta, I think this one is actually pretty useful: "...Eddie always knows what's best for everyone...God forbid you stop for a second and actually ask them what they need." While it's harsh and spoken out of spite, Shannon does make a point here which becomes relevant at the end of season 4.

We don't know a whole lot about season 4 Eddie (thanks writers) aside from the fact that he's working on being a single father (he tells Marjan in the crossover that he's "doing the whole single dad thing") and being a support system for Buck and the rest of the 118. Eddie's "arc" this season is moving on from Shannon and beginning to date again (a very small and limited arc, which hopefully season 5 will remedy). Of course, because it's Eddie, the core of this arc is him wanting what is best for Christopher. And it seems pretty clear that what Eddie thinks Chris needs is a complete family with a mother figure (note how he asks Bobby if he's "happy now, with Athena and the kids" and just assumes that Bobby is talking about Ana Flores), but the universe pushes against this idea throughout the whole season. There are a lot of examples in season 4 of unreliable mother figures (for example, the alcoholic mother who causes the wreck in Blindsided), but in order to save some space here, I'll list and discuss those in another post. The main thing I want to point out is that we've seen that mother figures aren't always perfect, and they aren't the end all be all that Eddie thinks. And canonically, the show suggests several times throughout the season that the partner that Eddie needs/wants and who is best for Chris is actually Buck.

In Breaking Point, while Eddie is on his date, it's Buck who is at home taking care of Christopher and getting him through his nighttime routine (which establishes that he knows the routine and has gotten Chris ready for bed before, hence the reference to his "cautionary tale"). On the date, when Ana says that no one has been in his life since Shannon passed away, Eddie noticeably looks uncomfortable (the will reveal makes this scene and that particular comment and Eddie's subsequent reaction so rich. Eddie knows that what Ana is saying is completely untrue, because the person he trusts most with his son is with him at that exact moment). Later, when Eddie tells Christopher about his new 'friend', he says "it's a woman." And...to be honest, what the hell was that? He could have said, "I'm dating someone" or "I have a girlfriend." But he says it like this? And it's weird...right? Christopher is the one who has to say "girlfriend." Also his tone of voice when he says it...it's suspicious to me. Anyways...Eddie talks with Ana about Christopher's reaction and her first instinct is to take a break and wait for Christopher to warm up to the idea so as to not cause him more pain. Meanwhile, Chris is out the door, in an Uber, and on his way to Buck, the person who actually gets Chris to talk about his feelings and who fixes the whole mess. So while Eddie is talking with Ana, Buck is playing a parental role AND promising Chris he isn't going anywhere, completely juxtaposing everything Ana has said and done in this episode (throwback to Fools, anyone?). Just like we see in 4x14, the perfect partner that Eddie is looking for is already putting in the work, no questions asked (and this is all before Buck knows about the will!). Yet Eddie is still trying to force it with Ana.

We see this again very briefly in Parenthood. Eddie and Buck are seen agreeing on parenting ideals on a call, similar to how we saw them work together in Future Tense to talk Chris out of playing video games. At the end of the episode however, when Chris asks to join the movie, Ana just jumps ahead and lets him in, not consulting with Eddie. Of course, this isn't a serious issue and Eddie is happy to have Chris join them, but it still carries on with juxtaposing Ana with Buck. It's also a bit interesting that Chris sits between them, parallel to the video game scene from season 3. But again, it's a very brief scene, so I don't know how much value it has overall.

We see all of this come to a head in 4x13 when Eddie becomes invested in the single mother and her son from the balcony call. Interestingly, this call happens after Eddie's conversation with Carla ("make sure you're following your heart"). On the call, Eddie flirts with the mom. This is interesting because we've seen many times in the past that Eddie...doesn't like flirting, especially on the job. Eddie openly flirting with the mom here may be his way of fighting against what his instincts are telling him Carla's comment was about (him liking Buck/a man). Eddie quickly becomes invested in Charlie (the son) and takes a liking to his mother because he relates to her. You can kind of see the gears working in Eddie's head when he's at their apartment...he's admiring her and perhaps maybe fantasizing about having a partner who gets it. And he sees a mother taking care of her son...reinforcing his love for the mother figure. But of course, we all learn by the end of the episode that this mother figure is extremely warped and not at all what her child needs.

The best part about this plot is the way it plays into the shooting scene at the end of the episode. Just before he gets shot, we see Eddie in an interesting framing choice (I am genuinely serious when I say that I want to sit down with Brenna Malloy and ask her about her directing choices for this whole scene):

The mother and son are placed into separate ambulances, and Eddie stands between the two vehicles. Visually, Eddie is literally placed between the mother figure and the son, and Buck is standing in front of him (at a slight distance). As (thank you to @kitkatpancakestack for pointing this out!) the ambulance with the mother drives away, Eddie says "shoulda gotten here sooner" to Buck (who replies, "That kid is just lucky he met you." He knows how to reassure Eddie and recognizes what is good for the child). Then of course, Eddie gets shot. But let's focus instead on why this framing before the shooting is important: the universe does scream, and it sure as hell was screaming at Eddie this whole episode. Carla calls him out for not following his heart, he idolizes this mother only for her to end up being horrid, then he gets shot with his partner standing right in front of him (you know, the same person who takes care of his son for the entirety of the next episode).

This can be read so plainly: Eddie has been fighting hard for what he thinks is best for his son, and he's stuck in this relationship with Ana because he thinks she is what will make Christopher happy. Meanwhile, Buck is in front of him and has been there the entire time putting in the work with Chris and making him feel heard, loved, and important. This ties right back to that Shannon line: if Eddie had simply asked Christopher what he needs/wants, it's very possible that his answer would be "Buck." Eddie doesn't need to be stuck in the middle of this relationship he doesn't care about because Chris' happiness is not dependent on having a mother figure.

Of course, we didn't see very much of Eddie in 4x14 so we don't really know what is going through his head regarding the shooting or Carla's comment just yet, but I'm hoping we see a lot of him working through all of the events that took place in 4x13/14 throughout next season. Because of the way the mother/son storyline ended up and the way they framed Eddie in the shooting scene, I'm willing to bet that he's going to be reevaluating just what Christopher needs and what he already has (with his Buck).

(Also side note--the welcome home party scene...when Buck is watching Eddie greet Christopher, notice the framing there too. The photo of Chris and Shannon is on the right side of the frame, Eddie and Chris in the middle, and Buck to the left. You already know what I'm going to say, so I'll leave it at that...)

Anyways. Edmundo Diaz is confused about what he and Christopher need, and it's actually a brilliant way to dive into a storyline about his sexuality and his feelings for Buck. Remember that post-finale interview with Tim where he said Eddie is always concerned with what's best for Christopher? That there will be a lot to explore with Eddie? I take everything Tim says with a grain of salt, but looking at all of this, there's quite a bit here pointing in the direction of pining Eddie. It's not wishful thinking, it's in the text.

I'm literally just applying basic film analysis to these scenes...and everything is adding up to a larger picture. I'm really excited to see what Eddie's arc in season 5 will be because there's so much set in place for it to be really great.

[bakatenshii]

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo​, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing​ for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could. 

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it. 

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding. 

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted. 

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you. 

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun. 

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal. 

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy. 

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you. 

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour. 

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care. 

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time. 

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. 

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy. 

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart. 

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use. 

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time. 

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean. 

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart. 

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream. 

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction. 

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself. 

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted. 

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become. 

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective. 

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up. 

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.  

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight. 

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close. 

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue. 

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.  

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it. 

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh. 

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint. 

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently. 

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go. 

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high. 

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em. 

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you. 

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.” 

“Want a taste?” 

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care. 

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air. 

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners. 

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more. 

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate. 

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him. 

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways. 

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole. 

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name. 

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God? 

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed. 

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed. 

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in. 

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?” 

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out— 

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection. 

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours. 

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together. 

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him. 

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose. 

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl. 

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies. 

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first? 

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red. 

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm. 

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char. 

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you. 

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there. 

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore,  can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it? 

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart. 

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth? 

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?” 

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really. 

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda. 

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best. 

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him. 

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy. 

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Treat People With Kindness (The BAU)

Summary: Garcia gets Reid into Harry Styles and everyone subsequently loses their minds over it.

Content: Honestly just funny I’m not sure what to call it

MC’s name/pronouns: No alternate main character, just Spencer.

Word Count: 1706

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by the fact that a fan gave Matthew Gray Gubler a Treat People With Kindness pin, which then sparked my friend Emily and I to theorize that Spencer Reid would absolutely be a Harry Styles stan. So yeah, this is literally just the product of one fan interaction lmao

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“I got a good feelin’.”

“... What’s he doing?” Emily leaned over and whispered to JJ, who just shook her head.

“I’m just takin’ it all in.”

“Ok, what happened to Reid?” Morgan joined them, and they both shrugged, watching Spencer walk through the doors of the office. 

“Floatin’ up and dreamin’.”

“You know, maybe I need to add him to my drug test list too.” Hotch had stepped out of his office, trying to hide his grin as they saw Spencer making his way to his desk, headphones in and practically dancing over to his seat, mouthing every word of the song he was listening to. He plopped down in it with a little spin, opening a file on his desk without ever taking his headphones out. 

“Try ‘Dancing with the Stars,’” Emily laughed, and JJ broke away from their group, heading over to his desk. 

“Hey Spence,” She rested her arms on the divide between his desk and Emily’s, tapping on it to get his attention. 

“Maybe we can find a place to feel good.”

“Spence!” She tapped his arm this time, and he practically jumped out of his skin, turning to face her.

“And we can treat -”

He quickly tore the headphones out of his ears, setting them down on his desk and looking up at her, clearing his throat.

“Sorry. I was listening to something.” He gestured to the headphones still connected to his phone, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” JJ laughed.

“Do we have a case?” 

“Nothing yet, you’re good.” She tried fruitlessly to hide her grin, and he gave her a strange look.

“Ok…”

“So,” She plopped down in Emily’s chair, rolling it over to sit near him, “What were you listening to?”

“Oh!” His face lit up, and he grabbed his phone, holding it out for her to see. She put the headphones in her ears, hearing the final moments of the song he’d been jamming to.

“And we can treat people with kindness, find a place to feel good.”

“Harry Styles?” JJ laughed incredulously, handing him back his phone. 

“You’ve heard of him?” He asked, taking the phone and sitting it back on his desk and turning back to her.

“I’m pretty sure most people have heard of him, Spence.”

“Ok, well, I hadn’t. But on Saturday I was speaking at the University of Mary Washington with Rossi, and one of the girls gave me this, after the lecture,” He grabbed his bag off the back of the chair, pointing to a round pin clipped on the strap. It was enamel, with light pink on the inside and a red rose in the center, encircled by the phrase “Treat People With Kindness” in black lettering. “And you know, naturally I thought it was a good message so I put it on my bag and I thought that was all it was. But then I ran into Garcia.”

“Oh god.”

“I was walking in yesterday and she saw it and kind of freaked out a little bit, and pulled me into her office and played me the song - the one you just listened to - and it was amazing and so I told her I thought it was amazing, which made her freak out even more and then you called with a case so I left, only to receive a a YouTube playlist a few hours later that she told me I had to watch every video on or she’d stop printing the case files for me.”

“You know she loves you too much to actually do that, right?”

“I mean, the odds were low, but I wasn’t going to risk it. Either way, I sort of listened to every single song on Fine Line and Self-Titled in one night and also a whole bunch of interviews that she sent me and he’s really funny and his music is great and the moral of the story is I kind of love him.”

JJ sent back in her chair, dumbfounded. “Dude… you mean to tell me Garcia made you a Harry Styles fan?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I - Penelope!” JJ left without another word, making her way into Garcia’s office. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he was looking at - and his music - as Garcia spun to face JJ.

“Jennifer, my love, to what do I owe the pleasure? New case?” She asked. JJ just shook her head.

“You broke Reid.”

“I did not break Reid!” She defended with a grin. “I merely helped him reach his true form.”

“He willingly used technology, and he came into the office today practically dancing to Treat People With Kindness. So yes, you did break Reid.”

“JJ, dear,” Garcia got up from her chair, taking JJ’s hands in the doorway, “Do you remember when Reid got that adorable little shaggy haircut?”

“Despite the fact that he changes his hair like every month, yes, I do.”

“And do you remember what Hotch said?”

She thought for a moment, then her eyes widened in shock. “You did all of this… because of the boyband joke?”

“Like I said: true form.” Garcia returned to her chair, spinning around with a laugh. “In my defense, I didn’t know he was going to get a Harry Styles pin. I just took advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself. I already failed at teaching him to worship Lady Gaga, I could not miss another chance to try and pull him out of the dark ages.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me!” 

JJ laughed, leaving Garcia’s office and heading up to hers, ruffling Spencer’s hair on her way by.

“You should grow your hair out again.”

“You think so?” He reached up and fussed with his hair, just as Garcia emerged into the main room. 

“Spencer Reid, my beautiful boy genius, did you do what I asked?”

“Garcia, I figured out how to download music to my phone because of you. So yes, I did what you asked.”

“You are officially my new favorite person.”

“Hang on, what is this all about?” Emily asked. Garcia grinned, hardly able to contain her excitement. 

“I’m finally bringing the lovely Dr. Reid here into the 21st Century.”

“Penelope,” Emily raised an eyebrow at her, “What did you do?”

“Garcia thinks she did something revolutionary by getting me into Harry Styles’ music,” Spencer clarified. Emily immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, about to respond before Derek piped up from his desk.

“Oh, she converted you too?”

“‘Too’ - you mean to tell me that you, Derek Morgan, are a Harry Styles fan?” Emily was looking between the three of them now, practically in shock. Derek just laughed, holding up his hands.

“What can I say, the guy’s got an incredible voice.”

“And the make up of his songs is so interesting as well; I mean, when you look at the music he’s produced in the last few years in comparison to what he performed while he was a part of One Direction -”

“Oh my god please tell me you’ve also listened to One Direction,” Emily said, laughing when Spencer nodded. 

“I don’t understand why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. He’s a singer, it’s not like he doesn’t have fans,” He defended. 

“Reid, two months ago you didn’t even know who Lady Gaga was. This is kind of a big deal.”

“Conference room in five,” JJ walked through the group, heading upstairs as everyone else got up to follow her. 

“Do not think I am dropping this,” Emily pointed at Derek and Spencer before jogging to catch up with JJ. Derek laughed, falling in step with Reid. 

“So, what all did Garcia make you watch?”

“Oh, just a bunch of interviews. I did some of my own reading though -”

“Of course you did.”

“- and what I found really interesting was One Direction’s actual rise to fame. Because the thing is, they didn’t even win X-Factor. They came in third, and yet they became the most famous group to come from that season of the show. In Forever Young - their book - they talked about their time on X-Factor, but it was so strange to me because their first album - Up All Night, that came out not even a full year after they finished the X-Factor live tour - sold 4.5 million copies within the first year. And they just kept growing… Morgan why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” They’d walked into the conference room by now, sitting down next to each other at the table while Derek tried to stop himself from laughing, looking at Reid in disbelief, “You read their book?”

“And their Wikipedia page - I told you I did my own reading!”

“You said you did some of your own reading, you didn’t say you’d memorized everything about their career!”

“Eidetic memory, remember?” He tapped his forehead, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“You never let me forget. I’m assuming you know everything about their solo careers as well?”

“Well I got into Harry’s stuff first, but I ended up reading all of theirs since I didn’t have anything else to do last night. It’s just so interesting to think about what One Direction’s situation reveals about human nature and celebrity culture. I mean, a lot of their fans are dictionary definition erotomaniacs, and yet -”

“I shouldn’t even be surprised that you read this all in one night.”

“Like I said: didn’t have anything else to do.”

“As much as I’m glad you boys are bonding, we have more important things to worry about than Reid’s newfound love for a British boy band,” JJ interrupted.

“Niall Horan’s actually Irish -”

“Spence. The case.” She pulled up the photos on the screen, and Spencer nodded, opening the case file in front of him as JJ began to review everything they needed to know. She finally closed out, and Hotch grabbed his tablet and rose from the table. 

“Alright, wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone nodded, gathering up their things and vacating the room. Spencer and Derek trailed out after everyone, Spencer picking up the conversation as soon as JJ finished. 

“You know, I’m considering learning how to knit - there’s this cardigan that Harry wore...”

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

[sunmoonandeddie]

‘cause you are, you are

pairing: lumberjack!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,436

summary: Bucky’s found someone out on his front lawn during a snowstorm.  Well, Alpine found her.  If only he knew what he was getting into.

warnings: Bad words!  Violence!  Mention of kidnapping!  Mention of military violence/injury!  Mention of suicidal thoughts!

a/n:  So the song I listened to that kinda really inspired this is ‘Get You the Moon’ by Kina.  Also, this was commissioned by @buckysbunny​ and I really hope you love it, babe!

“Come on, Al,” Bucky said as he led his dog up the front steps of his cabin, carrying all the grocery bags inside.  He had a cigarette between his teeth, keeping it steady as he unlocked the door and let the gorgeous samoyed inside.  “Atta girl.”

The cabin was just as he left it three hours ago when he left to go grocery shopping.  As it should.

And Alpine was already standing at her bowl, wagging her tail.  She knew what time it was.

“You hungry, baby girl?” He asked with a grin as he grabbed the beef he’d been thawing in the sink and opened it up.  “Today’s a beef day.  We both know how much you love cows, yeah?”  He put a cup of beef in her bowl, powdering in her supplements.  “The best girl deserves the best food, yeah?” He asked as he cracked two eggs on top of it, before setting it on the ground.  Bucky couldn’t help but grin at the way that Alpine sat there in front of the bowl, waiting for the go ahead as her tail wagged aggressively.  “Eat.  Good girl.”

Kicking off his boots, he started up a fire in the fireplace.  The clouds were rolling in, the sun already setting.  He’d lived on the mountain long enough to know when the first real snow of the season was setting in.  They’d already had flurries, sure, but…  The first real snow was the first one that had everyone locked inside, unable to go anywhere for weeks.  He could smell it on the air.

Thankfully he was all stocked up on wood, so they’d be warm.  He’d already moved up Alpine’s dinner time so it would still be light outside when she needed to go outside to use the bathroom.  And they had more than enough food in the fridge and in the deep freeze to last them the entire winter, if they needed.  They’d be okay.

Honestly, his biggest worry was losing Alpine in the snow.  She was a big floof of white fur.  She always came when he called, but still.  It was the principle of it.

After she went to the bathroom, the two of them curled up on the couch while he ate and they watched whatever DVD he popped in.  He’d probably binge watch the box set of nature documentaries he’d gotten.

They were… relaxing.  After spending a few tours in Afghanistan, he needed relaxing.

It had been ten years, but… some things don’t fade with time.  Some things stick like gummy bears on a car seat in July.

It was past midnight when Alpine raised her head from his lap, a low whine in the back of her throat.  By then, he’d cracked open a beer and been fully ready to fall asleep there.

“Al?  Come on, baby girl, there’s nothing out there,” he said reassuringly.  It was snowing heavily, and he’d estimate there was already about seven inches deep with no sign of stopping.

But Alpine gets off the couch and runs for the door, barking sharply.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He asked as he watched her.  “Alpine, come.”

For the first time in the four years since he’d gotten her, she didn’t listen.

Instead, she let out another bark as she clawed at the door.

“Al,” he groaned as he forced himself up.  He left the beer on the coffee table before heading to the door.  “There’s nothing out there.  Just snow.  You’re just gonna get cold and get the floors all wet.”

But, alas, he’s a slave to the desires of his puppy.

It’s kinda pathetic, really.  Not that he cared.

He opened up the door to let her out, frigid air blasting him.  The snow crept up onto the porch, and there was so much coming down it looked almost like a curtain.  “See, Al?  Nothing.”

But she ran out into the snow, nudging at what just looked like another pile of fluffy white snow.  She let out a whine, the only parts clearly visible of her being her dark nose and eyes.

And that’s when a head appeared, and his heart stopped.  What the fuck was a woman doing out in the middle of a snow storm?

Despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes and he’d just changed into a fresh pair of sweats, he ran out to where Alpine was still trying to nudge her awake.  The snow was freezing his toes as he reached down and scooped up the girl, woman, whatever, and carried her inside.

“Come on,” he called out to the samoyed, who was following quickly after him, her tail tucked between her legs.  “You’re such a smart puppy,” he cooed as he laid the girl on the couch.  “You knew she was out there and made sure I got to her.  Good puppy.”

From the color of her lips, there was no doubt in his mind that hypothermia was starting to set in.  And from what she was wearing?  Come on.  She didn’t even have shoes on.  Just two pairs of socks.

Fuck.  He’d have to strip her down.  He needed to get her warm, and the clothes she wore weren’t doing anything to help her since they were thin and soaking wet. “You better not kill me when you wake up,” he grumbled as he pulled her clothes off of her, keeping his eyes averted.  She didn’t even have underwear or a bra on.

It wasn’t that he was some kind of creep.  He just felt awkward.  He didn’t know this woman and he wasn’t some kind of life saver.

Bucky was alarmed by the amount of bruises that covered her body, though it looked as though there was a purposeful lack of them on her face.  There were also what looked like fresh scrapes along her hips.

He wrapped her in every blanket he could find after grabbing fresh clothes from the laundry room and redressing her, cocooning her before shoving the couch closer to the fire so that it may warm her easier.  But she still seemed so cold.  He moved to the kitchen, taking a few hot water bottles from the first aid cabinet and warming them up before gently dabbing one at her face, the only part of her still exposed.

Bucky knew that the only thing he could do now was wait for her to wake up.  Pressing two fingers to her neck, he let out a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse.  “You’re not out of the woods yet,” he said as he grabbed his beer and took a swig.  It was going to be a long night.

Alpine was more than happy with the addition of a new person in their home, if not still a little worried.  She climbed up onto the couch and curled up against her, sniffing at her face and giving her a lick before lying her head down beside her.

“She’ll be okay, Al,” Bucky said quietly as he reached out to give her scritches right above her tail.  He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but…  Maybe Alpine would understand and calm down a little.

My first thought when I woke up was that I was warm.  Really warm.

I hadn’t been warm in such a long time.

My eyelids were so heavy, and I had no desire to open them just yet.

What would I find when I woke up?  If I was back in His possession, in his house, I…  I would need to resort to Plan B.

Technically, Plan B had been Plan A a few times, when things had gotten… especially hard.  But He had caught me before I could succeed.

The last thing I could remember was stumbling through the snow.  I’d managed to finally get out after planning it for months.  I waited until He’d gone out for his nightly trip to the bars before pulling on my two pairs of socks and slipping out through the broken basement window.

The broken glass that I had thought would cause me to freeze to death had become my salvation.

I had been going down the mountain, following the road.  But it had started to snow.  I’m not sure how long I had been walking when I could see the path anymore, or when I saw the light.

The first light I had seen in the stifling white.  It had been coming from a window, cutting through the storm like a beacon of hope.

The wave of relief I had felt at the cabin slowly taking shape in front of my very eyes had been euphoric.  I had started to think that if I was going to die, at least I wasn’t going to die in captivity.

But I hadn’t even made it to the porch steps.

Which brought me to where I am now.  Wrapped up in what I was pretty sure was several blankets.  But I could smell… dog?  He didn’t have a dog.  No pets allowed.

He also didn’t have a crackling fireplace, from what I remember of the few times I’d been allowed upstairs.

Yeah.  Definitely no fireplace.

I made sure to stay completely still as I felt two calloused fingertips press against the pulse point in my neck.

“Well, Al, her heart rate has increased…”

So it was definitely a man.

I’d gotten really good at pretending to be asleep over the years.  Like, really, really good.  It wasn’t often that He’d been able to tell that I was awake if I didn’t want him to know.

There was a whimper, and then a rough tongue licked across my face.  The dog.  Which was (hopefully) this ‘Al.’  I didn’t want to deal with more than one man.

The man sighed and walked away.  “You gonna keep watch over her, baby girl?  I gotta go get a shower.”

Did he think the dog was going to answer him?

As soon as I heard his footsteps going up a set of stairs, I took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out.  I needed to get out of there.  Immediately.

I just had to slip out without him hearing me or the dog making a scene.

I slowly opened my eyes, even though it still felt like I had washers glued to my lashes.

And there was the fireplace.  It was so nice and warm…  I hadn’t felt this toasty in years.  The basement was always so frigid, and with the lack of blankets provided to me, I was always at least a little cold.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay for a little while…

No.  I shook my head as I forced myself to sit up.  I couldn’t stay.  I had to get out and get down the mountain to civilization.

I gasped as I felt the rough tough on my cheek again, turning to see a huge white dog that looked more like a cloud than an animal.  “Shh…”  I had to work to get my arms out of the blankets to pet it, but it was then that I realized I was not in my original clothing underneath all the swaddling.  My heart sank to my stomach as I felt a wave of panic.

Had he touched me?  Was he no better than Him?

I got most of the blankets off and frowned as I looked down at sweatpants and the long sleeved shirt I was wearing.  They were far too big for me, but they’d have to do.

I kept my steps feather light as I looked around the space I had found myself in.  It was a living room, and rather cozy.  Rustic looking.  I could see the kitchen to my left, and a silent debate with myself started over whether or not I’d have time to grab food for myself before running.  From the way my stomach growled, I knew that I’d have to.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, since today was not my scheduled day to eat.

The cloud dog followed me to the fridge, its tail wagging as I grabbed what I could reasonably carry.  It took everything within me to not stop and play with her.  I hadn’t seen a dog in so long, especially not one so sweet.  Its tail kept wagging even as it watched me stealing food.

I was reaching for the jar of pickles when I heard the cocking of a gun, and I turned around to see a large, burly man pointing a handgun at me.  The food in my hands dropped to the ground as I threw my hands up, my heart racing.  The jar of pickles shattered, the glass flying all over the floor.  “I-I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” I gushed, feeling sweaty under the pressure of the barrel being pointed at me.  “I don’t know where I am.  I j-just woke up and I’m s-so hungry.”

Bucky’s heart pounded as he got out of the shower, hearing a commotion downstairs.

His instincts took over, and he didn’t have time to even think things through before pulling on a pair of briefs and grabbing his handgun from his bedside table before slipping down the stairs.

He had the gun in both hands as he peeked around the corner, seeing a girl digging through his fridge.  It was the cocking of the gun that alerted her to his presence, and she whirled around.

She was pretty, he could acknowledge that much.

It was when she was rambling that suddenly he remembered.  The girl in the snow.  But he’d been certain that she wouldn’t wake up for at least a few more hours.

His startling blue eyes stayed locked on her as he flipped the safety back on.  But he still kept it raised.  “Who are you?” He demanded, his voice gruff, deep.

She gave her name, and he frowned.  Just a first name?  No last?

“Where did you come from?”

“U-Up the mountain,” she said quietly, a few tears rolling down her pretty cheeks.  “Please, I…  I mean no h-harm.  Please.  I’ll go.  I swear.”

He shook his head, slowly lowering the gun.  It wasn’t like she was much of a threat.  She clearly had no idea what she was doing.  “Don’t be stupid.  You already almost froze to death once out in the storm.  Leaving would just mean that you wasted my efforts to save your life.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, still not moving from where she was.  It sounded more like a question than a statement.

She was skinny.  Scary skinny.  Of course, he’d seen that when he’d undressed her, but it was even more alarming seeing her in his clothes, seeing how they draped from her frail, bird-like shoulders.

He nodded to the mess around her.  “Stay still.  I don’t want you cutting your feet on the glass.”  Luckily she had the sense to listen as he swept up the glass and pickles, picking up everything around her before mopping.

He didn’t like being close to her, and she clearly didn’t like being close to him either.  Good.  It meant they would be less likely to step on each other’s toes.

Bucky was already very aware that she was going to have to stay until the snow let up enough for her to leave.

“I’m assuming you’re hungry?” He said as he put the mop away.  “You can have food.  I’m not going to starve you after rescuing you.”

She nodded, her stomach grumbling.  “Yes.  Hungry…”

Pointing to the fridge, he leaned back against the kitchen island.  “You can get whatever you want.”  He watched curiously as she reached into the door and grabbed the container of cottage cheese.  “Did you want some warm food?”

“This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

She was weird.  But he couldn’t really judge considering the fact that he had no idea who she was or where she had come from.

Maybe she was a Russian spy or something.

No, that’s stupid, he reminded himself.  Your military days are over.  No one is looking for you anymore.

He showed her to one of the guest rooms once she finished eating the entire container of cottage cheese, eyeing her in case she vomited.  He had no idea how the hell she did that.  He liked cottage cheese as much as the next person, but still.

“Um…  There’s a shower through there.  And I can… get you some more clothes and stuff,” he said softly.  He stayed far away, out of her reach, and he noticed her doing the same.

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she looked around.  “Okay.  Thank you.”

“I’ll let you… get to it then,” he said awkwardly.  A frown settled across his face as he watched Alpine jump up onto the bed as the girl looked into the bathroom.  “Traitor.”

“Can you show me how the shower works?” She asked, poking her head back out.  “And…  What are the… shower rules here?”

A wave of confusion spread over him.  Shower rules?  “Uh…  Just… let me know if you’re gonna shower soon so I know not to use all the hot water?”

“That’s it?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  She glanced over at Alpine, who was lying on her bed.  “Are you…  Are you showering soon?”

Bucky’s head tilted to the side, his brows furrowed.  His dark hair was still wet, and he was still in his briefs.

The girl nodded, letting out a weak laugh as her face flushed.  “Right.  Sorry.”  She pointed to the bathroom.  “The… shower?”

“Right!”  He slipped past her into the bathroom, making sure he didn’t touch her, before showing her how to work the knob and change the temperature.  “There we go…  Uh…  Have a good shower.  And I’m James… by the way…”  He let out a huff of air as he stood there with his hands on his hips.  “Right, um…”  He felt a bit awkward as he left quickly then.

I waited until after James had left to lock the bedroom door, swallowing as I shoved the desk chair under the handle.

There was a low whine, and I turned to see the cloud dog still on the bed.  I had thought it had left with him.  “Hi.  I thought you left.”  I reached out and scratched behind its ear, the fur soft under my fingers.

After taking a few minutes to just pet the puppy, I headed to the bathroom where the shower was still running, the mirror fogged up.

It had been so long since I’d had a hot shower.

After locking the bathroom door, I stripped off the clothes I’d been given and folded them nicely, laying them on the counter.  I could see the scrapes along my hips and cursed, wiping off the mirror so I could attempt to see them better.  I was covered in bruises, and the scrapes were clearly fresh.

But I had no idea what James thought of them or where he thought I got them.  Fuck.

I’d have to come up with some kind of excuse unless I was ready to tell him just where I’d come from.

Which just felt like it’d be so much work.  I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I didn’t come out of my room for the rest of the night.  It was the first time I’d ever been truly alone in years.

Even when He was gone, I was never truly alone.  Not when cameras captured every square inch of the basement.

When I crawled into bed, the cloud dog curled up against me and rested its head on my back.

I slept better than I had in years.  Even if I did end up vomiting up the cottage cheese.

Bucky was still confused by the girl three weeks later.  The snow hadn’t let up, which he was kinda upset about because she’d eaten one of the two containers of cottage cheese her first night.

He liked his cottage cheese.  And she ate it.

Which, okay.  He had been able to tell she was hungry and she clearly needed the food more than he did, but still.  She couldn’t have chosen something else?

Now they were having to ration the cottage cheese.  They had about half a cup left and they were both waiting for the other one to finish it off.

He was about ready to just tell her to take it.

He also didn’t understand how she’d stolen his dog from him.  Alpine had transferred her love and loyalty over to the strange girl within thirty seconds of meeting her, and it appeared that there would be no changing that anytime soon.  The dog was always at her side and wouldn’t even go outside to use the bathroom unless she sat on the porch, bundled in one of Bucky’s coats and wrapped in a blanket, and watched her.  Al didn’t even sleep with Bucky anymore.  She slept with the girl, her head on her back as if she was ensuring that she was still breathing.

On one hand, it was absolutely precious.

On the other, Bucky had lost his cuddle buddy.

But they gave each other a wide berth.  They never touched, which he was grateful for.  He didn’t… like touch.  And he got the implication that she didn’t either.

“You know, you living here kinda reminds me of the 2020 pandemic,” he said nonchalantly as they sat in the living room watching tv.  He was on the recliner, and she was curled up on the couch with Alpine in her lap.

Her head tilted to the side as she tore her attention from the movie playing on the tv.  “The what?”

Bucky blinked.  And then he blinked again.  “The…  The 2020 pandemic?  The pandemic three years ago?” He said slowly, his brows furrowed.  “Covid-19?  Everyone had to wear masks?  America was literally a cesspool of selfish assholes who were so stupid they believed Trump?”

“Trump…  Isn’t he that celebrity show host?  He was on Home Alone?  The Lost in New York one?” She asked.

He was going crazy.  He was sure of it.

“What?” She asked, sitting up a little straighter as she crossed her legs applesauce style, causing Alpine to whine before settling back down in her lap.  “Did I say something wrong?”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  “Donald Trump became president in the 2016 election.  Then Biden won in 2020.”

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed.  “Oh.”

“How did you not know?” He asked.

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around Alpine.  “I… haven’t watched the news… in a while…”

The man could understand that, but the whole ‘not watched the news’ in a bit really only worked when it came to things like… like a celebrity doing something stupid or a law being passed.  Two whole presidential elections?  That was…  That was Amish levels of ignorance.  Even if she didn’t watch tv, there were billboards and signs and merchandise like those stupid Make America Great Again hats.

As if America had ever been great.  And he had a double right to say that, since he’d been a stupid eighteen year old kid that the military had preyed on, getting him to join up and head overseas when America had no reason to be there.

He’d lost his arm because of it.

���How long has it been since you watched the news?” He questioned, his heart racing.  He had a bad feeling about it.  A really, really bad feeling that settled in his gut.

She buried her face in Alpine’s fur, her shoulders rising and falling as she huffed.

She’d put on some weight since getting there, thankfully.  He’d been making sure she got all her protein and started her on vitamins supplements he had.

“Eleven years…”

He paused, blinking slowly.  “Eleven years?  What the hell do you mean ‘eleven years?’”  He took a moment when he saw the way she flinched away from him.  He’d figured out pretty quick that she couldn’t handle any raising of the voice.  She’d shut down.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  But…  I still don’t know anything about you except your name.  Not even your last name.  I don’t know where you came from.  I still don’t know how the hell you ended up in my front lawn, half frozen to death.  I…”  He sighed.  “What happened?”

She was quiet for so long that he was sure she wasn’t going to reply.  He started to get ready to stand up, letting out a huff.

“I was thirteen,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.  Alpine’s fur was so soft in my fingers and against my cheek.  It kept me grounded, kept me tied down to the Earth so I didn’t float away in the cloudy memories that covered the sky in my head.

Bucky was watching me closely, clearly surprised that I’d actually spoken.

My throat felt so dry.  “Um…  It was a few months after my birthday…  And I had just gotten a new phone.  It was… It was one of those sliding phones with a full keyboard?  It had a touch screen, and it was cherry red.”  I couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh as I remembered that stupid phone.  I’d been utterly obsessed with it, like any thirteen year old would be.  “I was in eighth grade and even though most people I went to school with already had an iPhone, that phone was the coolest thing ever.”

He was watching me in a way that was so intense, so focused.  I hadn’t ever had someone look at me like that.  Like he was actually listening.

“And, uh…  I used to walk to the river in the woods by my house,” I said, my voice growing soft again.  “I would go and sit and read on nice days…  I didn’t really have… friends.  I was a bit of a loner, and new.  We’d just moved there that April.”  My heart ached.  I missed that river.  I missed my parents.  More than anything.  “There was a man that I’d see sometimes at the river fishing…”

Bucky’s breath audibly hitched, and I could see his hands gripping his knees tightly.

“I was lonely,” I said, my voice cracking as I clutched onto Alpine that much tighter.  The puppy let out a whine as my eyes water.  “I didn’t have any friends yet.  I was an o-only child…  So, yeah, I’d talk t-to him.  I didn’t think it was wrong.  I f-figured if he was going to do something, he would’ve done it the f-first eighty times I s-saw him.”

“He took you, didn’t he?” He asked quietly, his voice gravelly.

Avoiding his eyes, I gave a short nod.  “Yeah.”

He stood up, his jaw set as he reached for his phone.  “We have to call the police.  If you were being held in a house on this mountain, then that means whoever took you lives close enough for you to have gotten here in a snowstorm.”

“NO!” I said as I scrambled up.  Alpine flopped to the side with a bark as she watched me scramble to knock his cell phone out of his hand.  “No cops!” I breathed out, eyes feral.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice soothing as he held up his hands in surrender.  “Okay.  No cops.  I won’t call the cops…”

I could see the confusion on his face, but a wave of relief washed over me as he agreed to not call the cops without asking too many questions.  I’d already shared so much.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, casually switching the subject as he sat back down.  He didn’t even grab his phone.

“Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds good,” I said as I took my seat again, swallowing thickly.  “Can we watch that one you were telling me about?” I asked as Alpine licked my face before settling in my lap once again.  “The…  The one about the Day of the Dead?”

An easy smile spread across his lips.  “Coco?  Yeah.  We can watch whatever you want.”

There was a shift in the air after she told Bucky about where she’d come from.  They still kept a generally wide berth, but… they were closer.  He was definitely in no hurry for her to leave.  Not when he could keep her safe in his cabin.

He felt a wave of protectiveness every time he thought of her.  He had someone to take care of now.  Other than Alpine and Steve when they were kids, he’d never had that.  Even Rebecca had been so independent growing up.

He liked having someone to protect, to take care of.  He liked checking in on her when he woke up in the morning and when he went to bed.

Which he’d started doing once she’d stopped locking her door at night.

Bucky liked preparing her breakfast and coffee for her in the morning, slowly helping her increase her food intake without hurting her tummy.  He liked checking in on her and making her laugh with his stupid jokes.

He liked… her.  She was easily the prettiest gal he’d seen, even if it was unassuming at first.

But he wasn’t a creep like the man who took her, whoever he was.  He wasn’t going to pressure her into being with him just because he was providing her shelter and food.

He wouldn’t use her like that.

And besides, it wasn’t as though she would want him.  She had just turned twenty-four that year, and he was forty-one.  There was a good seventeen year age gap, and it felt even wider once he’d realized that her education had effectively stopped at thirteen years old.

Of course, he’d started to remedy that.  He’d found some kind of online learning platform that he’d remembered from the pandemic.  Parents had started the free service in order to make sure that kids were still getting their education as schools shut down and they were pushed into Zoom classes in the autumn of 2020, after America failed and sent them back to school.

She was a lot smarter than she realized, and he made sure to tell her as often as possible.

They had a camaraderie that he hadn’t ever expected to find after he’d pushed Steve away.

Steve had been lucky.  He’d been good enough at drawing that he’d gotten a full ride to art school.  He didn’t have to enlist in order to have a future.

It wasn’t that Bucky was bitter about that.  Steve deserved it.  And now Bucky’s job was taking pictures of the mountains he lived on, and he got paid so much that he really only had to work a few months a year.

“You always talk about Steve,” she said softly one night as they ate dinner in the living room, as per their routine.  “Do you still talk to him?”

“Uh…  No,” he said quietly.  “Lately I’ve been thinking about reaching out, though…  I miss him.”

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth.  He’d made chicken tortilla soup, since that had apparently become her favorite.  “What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking…”

Bucky smiled weakly down at his own half empty bowl.  “Well…”  His spoon clinked against the side.  “It was hard after I came home… from overseas…  I’d lost my arm…  I wasn’t the same guy I was…”  He took a deep breath.  “I was angry… at everything… and I took it out on him, even when it wasn’t his fault…  And then one day I just packed up and left.  Found my way here.  I bought this place with the money I had and fixed it up…  It was a real dump.  Basically foreclosed.  But I spent an entire summer fixing it.  Had to get it done before the first snow.  And it also got me to figure out how to use my prosthetic.  It’s some… fancy experimental thing.”

There was a flicker of the lights, and then nothing.  It went completely dark.  The heater stopped, the clock on the top of the stove went off.

“Bucky?” She whimpered, the fear evident in her voice.

“Hey, it’s okay.  It’s okay.  I’m here,” he said as he used his phone flashlight to illuminate the situation a little bit.  “I’m gonna find some flashlights, okay?  You stay right there with Alpine.”

She nodded, setting her bowl to the side and wrapping her arms around the puppy.  “Okay…  H-Hurry back.”

Oh, he definitely would.  He didn’t wanna leave his bear cub alone for too long.

He found two flashlights in the basement before coming back.  “Okay, let’s get all the blankets and stuff together,” he said as he handed her one of them.  “It’s gonna get cold real quick without the heating working.”  There was no way he was gonna be able to get out to look at the generator with how heavy the snow was falling.

They piled all the blankets up on his bed before she crawled under the mountain of them, Alpine curling up next to her like always.

She watched as Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his back.  She could practically see the steam coming from his ears from how much he was overthinking.  “You can take your arm off, you know,” she said quietly, sitting up on her elbows.  “I’m…  I’m not gonna think it’s weird.”

Bucky let out a weak laugh.  “You sure, bear cub?” He asked, his voice wavering.  “I don’t want to freak you out…”

“Something that’s a part of you could never be bad,” she said quietly.

His heart stuttered inside his chest.  He didn’t know what to say in reply.  He’d never had someone say something like that.  His hand was shaking as he reached up and undid his prosthetic.  It was a whole thing he went through every night and every morning, since it was attached to his nerves.  He hissed as it finally came off, setting it in the open case on the ground as he rolled his shoulders a few times to get the tension out.

“See?” She said as she watched him, her eyes running over his back muscles and the scars that covered his shoulder.  “There’s nothing bad about you.”

Bucky slowly crawled under the blankets, staying on the other side of the bed.  He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“You gonna stay over there all night?’

He blinked, and then he blinked again, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.  “I…  What?”

She was still sitting up on her elbows, her lower lip caught between her teeth.  Her eyes were flickering between the blankets and him.  “You don’t have to stay over there…  I’m not… gonna break if we cuddle, you know…”

Bucky’s heart stopped inside his chest as his mind went blank.  He suddenly wasn’t thinking anymore about how he might hurt her.  She wanted him.  Or at least… wanted him to cuddle with her.

Which he was more than happy to comply.

I scooted over a little closer to Bucky when I realized he was frozen staring at me.  He seemed to be in shock over the fact that I wanted to cuddle.

“Jamie?” I said softly, my fingers grabbing onto his arm and tugging him closer.  “Please?”

I watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded.

“I mean…  You don’t have to,” I added quickly, feeling a flash of anxiety.  What if I had imagined everything?  The flirting?  The calling me bear cub?  “Not if…  Not if you don’t want to.”

Maybe my emotional growth was just as stunted as my educational growth.

But then moved closer to the center of the bed, his strong arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.  So close that I was lying on top of his chest.  He was so nice and warm.

And so strong.  He wasn’t like one of those guys in Hollywood or the bodybuilders that were all dehydrated in order to look like they had a twenty pack of abs or something.  He was the real kind of strong.

It was sexy as hell.

And it had been so long since I’d had a gentle touch…  Or had someone hold me just for the sake of holding me.

I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it until Bucky was holding me close, his lips pressing to my forehead.

“James?  If you don’t mind me asking…  How did you lose your arm?”

I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took in my question.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I…  I want to,” he insisted as he brought me that much closer.  His chin rested on top of my head.  “I was on break…  And these little local kids loved playing hopscotch with us.  We’d draw out the hopscotch on the ground and we would use a little rock and all that…  Then one day, there was a truck out by the road.  One of ours.  We didn’t think anything of it even though it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.  We figured that out later.”  He pressed his lips to my head.  He was trembling, even if he was trying to hide it.  “We were searching for a good rock to use… and when I got close to grab a rock under the wheel… someone set off a bomb.  Blew my arm clean off.  It was all in… all in slow motion.”  Bucky sighed, shaking his head.  “I’d rather it be me then one of those little kids though.”

I sighed, squeezing him tight.  “You’re a good man, James.”  He clearly didn’t wanna think about it anymore, so I quickly changed the subject.  “Have you ever had someone braid your hair?” I asked as I reached up, running my fingers through his long hair.

“Can’t say I have,” he said, a chuckle reverberating through his chest.  “Why?  You wanna braid my hair for me, bear cub?”

I hummed, twirling a strand of his hair around my fingers.  “Mm…  I think it’d look real pretty braided…”

“Pretty?  You calling me pretty?” He snorted.

“Mmhm.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’re pretty.”

By the blush on his cheeks, I could tell that he hadn’t ever been called pretty again.

And I knew I’d have to start calling him pretty a lot more.

Bucky had a shy smile on his face as he squeezed me closer to him, burying his face in my hair.  “You’re prettier, bear cub.”  He kissed my forehead again, humming.  “Get some sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was another two months before there was a break in the snow long enough for them to be able to head to town for more groceries.  Plus, they needed to stop and get her some clothing that actually fit her.

Not that Bucky didn’t mind her wearing his clothes.  He liked it a lot, actually.  His little bear cub in his sweaters and such.

But she did want some pants that fit her proper and some underwear, at least.

And she was excited, but clearly anxious.  “Come on, Alpine,” she said happily as they ran out to the truck, Bucky following quickly behind.

“You’re adorable,” he said softly as he climbed in the driver’s seat.

“Shut it,” she said, covering her face in Alpine’s white fur.

He was falling for her.  Hard.  Even after the electric came back on, they hadn’t stopped staying in the same bed.  It just felt natural.  They hadn’t done anything more than cuddle, but he wasn’t exactly in a rush.  Bucky was very happily letting her take the reins when it came to how quick they moved.

But he did wanna talk to her about being together officially at some point.

The one thing he was really worried about was the fact that she still wouldn’t let him call the police.

He just wanted to find the man who had hurt her and wring his neck with his bare hands.

Or at least have him thrown in jail.  At the very least.

The first thing they did was get her some clothes and shoes so she could change into them, even though he was pleased to note that she did keep on his sweater.

She looked really, really good in green.

Like, really good.

“We need at least two containers of cottage cheese,” she said as she grabbed them, grinning.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.  He couldn’t help it.  He loved touching her.  Preferred to have at least one hand on her at all times.  “Better make that three containers, bear cub.  From what I remember, someone ate an entire container in one sitting and then promptly threw all of it up.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”  Her cheeks flushed as she nuzzled into him.  “And I only have two hands, James.”

A slow smirk spread over his lips as he looked at her pretty face.  He loved getting her all flustered.  “I didn’t say you had to grab it all at once.”  As if to make a point, he reached over and grabbed a third container, moving to set it in the cart.

It was when he had turned his head away for less than thirty seconds that he heard the sound of plastic hitting the ground, and saw cottage cheese splattered across the marble tiles.

“Bear cub?” He said in confusion as he looked around.  But she’d disappeared.  His brows furrowed as his eyes met Brock Rumlow’s, who was glowering at him for some fucking reason.  His eyes flickered down to his outfit, his heart stopping inside his chest when he saw the badge.

Brock Rumlow was a police officer.

His bear cub hated cops and refused to let him call the cops.

She’d disappeared when she saw him.

Fuck.

He didn’t like the thoughts that were running in his head.

Bucky had to find her before Brock did.

He didn’t even attempt to act nonchalant as he ran through the store, leaving the cart there.  His heart was absolutely racing.

Alpine wasn’t sitting outside the front door where they’d left her.

He rushed to the parking lot, breathing out a sigh of relief when he found her and Alpine in the truck, huddled down on the floor.  “Oh, thank fuck,” he breathed out as he got in the driver’s seat.  He didn’t even buckle before he was peeling out of the parking lot.  “He’s not gonna touch you, baby.  I promise.”

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, tears staining down her soft cheeks.  “H-He…  He’s the one who…”

“I know,” he said quietly as he reached over to take her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.  He was flying up the mountain as fast as he could without spinning out, heading for the cabin.  “I know that it’s him.  But he’s not going to touch you, okay?  I’m not gonna let him.  I’m gonna protect you.”  He handed her his phone out of his pocket.  “Bear cub, can you go to my contacts and call Sam?  Tell him we need him as soon as possible.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she found the name and called.  “H-Hello?  This is Bucky’s friend and w-we need someone at Bucky’s immediately.  Please.”

When they got back to the cabin, he rushed her inside.  “Go upstairs to our bedroom, lock the door, and then go to the bathroom and lock the door,” he said.  “Take the handgun in my bedside table with you.”

“J-Jamie, I’m scared,” she whimpered, her hands shaking.

He rushed forward, his hands holding her face as he pulled her into a kiss.  “It’s all gonna be okay.  But don’t come out for anyone that isn’t me, alright?” He said softly, caressing her cheeks.  “Take Alpine with you.”

She nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief as she went.

He grabbed the gun he had hidden in the living room, quickly loading it.  He knew that Rumlow would be coming up after them, especially if he was the one who had kept his precious girl kidnapped for over a decade.

He had a lot to lose.

But so did Bucky.  He’d just gotten his girl, and he wasn’t losing her anytime soon.

Bucky Barnes would not be losing the one person that made him feel human again.

And if it came down to it, and he died protecting her, he’d be okay with that as long as she was safe.  He’d just have to bring down Brock with him.

He stiffened as he heard the car pull into the drive with a roar and then the slamming of the door.  He knew it wasn’t Sam.  It would take him longer than that to get up there considering when they’d called.

Brock didn’t even bother knocking.  He shot through the lock and threw the door open.

It was all a blur.  Bucky shot at him and managed to catch him in the thigh, but Brock just kept coming.  He was pretty sure he had a bulletproof vest on, too.

“So this is where the little brat’s been?” Brock snarled, glaring as he pointed the gun at him.  “I figured she’d died out in the snow.  Would’ve been better if she had.”

Bucky wasn’t going to dignify it with a response.  He knew Brock was just trying to rile him up to get him to fuck up.  And he couldn’t let that happen when his girl’s life was on the line.

What he did do was aim at Brock’s hand and get him to drop the gun before he rushed forward and pinned him to the ground to wait for Sam.  He shoved him to the ground, glaring at him harshly.  “You will never touch her again,” he hissed, emphasizing each word as his hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed threateningly.  “And I’d fucking kill you now, but you don’t deserve a quick death.”  He spit in his face.  “I want you to get put in prison for life, and I want to hear about how your ass is getting kicked everyday for kidnapping and raping a little girl, and holding her hostage for over a decade.  I’m gonna personally make sure you never see the light of day again.”

As soon as the door opened and Sam came in with two other officers, he lifted his hands in surrender, getting off him once he knew that Brock wouldn’t be able to get out.

Before anyone could stop to question him, he ran upstairs.  “BABY?” He called out as he knocked on the bedroom door.

It took less than thirty seconds for his girl to open the door and throw herself into his arms, Alpine barking excitedly behind her.

“Hey, Alpine,” he said with a laugh as he scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as she buried her face in his neck.  “Did you protect your mama?  Yeah?”

She let out a weak laugh as she nuzzled in further.  “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice cracking as she pulled back to look at him, holding his face as she checked him for injuries.

“Bear cub, he didn’t even touch me,” he said softly, holding her close.  “He’s in cuffs now, being put in the back of a cop car to go to prison…”  He kissed her forehead.  “He can’t ever get near you again.  They’re gonna search his place and it’ll all be over.  You never have to go back there ever again.”

I jerked awake, letting out a broken scream.  Sweat dripped down my back, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Alpine let out a worried whine from where she laid on my feet, keeping them toasty.

“Hey…  Hey, I’m here,” Bucky whispered sleepily as he brought me into his chest with his one arm.  His prosthetic had been taken off earlier.  “I’ve got you, bear cub…  I’m right here…”

I crumbled into tears as I was pulled onto his lap, my nose brushing against his neck.  “J-Jamie…”

“Was it the dream again?”

I nodded, my hands grasping at him to hold him close.  “I wa-was back in that basement…  W-With Him.”

He had gotten to see the basement first hand.  The concrete walls.  The dirty mattress that rested on the ground without any sheets.  The bugs and the rats that I had shared that space with.  The broken window that Brock had covered with a trash bag.  The cameras.

He’d seen me through the whole trial.

It didn’t take long for Brock to be put on trial and found guilty.  Hell, the jury only deliberated for an hour before coming back and giving their verdict.

With all the evidence from his cabin and his own poor defense, I didn’t even have to testify, which was a relief.

The piece of shit actually thought he’d get off easy.  But he got fifty years, and considering he was already over forty, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever get to leave prison again.

There was a bit of… question about what would happen to me after.  Where I would go.

My parents came to see me at Bucky’s, and they started talking about me going home with them and how they still had my room all set up.

But I just couldn’t leave Bucky and Alpine.  Not after everything.

And as much as I knew that me being taken wasn’t their fault, I didn’t feel safe with them like I did with him.

I thought Bucky was going to cry when I said that I wanted to stay with him.  He’d rushed to reassure them that he was going to take care of me and he was already working on helping me get my GED.

They seemed to like him, which was good.

And yeah.  The nightmares still came back sometimes.  I would always be haunted, even with my therapists’ help.

“I’ve got you…  He’s never gonna touch you again.  You’re safe,” Bucky whispered as he kissed my cheek.  He pulled back, his hand cupping my face.  “I love you.  And I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.  And you know Alpine won’t.”

“I know,” I said softly as I rested my head against his chest as he laid us down again.  “I love you, too.”

No, the nightmares didn’t go away.  But that didn’t matter when I had Bucky.

[joyfulhopelox]

Rosy Carnation

Pairing: painter!Min Yoongi x skater!reader (non-idol! au)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some talk about social anxiety, Yoongi is a bit harsh in the beginning but rest is just pure fluff

Word count: 6k

rating: pg

Summary: There was nothing in this world that Yoongi hated more than busybodies. Unfortunately for him one particular ditzy skater decides to break the peace by crashing into his life and offering him a rosy carnation

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner (thank you @mochi-molala for giving me the artistic approval for this think you didn’t realise how much it helped)

This is part 3 of my Love Blossom series and quite unedited, i tried but some mistakes may have escaped my notice

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

There was nothing more peaceful than being able to sit by the river in the early hours of the morning. Every day without fail, Yoongi would take advantage of the sleeping city and set camp by the riverside situated just on the outskirts.

The place was far from being secluded, its location sign-posted by the popular park that housed it. But he knew that during those hours no one bothered to visit, everyone was busy with their office jobs. It wasn’t that he was unemployed, it just so happened that his job allowed him to work from wherever and at whatever time. In fact, the more scenic the location the better for him. As a painter he had the freedom to choose his office, and his most prefered location happened to be by the riverside. The stillness of the morning, the sun just about to peek out from under the city skyline and the sound of the birds conversing amongst each other relaxed him. And if there was one thing that permitted Yoongi to paint without restrictions, was the tranquility of everything around him.

His normal spot, under a beech tree, was rarely used, the pathway that passed by it not being used by the general population. Sometimes he would spot the occasional cyclist passing by on their way to work, sometimes he would hear the scraping of the skateboards doing tricks in the skate park located behind the wall of trees that surrounded him. But no one ever bothered him, or was bothered by him. And it suited him and his needs just fine.

Yoongi disliked it when his flow was interrupted. Luckily for him, it rarely happened. No one threw him more than a glance as no one found the scene to be out of place. Sometimes he would be pulled out of his thoughts by the yap of a dog that got too excited at the prospect of a new human. Other times he would be questioned by the curious child that has never seen a painter at work. Those did not inconvenience him, the innocence and sincerity of the interference was enough to not disturb him.

However, what he miscalculated that day was the early start of the fishing season. One bad trait of being a painter working under your own schedule was losing track of time. And so when that one morning he trudged along with his canvas and his tools to his sacred spot only to find it occupied by fishermen he almost had a panic attack. He forgot all about that, and so unprepared, he did not know what to do or where to relocate. Pausing for a couple of minutes, his eyes scrutinising the men sitting on the riverbank in complete stillness, he contemplated on setting up his stool next to them. But when one of them yelled in glee at having caught a fish, he decided he’d rather not. Fishermen needed to be still because of the nature of their activity, that did not mean they were quiet people overall.

Disappointed and a bit frazzled, Yoongi picked up his canvas from where he set it next to his foot and left the area to scout for a substitute.

After what felt like a good few minutes of walking in circles, he found himself passing by a small public garden right in the middle of the greenery encompassing the riverside. He inspected it quietly, his eyes taking in the flower arrangements and the neatly cut grass. Has that always been there? Probably, it is not like he ventured out of his safe spot. But now, when forced to he realised that maybe there were other places where he could sit and paint in peace. Determinately, he walked into the small gated garden familiarising himself with the layout. There were some benches strewn across the space, all of them framed by vibrant rose bushes, some young oak trees judging by their height but what caught his eye most importantly was the small gazebo tucked away at the back of the garden gated by rows of variously coloured carnations. He decided that it would be the perfect spot, it would have to do for now. Not like he had any other choice. The morning was almost gone, the heat of the midday sun bleeding its way into the breeze. Soon the park will get busier and busier.

Dumping his belongings on the ground he sets off to unpack everything so he could get started. He felt strangely excited about this new spot he had found. Somehow, the novelty of the environment has given him the inspiration that he needed for today’s session. He normally shied away from new experiences, new people and most importantly unexpected circumstances, but this circumstance was more than welcome.

As he sat on his stool, paint brush in hand, the blank canvas staring at him, daring him to fill it with his vision he bit his lip. Suddenly so many ideas zoomed through his mind that he had a hard time deciphering which one sounded the best.

However, none of them made it on the actual canvas.

A skateboard zoomed straight past his feet,out of control, knocking into his carefully placed tools; acrylics and brushes scattered all over the ground in various corners of the gazebo. An exasperated yell and some harsh pants followed said abomination. Yoongi, who was too stunned to even form a sentence or comprehend what was happening around him, stared as you ran towards him at full speed.

“I’m so sorry, sorry sorry sorry” you repeated zooming towards him at breakneck speed. Still in shock Yoongi still couldn’t process what was happening around him. You were going to barrel straight into him but all he could do was blink, his brain still trying to catch up with the situation. One moment you were running towards the skateboard and the next moment found you laying sprawled at his feet.

“Ouch” Yoongi blinked once, twice, three times, and reality finally caught up with him.

He stared at the mess around him. His canvas was lying on the ground a few good feet away from him, its white clean surface now completely smudged with dirt and his acrylics and brushes were all scattered at his feet. The sight of his paints not only disorganised in such a fashion but also crushed and spilled all over the ground caused his stomach to drop. They were not the cheapest and they were also the only ones he had left. It was clear there was nothing to salvage, he had to go once more to the art store and buy more.

“Ohmygod i am so sorry!” The frantic voice was loud enough to make Yoongi wince.

You were not having a good day, and it showed. You started the morning by burning your toast. Then you forgot to grab your keys, which resulted in you having to beg your landlord for the spare in the early hours of the morning. To say they were not pleased was an understatement. You spilled coffee on your white top on your way to the park. And to top it all off you ended up hurtling towards an extremely handsome man.

You decided in the morning that you would try to learn that late kickflip your friends have been trying to teach you, but as a new skater you decided to practice in the garden just off the side of the skate park. One foot placement went wrong and your skate ran from under your feet flying towards the unsuspecting victim.

Luckily it did not hit him, however it scattered all of his belongings all over the dirty ground. It felt as if you were watching all of that happen in slow motion, when in reality it probably only took you a second to react. Trying to help and get a hold of your skate, you rushed to catch it in time before it disappeared into the row of carnations. But you miscalculated entirely the distance between you and the stranger, his foot halting your run.

And that is how you ended up there, on the floor, at his feet, covered in his paints.

You sprung up as fast as you could ignoring the tingling in your leg and started apologising profusely. However, the harshness at which you crashed on the floor combined with the speed at which you got up were a fatal combination. The blood rushed to your feet quicker than you could process and your knees gave out from under you. In an attempt to not crash onto the floor again you grabbed onto the closest stable object you could. Only, it happened to not be an object but a person. So with a clammy hand you latched onto the man in front of you.

Yoongi did not know what to do. You had grabbed onto him with such conviction that his brain malfunctioned. He hated to be touched, especially by strangers. And so when the fight or flight instinct kicked in he shrugged you off violently causing you to crumple on the floor once again.

“Ouch.” Your butt hurt and you wanted to be annoyed at him, but when you looked up to let your feelings known and your eyes locked onto his panicked ones, you paused. He looked ready to run off on you. “I- uh, am sorry” You tried once more to get up, this time as slowly as you could. You knew there would be a bruise later but it was not something you were unfamiliar with.

Yoongi did not respond to you. He couldn’t, his brain was still ready to shut down. He normally ran away from any human interaction, the nature of his job enough to facilitate such behaviour. Being faced with it and in such an unexpected way caused his anxiety to be at an all time high. And so he did what he normally does best; he retreated within himself completely ignoring your apology.

Silently he stepped away from you and crouched down to start picking up his belongings. With an anguished sigh he took in the mess that his acrylics had become. It was going to cost him a lot to be able to replace them but what other choice did he have?

Taking his silence as a sign of anger, you panicked. If there was one thing you could not stand was to see someone angry. Especially when it was directed at you. In an attempt to amend yourself to him you crouched down next to him and started picking up his stuff. “I am really sorry. I didn't mean to. It was just a new trick that i wanted to learn, and i am a newbie at all this and so i was scared to go to the skate park and try them. And I am a clutz and I knew this was going to happen at some point! The day has already started on such a bad note-”

You knew you were rambling, you were nervous. But Yoongi did not care about that. He just wanted you gone. He wanted his peace back, he wanted to get his work done and retreat back to his home and most importantly, he wanted you to get your hands off of his possessions.

Without looking at you, he harshly grabbed for the brushes that you had gathered in your hand. “Leave” he surprised himself at how resolute he managed to sound despite the slight waver in his voice.

“Are you angry? Oh my god you are! I am so sorry again, let me make it up to you! I really did not mean to destroy your work!” you get up once more rushing towards the canvas that lay a few feet away from the two of you. Picking it up you stare at the blank piece of material.

“Oh, are you an artist?” you turn to him, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Completely forgetting the incident from earlier you giddily walk over, the canvas extended towards him.

Yoongi could not believe his eyes, your brash behaviour in front of a complete stranger that has made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you was baffling to him. He contemplated for a second the thought of you being deaf, but then no because you had clearly heard him the first time. His anxiety quickly morphed into annoyance, if you weren’t going to leave he decided he would.

Taking a hold of the canvas you were handing over to him he pulled it out of your hands and stuffed it under his arm. Crouching down again he hurriedly stuffs his brushes and acrylics in his bag. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could before you had the chance to touch any of his belongings again.

“Hey, i-uh. Please don’t be angry. I really am sorry. Look you don’t have to leave, i will go” Yoongi paused, his hand hovering above his palette. Chancing a glance at you, his eyes widened a fraction. You looked completely frazzled. Not even looking at him, your eyes focused on your fretting hands. He could just about see a snippet of your face and the way your bottom lip was trembling slightly made his anger melt a little. Maybe he has been a bit too harsh on you.

“Yes” he offers offhandedly whilst placing his canvas back to where it was before.

At his change in tone your head snaps up and you gape at him. “What?” you breathe out in surprise. His soft but deep voice took you by surprise. It was extremely smooth and you had not expected it to come out of his mouth.

He did not offer you anything else, leaving you gawking at him, watching as he set up his canvas onto the easel. You were silent for a couple of minutes trying to understand what he had meant when it finally hit you.

“Ah! You are an artist! That is amazing, what type of paintings do you do? Is it nature?” you clapped your hands excitedly. “Of course it is nature Y/N, he is in the middle of the gazebo how dumb can you be” you muttered to yourself whilst shaking your head.

Yoongi glanced at you from his periphery. He wasn’t feeling as threatened by your presence as he had before, but that did not mean he was comfortable with you being there. He observed you for a couple of seconds watching as you muttered to yourself for the time being. He took it as a chance to set his palette down and tried to squeeze whatever was left of his acrylics onto it.

You realised a bit too late that you had started daydreaming whilst muttering to yourself and so with rosy cheeks you mutter another apology.

“You apologise too much.” Yoongi did not know where his courage had come from but he couldn’t stop the words spilling from his mouth. “I asked you to leave.” His harsh words caused you to flinch, but your eagerness to see him paint rooted you on the spot.

“Is-uh,” you took a deep breath in trying to calm your beating heart, “is it ok if i stay here and watch you?” You cringed at how voyeuristic that sounded. But you had to admit to yourself, the honey haired guy, with soft plump cheeks and pouty lips has caught your interest and you were not ready to part with him just yet.

Yoongi didn’t respond, he’s made it clear he wanted you gone, but he finally understood that the clumsy human that managed to wreck his set up was a stubborn one. He chose instead to ignore your presence and settle on his painting, giving you unspoken permission to do as you pleased.

Catching onto the meaning of his silence you beamed and sat yourself down.

Trying your hardest to be silent you bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate you disturbing him any longer. Soon enough, you slipped into a daydream your eyes focused on the flowers behind the hunched form of the intriguing artist.

Yoongi sighed in satisfaction, his painting was finally finished. He had opted to use greens this time, the nature around him inspiring the concept behind this. However, he could not help but add the dots of red here and there, its fiery tumultuous colour breaking the tranquility of the greens. Just like you had thundered into his life just earlier.

“Woah” broken out of the daydream by the sound of his sigh, your eyes focused on the painting before you. You knew you were easily impressed but this painting was stunning. “That is so cool” you whispered in awe.

Yoongi blushed, he had been complimented a lot on his work, but there was something about the sincerity shining through your statement that frazzled him. He nodded in acknowledgment. He had enough knowledge to be aware that he needed to thank you for the compliment.

“Oh!” you sprung up suddenly the transition making him jump. “I am late!” You quickly picked up your skateboard. “Ah,” stopping mid run you turn back. Rushing to the bushes of carnations you pick one up. With confident stride you head back.

Yoongi watched you, once again his mind completely discombobulated by your abruptness. When you halt in front of him and push the flower into his hands he doesn’t know how to react. Instead he just sits there waiting for your next move, his mind once again preparing him to flee.

“It was nice meeting you….uh?” You realised you did not ask for his name, so as you urge the flower into his grasp you wait patiently for him to offer it to you. When after a minute of silence he doesn’t you try again. “What is your name?”

“So can you like...teach me how to paint?” you eyes brightened at the thought.

“What?” Yoongi sputtered. A week has passed since the first time you decided to literally crash into his life. A week of your mindless chatter. Even so, he had tried his best to ignore you and your childish view of the world. He was ignoring you, but it was not like he couldn’t hear you.

He was not expecting that request, and yet, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Your randomness and innocence has been taking his breath away from the moment he saw you. You were all over the place, clumsy and random. He did not want to sit and ponder at that thought, feeling the shiver of anxiety creep back in. Schooling his expression to a neutral one he shook his head and went back to his canvas.

“No” the harsh tone of his voice made you flinch.

Not noticing the effect his words had on you he carried on, “You’d do a very poor job of it, and it hurts to think you’d waste all this material for some doodles.” Not giving you a chance to respond he sighed and put his brush down. “Finally finished.” He sat and observed his work for a couple of moments. He was satisfied, it was not his best work but he liked the outcome. The blue colour scheme gave him a sense of peace.

Realising the silence had gone on too long he turned around to face you. You were unnaturally quiet, your face scrunched up as if in deep thought. He would have thought you’d gone into one of your daydreams if not for the shiny gloss in your eyes. He could not understand why his heart did that flip, or why his mouth formed into a frown mirroring your own. Had he said something wrong? Mulling over his words he decided that maybe his tone was too harsh but you spoke up before he could try to remedy it.

“Ah, i see, you are right” you sniffed trying to mask the tears in your voice. “I am quite clumsy, there is no way i can make something as beautiful as this.” You gesture to his work, the canvas a swirl of blues, it reminded you of the ocean. You did not know why his words stung, it’s not like he didn’t have a point. You were probably incapable of creating something like that. Stick figures were all you could draw, and even those tended to be lopsided.

Yoongi’s heart clenched. “Uhh-” he did not know what to say, it wasn’t as if he could take it back. He did not want to take it back, he wasn’t a liar. But maybe he could have turned you down a bit softer than he has. He may have been awkward in social situations and missed a lot of cues, but the tears gathered in your eyes were hard to miss. Even he could sense the sadness that overpowered the atmosphere.

“It’s ok, i need to, uh go. I’ll see you next time. Here” you quickly drop something next to his brushes and without a second thought you turn away from him and leave as quickly as you’d arrived.

With your back turned towards him, your feet taking you further and further away you could finally release the sob that has been threatening to surface.His words hurt. But you were well aware it was not the words that caused the tear in your heart. It was the unfeeling and harsh way he threw them at you. You contemplated whether or not you should chance a glance behind you, but decided against it. You did not think you could stand the sight of him stepping on the last bit of dignity you had. A rosy carnation.

Yoongi knew he usually missed a lot of social cues. For example when the curator asked him out for a coffee and he told them he stopped drinking caffeine because it caused insomnia. Or when the gallery director had wanted to shake his hand in greeting and he simply just stared at it. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with them, it was just that it took him a lot longer to process these cues than the average human being.

When you’d left him the carnation he simply threw a glance at it but did not give it a second thought as he carried on painting. He almost left it there when he packed up his tools- almost stepping on it. He saw it just in time, the rosy colour attracting his attention. He bent down and picked it up gently; the flower was almost wilted from the heat. Prepared to throw it away he thought of you and stopped. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your distressed eyes and the gleam of your tears weighing heavily on his mind. With a sigh he cradled the flower in his palm, he would put it in between the pages of a book and press it dry.

Yoongi had no clue why he kept visiting the gazebo to work on his paintings. His previous spot so rarely visited that he’s almost forgotten where it was. He tried to convince himself it was because fishing season has not ended and so he would have been bothered by the men setting up around him. He tried not to think of the fact that the thought of not having your voice there, or the noises of the skateboard you practiced with caused him distress. He told himself it was because after a month of having you there with him, you became part of his routine. Like the background noise of a radio in the morning.

He could not pinpoint when your mindless chatter and pleas to ask him to teach you how to paint had become comforting to him. Even at home when he would try to read, he would pick up a book and open it only to come across a rosy carnation drying in between its pages.

You had made it a habit to leave him a flower every time you came to see him. He did not ponder too long as to why, but he’s kept them all. He did not want to ponder too long on that thought either. So he ignored it, but deep down he knew why.

Your eagerness, your clumsiness, your childish view of the world were enough to melt the wall he has built around himself. Somehow, you chipped at that wall with determination just like you did on the first day you met. Ungraceful and uncoordinated.

He knew you’d wormed your way into his soul and just like the flowers he kept pressing for safekeeping, he’s ingrained the memory of you into his brain.

When you’d started to ask more personal questions he found himself answering without a second thought.

“So, uh, have you always wanted to be a painter?” You were sat next to him tinkering with the wheels of your skateboard, from time to time getting distracted at the way his long fingers were clutching the brush. You blushed, thankful he was distracted by his work.

“No,” Yoongi paused to bend down and pick his palette and you thought that was the extent of the information he was willing to provide. “My parents wanted me to be a lawyer.” With a new colour on his brush he squinted focusing on getting the lines just right, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

The silence that ensued settled heavily around the two of you. “Oh,” your voice did not sound too surprised. Yoongi glanced at you, you were gazing at him with such understanding that he found it hard to tear his gaze away. “Are they happy you chose to do what you love instead?” You carried on, trying out your luck.

Yoongi looked away from you, he couldn’t say what he wanted to say whilst your eyes were digging deep into his soul. “I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged as if to make a point. “I left home to move here and haven’t spoken to them since.”

The words, heavy as lead, echoed in your brain. But they were not unfamiliar. “I am sure they would want to talk to you. My parents died when i was young and i was raised by my grandparents.” Your voice sounded casual, but the slight change of tone made Yoongi raise his eyes to look at you. You were smiling at him, your face not giving away any of the pain you were feeling inside.

Yoongi may have been socially anxious, but he was observant, he couldn’t help it, it was the nature of his job. His eyes picked up on the way your chin trembled and his ears caught the slight waver in your voice. He didn’t know how it happened until he felt the corners of his mouth raising up. And with an uncertain smile in your direction, he managed to erase the sadness that clouded over your face.

“Pick up that brush” his tone softer than you have ever heard it.

“Huh?” You didn’t know where the change in tone had come from, but it managed to take you by surprise.

“Pick up the brush,” he repeated his head nodding in the direction of said tools. “And come here.” He stood up from his stool gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you up. The contact of his cold hands on your warm ones made you shiver, but in the heat of the summer it felt comforting. You savoured the way his gentle hands pulled you into the chair and handed you the brush he had been holding. Softly he guided your hand onto the canvas and your breath stopped.

His hands, the hands you had been observing ever since you met him, were smooth. His long slender fingers imprinting themselves onto the back of your hand. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the way the pale skin of his slender wrist peeked from under the long sleeve he was wearing. The skin on the inside of his wrist almost translucent enough to allow his veins to show.

“Like this” he steered the brush onto the canvas, his voice so close to your ear it made you your heart skip a beat. When the bristles made contact with the material of the canvas leaving the mark of the acrylic on it, you knew. Just like the doodle he’s made, his mark on your heart would be permanent.

Yoongi didn’t know when he started craving your touch. It just happened. He carried on giving you lessons, finding it ironic how adamant he was at the beginning to refuse you. Little by little he started looking forward to his morning ritual of setting up in the garden, your clumsy self stumbling in the gazebo just as he was about to set his easel down. He would not even sit himself first, he would grab your hand allowing himself to revel in the way your smaller rough hand would fit into his larger one and sit you on the stool. Handing you the brushes he would sit next to your skateboard and watch as you tried to create something on the canvas, your brows furrowed in concentration.

How ironic that you would switch places. He would sit for a couple of hours watching your uncertain movements and listen to the small sounds of glee when you’d manage to get the brush to do what you wanted it to. His heart would pound in his chest when your tongue would flit across your lips subconsciously and the small smile gracing his lips would be a permanent fixture on his face. He did not care that he hasn’t painted in a few weeks. He was more than satisfied watching you.

When your painting session would end you’d end up talking for hours under the shade of the gazebo, the smell of flowers wafting all around you.

And you would always leave with lighter hears and the crinkle of a smile indented in the corner of your eyes and him with a rosy carnation cradled to his chest waiting to join the rest of the others.

When one morning you didn’t arrive at your usual time under the gazebo Yoongi noticed. He decided to wait for you for hours, but when the sun bled under the city skyline and the night settled in he decided it was time to go home. With a heavy heart and an empty hand he returned home hoping that the next day you would arrive and tell him about your day.

But one day turned into two, which turned into a week, which then turned into two- and before he knew it a whole month had passed.

In the beginning Yoongi would wait for you patiently, hoping that he would hear your yelps or even your greeting from afar. When that did not happen, he decided he would use that time to continue painting, maybe you’d arrive halfway through and ask him about it. When that didn’t happen either he noticed that instead of a smile on his face he now wore a frown.

After a whole month of not seeing you he became numb to the feeling. He decided that he would not let his mind ponder too much on your absence. But he could not completely block the way his thoughts would return back to you, and he could not help the wistful gaze he would throw the carnations around the gazebo.

As the months of summer wilted into the chill of autumn, the day he decided to stop waiting for you was the day you once again stumbled into him.

Running as fast as your leg permitted you halted a meter away from him, your breath coming out in harsh pants. Yoongi faltered, the grasp he had on his brush slackening, the tool clattering to the ground. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. Instead his eyes took in the way your form trembled with exhaustion, stopping at the wrapped up parcel you had under your arm.

“I am so so so sorry” you rasped, the effort causing you to cough. Looking up at him, your gaze met his dark one. He did not look upset, or even disinterested. He looked concerned, then you realised the state you came to see him in.

Yoongi took notice immediately at the lack of skateboard, this time replaced by a crutch. The way you were favouring one leg over the other concerned him. Had you been in an accident?

“I am so sorry,” you repeated, taking him back to the first moment he’s met you. Your clumsy self apologising incessantly and rambling in nervousness. “I fell one day whilst on the way here, and i broke my leg. I did not mean to stop showing up i promise! I had wanted to come see you as soon as i left the doctor’s office but the injury was worse than i could have suspected and- and” your voice wavered, trembling in exhaustion, still not having caught your breath.

Yoongi got up without a word, his silent form approaching yours. When only a few inches were left between the two of you he places both of his hands on your shoulders halting your apology. Looking up at him your gaze softens, his eyes were glossy but his mouth curled up in a smile.

“You’re ok” he repeated over and over as if to reassure himself. Your eyes now mirroring his own watery ones you nod.

In a flash he hugs you tightly, your crutch clattering to the ground and the parcel under the other arm making a dull thud as it hit the dirty floor. You gasped in surprise, your arms not knowing where to settle themselves. After a couple of seconds your brain catches up and relaxes and you melt into his hug. Despite his hands being always cold, his hug is warm and inviting.

You think back to the first time you met, how his cold words told you to leave him be. The drastic change in his attitude and demeanour make you smile softly. You burrowed your head in his shoulder inhaling his scent. He smelt of oils and acetone with an undertone of something floral, and you gasp. Carnations.

As if remembering something important you pulled yourself away from his touch, the cold autumn air making you shiver at the loss of contact.

Yoongi is confused for a moment, his eyes widening in panic. Has he made the wrong move? Has he read your intentions wrong? His heart clenches at the thought of you not returning the feelings that bloomed in his chest. But when you offer him a reassuring smile and bend down, grabbing onto his arm for support his emotions settle.

“This is for you” your hands were shaking. Handing over the mysterious parcel, you waited patiently for him to take it.

He glances at it uncertainly, but when you push it towards him his hand wraps around it. With as much skill as he could he opened it with one hand. Tearing the paper away he gasped. The corner of a canvas is sticking through the whole.

Looking at you in surprise your nervous eyes urge him to carry on. So he does.

The paper now completely teared open, his eyes settle onto a familiar flower painted onto the canvas. A carnation.

You watched him open your gift. You had tried your hardest during the time you were stuck at home with a cast on to practice and after weeks of painful frustrated tears, you’d finally managed to get it right. You had wanted to convey your feelings in a way that he would understand without feeling the pressure to conform to societal norms. To show him how much his effort to accommodate you and include you in his secluded life meant to you.

“Did you know,” you were whispering, “that rosy carnations mean admiration?”

Yoongi finally got it, realisation dawning over his features. He looked up at you, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding his chest. You were still smiling at him a tear now running down your cheek. “I wanted to convey my admiration for you in a way that would be permanent.” The hand on his arm tightened as if you make a point. “So i tried my best to do that.”

Yoongi smiled, not the uncertain smile you were used to, a full smile, the gums of his teeth showing, his features softening.

“A painting is not eternal, but with the artist the painting it over and over again it can be.” His free hand cups your cheek gently. “So stay with me.”

Main Masterlist

[theficplug]

ll 𝒾 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ll

Yahya x Black Reader

{a little malcolm & marie loosely, not so loosely inspired fic and after seeing a few things from Yahya. I’ve decided to write this.}

Warnings: none, i think ? possible tw: the brief mention of abandonment issues

Yahya was already padding through your shared cozy modern loft. 

His “good shoes'' as he calls them, long forgotten by the welcome mat.

 He headed straight to the kitchen to reheat leftovers from the Valentine's Day dinner you prepared for him last night. 

“Hors d'oeuvres weren't cutting it baby. And it was dry as hell.” he says jokingly as he turns on the Alexa. 

All Night by Beyonce plays softly in the background.

“What’s with you? You’ve barely said two words since we’ve gotten back from the event. You mad?” he asks slinging the blazer over the counter and kicking back against it. 

"I'm not angry Yahya. I want to take this tight ass dress off, have a warm shower , and go to bed. Can I do that in peace? " You say to him as you kick off the heels and make your way to the bedroom.

He was right on your trails as he followed you in and crossed his arms. 

“You looked beautiful tonight. Look at you.” he compliments 

The day of love was supposed to be just that but it felt like it was veering towards the opposite end of the spectrum. You take off your ears placing them in the jewelry holder carefully before sighing and kicking off your heels next. 

Yahya reassured you that he’d be home for Valentines Day but instead chose to take the last minute wrap dinner with his castmates and talk with the producers of his current project to secure the role on the next. 

You were more than happy for your man after busting his ass and finally securing a major role in the reboot of Candy Man and the newest male lead in his upcoming show. You truly were but it seemed as though for a while now he held no space for you in his chaotic world. 

You could feel Yahya eyeing you down as you silently, apart from the occasional huffing and puffy or mumbling little words to yourself. 

Yahya stands in the doorway of your bedroom watching you angrily snatch the clothes from the floor and set them aside before unzipping your dress. 

He frowns for a second before loosening his tie and contemplating walking over to you and helping you. After unzipping your cherry coloured silk gown the rest of the way his hands caresses slowly from your hips to your back, up your arms and finally settle on your shoulders. Yahya moves your hair curls to the side for a second placing soft kisses on to your neck. 

His hands already pulling at the end of your dress to your waist letting his hands wander 

He gazes at you for a moment noticing that the stoic expression is still etched across your face. 

"So you just gon’ be silent with me the whole night? No congratulatory kisses for your man."

“For.” kiss. “Your.” kiss. “Man.” kiss. 

 He whispers again against your neck and you move his hands off of you gently. 

"What’s up with you?" He asks again this time his voice laced with confusion as he tries to figure out why you've been acting this way since you left the event and the restaurant. 

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired. I ended up working all day yesterday since you didn’t come home and now I just want to relax and sleep." You reply before stripping down to just your stockings and grabbing your shower gels and caddy. 

"How am I supposed to fix whatever is going on here if you're going to act like this? What's wrong with you?" He asks again this time a little more concerned with the way you brushed him off. 

"What's wrong with me? Hmmm, Let's see, I've had to take care of our home and its repairs by myself for the past 8 months. I feel like I’m in a relationship by myself most days. And my fiance drives me to yet another fucking cast dinner . Where he fails to put his castmate in her place when she was clearly flirting with him right in front of his fiancee." You unload and Yahya whips his head around at you to process all  of your words. 

He cocks his head to the side before scoffing at your accusations. 

"So, instead of telling me how you felt you’d rather fucking explode on me on tonight of all nights. When I’ve just landed a record breaking 6 season extension and approval from Netflix. Who basically has the film industry by it’s balls right now. I’m not a mind reader. Baby, I didn’t know that she was going to say all of that. I was trying to be professional and let her make a fool of herself all on her own." He replies and you walk in the bathroom to put all of your things on the counter.

“Oh, I picked you because I knew we would drive the fans absolutely freaking wild. You know we’re just hot and have that chemistry on and off camera to make it you know like, work. Love scenes are easy to portray when you’ve got a man like Yah as your scene partner.” you mock her nasally and obnoxious tone as you pucker your lips mimicking her stiff lip fillers. 

"You never do Yahya. Nothing’s ever your fault! The waitress that asked if you could bench press her. The random woman holding onto your arm at the “celebratory dinner” in Denmark. I saw the pictures. You can have your head tossed back laughing hysterically with her but you can't even pick up the phone and see how your fiancee is holding up in the first winter without you here.`` 

"That’s not fair. It was dinner. The director’s daughter.  A dinner that he attended too. What do you want me to say? "No I'll  sit this one out because my girl doesn't want me to talk to other people because she still hasn't learned to deal with her insecurities and projects them onto everything I do"." he retorts and you stare him in the eye before tears well in yours. 

The silence falls over both of you as you stare him down. He was really standing here bringing out things you've told him during past pillow talks. 

You stare at each other in the mirror and he immediately  wraps his arms around you to apologize and kiss all over your shoulder and face. 

"No, You tell them that I can count on one hand how many months out of the year we spent together last year. You tell them that my girl had to spend Christmas watching everyone else get loved on and share the holiday cheer while I got to watch you skii over facetime. You tell them my girl made a beautiful steak dinner last night and got me tickets to watch my favourite fucking team for VaIentine’s Day, but I’d rather spend it talk about an old white guy’s scripts. I thought about breaking up with you around Thanksgiving before you came home. I blamed it on the distance, you know. I just felt that way because I only ever got to see you over facetime for what seemed like an hour or 2 a day. I said that when you came home everything would be okay again. I think that I may have been wrong. There’s two people in this relationship. But I also feel as though I may be holding onto something that's just not there." you tell him before grabbing your things out of his hands and stepping into the shower. 

Yahya swallowed hard and looked down at you for a moment, his jaw going slack for a second but his pride not letting him admit that he may have been in the wrong. 

"You didn’t tell me none of this. When I call you and I ask you how are you feeling? You always say it’s fine , it’s fine, everything’s fine. I mean we knew the kind of lives we lived when we got on this ride together. You traveled. I traveled. We traveled together. That’s how it was until you decided that acting wasn’t for you. I’m not abandoning you bae. That’s not what’s happening here." Yahya explains as he starts his skincare routine.

You let the warm water wash over you and the coils of your hair as you peel off the lashes and let out a long sigh.

Yahyah knew that one of your things was that you didn’t want to feel like a burden or to feel like you’ve been forgotten but this rough spat felt different.

"I wanted you. I wanted you to hold me and tell me you loved me and that I looked pretty for once." 

"You always look pretty though. You know that." 

“Happy Anniversary, Yahya.” you say quietly and you can hear him let out a drawn out “damn it” as he washes the cleanser off his face and looks up at you through the fogged glass. 

He drops his head slighly as he stands at the door before openingn it. . 

“I’m going to fix all of this. I love you and I want you to know that I’m sorry. You are the last person in my life that I wanna lose or hurt. I need you to know that I’m still the one you can turn to. You’re still the one I wanna experience this life with. Your greatest joys and highs. Your sad days when you just need to be held. The days where we lay together in bed and I can hear your heartbeat. Probably the cheesiest shit you've ever heard but it's my favourite sound I mean you calling out my name is a close second but that one is my favourite.” he reassures. He relaxes against your touch when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around him. 

Yahya embraces you, unphased by the fact that his shirt and pants are getting soaked. 

“Now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve fallen in love with you over and over again. There’s so many layers to you. It’s everyday I’m falling in love with something new about you. Even on days like this.  First time I fell in love with you. We were sitting at this coffee shop tapping your pencil against a notepad. You had Diary by Alicia Keys stuck in your head and you kept singing parts of the song to me throughout the day. You had this pretty floral pattern type of baby blue dress that fell off your shoulders. You wore your grandmother’s ring cause you said it always calms your nerves to have her there with you when you auditioned. Nobody had even heard of me before. I was going for some feature film role. At the time you were going for a recurring role on the Young & The Restless or some show like that. I remember you were reading the script and you let out a laugh. It was your laugh. The loud remedy of it curing the butterflies in my stomach. The little patch of the 4c bangs in the front, the rest of your hair slicked back into a puff. I loved the way that it framed your lil round face. The gold hoops against your deep beautiful brown skin. I liked the way you did your makeup. With the lil highlight at the tip of your nose. It made you look like a lil fairy...I proposed to you that day. After 6 months of knowing you.  Baby it was you, everything about you. You were laughing at having dump iced coffee all over your scene partner’s head but I was smiling because I knew. I was like so this is what made all them oldheads sing like that in the blues songs my daddy used to play. I wanted to be in it for the long haul. And I still do. I know I got a lot of making up to do. But I want you to know that I see you. I see you and I’m going to do what I need to do to make everything more than just alright. I love you.” 

You let his words soak in as he cupped your face and you nodded along to his words. After helping him strip off his drenched clothes he steps into the shower with you where you embraced him in your arms gain. 

“You’ve always told me that you knew early on but you never told me. I love you too, you know. It’s just you know how I am more than anybody. I know that your dreams are finally coming true and you deserve that.  I don’t want to stand in the way of that. But I still find a way to balance my work and our relationship. I just want you to meet me in the middle.” you say  against his lips before capturing his plump lips in a kiss. 

“I’m gonna fix it..” He reassures you in between kisses 

“We’ve still got 3 hours left of our anniversary. Our record is 5. We can still try to break that” you whisper in his ear-

( i don’t know what this is lol. sorry I didn’t get any valentines posts up.  i had a whole migraine and have had more low days than up in the past weeks but we keep going. i hoped you like this little, i dont know what to call it. i dont really know how to write fluff lol so here’s the angst.)

[lady-literature]

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate. 

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man. 

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

[object-show-analysis]

MePhone’s past, and how it relates to the contestants.

So a while back, Taylor said this in relation to how the gemories aligne with the contestant who took them.

While we aren’t outright told any similarities, here’s my theory on how each one connects.

TestTube:

The first to touch a gemory, the memory that TestTube sees isn’t one thats very obviously related to her. But there are some common themes that we can identify.

knowledge, creation, and parenthood

In this memory we witness MePhone’s first awakening. His birth. He’s young and struggles to understand the world around him (we see this as he messes up a well known joke). Cobs however, is incredibly smart. He knows things that MePhone doesn’t. He expects MePhone to learn from his example. Cobs, as a character, is essentially MePhone’s father. It’s his responsibility to care for MePhone (a responsibility that he certainly doesn’t handle well). At this point, TestTube has a sort of co-ownership with Fan over The Egg. And while Fan sees The Egg as a living breathing child, similar to how we as the audience are meant to view MePhone in the flashbacks, TestTube views The Egg as a Thing. Something that can be studied. A learning tool. Similarly to how Cobs views MePhone as a machine and nothing more. While TestTube is nothing like Cobs, it’s important to acknowledge these parallels in understanding.

Knife:

Knife at the beginning of season 2 is quickly labeled as Uncaring and Lazy by his fellow teammates. We see an example of this when Nickel tells him to sit out. But we know he’s so much more than that. He’s passionate. Incredibly so. And kind in a way that really matters. We see these themes of Passion, Expectation, and Misunderstandings in MePhone’s memory.

In the memory that Knife sees, MePhone is sitting on a couch, watching a reality TV show (that will later inspire him to host inanimate insanity). Cobs walks in, judges him for his laziness, and makes his great expectations clear. Completely ignoring MePhone’s immense passion for reality TV because in Cobs’ opinion, it’s unimportant and immature. Being accused of immaturity is also something that Knife can relate to, as he was judged for playing will his doll, Dora.

Lightbulb:

Lightbulb’s gemory seems to fit her very well considering how it relates to the bigger picture. This memory on it’s own shows no concerning behavior, as it just appears to be MePhone and Cobs training together. It’s only until that scene is put in context with the rest of the flashbacks that we understand the darker sentiment behind Cobs’ words and actions.

I think Lightbulb can relate a lot to this. She is often viewed as silly and quirky and inexperienced. But when her actions are put into the context of her character, we see that she’s much deeper than what originally appeared. She struggles to talk about her feelings and hides her depression. She feels lonely and is afraid to let anyone know. She tries quite hard even though the people around her don’t seem to appreciate her efforts.

That’s another thing that Lightbulb can relate to in the scene. Being seen as a screw up. Both Lightbulb and MePhone show great effort in achieving their goals, and neither of them are appreciated for it.

Baseball:

Baseball has struggled a lot up until this point in the show. Episode 13 is when he really begins to calm down and think on his actions more. So it makes sense that his gemory would show themes of inadequacy, anger and improvement.

Before this episode, Baseball was very angry. Practically mute with rage. In the flashback that he sees, this is when we see Cobs at his most angry. Baseball also feels like he didn’t do enough to keep his alliance together. He has a lot of regrets regarding both Suitcase and Nickel. So in a way, he also relates to MePhone not being “good enough” for Cobs.

The main message that Baseball seems to take away from the memory, however, is Improvement. Baseball has been trying hard to get better and patch up friendships, even starting new ones. So when he hears Cobs’ say “you’re improving”, it seems to really resonate with him.

Suitcase:

Suitcase has by far the most disturbing memory of any of the contestants, and in a way this makes sense.

Suitcase has been really struggling with her delusions and hallucinations. Episode 13 is when she finally opens up to someone (Fan) about her struggles. She has trouble telling apart what’s reality, and clearly that scares her. She knows something is wrong, but has no way of knowing what. While MePhone isn’t in a similar situation, I think he has similar feelings in this flashback.

In the flashback that suitcase sees, MePhone’s entire world crumbles. He’s clearly known something was wrong, and that Cobs was hiding something from him, but he didn’t know what. When he goes to the closet and wakes up MePhone3GS, he learns that everything he thought he knew wasn’t real at all.

It’s also important to note that the small computer that Suitcase witnessed in her first hallucination on the show appears in this flashback as well, though it’s unclear if this was really part of the memory, or if somehow her hallucinations effected the gemory

Taco:

I won’t lie, this was the hardest one to figure out as we don’t get to see Taco’s reaction to the memory itself. In fact we don’t see this memory until after MePhone has woken up, and Toilet reminds him of A.D.A.M.

We don’t see much in this flashback (though it’s possible we’re not seeing the whole picture). All we see is Cobs working on ADAM, putting him in the closet, and locking the door (which leads to MePhone learning the door code and eventually sneaking in)

This scene, while short, does show themes of secrets and realization. Something that relates to Taco’s character and more importantly, the people around her.

This memory is the point where we see MePhone really piece together the fact that he’s being lied to, as Taco lied to the season 1 contestants. He looks to Steve for guidance. He trusts him. He expects Cobs to keep him safe. Though in this scene he learns that there are things Steve hasn’t told him. Just as Microphone relies on Taco and (as shown in episode 12 and 13) comes to understand that there are things Taco hasn’t told her. In fact, Taco only really commits to being more open and honest with Mic after witnessing this memory, though it’s unclear if this was an effect of the gemory itself.

It’s also important to note that this is the episode when Microphone gains the one piece of information (Taco’s past with Pickle) that will eventually lead to her leaving Taco. Just as MePhone gains the one piece of information (Adam/the door code) that will eventually lead to him leaving Cobs.

I feel it’s important to say that I am no way comparing any of these characters directly to Steve Cobs. I love each and every one of them, and believe none of them would stoop to his level. I am simply pointing out the similarities in specific scenes, in an attempt to better understand them as characters.

[yukheistics]

liar, mark lee.

pairing mark lee x reader

word count 2.5k

genre angst, slight fluff

warning(s) implication of cheating

note i’m experimenting with writing styles, so bear with me on this one hehe! this concept is inspired by the ways we lie by stephanie ericsson. i finished this at 2am so idek (⊙‿⊙✿)

summary he knows how to lie. he knows how it works. he knows you.

There are many things Mark Lee is good at. 

He knows how to rap, sing, and dance until his lungs are on fire. He knows how to plaster a smile on his face when his company offers another tiring position for him to be in. He knows how to pretend that everything is alright for him to handle. He knows how to lie.

He has a thing or two for semantics and can construct a deception for one to believe in. He maintains his composure, sticks to his story, and walks around the truth more often than he can think. He claims to dislike lying, but the person he often does it to is you. He likes to think of it as a way of protecting you as unpleasant as it really sounds. 

“Have you told her yet?” Donghyuck asks him after dance practice when it was just the two of them alone. He looks concerned for him. “The sooner you tell her, the better. You know that.”

Mark simply shrugs his shoulders and leans his back on the mirror. “’Hyuck, just—I’ll handle it, okay? I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Simple,” the younger male starts to wipe his sweat off with his shirt and sits next to him. “Tell her about the contract. It’ll ease her mind knowing that her boyfriend isn’t actually cheating on her.”

“Right.”

“She already put a lot on the line for you. The least you can do is tell her the truth.”

He recalls an essay he has read in his junior year of high school: The Ways We Lie by Stephanie Ericsson. It made him aware of the underlying cancer that grows within our mind that society accepts the fact that everyone lies. It’s a trait that has been embedded in the human mind for so long that it is almost impossible to get rid of.

There are ten ways listed, but all he remembers are four prominent ones: white lies, facades, omissions, and delusions. (He utilizes it all.)

“Baby, I’m fine.”

Mark reassures you. He never lies to you—not even a white lie, but he doesn’t want to worry you with his issues. It is his problem, anyways. He couldn’t find the right flow to the rap verse they assigned him to, no matter how many times he does it. Something is missing. He’s way off, he thinks. 

“Okay, fine,” you pout through the video call and cross your arms. “But if there is something wrong, you have to tell me. Even if you know I am sleeping because of our shitty time zones, you still have to call me just to tell me. I don’t care!”

He laughs wholeheartedly and grins at you. “Of course.”

“You better, Mark Lee,” you shake your head in a taunting manner. “Or else, I will go to South Korea myself and force the answer out of you. Wait, that’s too aggressive, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“I’m still surprised I understand you in general,” he jokes and stands up to get a glass of water. “But baby, I’m fine. You know how comeback season works, it’s like, a routine at this point.”

“I know,” you address. “Just make sure to get lots of rest and know your limits. I don’t want my baby boy getting sick while I’m in another country studying law.”

He blushes at the nickname and rubs the back of his neck. “Of course. I always know my limits.”

“Take a break.”

Mark looks up from the lyric sheet and sees Taeyong staring right at him. He clenches his jaw and pushes the headset down to his shoulders before opening the door of the recording studio. “I’m fine. I just need more time. I keep messing up a verse.”

“The producer said your voice was already good during your eighth recording. You are at your twelfth right now,” the leader pauses and pats his shoulder. “I understand where this is coming from, but you never acted this way over a recording. Is everything okay?”

He looks down at his shoes. “Yeah, you know me. I have a tendency to try and perfect it the least. It’s the least I can do to our fans.”

“Just don’t push yourself. It’s already midnight. Make sure to get some rest,” Taeyong purses his lips and playfully hits his shoulder. “Plus, what would ____ think if she knows you’re not taking care of yourself, huh?”

Mark almost crumples the contract in his hands. “She’d be pretty concerned—and mad.” He pushes the chair back and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, why did I agree to this?”

At this point, he wears a facade for you. He keeps saying things again and again and hopes to God that you haven’t caught on to his act. It’s a one man play. And you’re the only one watching. He looks at his best friend, who pushes a mug of green tea towards him—as if it will solve all of his problems. It won’t. 

“Why did you?” Donghyuck repeats and looks at him with concern. He has known Mark for the past ten years, but he can never understand the impulsive decisions he makes. It’s one to be dedicated to a job, but it’s another to be impulsive. “Mark, you’re gonna break her if you don’t tell her.”

Mark laughs. He glances down at the hot steam coming from the mug before looking at his best friend. “You think I don’t know that, ‘Hyuck?”

“Tell her,” the other boy urges on. “Tell her how you signed a contract that states you agreed to be in a relationship for the time being for the new group’s sake. Technically, it is the truth.”

“It’ll make her more stressed. She’s already stressed with law. I don’t need this to be a part of her concern.”

“Then, tell me,” Donghyuck finally sighs. “Tell me what you’re gonna tell her when you’re on the headlines for being in a secret relationship with a trainee?”

Mark clearly knows his faults and weaknesses. He is partaking in another version of lies: omissions. He tells you the truth by excluding one or more key components of it. You don’t need to know everything, is what his mind says when he sees you through the camera exhausted, but still excited to see him. You ask questions and he answers with the important parts being left out. He asks questions and you answer with utter honesty because he knows you too well. 

(You don’t need to know.)

“Yujin,” Mark enunciates and looks at her with a tilt of his head. “Do you think this is right by any means?”

She hums. “Well,” she takes a sip from her drink. “It’s what the company wants right? It’s their word against ours—and you should know how this industry functions at this point. It’s a bunch of manipulation and shit that is geared towards perfection, which is only utilized to please the public eye.”

“Well, I know that,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean about this—our relationship.”

She giggles. “We’re getting paid anyways. What’s so bad about kissing in front of the camera at events to please fans?”

“Right,” he replies with a strained laugh. “I just find the idea nerve-wracking.”

She frowns at him. “Mark, are you okay?”

Here is what he learned from the entertainment industry: people don’t really want to know how you feel. The truth, they never want that. When they ask how are you, they don’t wanna know. They just ask because they feel like they have to. They don’t want you to elaborate on how you really are. It’s something that they do to make them seem like a good person. They do it for their part and not his. 

No. The two letter word burns on his tongue, but just like a mechanized script, the words that leave his mouth is a lie that he has told multiple times that leave people with a nonchalant smile on their lips: “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sees you for the fifth time this week, dressed in sweats as you cradle a bowl of cereal in your hands with a goofy smile on your face. “What?” you curiously ask with the spoon in your mouth. “Am I that pretty, Mark?”

“You’re always pretty,” he responds immediately with a slight smirk on his lips, which in turn causes you to blush. “I miss you.”

You smile. “I miss you more.”

He sees your tired smile once more and sighs. He wants to tell you, really, but he doesn’t want to see that smile slip from your features knowing that it is his fault. But he knows that he will be the reason you will be crying in the following week. It’s for you, he repeats in his head, it’s for you. 

I need to let you go.

“Imagine if I just became an idol, hm?” you suddenly say. “I’d probably see you more and not stress about stupid bar exams for the time being.”

Don’t. Please don’t. He urges to say, but he just shakes his head and sheepishly grins at you. “Well, if you did become one, you’d probably be a singer. I still remember when you were drunk and sang to me—”

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up!” Despite the virtual connection, he can still clearly see your flushed cheeks. Again. (He really loves you.) “That was so fucking embarrassing.”

“It was adorable.”

“Right,” you close your eyes and lean your face closer to the camera. “I love you, Mark Lee.”

“I love you too,” he responds immediately. “One day,” he rubs his eyes. “One day, I’ll finish my contract and I can be with you. We can be together. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

To think, he has already planned out his life with you in his mind, but he knows it’s impossible. But not only does he aim to deceive you, but to deceive himself too. It’s a delusion as Ericsson would describe it to be. It’s funny how he cannot remember a preponderance of things, yet he always remembers how delusion was described: filters out information that contradicts what we want to believe. He is building a perception of a perfect world with you, where he wouldn’t have to think about his image for a second. It’s too good to be true. It’s not real.

“It does. It really does,” you say, but the tone of your voice says otherwise. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mark Lee.”

The blinding lights of the studio almost make him want to throw up. Mark watches how the staff are preparing the set and how his management are talking over the script with the interviewer. He looks at himself through the mirror one more time before facing Yujin, who is busy fixing her eyelash extensions. 

“So, the interview is gonna be live,” Yujin drawls out, puckering her lips and tilting her head at him. “Mark, be honest with me,” she taps his shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

He widens his eyes and shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I swear!”

“You sure? Because every time we talk, you look glum. You tend to zone out.”

“It’s really not because of you,” he utters. “Let’s just say, I didn’t expect the company to agree to this for publicity.”

She nods in acknowledgement. “Is that all?”

Mark thinks of Yujin as a catalyst. She’ll be the one to speed up the duration of his relationship with you and destroy whatever he has built for you. Not that any of this was hers to control. He wishes he can hate her, but all she has ever done was sign her name on a contract the same as he did. If anything, Yujin is a spawn in a much bigger scheme that acts as the catalyst. 

“Yeah, that’s all.”

Mark feels dizzy. His eyes are overwhelmed by the numerous flashes from cameras and the questioning voices of reporters. He pulls down his cap as if it’ll do him any justice and wraps his arm around Yujin—as told by the company. “I didn’t know the reporters were gonna be this much.”

“Well, since our management wants our relationship to blow up, it’d make sense in a way,” she exhaustedly replies when he opens the car door for her. “Just smile and pose, Markie,” she says and leans in for a kiss on his cheek when she catches a camera aimed their way.

He freezes. 

“Show business is show business,” she whispers in his ear and gets in the car. “It’s a cruel world we live in, isn’t it?”

Mark calls you, but he understands why you haven’t picked up in the past week. He already can see your tear-stained cheeks and hear your stifled sobs. He wishes he can tell you the truth, but he’d rather let you go with a lie. He’s good at that. He’s good at lying. He’s lied before to you. It should be easy.

“It’s been going on for the past months,” he tells you. “I-I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I just—”

“Decided to let me see it for myself?” you cut him off, chuckling nervously. “God, Mark, this whole damn time I have thought to be with you, you’ve been off fucking a trainee?”

Mark almost grimaces. But he maintains the composure he has left for himself and nods slowly. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie until it feels right. “It just happened. One day, we were practicing and we clicked. At first, I thought it was a one-time thing to distract myself. I just needed a friend at the time,” he pauses. “One thing led to another and we slept with each other, okay? And I just lost feelings for you. I only continued our relationship because I felt obligated to.”

It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a lie.

He loves you. He has always loved you, regardless of the distance between you. The only reason you had to move was because of his debut; the company did not want any news spreading about him being in a relationship, yet they were the ones pulling the strings as of right now. They explained how their new girl group was not selling well, and the infamous Mark Lee was a way to solve the problem. Mark, do this, Mark, do that. Mark, pretend. Just smile and pose. Smile. Smile beneath the lie. 

He can’t keep doing this to you.

“You did so much for me, so I kept calling you as a means to return the favor.”

He sees it. He sees the tears building up in your eyes as you force on a smile and laugh again. “What am I? A charity case?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” 

He knows you too well. He knows that you’re putting a front—don’t we all? He thinks of the white lie you’re uttering, the facade you’re wearing, the omission you’re doing, and the delusion you’re forcing yourself into. He knows how to lie. He knows how it works. He knows you. 

“I know.” I know that’s a lie.