#it's so violent makes me wanna puke for some reason

[lordbettany]

You guys need to stop sharing Richard's death scene. It hurts my feelings. 🥺🥺

[kawaiijohn]

Danny tries to pawn the Ghost King position off on his classmates.

Idk what I was doing, and then suddenly it turned into wes/danny I'm so fucking sorry?

T rating I embarrassed myself fucking writing this bc it came out of nowhere girl (gn) HELP

"Hey Dash how about instead of you focusing on your homework you just start beating me up, just like old times! I sure miss being slammed into a locker."

Dash looks at Fenton, confused before scoffing.

"Even though I normally love wailing on you, Fenturd, coach needs me on my best behavior. State's next week and I'm one loser swirlie away from being suspended."

"I won't scream or anything, I promise! Whaddya say? You get to beat the snot out of me and I won't even complain! I'll even thank you for it." Danny responds, looking around nervously. "But I'm in a bit of a rush, so can you make it quick and do it, say, before six tonight?"

Danny gives the other boy the saddest, most punchable puppy dog eyes he possibly can.

Dash rolls his eyes seeing Fenton ham it up. The loser only does this for his birthday, so it's really weird having him request it four months in advance. Dash decides to ignore the request, only gently pushing the dweeb out of his way. "Beat it, Fentertainment Tonite- I know you don't have a life, but I do."

Danny curses as Dash disappears down the halls.

"I know you want to punch me. You wanna do it so bad." Danny eggs on another of the jocks- Travis, he thinks. "Remember that time I said you punch like my Grandma?"

His grandma taught both his mom and aunt how to fight, but Travis doesn't need to know that.

"Beat it, jackwipe!" Travis shoves Danny out of the way and continues down the hall.

"The one time I need to be shoved into a locker or punched, none of the jocks want to even look at me." Danny bemoans.

He's already struck out with Dash and Kwan- both of which need to stay as non violent as possible with administration lurking around this close to their big game. Paulina pretended he didn't exist, and Star laughed in his face. Something about 'she already kicked his ass months ago'. Which was true, but he was certain he's done something since then worth beating him up for.

"I can't ask Sam or Tuck, it's gotta be someone I hate." Danny pauses with a shudder. "But definitely not Vlad- he already has an ego the size of the Milky Way..."

Danny hears the bell ring and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants.

He has until six tonight to get his ass beat. He can do that, right?

---

Danny is downright panicked now.

Detention really put a damper on his plans. Being stuck in a sweltering classroom with Lancer and Wes only made him more nervous. It really didn't help that Lancer needed helping hands for some after school thing.

Danny only has one option, and he's glad it's one of his 'enemies'.

"Heyyyyyy Wes, what's happening tonight?" Danny slings his arm around the tall boy's shoulder, pulling him down to pipsqueak height. "Wasn't that round of detention just fun?"

Wes nearly growls and shoves Danny off of him. "Fenton! You're the reason I was even there in the first place! If it wasn't for you and your stupid ghost bullshit I would have gotten to class on time!"

"Yeah?" Danny asks, being as annoyingly positive as he possibly can. "Well it's good that there was two of us, or else Lancer wouldn't have let either of us out until well after six!"

Danny looks at the clock nervously- five fifty.

He has ten minutes.

"I don't find moving entire stacks of chairs halfway across the school fun, or even a fair punishment for being late twice in a week. So what if the crafting club has their expo tonight? They should be the ones moving furniture." Wes tries to overtake Danny in the hall but he can't outwalk the other boy.

"But we got to spend all day with each other! Isn't that just swell?" Danny pukes in his mouth a little. He's got a goalpost to reach in less than ten minutes, and my the Ancients he's gonna do it.

"Spending time with a chronic liar and freak of nature isn't really what I consider fun, Fenton."

"Yeah, but we really bonded, don't you think? Had some quality one-on-one without you being a creep outside my house."

Wes's face reddens. "HEY! That was one time, and I don't want to have the cops chase me again. Or your parents, who are worse somehow."

"See, we're bonding here!" Danny jogs alongside Wes, making sure to keep pace at just the right level of obnoxious. But we should really bond sometime in the next... eight minutes."

"God there it is again! What? Do you have important Phantom shit to do at six or something?" Wes rubs his temples. "You're being freakier than normal today and I'm gonna get to the bottom of it."

"There's nothing to get to the bottom of, I just have something to do later. Not Phantom or ghost related- something completely normal and human, yep."

"God you piss me the fuck off, Fenton." Wes crosses his arms and blocks the doorway out of the school. "And one of these days, I'm gonna get you to confess, and then it'll be all over."

"Yeah, that's nice and all, but like, wouldn't it just be so satisfying to, I dunno, take out all that pent up frustration on me?" Danny grins devilishly at the other boy. "Come on, I have such a punchable face! Aaaaand since you say I'm a ghost or whatever it won't actually hurt me, right?"

Danny gets right up into Wes's personal space and looks up at him with a shit-eating grin.

"Back off, Fenton." Wes backs himself against the lockers. He looks anywhere but Danny's face. "Personal space is a concept even stupid ghosts understand."

"Yeah, but if I'm a stupid ghost doesn't that make you wanna prove it? Can't you prove it by beating me up? You have a camera..." Danny reaches for the camera slung around Wes's shoulder and points it at his own face. "It'd be soooo easy."

Wes's face is currently doing its best impression of a tomato as he continues to ignore Danny.

"Please? I'm gonna start begging you to beat my ass soon if you don't acknowledge me, Wes."

"Back. Off. Fenton." Wes stares Danny right in the face. "Last chance."

Danny does the opposite and yanks Wes to stare him in the eyes. "You wanna punch me so bad it makes you look stupid, Weston." Danny chuckles and makes his eyes flash green. "Your face is sooooo red with rage- you wanna kick my ass, admit it!"

Danny barely gets a warning before Wes lunges and tackles him to the ground with a kiss.

Both boys gasp in surprise and Wes backs himself against the lockers with a loud bang.

They sit in silence, staring at each other in disbelief before Danny laughs.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sh-shut up! It's not my fault you're kind of..."

"Wait, have you been staring at me this whole time because you're crushing on me?" Danny laughs in disbelief as Wes turns even brighter red. "Is that how you 'accidentally' discovered my secret?"

"No!" Wes sputters out. "I don't sta-"

"Stalk me, yeah. Dude you follow me around with a camera to try and expose me. What sort of fruitloop shit are you pulling??"

"Well, if you weren't lying about being a human, then I wouldn't need to-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Danny doesn't know how to feel about it, really. Wes is kind of cute, and he's unhinged just like the rest of his friends. But he's also obsessed with exposing him, and kind of stalks him (to no success).

He spends a few moments before he glances at the clock again.

Two minutes left.

He can use this to his advantage, even if it's dirty and underhanded.

"Hey Wes. You really fucking suck at kissing." He eggs the other boy on. "Like, zero technique, all desperation!"

"Shut up!"

Wes starts crying a little. Danny only feels a little bad, but he really needs this to happen.

"What, even I've kissed people before and I'm a loser! Plus I bet you can't even man up and fight me like I want- you're such a little cuck boy, Weston! Always relying on other people to do the dirty work of beating my ass so you can gather your evidence like a little bitch in the dark."

"I said shut up!" Wes's face is bright red again- an angry embarrassment with tears streaming down his face.

But he still has to keep going, even if it feels gross to do this to someone who he kind of likes.

"Make me, Wesley." He spits.

---

It's a dirty brawl but it ends with a very red-faced Wes pinning a bruised and elated Danny to the ground. The latter feels awful about playing dirty with Wes's feelings, but it seems the other boy really needed to take out his rage on him.

"Sooooo, you admit you have complete victory in this fight, right Wes?" Danny smiles up from underneath the other boy.

Wes sputters, his face still bright red and tears running down his cheeks. "You're such a fucking little shit, Fenton."

"Thanks, I try!. But I need you to accept that I'm saying you have total victory in this fight."

Wes sighs and lets go of Danny's wrists and sits back against the lockers. "Yeah, sure. I beat your ass fair and square. Also do you know how weird it is to see you healing this fast? I swear I gave you a black eye."

"You did. I'm just a fast healer." Danny sits up and looks around. He feels... guilty. At least for only finding one person to do this to.

The clock strikes six.

"Also, I'm sorry I lied- you're not a bad kisser. I just needed you to beat my ass. Also sorry about what's about to happen." Danny rubs the back of his neck.

"Sorry about wha-" Wes is interrupted by a portal opening beside the two of them.

"Sorry for being impolite, we should assume." An Observant materializes out of the void beside him. "It's not polite for the crown prince to wait until the last minute to find a replacement, but since you have... bested Prince Phantom in combat, albeit not formal combat, the rules are the rules."

Wes glares at Danny who is doing his best trying to disappear without going ghost.

"Prince Phantom??" Wes spits at the other boy.

"Yep! Former Prince Phantom." Danny smirks. "And again, sorry, but they only gave me today until six to find a replacement. The whole King schtick isn't really my jam."

Wes stares at the other boy as more Observants spill from the hole in reality and bow to him.

"Fenton..."

"Hey! I'm not gonna bail on you or anything. You still need an advisor- I just really don't wanna deal with the formality shit. Hope you understand!"

Danny gives Wes a peace sign as he's escorted through the portal, pissed off, confused, and shell-shocked.

[goosewriting]

yesterday i finally watched the new tmnt movie!! at first i wanted to do a live reaction kinda thing, except that wouldn’t work because i'd have to reblog every entry and hiding every single part under a "read more" would be not only tedious, but i'm not even sure if it's possible lol

so instead have a collection of my thoughts here! (spoiler warning, duh)

first of all: the art style. there’s something strangely nostalgic about it. it feels like that is what my mental storyboards as a kid would have looked like, had i been into animating back then. or at least that would have been close to the style i would have liked to emulate.

the explosions looking like violent scribbles is just so 😩🤌♥ chef's kiss, truly. there's something about the art in general that just moves in such a particular way and holds a certain weight and volume,, it feels like cardboard and clay and crayons and the piles upon piles of coloured pencils i used to have as a kid and how the wooden pencil drawer smelled. i'm such a fan of this style i’M obsessed o(-<

in the intro shots for the turtles, raph licking his sai blades is so extra and i love him for that lmao

for some reason i completely forgot they cast jackie chan as splinter and tbh idk how to feel about it? no hate towards him; i just don't think voice acting is his strong suit

meanwhile i'm looooving mikey's voice. also leo's beacuse, well first of all, i am a leo girlie (gender neutral) through and through so i would have loved all aspects of him no matter what. but his voice actor is gumball's i believe? and that's one of my comfort shows 🥺 i just love him sm

this little donnie is sending me, i- 🤣

superfly's theme reminds me of miguel's for some reason? 😂 and i'm here for it ahahh

the whole watermelon scene lmaoo teeangers being teenagers, finally

aaaand here comes the probably forced romance subplot 😅😅 (more on that later)

the whole fighting scene in the workshop tinted in red? ugh 10/10

ok so, april: i really like how they met. i like her design, her voice and her whole vibe. the whole puking jokes were a little too much for me; personally im not a fan of fart or puke jokes because, well, i’m not a 12yo boy (looking at you seth rogen) but all in all i really liked this rendition of april. it sucks tho that the turtles got a snazzy outfit by the end, both for school and for prom, but april’s clothes always remained the same. would have loved to see what she wore to prom!

the gen z lingo and references: …i mean, i guess it makes sense? i just don’t know how well it will age xD the references to end game and all were fun but, again, will someone in 15 years understand what they meant? will someone in 15 years know what rizz is?

changing the topic, the way eyeballs are rendered??? hello?? they’re so expressive and shiny and i lowkey wanna lick them ok

the chris pine cutout actually made me choke on my food from both surprise and laughter jhdfkjashdf

oookay so. superfly and his gang. first of all when the gecko talked i went like hey is that ant-man? lmao i love all the designs and ice cube as the villain works?? im not mad?? lol now, his plan however... sigh, my guy. killing all humans aside, have you maybe thought that if you turn every single animal and insect into a mutant, the whole ecosystem would all but collapse? there will be no planet left to belittle the humans on (:

"he'll run out of cars eventually" / *looks at parking* / “oh, c’mon!” lmaoo 😂 this joke was excellent

so, back to the forced romance thing. look i get it, they needed a reason to help out april to get the plot going. and if leo said it, then the rest would follow. i get that. but throughout the whole movie, aside from like his brothers elbowing his side knowingly, there’s no more allusion to anything? and then only at the veeeery end, he asks her out and she says yes, so i was like “oh okay so that’s the payoff then. took long enough” but then when they’re dancing she rhetorically asks if they’re just doing this as friends and 😐 maybe this is just my aroace self projecting but,, if you’re gonna use romance/romantic interest as a catalyst (lame tbh), at least be consequent about it?? if you (the writers) didn’t have the intention to explore the relationship, then leave it altogether? again, this is just my aroace opinion,, i can’t relate so i don’t understand. (which i know seems contradictory given my uh, repertoire of fics lmao) personally i would have preferred a different reason for them to helping out april, and having them all just be besties by the end, which they ended up being anyway

so, to sum it all up. it’s a story we’ve seen a hundred times, so there was really nothing new to it. the plot was okay,, the biggest thing that “bothered” me was superfly’s whole extermination thing making no sense, technically. but other than that, my eyes and ears were having an absolute feast. a very enjoyable film all in all. when we got rottmnt, i was like “oh finally an iteration of the teenage mutant ninja turtles where they’re actually teenagers” but scratch that. mutant mayhem is the most teenager one, and i loved them for that. time will tell how the jokes will age but yeah, the way they were depicted was definitely my favourite thing about the film aside from the art style.

have you guys seen it? what are your thoughts? lemme know :D feel free to comment here or send in some asks!

[unwanteddiaryofpallas]

Puke

I wanna throw up and spill all my guts out then stare at it as I feel myself succumbing to nothing.

Why so vulgar you ask? I’m not sure either. I’ve always been attached to things that push the limits of society, for good or for worse. I grew up exposed to uncomfortable and disgusting things—to which the adults will blame me for. Yes, ‘cause 6 year old me knew that torture was a bad thing! Definitely not normal to me ‘cause my own mom would hit me! Of course it is my fault.

I hate spilling my guts. I have no medium to do it to. You can argue writing, but god is it unhelpful. My thoughts grow more and more violent towards myself as I type.

I’m tired of living off of depression. God, “normal” people have it easy.

If I had a kid, I don’t want them to feel different. If they do, I’ll say that there are also other kids who feel different, but doesn’t mean they’re bad. Or something like that. I’ll work on it. I’ll work on me until I can raise child and be satisfied about it.

My brain is mush. I don’t wanna think. My fingers are doing all the work. Drawn to a letter and to another.

I wrote something after a reel my friend sent. A writing challenge it was. Here it is:

“Madness is a state past broken—madness is I / I am beneath all, when I stare down at an audience / For I am a spectacle and an object to be watched / Even when I shine, i am but a diamond around somebody’s finger / I am madness because I can no longer be saved”

Reading back to it, it makes no sense, but oh well.

It’s hard being randomly sad. Many people I know want a reason to be sad. They are the also the very same people that need to hear a reason when somebody else is sad. It’s dumb. You can’t be sad without reason according to people who either don’t have to deal with episodes AND people who are the same but lacked a support system. I feel sadder now.

Life’s hard. No one can say it’s easy. It’s always at a scale of difficulty. People can only have it least difficult and not easy, because why are we a species that advanced through perseverance, resilience and curiosity if some of us live in easy mode? It’s like creative mode in Minecraft, there are no achievements if it’s played easily. But of course, extreme hardship is also not a good thing.

I wish somebody will change the world. More understanding, kind, accepting, smart (not cunning) and passionate. Like world world, not like (disclaimer: these things are GOOD, just showcasing what I DIDN’T mean) raising awareness, donating needs and goods, and homing those who need it.

Anyway, I’m gonna puke. I haven’t eaten well. I only eat well outside, but that’s thanks to my lover. Otherwise, I’d be dead by starvation lol. Maybe life will be kinder, when nothing matters and I’ve dissipated. But I have hope. I want to have more hope. So I can finally not be whatever I am right now.

I need to puke 💀💀

[jxsatlas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 1

keith kogane x gn! reader – next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14," Lance announces, "Begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission."

He shoves the yoke forward and the aircraft takes a steep dive. You plant your feet to help fight against the inertia. You give him a sharp glare as the aircraft steadies out.

"Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk whines from the back.

You look over your shoulder and recognise the nauseated expression on his face all too well. Last semester, there was a girl on your team that didn't do too well with excessive motion and often got sick.

Lance brushes him off. "Relax Hunk, I'm just getting a feel for the stick," he says with a lazy grin, which quickly turns mischievous. "It's not like I did this, or this!" Lance jerks the aircraft side to side, making Hunk feel worse.

"Knock it off, Lance," you warn from your chair next to him. You reach up above you and press a few buttons in hopes of stabilising the aircraft out after Lance's little joke.

"Yeah, listen to [y/n] unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing," Hunk groans angrily.

"We've picked up a distress signal!" Pidge says from his seat in the back.

"Alright, time to quit our bickering and get serious," you say, doing your own little thing to accommodate for the lower altitude while Lance flies the aircraft.

"Pidge, track the coordinates," Lance says with a roll of his eyes at your comment.

Pidge does so, typing away on the computer. The aircraft gives a large rumble and Hunk groans again.

"Knock it off, Lance! Please!" he whines, his face all scrunched up in discomfort.

"Oh, that's on you buddy," Lance says sharply. "We got a hydraulic stabiliser out."

Hunk nods and goes to fix it, but when the aircraft shakes again he gags. "Oh no."

"Oh no, fix now, puke later," Lance growls.

So much bickering... you think to yourself with a sigh.

"I lost contact!" Pidge says. "The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

Lance looks over his shoulder at Hunk. "Come on, dude!"

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and unfastens his safety belt. He carefully gets up and makes his way over to the gearbox to see what's up.

"Coordinates are back," you say, seeing the blue dot on the dash.

"Nevermind Hunk," Lance says.

"No, he still needs to fix it," you say. "We can't properly fly this thing if a hydraulic stabiliser is out."

"Whatever," Lance rolls his eyes, "Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't think that's advisable, given our current mechanical..." Pidge warns, trailing off when he hears Hunk gag again. "...and gastrointestinal issues..."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, not before quickly emptying his stomach into the gearbox with the unsavoury sounds of food chunks and liquid hitting the metal. You cringe, not liking the sound, and hope he's okay.

"Stop worrying," Lance says dismissively.

"No, they're right," you say firmly as you place your attention on Lance now. "We should wait before we do anything."

"Nah, this baby can take it! Can't ya champ?" Lance coos and pats the dash. The aircraft rumbles again and he retracts his hand with a sheepish look. "See? She was nodding!"

"That wasn't nodding Lance," you deadpan. "Now listen to us and wait."

"I'm the one flying this thing, aren't I?" Lance asks. "So I'm in charge, and that means what I say goes!"

"Excuse you, we're both flying this thing," you argue.

Ignoring you, Lance turns to Pidge. "Pidge, hail down on them and let them know their ride is here," he says.

Knowing that you're now doomed, you keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable failure of the simulation. You can already see it, the big, bold, red letters appearing on the dash.

And when Lance flies towards an overhang, tilting the plane as much as he can in a sad attempt to thread through the little hole rather than going over or around, you know this is where you fail.

Lance doesn't make it. The wing gets torn off, the alarms blare, and the aircraft pummels to the ground. The dash goes black and those red letters you were anticipating appear without hesitation.

Simulation Failed.

The first failure on your school record.

You toss your head back and sharply exhale, frustration building up in you. "Nice going," you grumble and look at Lance through the corner of your eye.

He catches your gaze and glares at you. "Oh, shut up," he growls.

The four of you sit in silence for a second, you and Lance glaring at each other, before an instructor opens the door and beckons you to come out.

Reluctantly, you all unfasten your safety belts and crawl out of the aircraft. You then mentally prepare yourselves for the lecture about how you are all failures to come.

You, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge line up before the Commander, avoiding his scowling gaze.

"Let's see if we can't use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you," Commander Iverson's voice booms angrily. He's not at all impressed with your behaviour. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made during the simulator?"

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox!" a boy from the back of the group of students shouts out. Iverson nods and turns to Hunk.

"Yes. Everyone knows vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems," Iverson sharply criticises Hunk. He turns back to the students. "What else?"

"The comms-spec removed his safety harness," a girl points out.

"The pilot crashed!" another shouts.

Iverson nods, approving of all the answers given. "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other," he growls and turns to the four of you once more.

You keep your gaze on the ground shamefully.

"The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers," Iverson lectures. His hands are on his hips as he looks down at you. "But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what caused the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

In your peripherals, you notice Pidge clench his fists at his sides and scrunch his nose up in anger. You fully turn your head to him when he takes a bold step towards the Commander.

"That's not true, sir!" he barks.

Iverson looks at him and glares. "What was that, young man?" he growls.

Lance quickly slaps a hand over Pidge's mouth and pulls him back in line. "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head when he fell!" he says, smiling sheepishly in a sad attempt to cover up his fear. His hand gets tighter over Pidge's mouth, almost as if he's asking the ginger what the hell is wrong with him.

With Lance speaking up, Iverson's attention is now pinpointed on him. He takes a few steps closer to Lance, his intimidating figure making your brother cower back a bit.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here," he growls, his tone of voice menacing and powerful, "is because the best pilot in your class had a disciplinary issue and flunked out."

Lance drops his gaze down to the floor, a look of dejection taking over his face.

"Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns. He stares Lance down a bit before abruptly turning to you. "And you!" he barks.

Your entire body freezes up and your eyes wearily follow him as he stops in front of you now. Your heart sinks down to your gut.

"I expected better of you."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You returned to your dorm at the end of the day with a cloud over your head.

You grumble about the day's events as you aggressively tug your shirt over your head. You really wish you could pinpoint the source of your frustration. Are you mad at my brother? Your team? Or yourself?

You toss your clothes on the floor and pull out some track shorts and a hoodie from your dresser. Getting dressed in your pajamas for the rest of the night, you try to sort out your emotions.

"Stop mumbling to yourself," your roommate says from her bed.

You turn to her. "Ah, sorry," you say. "I didn't realise I was talking out loud..."

"If you're that mad at your brother why don't you just punch him?" she asks. You blink, surprised she actually heard you.

"I'm not violent like you," you say with a sigh. "Besides, I don't even know if I'm mad at him specifically."

"Eh, I would punch him either way," your roommate shrugs. "It's a good way to alleviate your stress."

You roll your eyes. "I alleviate my stress by sleeping."

Your roommate laughs. "Ain't that the truth?" she jests. "How many times have you taken a nap between classes this week?"

You stare at her with a blank expression for a moment before picking your clothes up and off of the ground. "I'm not answering that," you say and toss them into the hamper.

You and your roommate pause when there's a knock on the door. You look at her and she looks at you.

She raises her hands up. "And I'm not answering that," she says.

You roll your eyes and grab one of the dirty articles of clothing you tossed into the hamper and throw at her without any remorse. She yelps in fear and disgust as you walk to the door with a smirk on your face.

"Don't throw your nasty underwear at me!" she barks and she pinches the panties between her thumb and index finger, tossing them as far away from her as possible.

You cackle and open the door. Your laughter cuts short when you're suddenly face to face with your brother. Hunk stands behind him.

"What are you doing in the girls' dorm?" you ask, but then take the opportunity you just created for yourself to tease your dear elder brother. You think of it as a bit of revenge for crashing the simulator. "Visiting someone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Heh, I wish," he sighs. "But no. We're thinking about hitting the town tonight! You know, for some team bonding?"

"Who is it?" your roommate calls to you.

"Lance and Hunk," you say over your shoulder at her.

"Punch him!" she shouts back.

"No!" you hiss and turn back to your brother.

"I don't like your roommate," Lance comments under his breath.

"Neither do I," you joke.

"I heard that!" your roommate barks.

"No you didn't!" you ready. But getting the feeling that she's going to keep interrupting, you push Lance out of your way and step into the hall with him and Hunk. You then close the door and give the boys your full attention.

"So, you're gonna come with us?" Lance asks.

"I don't know," you say with uncertainty in your tone. You cross your arms. "It's past curfew and I don't really think you have off-campus privileges..."

"That doesn't matter," Lance waves his hand dismissively. "Iverson wants us to bond as a team, so why don't we listen to him for once?"

"I'm not feeling that adventurous," you say.

"What? Why not? It'll be fun!" Lance cajoles.

"Lance, your idea of fun always ends up with you and me in the principal's office," Hunk reminds. "Don't drag your little sibling into it."

"Hunk has a point," you say. "I don't want to get in trouble again. I had my filling for today."

"Since when were you a goodie-two-shoes?" Lance asks in a somewhat offended tone.

"Since I got a scholarship here?" you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?" Lance says as he gives you a look of utter betrayal, as if you were some alien.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not too keen on losing something like that because I went along with your dumb shenanigans," you sigh.

"Please, the max punishment for something like this is just a weekend detention with old man Brechin," Lance says and a mischievous grin spreads on his face. "That is, if you get caught."

You bite your lip, looking away in thought. Team bonding sounds very appealing after what happened today, but are you willing to risk your scholarship? You don't know if you can lose it because of a simple detention. The Galaxy Garrison is a government program, which means they are pretty strict.

"Do you really need to think about it?" Lance asks with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

His words irk you immensely.

You snap your gaze up to him. Is he serious? You aren't scared. Why would you be scared of sneaking out?

You silently walk back into your dorm and quickly throw a bra on, some socks, and your shoes.

"Where are you going?" your roommate asks as she watches you scramble about the room with a sense of purpose all of a sudden.

"Team bonding," you say, now tying the laces of your shoes.

"This late? Are you sure?" she asks.

"All common sense in me left the moment Lance basically called me a scaredy-cat," you say bluntly.

"Well, have fun," your roommate says.

You give her a small salute as you walk out of the dorm. "I'll be back by morning."

"Alright, see ya!"

You close the door and turn to Lance and Hunk expectantly. "Well?"

Lance gives you a cocky grin, proud of his persuasion skills. You suddenly consider your roommate's suggestion for a second.

"We need to go grab Pidge," Lance says. "It won't be team bonding if someone's missing. You gotta have everybody."

You shrug, doubting Pidge will join.

Lance takes the liberty of leading the way to the boys' dorm, you and Hunk following closely behind. You expertly dodge the officers patrolling the halls making sure students are in their dorms like ninjas on a stealth mission.

As Lance rounds a corner, he suddenly stops and back peddles quickly. He peeks around the corner and watches whatever is on the other side. Curious, you and Hunk sneak up close to Lance and peek as well.

Pidge steps out of his room, a backpack swung over his shoulders. He checks his surroundings before closing the door and running off.

You, Lance, and Hunk share a look. You all then telepathically agree to follow the small boy. Once again, Lance takes the lead.

[anika-ann]

Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.  

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.  

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.  

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading! 

[the-iceni-bitch]

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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[aching-tummies]

if i was your partner... I'd take you on a date to the county fair. I know you have a sweet tooth, and I promise to buy you whatever you want. When we get there, we haven't had dinner yet so we get a big meal of hamburgers and hot dogs, and some fried dough and cotton candy for you. I tell you I want to take a lap around the fair to see what rides there are, and get you as many treats as you want. Ice cream, churros, sodas and milkshakes all end up in your belly... 1/?

I’ve never been to a fair/amusement park or anything so when my beloved suggests we go I’m excited. Since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to go to these things because friends that have gone always have such cool stories about the rides or cute ones about laughing and having fun with their dates. Also…the occasional fair food item sounds delicious.

At the same time, I’m wary of the food because I’ve eaten stuff like ice cream, churros, milkshakes, and hot dogs before. Not at a fair setting and definitely not all in the same day. Past experience tells me that these are the kinds of foods that give me a queasy tummy ache individually. The idea of eating them all in the same day has me apprehensive. Absentmindedly, I press my hands to my tummy as though guarding it from the thought of such a nasty ache.

The day of the fair arrives and excitement has given way to nerves and those nerves have gone straight to my stomach. As we get out of the car and approach the fair grounds my stomach clenches and does flips. An empty growl splits the air but peters off into an inaudible, nauseous burble. I haven’t eaten much since you told me about our visit to the fair. The thought of fair-food filled me with dread since I knew we were coming and I guess I subconsciously lost my appetite in preparation…to try to give the fair-food a blank slate as though in hopes it’ll hurt less if it’s just the fair-food bouncing around in my gut. I rub my tummy with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut against the sensations rolling within it. I want to bolt. I want to go home. It’s like my tummy knows exactly where we are going and knows it’s in for something nasty.

I toy with the idea of asking that we just go on rides. I try to formulate the words, to make up a reason why I won’t be eating anything at the fair. Variations of “my tummy’s upset” or “I ate earlier and I’m full” come to mind. The latter wouldn’t be something I could fool you with. We’ve been together the whole day and you know naught but water has passed my lips all day. If my stomach weren’t sickeningly empty, I would definitely have thrown up by now. The anxiety of the impending situation twists in my gut, and I feel like a solid mass is forming inside my hollow gut…an imagined mass that sends urgent “puke” signals to my brain. I feel my stomach muscles convulse and I squeeze my eyes shut as it snarls again.

Your hand comes to my stomach and jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Aww…hungry?” You say as you pat my stomach through my clothes. You heard the hunger part of the growl and you took my hands on my tummy as a sign of a hunger pang. Or so I think.

“Uhm…n-not exac—"

“They sell food in there. Let’s grab some hotdogs before we check out the rides.” You pat your own stomach, triggering a growl that has no hint of nausea in it. “I’m hungry too.”

My stomach burbles as you all but push me forward, walking us to the entrance of the grounds. Each step brings the thought, “dead man (stomach) walking”. I had opted to eat less/not at all in preparation for this day because I didn’t want to come to the grounds with an upset tummy. My own stupid anxiety over what this kind of food does to me foiled that plan. If I had known my stomach would be upset entering the grounds regardless of whether or not I had eaten anything I would have just eaten something rather than endure hunger for so long.

“Uhm…d-darling? Hotdogs…uhm…y-you know what hot dogs do to my stom—”

“Ooh! Chilli-dogs! Yeah, those beat hot-dogs any day. We’re getting some!” It’s like you didn’t hear me. Tears prickle my lashes as I realize you’ve cut off all my attempts at telling you something is wrong. I open my mouth again but the glint in your eye shuts me up.

You know. The way your hand is snaked around my waist and how your palm is pressed up against my tummy is a new clue. The gentle, subtle rubs you’re giving me, that I haven’t noticed until now—you’ve done similar motions before. When I lost a dear family member you made those same motions on the back of my neck and on my shoulder when you put your arm around me. It’s your go to ‘comforting’ move. You know what’s on my mind. You know how upset my tummy is. You know I’m anxious about the impending stomach ache. And I know about your fascination with my stomach; we aren’t just here for the fair.

“Let’s walk and eat. Fair grounds are huge and I don’t know exactly what rides they have this year. Let’s do a lap, or two, and fill our tummies with all the different food as we narrow down which ones we want to go on.”

You’re still rubbing lazy circles on my tummy. Your voice and the gentle rubs slowly bring me out of my own head and the tight vice-like coil of anxiety in my gut unclenches just a little. The anxiety lessens just enough for a hungry growl to squeeze out. You know exactly what rides are offered. You studied the pamphlet thoroughly and I know for a fact you have a ranking order of your favorite rides. You love the fair and are a seasoned fair-goer. The walk is for my benefit. Suggesting two laps and suggesting that we slowly fill our bellies is entirely for the sake of my tummy. Starting at the fair with an already upset tummy wasn’t in the plan. You don’t just want to deal with an anxious tummy or a sickly one…the food and the fair-experience are part of your script for tonight. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. If I let myself throw up it’s all over—that’ll be the end of the night. I don’t want to rob you of your opportunity to enjoy the fair. It only happens once a year. I don’t want to imagine having to deal with an entire year of an anxiety-induced stomach ache—knowing that you’ll try again next year.

“O-Okay…uhm…c-could we just split the food? I-I just want a bite or two of everything.” I pat my tummy. “You know my capacity is garbage.” You grin.

“Sure! One large chili-dog it is. Wanna choose what flavor milkshake we get? Oh, and the churros at one particular truck are to die for—you gotta try ‘em!”

And…we’re off. Your hand slides away from my waist and takes my hand instead as you pull me into the fair. I slide a reassuring hand on my tummy, hidden behind my messenger-bag. I rub my tummy gently, trying to quell the upset.

2/? ... and by the time we're ready to ride a ride, I can hear your tummy grumbling noisily. I ask if you're okay, and you insist, though you look a bit nauseous. We end up on the Tilt-A-Whirl, and afterwards, your stomach is louder than ever. I ask if you're hungry, if maybe that'll help your loud, bloated aching belly, and you say yes. More treats end up in your tummy, until its aching so bad you can barely stand...

A large chili-dog, a sub-par burger, and a churro have disappeared between both our guts and I’m currently polishing off the large choco-banana milkshake we ordered. Sure, you had most of the chili-dog and the burger was because you were still hungry—I’ve let you have the lion’s share of the solid foods. I meant to let you have most of the milkshake too, but you’ve been sneakily finding ways to have it end up in my hands and to my lips.

My stomach is comfortable right now. There’s a barely-there queasiness in it but it’s slight enough to be ignored. It’s quite noisy though, churning away as it tries to break down what’s gone into it. You’ve been rubbing my tummy as we’ve been walking for the last ten minutes or so and I’m sure your rubs are the only reason my stomach is comfortable right now. Without the rubs, a normal fast-food combo has been enough to give me a twisting ache in my gut, enough to get me to cry and dash off to a bathroom to be rid of the mess.

“Oh, hey! Let’s go on that!” You gesture to the roller-coaster we’ve arrived at. I’ve never been on one. “Oh…damn…no drinks allowed on it.”

I raise my eyebrow quizzically as I rattle the empty milkshake cup. You offer a sheepish smile and hold up a full cup of cola you’ve been clutching in your other hand. “Came with the burger. Could’ja help? My tummy’s gettin’ kinda full.” You place a hand on your slightly rounded tummy.

Sure, it’s only cola…but neither of us is in the habit of wasting food. Steeling my nerves, I grab the cola and begin to suck at the straw, taking it down in gulps and thanking the heavens that it’s small as far as beverage containers go.

You pat my grumbling tummy as I finish the cola, forcing a sharp belch to pass my lips. “You didn’t have to chug it, we could have come back.” You coo as you continue to pat and rub my tummy. I groan, realizing my stupidity. My stomach sloshes sickeningly and rumbles violently at the sudden addition.

“Nah. We’ve already done two laps around the grounds. If we’re going to ride anything now’s the time.” A part of me just wants this night to be over. That cola pushed the discomfort meter in my gut higher. There’s a tight pressure inside of me right now and I want to believe it’s just the carbonation from the cola.

We share a car in the roller coaster. I grip the bar. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Repeats like a mantra in my head. Just as the coaster starts rolling, you release the bar and put both hands on my gut. You knead into my tummy, forcing burps out as I grip the rail tightly for the both of us. We have seatbelts and all that…the bar is just there for an extra level of safety. You’re experienced, you know we won’t fall even if we aren’t white-knuckling it so you put your hands to a different use. Each loop and sharp turn of the coaster causes your grip on my tummy to tighten. A particularly sharp turn sends your entire form slamming against me and your elbow meets my stomach and has me feeling something wet surge up my esophagus but I fight it down. You’ve managed to get most of the gas out of my tummy before the big loop of the coaster, at which point you offer one last pat to my tummy and turn to face forward properly. My stomach churns as we slow and watch the looming loop seeming to creep up on us. As we crawl up the loop my own hands clutch my tummy and I begin to squeeze, short and small burps burble out of me. You raise an eyebrow but are more fixated on the coaster. I want the gas out. I don’t want the inversion to cause a burp to bring up something else when we��re completely upside-down.

As we climb out of the coaster all that is left in my gut is a dense mass of thick sludge swirling around in a lake of cola. Some of the milk from the shake most definitely curdled in the acid bath of the cola. I let out a few moans as I walk and my hands have not left my tummy since we got off. I cradle my churning gut as I make my way to a miraculously empty bench.

“Babe, you okay?” Concern colors your voice as you skip after me. I need a few minutes for my stomach to re-orient itself. I can feel the thick sludge swimming in my gut and it is not a pleasant feeling. The squeals and whines from my gut betray that it doesn’t like the sensations either.

You’ve disappeared and I’m too absorbed in the activity in my tummy to care. Bathroom break, maybe. I press into my tummy cautiously, wincing at the churning grumble that is pushed forth from it. I can’t help but groan under my breath. My stomach really sick. I feel like it’s a sack of vomit churning violently rather than a stomach at this point.

I hear the crinkle of paper and I open my eyes. Something crisp and golden is shoved into my face as though you are presenting me with a bouquet of flowers.

“Is that?” My eyes widen.

“Yup! A Bloomin’ Onion! I saw a stall selling ‘em while we were on the coaster.” You announce proudly as you plop yourself down next to me.

Eagerly, I reach to tear off a piece of the treat, my nauseous tummy forgotten.

“I thought you’d need something to settle your stomach and maybe absorb some of the mess in there.” You pat my noisily churning tummy. “A-also…you’ve always wanted to try this thing, right? ‘cuz you love onion rings.”

“Mmph.” I give you an affirmative grunt as my mouth is full of the treat. You giggle and tear off some for yourself.

Once the onion has disappeared between the two of us my stomach is feeling moderately better. I’ve eaten most of it. I’ll definitely come to regret putting something so oily down the hatch, but I take your hand and suggest more rides before it has time to bloom into a full-blown sickly ache. I’m resigned to it now. We’ve got precious few minutes before my stomach begins to literally belly-ache about what’s gone into it.

We arrive at your favorite, the Tilt-a-Whirl. Nothing will stop me from letting you enjoy this ride tonight. I hope my stomach gets the memo. As I hear the screams from the ride, I notice someone off to the side of it, hurling into a convenient trash bin. I grimace, willing that not to be me.

“Babe, you sure you’re up for this?” You’re worried. I take your hand as we get in the (thankfully) short line.

“Yeah. You love this ride. It’s fine.” My tummy grumbles deeply, sounding like a dying lawn mower or something.

You slide your hands around my waist, rubbing and patting at the upset vat that is my stomach. Your hands are magic. By the time we’re at the front of the line my stomach is still churning, and aching, but not as violently as it was before. There’s a very present ache in my guts but it’s just under the threshold between a full-blown stomach ache and something that could just be classified as discomfort.

The seatbelt is tight against my tummy and I have doubts, almost caving and telling the staff I’ve changed my mind and to let me off before the ride has even begun. As the cup spins the centrifugal force causes the belt to cut into my stomach jostling it every which way. I grow steadily more and more nauseous as the ride goes on. I don’t have your miracle hands on my tummy and that thought is enough to make me want to cry. Seeking some escapism, I let my mind wander as I try to focus on anything but the violent churning in my tummy. This ride has accomplished in thirty seconds what it took your hands thirty minutes to fix.

I imagine how this ride looks from above. It must look pretty cool—my thoughts are interrupted by a new one: how this ride looks from above is how my stomach feels right now. Uneven, unpredictable churning with little bits seeming to churn within the mess. Yeah, the inventor of this thing must have seen some cruel irony in fabricating a ride that was an external representation of what it was causing internally.

When the ride ends I practically stumble into you. You laugh, dizzy yourself, and we move together. I’m leaning on you, whimpering and clutching at my distressed tummy. I can feel it. I want to throw up. The vomit signals are very strong but it feels like one of the chunks of curdled whatever has blocked the path to my esophagus. My stomach convulses and I whine as it grumbles angrily.

Your hand comes to my tummy. “Aww…baby…you hungry? The most of a solid thing you’ve eaten today has been that onion. Maybe something more solid in your tummy will calm it down?”

I can no longer tell if you’re sticking to your kink-script or if you genuinely believe my sickly tummy is in need of some proper sustenance. My stomach feels too awful to care so I let you lead me by the hand wherever it is you want us to go.

I don’t protest when something is shoved into my hands. You tell me to eat and I mechanically bring it to my mouth and take bites. I don’t even know what it is you’re making me eat, but many different treats disappear into my tummy. I think there was a burrito of some sort at one point. At least two different churros have made an appearance too. A slice of pizza, dripping with grease, is definitely one of the items if the layer of grease floating in my gut is any indication.

“Ergh…ugh…” I curl, bringing my knees up and sandwiching my arms over my belly. You led me to a sort of hidden bench. We’re kind of behind one of the tents for some carnival game and there’s tree-coverage around us. You wanted some privacy while you fed me and I’m grateful for it because I’m certain my stomach is about to spill out of my mouth and I do not want an audience. Upset doesn’t even begin to cover how bad it feels. I feel like I’ve swallowed lava and the molten mass is burning away my digestive organs. The lingering ‘discomfort’ of an ache threatening to bloom finally explodes and I curl up tightly, the added pressure not doing any favors for my poor, achy tummy. “Ugh…urp…n-no more…please? Ugh…babe…it hurts. My tummy hurts so, so much…” My stomach protests just vocally as I do.

I end up flopping over onto my side on the bench, knees still curled up to press my arms into my sickly belly. You guide me to make sure my head is on your lap. You try to get me to uncurl, to grant you access to my tummy, but my limbs refuse to budge so you settle on rubbing my side and back.

“Aww…baby…maybe a walk would settle your tummy?” Your voice is sickly sweet and I groan as it goes straight to my stomach, feeling like I just guzzled another cola.

“Umph…nuh-uh—nope. Not gunna.” I curl up, my tears soaking into the fabric on your lap as I whimper a little. I try to bring up a burp, desperately trying to relieve some of the pressure in my gut. Nothing comes up. I know there’s some in there—there has to be—but each time I clench my abdomen it feels like there’s something sickly blocking the path of the gas. If I were to really push it I could maybe clear the blockage…but I’d almost definitely end up vomiting all over your lap.

“Babe…how about that walk?” You suggest again and this time I glare at you from your lap. I glare at you and uncurl just a little. You can see the pain lancing through my eyes for a split second. I watch as your gaze travels to my gut and then I jab at it with a hand. I bite back the groan of pain so that you can hear the resulting rumble. The turbulent sounds from the jab continue for a few moments even as I curl up again.

“A walk? You kiddin’ me? My tummy hurts, babe. Hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can’t even stand up straight ‘cuz my tummy is imploding; and you want me to walk?!”

I’m being curt with you. I know I am and I regret it even as the words spill from my mouth. It’s the stomach ache. I haven’t had such a nasty one in a very long time.

3/3 I feel terribly you're not feeling so well, and offer to help you to the car. You lean on me heavily, and I rub your aching belly as we make our way back to the car. I have to help you in, and the seatbelt barely fits over your round tummy. I rub it as we drive home, and carry you into our house where I'll nurse your tummy back to health... or maybe give you more snacks ;)

“Oh, baby…I’m sorry.” You’re genuinely sorry and that makes me feel even worse about snapping at you. I pull a hand out from its position on my tummy, reaching over to brush against your face, to apologize in some way.

A sharp cramp shoots through my unhappy tummy and I let out an exclamation of pain. It felt like I got punched, from the inside. I whimper and close my eyes, breaths labored as I clutch at my tummy again. My stomach convulses violently and you can tell that I’m trying very hard both to vomit and to keep it in me. The struggle exhausts me and it breaks your heart to see it go down.

The fit dies down after a while and I eventually lie still on your lap. My stomach continues to churn within me and you can hear the sickly burbling. You’ve taken to carding a hand through my hair and using your other hand to rub at whatever you can reach—arm, side, back. The shooting cramps die down somewhat and I manage to uncurl. I find your hand and guide it to my stomach and you rub it gently. I’m still biting back grunts with each breath but you can tell that your massage is slowly doing something for my sickly tummy.

“Do you think you can get to the car? I think we’re done here.”

I whimper, shaking my head and guiding your hand back to my tummy. “Not yet. Ugh…please?” I look at you, silently begging for more rubs. “If I get up now I’m gonna hurl.” You continue rubbing my tummy and we continue in our positions for a while.

My stomach is fairly distended. I usually don’t eat much in a single day and you managed to cram a whole lot of stuff I usually wouldn’t touch into me today. Sugar, fried foods, salt, milkshakes. This is stuff I only allow myself to indulge in a couple of times a year…and only one at a time, usually. Like…before meeting you I was the type to see a can of cola as a treat. That was my dessert quota for the day or week. After we got together the occasional scoop of ice-cream became another dessert option—but always only one scoop. This is our first time at the fair as a couple and you really let me have it. You gave me the ‘full’ experience in more ways than one and my tummy is suffering for it.

“Urp…ugh…nachos? When did I eat nachos?” You laugh at my observation, a sign that I’m doing a bit better.

“I think it was between the second burrito and the banana split.” You inform me as I sit up.

“Second? Banana…split?” I’m surprised. I know I was out of it when you were feeding me, too caught up in the agony swirling in my tummy, but I didn’t think I was that out of it. “Wait…when was the pizza?” You laugh at my dumbfounded expression.

“I only gave you a few bites of the banana split ‘cuz I wanted it…and ‘cuz it looked like you were going to be sick at that point. You ate a whole slice of that pizza before the ice-cream.” My stomach burbles as it’s reminded and I put a hand on it.

“I don’t think that qualified as pizza. It feels like it was grease with a side of dough and cheese.” I groan, patting my tummy gently and rubbing up and down slightly. I still feel sick but the crippling ache has subsided…for now.

I take your hand and get up off the bench. You’re up immediately and drag one of my arms over to rest around your shoulders. We stumble our way toward the exit with your hands resting on my waist. My other hand on my belly is more to support the extra weight while yours provide some much-needed rubs. It’s a team effort to get to the car in my state.

You help me into the passenger seat as I moan. The cramps are building in intensity. You fasten my seatbelt and I almost push you off when you put too much pressure leaning over me to get the thing buckled. Now that I am sitting up my belly is really prominently distended. As you back up I immediately recline the seat, giving my belly some much needed room.

“Do not throw up in the car.” You admonish.

“Urgh…urp…ulp…ugh…no promises.” I whimper. You close the door and the impact jostles my belly. I clutch at it with a groan, swallowing back something thick and wet.

It’s a long drive back home. I’m reclined as far as the seat will go. You have one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing absentmindedly over the crest of my tummy when it’s not needed to steer or shift gears or whatever.

A part of you feels horrible for what we have done tonight. While both of us are into tummies, this is the first time we’ve ever done something like this. We’ve done some minor stuffings before. We’ve done other things in the realm of tummy kink before. This is a first where you stuffed me with foods that would normally cause me great distress all on their own and you decided to cram them all into me in the span of six hours.

I’m lost to the pain as we pull up to our place. I’m in the same incoherent state I was in when you fed me all those things I didn’t register. Gently, you unbuckle the seatbelt, guiding it home so that it doesn’t have a chance to upset my belly further. I groan and nearly lose my gorge as you slide your arms under my back and my knees and lift me out of the car with a massive heave.

The vertigo goes right to my tummy and I’m a groaning mess as you whisper reassurances at me. We’re almost home. Don’t throw up on you. Etc.

You set me on the couch. The bedroom is too far a walk and you don’t want to risk dropping me. The extra weight of all that indigestion is more than you anticipated.

I can’t move. My tummy is pinning me down and the threat of vomiting is extreme. I feel like a thermometer or something with the sludge going up and down my esophagus.

You set a bin within reach of me before disappearing to the kitchen. I whimper, wishing I could call out. I need your hands on my belly. I feel so sick.

I hear clattering in the kitchen. The tell-tale signs of something being microwaved. I hope it’s a heat pack or something even if the added pressure of it is sure to make me vomit. You return with a plate of pizza bites and my stomach pulls a move where it feels like it’s trying to drop out of me and run. I can’t move. I’m too full, too sick, and in too much pain. I only hope you have a night of rubs planned and that you’ve got a hair-tie somewhere ‘cuz there is no way this night ends without me throwing up.

[nctzanne]

Bisexual

[Smut, a tiny bit of fluff]

• Ten x Reader (fm)

requests closed ♡

-You are gay, aren’t you? I mean, by the way you look at Johnny, it’s pretty obvious- You speak nonchalant, fixing your eyes on the random yaoi movie you both are watching.

-I prefer calling myself bisexual- Ten answers with no amusement- I still don’t know how it’s to have sex with a girl-

-That’s why i thought you were gay- He laughs under his breath. You turn your sight to him, just to admire his delicate face traits. Indeed, Johnny was lucky.

Being friends with Ten was something... peculiar. He is a mystery, in every possible way. When you think you know him, suddenly he appears with a personality totally different from what he chose to show you. In those 5 years of knowing eachother, Ten always had something new to uncover about him, making you feel refreshed. There was no way you could be bored with him, everything felt new, funny, dangerous. He helped you to skip your first class, to get an A on maths, how to get drunk without puking, and how to freestyle dance. You just don’t imagine your life without him.

And now, that you both live together, everything got even better. Nights reading tarot cards, laughing at some Tik Toks, and even you both escaped to make a friendship tattoo: A little butterfly under your boob and under his chest. 

Some people would say that you both look like a couple, but there is no way Ten have ever felt that way with you. Oh, but if you talk about your personal feelings...

-Uhm, __, do i have something in my face or..?- Ten whispers so suddenly you snap out of your thoughts. One side of his face is iluminated by the different colors of the sunset that it’s occuring outside your balcony window. He looks so pretty like this, how can he even be real?

-Yeah, some uglyness over there- You try to play it cool, throwing a pillow towards him, positioning it on his lap so you can rest a bit over your heavy thoughts.

He doesn’t seem to complain, and starts playing with your hair. It feels so nice to be around him, he is your comfy zone, your safe space.

-I really want to know- he mumbles.

You freeze.

-Know? What do you wanna know?- For some reason, you don’t want to look at him.

-How it’s to have sex with a woman- he sounds so damn secure about himself, like those words didn’t afect you at all. But he’s wrong, your heart speeds up a little bit, trying to figure out where this conversation was heading to. No, there is no possible way that...

-I’ve been thinking about this a long time ago, you know- his voice goes deeper this time- I know so much about sex with men, but so little with girls. I really want to try how I develop during the act- What the fuck is he talking about?

-Ten, what the f...- he grabs you by your back so you sit up and face him. You are only centimeters away from your nose to rub his.

-I want to know... ___, please let me find out- he almost sound like begging. You hold your breath trying to conect the last neurons that are functioning so you convince yourself that you are not dreaming. You can’t help but look at his lips,just waiting for his sign...

There is no movement at all, not his, not yours. The only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat buzzing on your ears, his warm hands on the sides of your cheeks, his eyes piercing your thoughts.

-Just kiss me already- Your voice trembles, almost like if you are unsure. Actually, you are, there is no way this could end in a good way.

But all of that fades away when he connects his lips with yours. For a few seconds, it’s only that, just your lips touching. But it’s enough to make your mind go fuzzy, fireworks erupting on your lower belly, feeling like this moment should’ve happened so many years ago. When you interwined your fingers while walking on the park, or when he comforted you when you broke up with Kun. But no matter how awkward this moment was, it is everything you needed.

You don’t know how longer it takes for you to experimentally open your mouth a little bit, just to lick his lower lip, tasting the waters. He moves away quickly, leaving your mouth hanging open. You think you messed something up, but before you can apologize about taking things too fast he grabs you violently by the nape of your head, so he can start to kiss you messily.

Everything is tongue, saliva and teeth. There is no control, at all. His tongue works majestically inside your wet cavity, exploring every inch of it, like he was marking your mouth as his. You let him lead everything, you just melt under his ministrations, trying to fight his tongue only to earn a deep growl from his throat. 

He grabs your hips giving you a sign to sit on his lap and you do, gasping as soon as you feel his hard clothed member against you. He janks your hair just to have your neck fully display to him, so he can start marking you up. It first starts as tongue kisses, but slowly he sucks mercyless every inch of your neck and collarbones.

-Ten, i have dance classes tomorrow- you try to stay as rational as posible, running your fingers through his dark black locks- Dont mark me up-

He looks up to you, mouth full of saliva, eyes glistening -You are acting as if you aren't mine-

It felt like somebody totally different from Ten was talking to you now. When you said that he always had something new about himself to show, you weren't kidding. His voice was always sweet as a candy cane, but now you can swear he can cut a rock with a whisper. You shiver, not knowing what its going to happen at all.

-My dear pup- what... is that... a nickname? A pool starts to grow on your panties, and you are afraid you will wet his jeans as well- Do you think i don't know how i make you feel only by looking at you? By touching you?- he lays back on the sofa where you both at, just so he can admire your fucked up state, he is loving how wrecked you are by him- Why do you think i dont fuck any other girls, huh? Because I know how to drive you insane, i know how you masturbate with your filthy vibrator everynight you see me without a t-shirt, wishing that pleasure was given by me- your mouth opens in surprise, and you suddenly want to be swallowed by the couch and just disappear. It seems that he notices- The only girl i want to pleasure my whole life is you, because you are the only one who can make me feel this- he grabs your wrist so your hand touches his dick over his pants.

You are absolutely clueless of everything. So many things happening so fast. He heard you masturbating? He masturbates himself thinking about you? Is it now even the time to wonder about those things?

Almost on queue, he kisses your lips softly, caressing your hair -Let me make you feel good, pup. I want to try everything with you, only you-

A loud moan breaks the ice between you two. You look at eachother trying to figure out where the sound is coming, until you both face the TV. Right, the Yaoi movie. The scene is so fucking explicit you couldn't help by sigh, and that doesn't slip out of Ten.

-You like watching that, don't you?- he turns you around, so now that your back is pressed against his chest. He opens up your legs and in a blink of an eye has his hands roaming the waistband of your pajama pants. -You are so filthy, what if that was me and Johnny? Would you rather watch that?- you moan not only because of the scene you just imagine, but also that his fingers start to ghost against your wet folds- Or do you prefer me fucking you, making a mess out of you?- he teases you, rubbing gently but never putting enough pressure, he only rubs your pussy lips.

You open up your legs in desesperate attempt to make him touch you more, but he just takes his time. You are not watching the movie at all, your mind wandering about all the things you can try with him.

Finally, his index finger rubs your clit slowly in a up and down motion. You hate the fact that you are too vocal when it comes to sex, but it seems that for him it tastes like glory. Using two fingers now, he decides to rub your now hard and too sensitive nub in different ways, but when he starts to do it in circles is when you close your eyes and moan his name loudly.

-Okay, that's how you like it then- and you dont notice when he starts to pick up his pace. You are so close, so damn close due to all the dirty talking, but you don't want it to end.

-Ten please, i don't want to cum yet- you rest the back of your head on his shoulder, eyes rolling back. You can hear the sounds that come down from your wetness, and it seems that he tries in all best ways possible to make those sounds louder and louder.

-Who says you have permission to cum anyways, pup?- he whispers in your ear. His eyes are fixed in how his fingers are working on you, at the same time he is listening carefully how his name slips out of your tongue everytime he slows down. 

-Ten ‘m so close, please- You don’t know what are you begging for. Your legs tremble trying to hold your orgasm but you feel like you are going to explode.

-I love when you call me by my nickname, but sometimes i think you forget about my real name- He stops his actions, making you groan in disapproval, but he hush you while introducing his fingers on your mouth. You don’t want to admit it, but you truly love your own taste. 

You suck clean his fingers, swirling your tongue around them, while trying to look at him in the eyes, though it was kinda difficult due to the position he is. He bites his lips, humming in agreement, he likes what you are doing.

-I want to hear how you scream my name while i make you cum- He starts to rub your clit again, but 10x faster. He looks like an expert rubbing you, it feels so damn good, it’s impossible that he is a “girl virgin”.- Say it-

-Chittaphon...- You feel so embarrased, and don’t know why, but you choose to let go and get consumed by pleasure. You feel it, that tight knot begging for release, your hands holding on dear life by his arm muscles, hearing his grunts on your left ear, even the year of his piercings on your cheek makes you burn and get closer and closer.

-Chittaphon im cumming- you warn him with voice cracked, you can’t hold it any longer. 

-That’s it pup, let go, cum for me- He whispers and licks your earlobe. And that’s all that takes for you to disappear from earth, being sucked in by the orgasm that is washing you. You chant his name over and over again, your inner walls clenching around nothing, the climax seems to last for hours. You feel your clit throbbing, thighs full of your own liquids, and you black out.

-____, baby, it’s okay- He hears that you are whimpering, destroyed by pleasure.- Don’t move, let me clean you up- 

In a matter of minutes, you start to get conscious, eyelashes batting fast trying to recognize where you are. The aroma of Ten invades you and suddenly you feel calm, you are in his bed, covered, with a white t-shirt and nothing else below that. He is laying besides you, hugging you by your waist, caressing your skin with his thumb.

-Hey, you woke up. I was worried, i thought i knocked you out or something- He smiles, clearly proud of the mess he just made. You slap his shoulder, letting a little laugh slip out of your mouth.

-Sorry-

-About what?-

-I just passed out... i didn’t even suck you off- You legit feel embarassed.

-Ah, ____, i wanted it this way. It was perfect, trust me- He pecks your lips, worried that maybe you won’t believe him- This is what i asked for-

You feel your heart full. Of blood maybe, but it’s a metaphor to explain how complete this man makes you.

-So, are you bisexual or not- You try to change the subject, laying on your side so you can face him. You still don’t get used to the idea that probably, probably you both like eachother. He laughs outloud, with his perfect teeth on display, and then he bites his lip.

-Im ___sexual, for sure-

You don’t know what it’s going to happen before this. But that’s Ten’s essence, he is a complete mystery. And that’s why you are madly in love with him.

[emersonfreepress]

What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?

whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like

I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD

i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆

so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.

and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆

= = =

Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad

Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle

Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun

Faith in humanity: fucking zero

Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for

Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after

Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness

- - -

Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.

Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons

Human weapon: hunting knife

Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with

Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it

Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened

Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao

- - -

Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).

He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!

Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?

Human weapon: ...Kindness?

Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high

Zombie kill count: Single digit

Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless

Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!

- - -

Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: rifle

Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!

Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30

Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others

Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!

- - -

Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.

Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?

Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy

Faith in humanity: Very low

Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!

Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.

Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.

- - -

Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂

Zed weapon: SMG

Human weapon: shotgun

Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions

Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...

Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!

- - -

Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆

Zed weapon: shotgun

Human weapon: handgun

Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit

Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!

Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.

- - -

Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: handgun; dagger

Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly

Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20

Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol

Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!

- - -

Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.

Zed weapon: SMG, explosives

Human weapon: handgun, dagger

Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?

Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect

Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.

Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol

[dumb-little-trans-writer]

Rust and Black Thorn Trees. Chapter 2.

The girl tiredly wandered, getting increasingly exhausted.

She didn’t know where she was.

She knew nothing.

What Miranda neglected to focus on, however, was the fact that she also transformed when on the brink of death, to attempt to find something, anything, to eat, or to wear.

She saw a pack of lycans.

She silently transformed, as how Mother taught her.

Or, more accurately, beat into her.

She stalked the lycans for the perfect moment.

They grabbed bunnies as though they were chips, the high-pitched screaming echoing through her ears.

As one of the lycans had a rabbits leg in it’s mouth, Dasha struck the lycan closest to her, slashing it’s throat. She quickly moved from lycan to lycan before they could react.

As she transformed back, she immediately started tearing the flesh from the lycans with her teeth. She found that eating right after transforming prevents the nausea and the puking, it doesn’t prevent the leaking of the liquid from her eyes and nose, though.

She binged, knowing that this may be her last meal for a while.

She could smell winter on the horizon, and this was her life for the next six years.

Over these six gruesome years, she was able to find the occasional lost tourist or hunter in the forests surrounding Heisenberg’s Factory.

She stole their weapons, and their clothing.

She found that she preferred men’s clothing.

The girl would transform less and less, using the limited ammo and resources she had.

Karl Heisenberg watched her last hunt, as it was the closest to the factory she’d ever been.

Risky.

Hmm, he thought as he watched her dance with the lycans.

With a shotgun shell to the face, of course.

“Hey, you know, there isn’t anyone who can sell you ammo around here,” Heisenberg said, walking toward the girl. She jumped, cautious, “if you run out, you’re kinda fucked.” he stated, putting out his cigar.

She had heard of Lord Heisenberg. Never met him though.

“What are you implying?” she spat.

“All i’m saying is that running out of shotgun shells during the wintertime, when it’s nearly below zero, can be deadly,” he paused, spitting on the cold leaves, “especially for someone as tiny as you.” he laughed at her glare.

“Don’t call me tiny.” she replied, walking past him.

In the recesses of her mind, she was okay with it.

Heisenberg led Dasha to his factory.

It was loud.

The metal clanging against itself, the periodic releases of steam, and the...chainsaw revving?

Heisenberg opened a hatch, and screamed “SHUT YOUR HOLE, ROTTEN CUNT.”

The revving stopped.

“Is one of your failed experiments down there, Karl?” she teased, taking off her jacket as the humidity made it extremely warm, and uncomfortably sweaty. It revealed how muscular she had grown. She was still slim, but a little buffer from when she was with Her.

He seemed taken aback by her calling him Karl, instead of Lord, or even just his last name.

He liked that she didn’t pay his status any mind, he knows he didn’t give a fuck.

“Maybe. I’ll throw you down there if you decide to say some shit.” Heisenberg said with a slight growl.

“I could take it, i bet.” she purred.

“Don’t tempt me, bitch.” Heisenberg whispered, emphasizing ‘bitch’

The girl lightly skipped down the hallway, amusing Heisenberg.

“If I didn'thave a spare room I'd make you sleep outside.” Heisenberg called. She turned and nodded, “It’s right over here.” he pointed to a door on the side of another hallway. The room they were currently in had the bare necessities, albeit it was a mess.

She really didn’t mind though.

She walked to the room he was talking about, and opened the door to a bed that seemed to be collecting dust.

In fact, everything seemed to be barely touched.

Despite her past with cleaning, she needed to at least dust everything down.

“You got something i can wipe this shit down with? Looks like a tomb in here.” she yelled.

“Yeah, gimme a sec, christ” Heisenberg seemed to be struggling with something. She left the room, confused, and then amused at the sight before her.

He seemed to be trying to fix his oven, or cleaning it, whatever he was doing, he was struggling with it.

“Pfft, need help?” she asked, smirking.

“I’d rather kill myself than get help from you.” he coldly replied, sighing as he took his head out of the oven. His face was slightly stained with ash, and he was sweating. She leaned up again the counter, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. Now that she had a closer look, he seemed to be cleaning to oven judging by the ash stained rag soaked in water he was holding.

“This isn’t how you do it, let me help you.” she demanded. Heisenberg was slightly surprised by this, but silently swallowed a bite of his pride, and stood up, arms crossed.

“So how do YOU do it?” Heisenberg asked in a condescending tone.

“You got baking soda?” she suddenly asked, “’cause we’re gonna need a decent amount.” she added, taking out the oven racks.

“I have a lot of it, i guess.” Heisenberg replied, slightly confused.

“Do you realize how much of a fire hazard this is? I might scrub your entire fucking house down at this rate.” Dasha exclaimed, “where’s the baking soda?”

“There.” he pointed to a cabinet. She opened it and grabbed the tin, holding it for a moment to see if she’d need another one.

“Vinegar?” she asked.

“In the same cabinet.” Heisenberg said, annoyed and impatient.

“This is gonna take a day, I hope you know.” Dasha laughed.

“Fucking WHAT?” Heisenberg asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I have to-”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME AND YOU’RE CLEANING MY OVEN.” Heisenberg said, frustrated.

“...Do you wanna know my name?” she asked, pouring baking soda and water into a cup, “or how to clean your own fuckin’ oven?” she said, sarcastically.

“Both’s fine I guess.” Heisenberg rolled his eyes.

“Dasha Jelíneková. That’s my name.”

“Dein Name ist schön...” Heisenberg muttered.

“...what?” Dasha asked, confused.

“Nothin’. Explain why it’s gonna take a day.” he quickly changed topics.

“Well, wiping down the interior with a soaked rag might get some of the grime off, but it won’t get it all off,” she paused as she mixed more baking soda in with the water to make a paste, “deep cleaning your oven like this also helps heat disperse evenly.” she explained.

“Seriously..?” he muttered, thinking about how his last meal was damn-near raw in some spots, and burnt in others.

“So, you take baking soda and water, make a paste with it like this,” she stuck the cup in his face, “you got rubber gloves, right?” she asked.

“Take a fuckin’ guess.” Heisenberg laughed at the question.

“Hand ‘em to me, dickhead.” she said, making a poor attempt to hide a smile.

“By the way, dunno if this has anythin’ to do with you, but i’ve been finding pretty large lycan carcasses that are either brutally killed and then eaten, or seemingly killed in self defense, all of ‘em had gnarly claw marks,” he paused, “know anything about that?” He asked. Her blood ran cold, but she tried to keep her composure. 

“Maybe it was a mutated Lycan.” she quietly said, applying the paste to every crevice in the oven. Heisenberg was confused as to why she was acting strange, and more importantly, how she knew the Lycans were caused by...that.

“Well, uh, keep an eye out, yanno?” Heisenberg uncomfortably laughed in the awkward silence.

“Can you plug the sink, and pour some baking soda on ‘em? Then pour the vinegar on ‘em.”

“Okay...what now?” Heisenberg asked.

“Wait for it to stop foaming, and stick em under the water. In the sink, i mean.” she explained, finishing applying the last of the paste.

“Okay...” he muttered.

“Now, we wait for at least ten hours.”

“...Are you serious?” Heisenberg asked, seemingly shocked.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” she replied, confused.

He looked down, “That doesn’t seem reasonable-”

“You don’t seem to be either, Mister Heisenberg.” she smirked at him.

“You know...” he started, “You should be happy I haven’t chucked you down that chute.” he threatened, towering over her small frame with a hand in her hair, mimicking a ponytail, pulling her close to him. He outwardly smelled like cigar smoke, gasoline, and sweat. His breath reeked of whiskey, his hot breath on her cheek. But she smelled more than just that, due to the experimentation with the Cadou.

She could smell what people feel, she always sort of could, but this was heightened by the experimentation.

This was new, it smelled like a heavy, rich devil’s food cake.

It smelled like sin.

She glanced downward at his crotch, and he was definitely pitching a tent.

“You really don’t want this, Karl.” she whispered. It was true, at least in her mind.

No one should want a monster.

She didn’t even know what she wanted, outside of Her dead.

Staring directly into his eyes, she gently placed her hand on the hand he was using to grip her hair. He violently let go, glaring and walking outside.

He hated how similar, yet different they both were. He wanted her to stay with him, despite barely knowing eachother.

It was a bag of mixed emotions.

Dasha followed behind, she found Heisenberg collecting firewood.

“I’m makin’ hotdogs.” he stated.

“On a fire, I’m assuming?” she asked, “i had to learn how to make a fire by myself. Got good at it too.” she bragged.

Heisenberg ignored her comment, “Can you get the ‘dogs and the buns for me outta the fridge?”

“Sure, what rack are they on?” she asked.

“Figure it out.” he coldly replied.

She scoffed, and went back inside, muttering to herself.

Heisenberg thought for a while while she was inside.

Why did she know about the Cadou? Why does she live in the forest? Is it by choice? I wonder if she’s useful...I wonder if Miranda- he thought. He zoned out, and realized his hands were dangerously close to the fire. He nonchalantly pulled them away, added a little more wood, and grabbed a chair. He thought for a moment, and pulled another chair over from the wood pile.

She came back, hot dog buns and hot dogs in tow.

Heisenberg used his powers to make two metal sticks come to him.

“What the fuck.” she whispered, taken aback.

“Oh. Here.” he said, handing one to Dasha.

“No, what the fuck was that-?” Dasha nervously laughed.

“Oh, yeah. I can do that. Only metal though.” Heisenberg explained.

“Huh.” she replied, giving a bun and a hot dog to him. He stuck the tapered metal point through the middle of the hot dog, and stuck it over the fire.

Dasha did the same.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like a hour, but really was five minutes.

Heisenberg, obviously, was the first to break the silence.

“So I know you’ve never really mentioned it, but I’m thinkin’ you LIVE in the forest, right?” Heisenberg asked.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked, holding the hot dog above the fire.

“Just haven’t really seen anyone willingly live in the forest.” Heisenberg shrugged. There was another period of silence between them as the fire popped and crackled.

“Do you live in the forest willingly?” Heisenberg asked, taking his hot dog off the metal stick, placing it into the bun.

She looked at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words to describe her situation. She blinked a couple times, trying to find the words.

“I don’t know.” she furrowed her brow, and had an unmistakable look of i’m-remembering-things-i-don’t-want-to-think-about. Heisenberg wasn’t amazing with emotions, despite being able to read someone like a book.

“Sorry.” he quietly said, looking away from her.

“You had no way of knowing. It’s fine.” She leaned towards him. Then, she took her hot dog away from the fire, and just ate it off the stick. This sight amused Heisenberg.

“How long have you lived in the forest?” Heisenberg asked with his mouth full.

“Around six years? Hard to keep track.” she said, after swallowing a bite.

“Damn. So how old are you now?”

“I don’t know, around twenty-three, i think?” she replied.

“That checks out.” Heisenberg smugly joked.

“At least I don’t look like I’m from World War II.” she retorted, laughing.

“And what if I am, huh?” Heisenberg joked, knowing he was in fact born around when WWII ended.

“I was kidding, shut the fuck up.” she laughed. Heisenberg realized that he really, really liked her laugh. Maybe it’s from the isolation in the factory, and now he finally has someone that seems to enjoy his company. This feeling scared him, just a little bit.

“Yeah, sure.” he laughed. There was silence again.

“This might be coming out of nowhere, but could you...refer to me as a boy? I know this is strange coming from someone who looks like me, but-” he got cut off.

“I get it, it’s alright. No worries. You got a new name?” he asked.

“Dimitri.”

“Still a pretty name.” Heisenberg muttered.

“I heard that.” Dimitri laughed.

“Oh.”

The both of them finished their hot dogs, and they went inside. It was getting cold.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re gonna help me around the factory. Otherwise I won’t hesitate to throw you out.” Heisenberg threatened.

“Alright, you’re gonna have to show me how it works around here though, depending on my job.” he replied, taking his jacket off. He got into his room and rummaged through his bag, looking for a tank top or something. He found a black one that he looted off of a tourist, and swapped into it. Even when it was freezing outside, it was mildly uncomfortable to wear a sweater like he was. He didn’t even think about his immense number of scars being visible, from various creatures and pitiful self-defense attempts. One benefit from the Cadou was that it gave him a healing factor. The only downside, in his eyes, was that killing himself was impossible. He walked out of the room, and into the living room. Heisenberg was making multiple small metal parts like gears and screws float in a certain fashion, making outlines of various things.

He sat on the couch that looked as though it was about to fall apart.

“You’re almost as scarred up as me,” Karl laughed as he pulled up his shirt, revealing a multitude of scar marks, and a happy trail.

Fuck, okay maybe I do know what I want... he thought. He felt a small tingling around his cheeks, as he laughed. He turned around and pulled up the back of his shirt to reveal some of the worst scars he’s gotten. Heisenberg felt himself tense up, his cheeks went red too.

“Can i..?” he asked as he reached his hand out halfway.

“Touch them? Sure.” Dimitri replied, scooting backwards.

He felt his calloused hands gently trace over all of his scars, even the smaller ones. Despite Karl’s rough and mean demeanor, he was so gentle. His hand gently ran down to his waist. He was surprised, but it was calming.

Karl pulled away, fearful of being intimate with him. He had just met the guy, why did he feel this pull?

“I was okay with that, you know.” he said, facing him and letting his shirt fall back to it’s place. He moved a bit closer, wanting the closeness of someone that he never had. “...Please?”

Heisenberg was confused. He was reluctant because of trust issues, yet Dimitri was the polar opposite?

Why did he come here..?

I wanted to use him as an experiment, why-?

“No.” he stated, “I can’t.”

He wordlessly left, Dimitri assuming into his room.

He sighed, and left into 'his' room too.

"Shit." he muttered, thinking about how bad that was. Dimitri went to sleep, trying to forget the entire damn day.

[sapphic-writing]

Screw boys

VENT FIC **** I wrote it for me but maybe you can enjoy it

Mentions of alcohol and bad language

Edit and beta reading are for pussies, we die like women.

Modern AU with Ulla, Donella and Ulf (or in the mid 90's). OOC.

What happens when a college student passes his exams and that the parents of said student own a field on the side of the town, that isn’t rally occupied yet? Well first he thinks he could invite the people of his promo to celebrate their results on a hot summer night. Then he thinks he might as well invite people he knew in high school. A few people ask if they can bring some of their friends with them, nothing crazy. More and more people are invited and inviting. Before you know it, the upcoming party have the reputation of the most crazy party thrown in town for the upcoming decade. And the starter of it isn’t sure he could stop it even if he wanted to.

Ulla, being Ulla, counts herself in the first wave of guests. Mark, a close friend from high school had gotten her into it. And she herself, had gotten her brother and Donella on the guest list, alongside with other pears. The only thing that kept her two acolytes from bailing on this party as they witnessed it growing with horror, was the idea of leaving Ulla alone at a huge event like that, without backup. Ulf especially, being the designated driver.

And they couldn’t have greater regrets, when they found themselves sitting anxiously in the grass. Observing the other teenagers drinking like it was the end of the world.

Ulla had wandered off with Mark, glad to catch up with him, but most of all, she needed to get one thing straight ass there was one thing that had been bugging her for a while.

“Hey, dude. Can I talk to you for a sec?” She asked, now merry. “C’mon, let’s go where there’s less noise. We can’t hear shit here.”

It wasn’t really out of the party, not even outside of the land that the parents of the holder of the event actually owned, because of course people had taken the party well pass it. But they found a tree and it was a good enough thing to lay against.

“Okay, alright. So you remember how you told me about having regrets and stuff, and you wanted to ask me one thing but in the end you didn’t? I wanna know, man. I know it has something to do with me. I need, I need to know what it is. Like, if I want to trust you again.”

“Hmmmm okay, you wanna know?” He asks with a smile, rolling against the trunk to face her. “Do you have regrets about that time we both had a crush on eachother but none of us made a moove?”

“What if I did?”

He detached himself from the tree to stand in front of the girl. “I don’t know. But I mean, it’s never too late.”

“Aren’t you dating Millie?” Ulla asked playfully as he approached her.

“I think she could be okay with this.”

Ulla got closer to him, her breath brushing his lips as she spoke.

“So, now that, out of high school, I take more care of myself, put make up on and make efforts to wear nice clothes, I become interesting to you? Because you find me just so pretty. Better than the girl in high school?”

“You know you’re so god damn pretty now, doll.” And as he was playing with her hair, slowly closing his eyes as as he was opening his lips and getting closer, she spat right in his mouth.

He backed up with a sound of disgust and Ulla took the opportunity to get away from the tree and him.

“Won’t be seeing you again, Mark. But since you were so eager to put your tong in my mouth, I’m leaving you a souvenir. Bon soir.” she finished with a terrible accent and a reverence. Getting out of his sight before he got mad or violent.

Wandering through the many faces of wrecked students, she eventually found her brother at the exact same place he was when she left.

“Where’s Donnie?” She asked. He gestured to somewhere to her left, and she saw her with what was definitely not her first cup in hand.

“I don’t like you.” She told a guy, straight up to his face. The girls around them laughed hysterically as he started crying.

Ulla turned away from the scene and dropped her forehead on Ulf’s shoulder. “I wanna go home.”

“You okay, Ul’?” He asked, putting a hand on her back. She groaned and threw her head backward.

“The second I become fuckable, one of the guys I consider one of my best friends starts to want to do me like I take care of myself only for his pleasur or something.” She look at him in the eyes and tries to play it less hurt than she was. “He ignored my strong personality and one, it doesn’t work. Second, I don’t appreciate.” She continued mumbling a third, fourth and more reasons of ways it had offended her. Ulf nodded without trying to understand more and called the other mess he was in charge of. “Don, we’re going home!” Once she registered the information, she went in their direction without a protest. The girls behind started booing and asking her to stay because she made them laugh.

“Men are shit.” Ulla declared as she threw an arm around the shoulders of an already legless Donella.

“Tell me about it.” She responded as Ulf was helping her not to fall. They started walking to Donella’s parents car.

“Also, we’re not talking to Mark no more.” and before any of the two others could answer, Ulla’s name was screamed not far from where they were. “Ah, shit.”

“God, Ulla. You pissed him off!”

“Like it’s a surprise.”

The scream had made a few heads turn for a second before going back to the madness. The redhead girl let go of her arm around Donella and turned around.

“You want to complain because I didn’t let you screw me? Big, big dick move since your girlfriend’s around.” Indeed, Millie was looking at the scene with confusions. “Better, you want to pretend that nothing happened and keep dating her. So you can cheat more or something.”

He didn’t answer. Ulf’s guess was that he was expecting to find her alone and not with two other people who would completely be on her side. Millie came closer and looked at him, waiting for a reaction from her boyfriend. He looked at her in the eyes.

“C’mon, babe. You can’t believe her. She’s just drunk and jealous and…”

“Tell me the truth.” She calmly said with a determined stair. And suddenly he wasn’t able to hold on her look and he fell silent.

Ulla advanced to be at the poor girl’s side. “It’s okay, Mil. We can take you home if you want.” Ulf wasn’t certain their parents would be okay with a surprise guest, but he wasn’t about to open his mouth right now.

He took the three girls to the car. Ulla on the backseat, against the window, with Ulla next to her to take care of her in case there was a puking accident. And Millie on the sit next to him as the conductor. First they trash talked about Mark. Then uplifted each-other in that way that girls do. Donella did have an accident and they managed to keep the damages in the car minimal.

The next day, Ulla and Millie were dealing with a hangover while Ulf and Donella, who never had had a bad hangover in her life despite being the one drinking the most in the trio, were explaining to the Rusf parents why there was another girl in their flat. Not that they took it as badly as Ulf’s anxious mind had anticipated.

Bonus I wanted to include but couldn’t :

(After Mark called after Ulla, she is talking)

“And what’s with you and red heads? Do you have a fetish or something? You’re gonna try and fuck Ulf next time?” Mark makes a disgusted face. “What? Oooooooh, but that’s gay! You can’t say that to a manly man like me!” She says in a high pitched voice, pretending to look offended. “Well look, I’ll be fucking your girlfriend before you. She is ways more fuckable than you are.”

[talvin-muircastle]

Am I Queer? It’s Controversial.

This is going to be long, and it’s going to cover a lot of ground, so please bear with me.  

Recently, this article came to my attention:

https://www.healthline.com/health/gender-nonconforming

I have spent a fair amount of time questioning my own sexuality/identity, and having it questioned by others.  Now approaching five full decades of life, I feel comfortable saying:

I identify as Male, and Straight.

I am Gender Non-Conforming by the standards of the culture I come from.

But I am not comfortable saying this qualifies me as “Queer” or otherwise under LGBTQIA+.   

That article (which is by no means the Last Word on the subject) identifies several areas where I do not conform to my AMAB status as culturally defined:

I have long hair.  But I also have a thick beard and moustache, and I like that combination.  Still, I grew up in a place where long hair on a guy meant you were A) Queer or B) into Heavy Metal.   Even though my teen years saw me sporting a military-style buzzcut more often than not, I tended to hang out with the Metalheads.  My long hair continues to be a point of contention with my conservative relatives and in-laws.   Some of them think I am a Hippie, which is funny because I am allergic to Cannabis.  Wanna watch me fight for breath and puke?  Blow weed smoke in my face.  

I am a Stay-At-Home Dad and Homemaker.  I have been the breadwinner for this family, but that is not part of my identity.  I am quite content to let my wife handle that part of things, and so is she.  I have been a Dad longer than I have been a father, in fact:  for most of my life I have been mentoring teenagers that find their way to me seeking advice, comfort, acceptance, and guidance.    I spent a lot of time worrying about what career should I follow, and it took me far too long to understand and accept that Dad was what I was after.  A woman seeking motherhood as a career is validated, a man seeking fatherhood in the same context is not conforming.  

When I was younger, I got hit with one hell of a double-standard: while wanting to be a Dad as a goal is not acceptable, I was supposed to go out there and sow my wild oats.  OK, I wasn’t really supposed to get girls pregnant, but I was supposed to try.  Wait, what? Try that again?  OK, if you were a teenaged boy in the 80s and 90s and I am pretty sure before that (not sure after, AIDS changed a lot of thinking all around), you were not supposed to get a girl pregnant, but you were supposed to make an attempt as often as possible, in fact you were supposed to score but fail.  If you are confused, don’t feel bad: I was living steeped in this paradox 24/7/365 and came out of it real confused.

Meanwhile, I was looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship with a woman who could be a partner in my life, and avoiding the one-night stands I was supposed to be after according to the standards of my culture, and so many of the people around me—parents, teachers, peers—decided that I must be Queer.  And that was Not A Good Classification To Find Yourself In in Rural Tennessee of the 80’s and 90’s.   Lacking real support, I entered adulthood like a trainwreck still skidding down the tracks, confused as hell and desperately trying to please people whose opinions mattered to me far more than they should.  I did finally find that relationship, and we celebrate 21 years of marriage this month.  Meanwhile I can’t keep track of who has gotten divorced and remarried from that crowd anymore.   

I am not a fan of American Football.  (I am not a fan of soccer, which is football to the rest of the world, but that’s not going to get you labeled Queer in the USA as yet.)   Even so, I got recruited to be the Football Manager for my high school football team, and then I spent several years studying to be an Athletic Trainer in college as an add-on to my English and Education degree.  The fact that I spent 7 years of my life on the sidelines of football games (and basketball, and baseball) and still do not really understand the rules of those sports should have been a clear sign to me that I was trying to conform and failing badly.  An American Male of my generation is supposed to like these things, he is supposed to scream at the television or scream from the stands when watching a game, he is supposed to have a Favorite Team and Wear Their Stuff.

Yeah, that’s not me.  I don’t like combative sports.  I like things that involve grace, beauty, and art.   Figure skating (either gender, singles, but especially pairs) is fun to watch.  The more artistic of gymnastics events are nice (uneven bars and vault are kinda boring, but I love watching floor exercise.)  Watching someone do tricks on a skateboard is more interesting to me than an MMA bout.  I enjoy the art of it.   I used to watch WWF Wrestling as a kid, but I found I enjoyed the “story” more than the violence.  Martial arts practice that is done like a dance is more interesting than watching two people try to kick each other in the face for real.   

I’m told I am supposed to like these things.  I am told that not liking them makes me less masculine.  

This extends into online gaming as well.  Oh, I like some combat games.  We aren’t going to talk about how many hours I have played the XCOM series.  But…I don’t like PVP or multiplayer. I like the story arc, and accomplishing things.  Minecraft?  I like building, and killing mobs is very secondary to that.  In single-player I usually just go peaceful mode and explore the world, build grand railways and tunnels, create comfortable houses or make a home under a lake with a glass roof under the water.  In World of Warcraft I spent more time exploring the world and getting cool screenshots than worrying about getting Phat Loot and XP.  I would take a whole afternoon just to escort a couple of new players through dangerous territory so they could find their friends.  

I have gotten a lot of grief over that.  I am supposed to go out and kill kill kill stab stab stab get the loot!  

And I am supposed to get more than the other person.  It’s competition.  Men are supposed to compete.  And if you can’t get more than the other guy you go dump buckets of lava on his house and laugh at the noob.  

I hate that.  

By the standards I was raised with, I am gender nonconforming.  I most definitely do not conform to the expectations that were laid upon me from my youth.

Does that make me Queer?   I am not comfortable claiming that.

The standards I was held to can also be considered Toxic Masculinity.  They hold that Queer==Less Of A Man.  “Queer” is not “Less.”  I was raised to think it is, but I have learned, and grown, and I know that it is not.  I also do not accept that I, myself, am Less.  The very premise of me being labeled Queer by those people is wrong on all counts.   I am different. I have always known that.  I believe that “Man” and “Male” can encompass more than violence, bullying, and competition.  I also know full well that many who identify as “Woman” and “Female” embrace those as ideals as well.  

I am no stranger to violence.  My life has often been violent.  I have fought off muggers who were armed with knives, I have stared down the barrel of a gun, I have been beaten because someone else wanted to establish himself as the dominant male in our school just after he moved there.  I am not a pacifist: the only reason I have not killed another human being in self-defense is because I was outnumbered.   I just don’t feel that defines my gender, and I have been told it should.  I fight to survive and to protect others, not to prove that I can.  

Others who look like me are guarding statues of Columbus with their Assault Rifles because they feel their masculinity is threatened.  This is another area where I do not conform to my expected gender roles.   Not only do I not feel my masculinity is threatened by BLM, or Pride, or the existence of Trans folks, I no longer feel my masculinity can be threatened.  I spent so many years under attack from “my” side, and gotten so much support from “their” side, that I now understand that my gender is not about what THEY think.  It is MY identity. I OWN it.  I am who I am regardless of their perception of me. Nothing someone else does can take that from me. 

And if anything about me is Queer, it is that: the understanding that my identity belongs to me and not to those who seek to mislabel me.  

I have been told by some in the Queer community that I am welcome among them, and I am grateful for that.  So, so many of my stories can be prefaced with, “There I was, the only Straight Guy in the room, when:”  I am proud to be an Ally.  

But calling myself Queer?  I’m not comfortable doing that.  I could, and I know some who would accept it.  But I feel it is more important to me to break the toxic definition of Masculinity and show that things like nurturing, caring, creating, dancing, loving, uplifting, and oh yes parenting, these ARE Male Qualities, always have been, and should always be.   No criticism of GNC folks who take the Queer label intended or implied: they are not Less, they own their own identity, they are valid.   They are themselves, and have a right to be. 

I am me.

I am a Man.

I will never be the Man they wanted me to be, and I am PROUD of that. 

Happy Pride Month.  

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (32)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath...

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warnings: All the angst! Also... talk of drowning, hospitals, and death.

The whole thing just kept playing over and over and over again in his head. Every detail. Every wrong call. The far-off tailing. The lack of air support. Him telling her to comply with Lobe’s driver and get into the trunk. Him telling Bucky to take the shot.

He didn’t expect that the car would go into the river. It should’ve skidded to a stop long before that, should’ve veered off into the fields that lay between the town and the bridge. But it didn’t. And he can’t get the image of it careening off the bridge and slamming into the water below out of his head.

She didn’t answer at first, but once she did, the relief was short-lived. Her voice was small and scared, unlike he’d ever heard it before. I can’t get out. Steve, I can’t… trailing off as the water began shorting out her earpiece.

But we got her out… That’s what he keeps telling himself, reminding himself. In response to all of the other terrible thoughts and images going through his mind… We got her out.

“Hey.” He looks up from his twisted hands and sees Bucky standing before him, just as soaking wet as the rest of them, just as drawn and tired looking.

“How is she?” he asks with a start, standing up so fast that he almost knocks his friend over.

Bucky places a hand on his shoulder to steady him and he nods. “She’s alright. I mean… they want to keep her overnight. And they’re worried about her lungs… how the water affected them.” He gives Steve a small, sad smile. “Natasha’s with her. She told me to go get some air. You wanna come?”

Steve just nods and pats the man on the back as they head for the doors out of the emergency room. There are a few benches along the walkway that extends out to the main parking lot. They’re along a quiet grassy corridor, surrounded by trees, and Steve can’t help but think how almost cruel it is to offer such a lovely space for people who are undoubtably in the midst of one of the worst days of their lives.

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice the flowering redbuds or the lush green grass, or even the crickets beginning to chirp as the sun sets to their left. He simply drops down onto a bench in an exhausted heap, his head falling into his hands.

Steve stares at him for a long moment before quietly taking a seat next to him. “Sam said he flew the Redwing over the island. Said he couldn’t see a damn thing.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Nat and I’ll go out once it’s dark and see what we can find, but…” He trails off, glancing over at Bucky once more. He hasn’t moved an inch. “Never found the other guy,” he mutters, referring to the passenger in the car.

“I don’t really care,” Bucky mumbles into his hands.

Steve pulls in a nervous, shaky breath. “The doctors…” he starts, then shakes his head. “She’s okay, right?”

He sits upright finally, leans back and drops his hands as he takes a deep breath and squints against the setting sun. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I think so. Her um… pulse ox? It’s a measure of how much oxygen she’s getting. It’s low. But they said that’s normal, considering. Somebody going without oxygen that long, they’d be most worried about brain damage. But she’s with it and talking… And puking… guess she swallowed a lot of water too.” He nods, definitively. “Yeah, I think she’s okay.”

“I broke her rib,” Steve says softly, his eyes cast down as he remembers the sickening pop, feels her chest cave under his hands.

“Two, actually.”

He looks up and sees Bucky offer him another sad, conciliatory smile. “Jesus,” he mutters, still wringing his hands. “Buck, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“For what? Doing CPR?” He snorts. “You saved her life.”

“No,” he says with a sigh. “Clint did.”

It’s true, Clint was the one who stepped in after Natasha’s alarmed shout of Steve! She too had heard Tessa’s ribs crack beneath his hands. And Clint was there in an instant, calmly pushing him aside and taking over compressions, softly repeating, “You’ve got this. C’mon, Doc. You can do this,” until murky river water poured from her mouth in violent gasps and chokes and heaves.

“You got her out of that car,” Bucky tells him simply.

“I’m the reason she was in that car.”

There’s a slight sound of wood cracking and Steve looks down to find Bucky’s metal hand too-tightly gripping the edge of the bench. “She was there because she was too damn stubborn to say no,” he says, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He shakes his head solemnly. “We all fucked up.”

“It was my mission. I set it up. I called the shots. I was running point.” Part of him hopes that Bucky will interrupt to tell him that he’s not to blame. But the larger part knows that even if he did, it would just be one friend trying to comfort another. The truth is the truth. He’s responsible for his men (and women) when they’re in the field. It’s that simple. And Sergeant Barnes would know that truth better than anyone. “The only man I ever lost in a op was you,” he says after a long, quiet moment.

Bucky turns to look at him, but Steve doesn’t – can’t – make eye contact. “You didn’t lose me. Not forever. And we didn’t lose Tessa either.”

He leans back into the bench and stretches his hands out. His fingers are aching from mangling them for the last who knows how long… but it was all he could do to keep from feeling the metal of the car slipping under his fingertips as he fought to open the trunk, or the feel of Tessa’s chest not rising as he pulled her to the shore and began CPR. “If she didn’t make it…” He stares off into the horizon, still unable to look at Bucky. “I would never forgive myself. You’d never forgive me.”

Bucky unclenches his fist from the bench and places an open palm gently on Steve’s knee. “If she hadn’t of made it, I wouldn’t have made it either.”

The words make Steve’s heart still suddenly in his chest. Of course Bucky would feel that way. He knew how much he loved her. And he knew his friend well enough to know that he’s not the kind of guy who would just get over losing her, maybe ever. But hearing him actually voice that truth still catches him off guard. Not because it’s unexpected to hear or because it plants another unsettling what if in Steve’s mind. It’s just because he honestly hadn’t thought once about Bucky today. Not as they left the compound this morning mentally prepping for the mission. Not once things were underway and he was making the – in hindsight, questionable – calls he’d made, including ordering Bucky to take out the car that Tessa was in. Not even when he saw Bucky’s hands suddenly appear on the car underwater, gripping and bending and pulling along with his own to tear the trunk open. Not once had he thought about how hard all of this must be for him.

He was on the comms, he heard Tessa crying for help. Hell, the last thing she said, in a strangled, slurred cry before her device crackled into oblivion, was Jamie. But Steve was so caught up in his own failure and his own regret that he hadn’t even thought about his friend’s pain.

When he finally does look over at him, he sees tears filling Bucky’s eyes. He’s staring off at the sunset, so he doesn’t notice the intense look his friend is giving him. The moment the tears start to spill over, he almost violently swipes them away before turning his head to look at Steve. “Bucky…” is all Steve can muster.

But it’s enough. “Yeah,” he says in response before hauling himself up off the bench. “I should get back in there.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up a bit as he hears the water in his friend’s shoes squish. “You should change clothes,” he says as he follows him back inside. “You’ll catch pneumonia.”

“You sound like your mom.”

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. I had pneumonia twice.”

“Maybe you’re the one who should change, then.”

As soon as they approach the waiting room, Clint is on them with a report. “Sam’s got your weapon,” he tells Bucky – he, of course, had left the rifle behind as he ran headlong down the embankment to get to the river. “And Tony’s talking to the local authorities now.”

“He’s on his way back?” Steve asks.

Clint nods. “And he is pissed.”

Bucky pats the archer on the shoulder as he moves past him and ducks into Tessa’s cubicle. “Can’t say I blame him,” he says, disappearing through the glass doors.

Steve stares at Tessa through the doors, frozen to his spot. She’s curled in on herself, obviously in pain as she fights through a coughing fit. Natasha is rubbing her back soothingly, smiling lightly as she talks to her friend. When Bucky enters, Tessa straightens a bit, stifling the coughs, and reaches out for him.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Clint tells him. “They’ll keep her overnight and first thing in the morning she’ll be bitching out the staff so much, they’ll kick her to the curb.”

“There won’t be any… lasting effects?” he asks, keeping his gaze on the people in the room in front of him.

Clint shrugs. “They’re giving her a bunch of antibiotics. Actually, we all should get in on that.” Steve finally turns to him and gives him a confused look. “That river was nasty. Those of us without super soldier immunity are probably gonna be shitting our brains out for a week.”

The comment earns a small chuckle from Steve as he says, “Guess you guys should get some penicillin, then.”

000

Natasha and Clint both go with Steve that night to check out the island. Bucky doesn’t even think to offer to go out there with them. There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to find that facility and burn it to the ground… find Lobe and every miserable motherfucker who works for him, and put a bullet in each of their brains. No, actually, they’re not worth the price of a bullet. He’d just tear them apart, one by one.

But as much as he’d like to live out that bitter fantasy, there’s absolutely no possible way that he could leave Tessa’s side. Not now. Not ever.

Sam showed up at the hospital just after sunset with a change of clothes for everyone. Dry tactical gear for Natasha, Clint, and Steve. Civilian clothes for Bucky and Tessa. So he must’ve guessed already that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere. Or maybe Steve had made the decision for him. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care. He just took a ten minute break while the Falcon sat with his girl, making lame jokes about underwater treasure, and went and changed and grabbed a cheap coffee from a vending machine down the hall.

Aside from his chat with Steve earlier, that’s the longest he’s away from her the entire night.

“How are you feeling?” he asks her once everyone clears out, leaving just the two of them in the quiet little hospital room.

She looks down at her hand tightly folded up in his and frowns deeply, but says nothing. Instead she curls into a tighter ball, scoots nearer the edge of the bed where he sits.

“Still cold?” he asks, dropping her hand just long enough to pull the blanket up over her shoulders. He tucks it in around her neck and slowly moves his fingers up to sweep at her hair and tuck the loose waves behind her ear.

She looks up at him, an unreadable expression on her face. In a near-whisper, she says to him, “I died.”

He keeps his eyes locked onto hers as he gives a small nod. “But you came back,” he says, taking her hand in his once more. Her brow furrows. “You’re gonna be fine,” he tells her, leaning in and laying a kiss on her forehead. She nods, but the concerned frown remains. He moves his metal hand up to cup her face, and he begins tracing soft lines along her forehead with the pad of his thumb, as though trying to smooth out her wrinkled brow. She closes her eyes and nuzzles into the cool metal, craving it but also shivering against the cold.

When he feels her shiver, his thumb stills and he makes a move to pull his hand away. But she reaches up with her free hand and takes hold of his wrist, opens her eyes and stares him down as she says, “No.”

So he continues sweeping along her brow. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently, as her frown grows deeper. She shakes her head a bit as if to say nothing and turns her face to bury it into the pillow. “Are you in pain?” he asks, even though he knows that they just gave her some Demerol less than an hour ago. Again, she gives a slight shake of the head. He pulls in a deep breath. “Are you worried about… about the mission? About Lobe?”

She turns her face out just enough to be able to speak without the pillow swallowing her words. “He knows who I am.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows and says, with a fierce determination, “He’s never going to get you. I’ll never let that happen.”

She’s silent for a long moment, just staring deeply into his steadfast eyes. “Supernova…” she starts slowly. “She was… very dangerous. He can’t have her. Not ever.”

He nods firmly. “Not ever.”

She closes her eyes again and parts her lips to let out a small, pained cough. “I don’t want to die again,” she says, her face twisting as she reaches down and grips his right hand with both of hers, holding on so, so tight.

He gets up from the chair by her bed leans over her. “Scoot,” he says simply. Without opening her eyes, without letting go of his hand or uncurling her body, she shifts back several inches. He climbs in bed beside her, taking care not to jostle her or to even pull the blanket down from around her shoulders. Slowly, he slides his metal arm beneath her neck and settles in around her. She releases his hand and instead grabs onto his shirt, fisting the material in her hands as she sidles closer and buries her face into his side.

He doesn’t say anything to her as she holds onto him for dear life. He doesn’t say that he’ll never let anything like this happen to her ever again. He doesn’t say that she won’t ever die again. No matter how much he want to. Because today, she did die. Today, he twisted apart metal and pulled her lifeless body into his hands. Today, he stood, dripping wet on the shore of some murky river, staring ahead at nothing as his entire world, all that he’s known, crumbled around him – just as it had years ago when he stood beside Steve after pulling him from that murky river in DC.

He won’t lie to her. He loves her too much to do that. So instead he drapes his right arm around her, his hand splaying protectively over her lower back. And he presses her gently into him. He may not be able to keep her safe forever. But he can keep her close for now.

Eventually, he feels Tessa’s breathing steady and deepen as she gives into sleep. But Bucky doesn’t get any rest at all that night. Not even once Steve calls him to let him know that they’re all out and safe. And the moment he hears that they found next to nothing on the island – the entire facility having been abandoned and the computer systems wiped clean – he’s not sure if he’ll ever really be able to sleep again.

[whumphoarder]

Death by Waffles

Summary: When Tony decides to adopt a cat for Morgan, Peter is almost more excited about it than the six-year-old. He just failed to mention one minor issue before coming to visit at the lake house for the weekend.

Or, in which Peter is horrifically allergic to cats but JUST LOVES THEM SO MUCH.

Word count: 1,638

Genre: Fluff, slight whump, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas! 

Link to read on Ao3

“I still think we should have called him Winston Furrchill,” Tony says with a shrug, watching Peter, who’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, grinning ear-to-ear, stroking the long-haired cat’s fur.

“That’s so boorrring, Daddy,” Morgan complains. She grabs the little feather teaser and dangles it in front of the cat’s face. He lifts a paw lazily to bat at it. “All your ideas were so boring.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony balks at her, eliciting giggles from Peter and a dramatic groan from the six-year-old. “My ideas were gold. Mr. Meowgi. Bill Clawsby. Genghis Khat.”

Peter snaps once and shoots a finger gun Tony’s direction. “Luke Skywhisker!” he throws in, causing Morgan to groan. “Ooh! Call him Nick Furr-y!”

“No! His name is Waffles!” Morgan exclaims, throwing up her hands in exasperation and causing the kitty in question to dart across the room and dive into his favorite hiding place—the cardboard box that his brand new, untouched, three-hundred-dollar cat tree came in. Tony just rolls his eyes; it’s behavior like this that makes him almost regret spending the last four days in the workshop designing that damn feline an elaborate catwalk and perch system spanning every room of the lake house.

(Almost.)

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout.

“Aw, Mo, we were just teasing,” Peter says, patting her arm with a kind smile. “Waffles is a great name—I love it.”

That seems to console her. She grins back at him. “It’s ‘cus when we brought him home, he was really scared the first day and he just wanted to hide under my bed. So Daddy said I could eat breakfast in my room with him so he’d feel safer, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I was gone he stole my waffle,” she rambles.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Your cat ate a waffle?”

Morgan nods. “Uh-huh, and then he puked it up again on the carpet!” she explains cheerfully.

“Ah yes, fond memories…” Tony mutters.

“So I named him Waffles,” Morgan concludes. “But I almost called him Syrup, ‘cus he got that on his paws when he walked on the plate, and then he ran around everywhere and it was all sticky. Mommy says that’s why we got ants after.”

While Peter snorts out a laugh, Tony just runs a hand over his face and sighs. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Peter laughs, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet to walk over to the box where Morgan is trying to lure Waffles out again. “I always wanted a cat, but May never let me get one—said they were too much hassle.”

“They are,” Tony says emphatically.

“Are not,” Morgan disagrees. As Peter sits down by the box, she picks up the bag of kitty treats and starts shaking it, causing Waffles to poke his head out. She pours out three little treats onto her open palm. He sniffs them suspiciously, then turns his nose up and buries himself back in the box.

Morgan turns to Tony and shrugs. “I don’t think he likes chicken flavor anymore. You gotta get him the salmon ones, Daddy.”

“But you told me this morning that he doesn’t like salmon,” Tony argues. “He only eats the premium chicken with gravy.”

Morgan shakes her head. “No, no that’s his wet food. He only eats dry salmon, and wet chicken. And sometimes tuna, but only that one in the blue bag.”

“And waffles,” Peter throws in with a wry smile, sitting down to start stroking the cat inside the box. “Don’t forget the waffles, Mr. Stark.”

“At this rate, I’m thinking it’d be better to just install a cat flap and let him find his own mice for dinner,” Tony grumbles.

As if on cue, Waffles meows irritably and leaps out of the cardboard box, straight onto Peter’s lap. However in doing so, the cat’s fluffy tail tickles the kid’s nose. Peter sneezes twice—rather violently—startling the cat to the point that it shoots across the room and climbs halfway up the drapes.

“Waffles!” Morgan cries and races after him.

Sniffling a bit, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

Tony rolls his eyes and extends a hand to help lever the kid up again. Peter rubs at his eyes again—which Tony notices are redder than usual. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you sure ‘too much hassle’ was the only reason May was against you having cats?”

Something flashes across Peter’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Yeah, yeah of course. Well, that and she’s more of a dog person, really, but they’re not allowed in the apartment.”

“Hm.” Tony glances at his watch. “Alright, well it’s almost His Royal Highness’ dinner time.” He gestures to the kitchen. “Let’s go see if we can get him to choke down some caviar and truffles or something…”

X

Three hours later, Tony can’t ignore the signs any longer. After witnessing Peter’s third sneezing fit since dinner, he privately pulls the kid out into the kitchen. “Pete, c’mon,” he sighs. “Just admit it already.”

Taking a tissue from the box Tony holds out to him, Peter shrugs innocently. “Alright, you got me. Guess I’m coming down with a cold.” He wipes his nose.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A cold that began ten minutes after entering our home and has only gotten progressively worse since?”

Peter chuckles a bit. “Yeah, go figure, right? Perfect timing for my weekend off. What does Doctor Banner call that again?” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “Starts with an L…”

“Pete…”

“Leisure sickness!” he recalls, his face lighting up. “That’s the word. Think I’ve got that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony starts ticking each symptom off on his fingers. “Your nose is running, your eyes are watery, you’re sneezing—”

“Which is all from the cold,” Peter cuts him off. He coughs twice into his elbow. “See? Sick.”

Tony scoffs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once admitted to being sick unprompted.” He pauses a beat. “Including that time you were actively vomiting.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and gives a sheepish grin. “So I'm really demonstrating growth, then, huh?”

Tony ignores him and soldiers on. “You’re itching,” he says, gesturing to the red welts emerging on Peter’s forearms and neck. “You’re getting a rash—”

Peter tugs his hoodie sleeves down to cover them. “I think that’s the new laundry soap I’ve been using...”

Tony blinks at him. “Your eyes are bright red, kid.”

Peter opens his mouth to retort something, but then closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor and lets out a hard sigh. “Okay… okay you’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna say it around Morgan.” He looks up and, with a totally straight expression, whispers, “I’ve been smoking weed, Mr. Stark. I’m actually tripping balls right now.”

“Peter, just admit that you’re allergic to cats!”

“Huh?” Morgan cries from the living room where she has her kitty on her lap while she watches Curious George. “Peter’s allergic to Waffles?!” The cat dives off her lap and out into the kitchen, hiding behind Peter’s leg.

Peter winces. Then his nose wrinkles up and he sneezes four times into his wad of tissues. When he draws in his next breath, it’s more of a wheeze.

Tony heaves out a sigh. “Alright, we’re done here.” He bends down and scoops the cat up. “Waffles is staying in Pep’s office for the remainder of this weekend.”

“What?” Morgan blurts.

“Yeah, what?” Peter echos, snatching the cat back from Tony’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

“Pete, he’s making you sick,” Tony points out as Peter sneezes yet again. “If you’re already this bad in three hours, how do you expect to breathe in a couple more days?”

Peter looks stricken. “But… But you don’t understand.” He hugs the cat a little tighter and Tony swears he can see fresh hives emerging on Peter’s neck. “I just love him so much, Mr. Stark,” he says earnestly. “I would honestly die for this cat.”

Tony sighs and pats his shoulder consolingly. “Yeah, and that’s looking more and more like it might become reality, kiddo...”

X

It takes some convincing—and a bit of bribery—but eventually he gets the kids to agree to his plan. In the end, Morgan and Peter settle for a six-foot-tall ‘Royal Castle Kitty Condo’ (complete with a litter moat) in exchange for Waffles’ temporary banishment. He then sends Peter to the guest room while he and Morgan transfer the cat’s most essential supplies into the office, grateful for once that Pepper’s staying downtown this weekend.

Waffles promptly makes himself at home on the very top of her bookshelf—after first knocking over two glass figurines and a meticulously ordered stack of papers, sending legal documents flying around the room.

(Tony wonders just what kind of royal castle equivalent he’s going to have to bribe Pepper with when she gets back.)

X

It’s 12:16 a.m. when Tony remembers that they forgot to give Waffles his anti-hairball paste that evening and comes grumbling out of bed to do so.

It’s 12:19 a.m. when Tony opens the office door to see Peter, sitting on the floor with that damn cat curled up in his lap, wheezing out a high-pitched chant of, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a good boy?” between puffs of his inhaler as he strokes Waffles’ fur.

It’s 12:21 a.m. when Tony just gives up trying to reason with the kid and goes raiding the bathroom cabinets for Benadryl.

X

Link to all my fics

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[yeolsmuffin]

The EXO List || Two

Paring: chanyeolXreader

Genre: Smut, Angst || Best friend!Chanyeol, Best friend!EXO, Roomate!EXO

Summary: When you lose your best friend and only person you’ve ever loved.

Word Count: 6.8k

When you came to, you found yourself covered in a familiar beige blanket adorned with little spots.

Kyungsoo.  

You woke slowly, body tense as you dragged yourself to sit. Kyungsoo was nearby, watching you carefully.

“Good morning,” he said lightly. “You were out for a bit.”

You yawned as you stretched your arms over your head, “What happened?” For just a moment you were groggy and confused. The moment didn’t last long enough.

“You hit Chanyeol.” And then it all came falling back down on you. You were angry all over again, blood beginning to boil. The way he spoke to you was thick in your mind and even though you tried to push it away, you couldn’t help but want to see him in that moment. You just needed to explain that it wasn’t okay – although you did that by putting your hands on him, something you thoroughly regretted. You never wanted things to escalate to physical but you were just too angry to think.  

You sighed, you couldn’t believe you hit him.  

“Where is he?”

Kyungsoo watched your expression, “He needed a breather.”

You groaned and fell back into Kyungsoo’s bed, regretting everything that had transpired between you and Chanyeol – including sleeping with him. You still loved him because it wasn’t that easy to stop but hell if you didn’t hate him in the moment. He slut shamed you and he did so after seducing you. It didn’t get any worse than that.  

You were sure he hated you too. He had to after you laid your hands on him and he had to after the Kyungsoo incident. Even if he had no reason to care if you slept with someone else, it was apparent he did and you hadn’t intended on hurting Chanyeol. You just needed your own hurting to stop.  

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Kyungsoo asked quietly.

Tossing an arm over your face, you mumbled, “He was slut shaming me, Soo.”

“Slut shaming?” Kyungsoo asked for clarification with shock in his voice, “What did he say?”

“Something along the lines of me slutting it up.”

Kyungsoo let out a low growl, “He’s one to talk. I can’t believe he would say that. Like you shouldn’t have hit him but at the same time you should have hit him. Does that make any sense?”

You nodded, “Complete sense.”

You were still in shock that things had escalated so much with Chanyeol. Your friendship had never been aggressive before and the two of you had never had a fight so this was new. Chanyeol’s behavior was also new. He had never slut shamed you before. Surely, it was wrong to sleep with his friends – wait what? Why was it wrong to sleep with his friends? You weren’t nor had you dated or were dating Chanyeol. So why did it matter? Why was Chanyeol caring so much? You wanted to scream so you covered your face with a pillow and groaned as loudly as you could. What was with these conflicting and confusing emotions?

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo said softly.  

You pulled the pillow away from your face and your eyes reached for him, “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry he caught us and I’m sorry it caused this. You don’t deserve it.”

“Not your fault, Soo. It was my decision.”

He shook his head, “Our decision.”

You let out a slow breath, “Still.”

“You should talk it out with him, you know. You guys have been friends for years.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You wanted to for several reasons but mostly because you were so pissed. You needed to get the answer to all the questions boiling in your mind, but you didn’t think Chanyeol intended on giving you any answers. You also needed so desperately to apologize because no matter what happened, you should never lay your hands on someone you loved. You loved him so much it made you violent and the thought of that made you sick. You surely would puke.

It was getting more apparent that Chanyeol just wasn’t a part of your destiny. How could he be? How could someone you hurt and who was hurting you be someone that was supposed to be in your life? It wasn’t supposed to work out that way.

Kyungsoo glared at you, “Do it anyway. You should talk about your feelings too. He needs to hear what he did to you.”

“I already told him. He doesn’t care.”

Kyungsoo was getting angry but you could tell it wasn’t at you. He stood, “Well make him care. I can’t stand to watch him treat you like this. None of us can. So maybe talking it out will help.”

You sat up and pointed at him, “Or make things worse.”

He pointed back, “Or fix things.”

You shrugged, “Chanyeol cares for me way less than you think. But I’ll try it.”

Just because you loved him didn’t mean he loved you anywhere near the way you loved him, and you weren’t sure Kyungsoo could see that.

He was just an outsider unfortunately and no matter what he did, or you did with him, it wouldn’t fix anything because all the memories had resurfaced, and your heart was aching. Every touch, every kiss, and every move felt like it just happened yesterday and you were growing exhausted from fighting it off.

♣ ♣ ♣

When you saw him, you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster. He looked more disheveled than you had seen him in a while. Hair a mess, bags under his eyes, and a slight mark from where you had hit him adorning his cheek. You approached him carefully and nervously as he did the same.

It was his first time home in four days. The time had given you the space the calm your angry nerves but now you were just left feeling a gap. A gap that Chanyeol normally filled. You felt guilt, anger and uncertainty. Any doubts you had about yourself was normally smoothed over by your best friend but it had been so long since he had smoothed over any of your hard edges. Things just hadn’t been the same since you slept with him. Even though you loved him and the sex had been meaningful for you, you wanted to go back in time more than anything to that moment and you wanted to say no.

Part of you felt like you took advantage of him even though you were both drunk. You knew how you felt and he didn’t.  

You should have said no.  

You should have hit yourself.

How did you go from blaming Chanyeol to blaming yourself?

“Chanyeol,” you said quietly.

He nodded, closing the distance between you two and pulling you into a rough embrace.  

You were shocked by the sudden contact and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised gasp. You also couldn’t seem to close his arms around him back, so you stood still as he hugged you until you felt numb. His embrace had felt so foreign as he hadn’t hugged you, let alone touched you, in months. He had especially kept his distance after the night you slept with him and while it hurt, you were thankful.

The hug, it was unwelcomed, and you didn’t know how to protest without offending him, so you allowed it, sinking in agony on your own. You’d have to pick your battles.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  

When he released you, you looked at his worn face and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry.”

He seemed surprised by your confession, “You don’t need to be sorry about Kyungsoo,” he sighed, guilt ghosting over his face.  

You shook your head slowly, “Not Kyungsoo. About hitting you.”

He watched you, “You’re not sorry about Kyungsoo?”

“Didn’t you just tell me I didn’t have to be?” You said startled.  

He nodded and then shook his head, “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. I know you didn’t mean to hit me. You’ve never done so before. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. It was really wrong of me and I’m entirely sorry.”

He gave you a smile, “Have we made up then?”

But how was it that easy? Why would it be that easy? There was still so much broken between the two of you that words couldn’t even begin to repair the fractured bits.

But you hesitated, stepping back from him. “I need to apologize for something else.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for letting you sleep with me. I took advantage of you and I should have said no.” Instead of asking for answers, you made them up yourself.

He froze, “Y/N-“

“I can’t expect you to have known how I felt. You were horny and I was there - you were right that it meant nothing. I’ve had time to reflect and feel like it really was nothing. It doesn’t change how I feel so please be mindful of my feelings, but I do now realize, you hadn’t intended on hurting me and that it was my fault.” But even though your words said otherwise, part of you screamed at you – wanting Chanyeol to take the fall for some of it. It took two in this game of breaking hearts.

He shook his head, “What?”

“I know that I should have pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, I-“

“I’m doing my best to get over you, Chanyeol. I don’t need Kyungsoo to love me but I just needed his embrace. Does that make any sense?” His embrace and not Chanyeol’s. Fuck, anyone but Chanyeol’s. You couldn’t even bare the brush of his fingertips against you.

He stopped what he was trying to say and nodded, “I’m sorry for slut shaming you. I had no right after what I did. I won’t get involved again. I promise. I’m sorry I got so mad. I-“

You shook your head at him this time, “You don’t have to explain yourself.” Okay, Y/N, what happened to the plan of asking for answers?

You couldn’t help but be soft for Chanyeol at the end of the day and prodding him when he just came back, didn’t seem right even though one half of you was urging you to do so. You were so soft for him but yet your defenses had raised so high. Your whole mind and heart were having a battle and it was exhausting.

“I don’t know if I can. I’m sorry though. You’re right that it’s not my business. Just because what happened between us did, doesn’t mean I can involve myself anymore I’m your sex life. And I won’t.”

You let out a breath of relief and Chanyeol grabbed you once more, embracing you again. “Can we time travel?” Your body tensed, still not responding to his hug.

You laughed half heartedly, “I’ll let you know if I figure out how.”

“I’d give anything to go back two months ago and redo everything.”

And your heart sunk just hearing his words. You wanted to go back too and you regretted what happened but knowing he regretted it too proved that he could never love you. Surely you knew that by now but it still hurt to hear it out loud.  

“Me too,” but part of you felt like that was a lie.  

You had him for just a moment and part of you was thankful for that one moment even if you did regret it.

Even if you still wanted to go back in time.

You didn’t really know where you stood but what you did know was that you could never go back and you and Chanyeol would never be the same no matter how many times you made up.  

No amount of words or hugs could undo the damage that was done.

♣ ♣ ♣

The next mistake you made didn’t take long. Three weeks after sleeping with Kyungsoo, you found yourself in another fight with Chanyeol. This time, over you spending more time with Kyungsoo than him.  

What did he expect? Sure, you had made up but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest. The ache that was only stopped by Kyungsoo’s attention and affection.  

You hadn’t even been sleeping with Kyungsoo – the two of you agreed it should stay a one time thing, no matter how much you enjoyed it. It was for the best to avoid further complicating things. But during that time, you couldn’t keep scrubbing away the thought of Chanyeol still. The memories resurfaced and coated your being. The thought of his hands splaying over your belly, the thought of his mouth on your skin and the remembrance of the marks he left on your skin felt bone deep. You swore you could still remember exactly where he had marked you. And it was fucking killing you.  

You needed to be embraced by anyone just to make the yearning stop and you half wished you could have Kyungsoo again.  

But fate and being trapped home alone with one other man, led you right to where you wanted when Yixing woke you up to ask if you wanted to help him make cake for his friends eight year anniversary together.  

You hadn’t had much experience with baking as you were more of a chef so you assumed, it was the same.  

It was not.  

You were over stirring the batter when Yixing laughed softly and grabbed the spoon out of your hand, “You need to fold it more, Y/N. If you over stir, the cake will be stiff.”

You put a hand up in protest, “But what if it’s not stirred enough.”

He showed you the motions with his hand and then gestured for you to do the same, you followed instruction, folding the batter slowly before stopping when he said so, “But what if it’s not fully combined?” you asked once more.

He shook his head, “It is, you want it to be fluffy and airy, over stirring takes that air out. It’s better to be under stirred than over. Trust me.”

You hummed to yourself, watching as he poured the batter into the pan. “When did you become such a baker?”

He laughed, “Well when you have to parent seven grown men, you have to learn. They demand their sweets. What about you? Why haven’t you learned much?”

The question could have been construed as rude but with Yixing, it was just out of curiosity. Especially when you had an extreme sweet tooth. If anything, you should have been good at baking. Smiling softly, you leaned against the counter, “I didn’t have the best childhood. I never had opportunities to do things fun such as baking but when I was in foster care, I had to do a lot of the cooking for the house. So, I developed cooking skills more. We didn’t really get sweets.”

Yixing breathed in harshly, “I never knew you were in foster care.”

“It’s where I met Chanyeol. He volunteered with his family to help involve us foster kids in normal family activities. His family would come for holidays and act as long distance relatives. It was to promote normalcy in a very not normal situation.”

Yixing touched your shoulder softly, “That’s really sweet. No wonder he loves you so much.”

You shrugged, he didn’t really love you that much after all, “I am thankful to him for being with me during those times but now I think we’re growing apart. And it’s for the best, but… I’m lonely.”

Yixing cocked his head, “Why are you growing apart?”

You breathed out of your nose, keeping your lips sealed for a moment, “That’s a tale for another day, Yixing. Regardless, Chanyeol’s absence is leaving me with such a lonely emptiness.”

“I’m lonely too. In this house of ten people who would imagine that? But sometimes I just want to be embraced, honestly,” and then his cheeks heated up, “Sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

Your eyes fell shut as you tried to remember Kyungsoo’s momentary embrace but all you could think about was Chanyeol and your skin started to crawl. You shook your head at his hesitance, “Me too, Yixing. It’s okay.”

“Chanyeol only sees you as a friend?” He asked hesitantly. “I was under the impression of different.”

Scoffing, you watched Yixing’s reaction, “Contrary to that common belief, we are just friends. We will never be more. Which makes me that more lonely.”

Yixing hesitated again, “Do you have feelings for him?”

You paused wondering how much you should open up but knowing Yixing, your feelings were safe with him – as if you had anyone to hide them from since Chanyeol already knew. “I do but I’m working on getting over him. It’s just hard. I have no outlet. I just… this is going to sound slutty, need to have sex. With anyone. I’ve noticed it’s the only thing to stop the burn, so to speak,” you laughed lightly, “but I know I shouldn’t.”

He gave you a look, “That’s not slutty. Guys sleep around all the time.”

You furrowed your brows in thought, “Yes, but the world will always look at women differently.”

“Like Chanyeol did,” Yixing said quietly.  

You nodded, “Yes.”

“Well,” he started, “for the record as long as your safe, I don’t see what the big deal is. Sleep around all you want Y/N. I would too if I could.”

You raised a brow now, “Why can’t you?”

“I want to be with someone I trust. Even if it’s not for a relationship I just want to trust them, ya know?”

Thinking of Kyungsoo, you nodded once, “I know what you mean.”

Silence fell between the two of you before Yixing touched you once more, “Um, Y/N?”

Your gaze shot up to his uneasy eyes. “Hmm?”

“If you ever get lonely, you’re welcome to visit my room.”

And in that moment, you shook with nerves. Yixing was offering you an escape from your feelings once more and you were definitely going to take him up on it if you got desperate. You just hoped he meant what you to thought so you very softly asked, “Am I someone you trust?”

He didn’t even blink when he said “Yes,”  

You just found your next relief and the thought had you anxious.

You very well knew you shouldn’t sleep with another one of your roommates, but you also very well knew, you were going to.  

♣ ♣ ♣

“What does he have that I don’t?” Chanyeol threw his hands in the air.

You groaned, “Why is it a competition, Chanyeol? I can have other friends.”

Just another day Chanyeol was jealous of you spending time with Kyungsoo. You had to admit, you were spending more time with him, but you also had to admit that being around Chanyeol was hard. It seemed like it wasn’t a bad idea that the two of you had some time apart from each other. It may even be better than spending time together.

No matter how much you loved and cared for him, you hurt just as equally and sometimes you had to look out for your own feelings – especially when the other person wasn’t.  

He paced your bedroom, “Okay, but you’re neglecting me and all you do is hang out with Kyungsoo. I thought we were good? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said simply as you shrugged your shoulders. So you weren’t avoiding him necessarily but you were taking a break. You would still talk to him and see him but hanging out was hard.  

His finger pointed accusingly at you, “But you’ve ditched on all of our plans and spent all of you time with him. You won’t even get coffee with me. What’s the deal?”

You guys always got coffee together on Monday and Wednesday just as you had in your younger years but you couldn’t bear it lately.

You glared at him, “Do you really want the answer?”

“Say it,” he spat.

“Kyungsoo is easier to be around.”

He groaned, “I thought we were past everything. You apologized and so did I. What else could be left?”

“There are still remains, Chanyeol. As much as I want to get past our past, I can’t.”

He was stunned. “You slept with Kyungsoo too!” he yelled, “But things are just fine between you. How?”

“Stop bringing it up, Chanyeol!”

“You started it!”

You stood, pointing to your door, “Get out, I’m not doing this.”

“I’ll leave when you tell me what the difference is.”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. And three times before laughing, “You already know.”

He cocked his head, “If I did why would I ask?”

“It’s because I love you, you fucking idiot.”

His body tensed as he shook his head, “You’ve got to stop saying that.”

“Then stop making me.”

He let out a puff of air, “Tell me, Y/N, what can I do to fix this? What can I do to make us stop to make us stop arguing?”

“Stop coming at me for not spending time with you. Sometimes, I know it’s hard to imagine, but you’re hard to be around because my feelings are so strong. I have distinct memories, Chanyeol and they hurt me. If you love me,” he flinched, “as a friend, then you’ll give me space. I just need space.”

“All you want is space. What about what I want?”

“I have to suffer to do what you want, Chanyeol. Do you want me to suffer?”

He tapped his foot, “Can you not suffer for me? You love me but you can’t suffer for me?”

You glared at him with furrowed brows, “You want me to suffer for you? You don’t want me to love you, but you think if I love you, I’d suffer?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Just leave Chanyeol. It’s not worth it.”

“What’s not worth it?”

“The fighting, the friendship, anything!”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fuck you too, Y/N. This is not how you treat someone you love!”

You lifted a pillow into the air and flung it at him, “This is not how you treat someone who loves you.” He caught it before it could touch him and looked at you baffled.  

“I never asked you to love me!” He yelled.  

“I never asked to love you either!”

And just as Chanyeol did, he stormed out.  

You didn’t know how to make the fighting stop. Nothing you seemed to do was good enough for him. To make yourself suffer and spend time with him, would be difficult but you thought maybe if the two of you could ever get on common grounds enough that you could try. Try. You could try getting coffee with him again and see how bad that hurt.

But you knew it would hurt a lot.

It was that night, feeling weak and crying over Chanyeol that you snuck to Yixing’s room at half past midnight.

You knocked, meekly half hoping he wouldn’t answer but when he did, you were as startled as he.

“Y/N,” he said quietly before ushering you inside.

You looked around to be sure no one saw you and when the coast was clear, you went inside.

“What brings you here this late?”

You sighed, “I’m gonna sound pathetic.”

He sat on his bed, “I’m sure it’s a good reason.”

“Chanyeol and I fought again and I’m really not feeling so great. I just needed… an escape. If you’re not in the mood to-“

He put a hand up, silencing you, “No. you’re more than welcome. I was hoping to see you soon.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“For the record, the offer was for platonic relations as much as more… uh… romantic. If you want to just have someone to talk to I can be that too.”

You paused and sat next to him when he patted the bed next to him. “Well, don’t be offended but if I wanted platonic, I’d normally seek out Soo.”

He laughed, “Nothing is better than a woman who knows what she wants. I know we’re not very close but I assure you if you ever need it, I could be here for you like him too.”

“I feel inclined to tell you…” you trailed off momentarily.  

“What’s that?”

“I did sleep with Kyungsoo. We’re completely just friends but I felt like you should know… I don’t want to mislead you-“

He shook his head quickly, “It’s not my business. All that’s my business is what happens in here.”

You shook, “Thank you.”

He reached for your hand, taking it gently and giving you a small smile. “What can I do for you then, Y/N? What would you like from me?”

You giggled, “Don’t we just… see where it goes.”

He moved his head from one side to another, “We could. Or,” he tightened his grip on your hand, “You could tell me what you really want.”

You squeezed his hand and looked up into his big dark eyes, “I’m not sure… I didn’t think that far.”

His eyes searched yours, “There’s not time like the present. What do you really want that you don’t get often? What do you really feel like? You came to me, after all.”

You were sure your cheeks were bright red at the subject. You normally didn’t talk things out before you had sex so this was new. Not that it was a turn off because of anything, it was more of a turn on. Yixing wanted to be sure you did something you wanted and that made you excited.  

He gave you moments of silence so you could think, just holding your hand and being patient while you tried to imagine the things you wanted Yixing to do to you.

Oh, the things you wanted Yixing to do.

Considering the drunk stupid sex you had with Chanyeol, you wanted something more memorable and different. You needed something that would be left behind on your skin the way Chanyeol had. You needed something to block it.

And then it came to you.

“Um,” you began.  

He nodded eagerly, “Yes, angel?”

And you almost bust every vessel in your body in that one moment. Nobody had ever called you angel before and nobody had ever called you a pet name the way he did. It rolled so perfectly off of Yixing’s tongue that you would have swore he said it to you at thousand times. You visibly shivered. “I’m imagining… water…” you said carefully.  

He smirked and you saw his tongue poke out to lick his lips, “I was hoping you’d say that. Shower then?”

You nodded and Yixing stood, pulling you up with him. He led you carefully over to the bathroom, stopping just before the threshold and asked, “You sure?”

And remembering Kyungsoo, you decided to vocalize your answer. Nothing was sexier than consent, “Yes. Please Yixing.”

And then your back was pressed against the bathroom door as Yixing’s eyes prodded yours before he bent down, pressing his lips sweetly against yours. You moaned into his mouth as his hand that was still holding yours moved to your cheek and the other one to your waist. His lips moved expertly and part of you wondered who the hell made him so experienced. You couldn’t help but be jealous. His lips felt like fire and you felt like ice as you melted beneath him, barley able to stand on your own to feet as he continued his assault.

His lips left yours to move to your neck, kissing and biting the skin gently before asking, “Can I mark you? I don’t have to if you don’t want to - I’m just kind of into it.”

You groaned deeply and nodded, you loved when a man marked you. It made you feel possessed in the best moment and you were sure it would help scrub away any bad memories if not mentally, then physically. “Yes please.”

And then he bit down on your neck, sucking the skin of the hollow of your neck into his mouth. His teeth nipped at the skin, causing you pain but in turn, a whole lot more pleasure.  

You knew you were getting wet just from him biting you.  

He made his way up from the bottom of your neck all the way up to your chin before moving to the other side. From where he was pressed against you, you could feel his hardened cock pressed against your abdomen and you swore you felt like electric shocks had racked through your body. In the moment, you didn’t realize how much Yixing was really marking you up.

His lips made their way back to yours when they finished the assault on your neck and he smiled as he kissed you, “You’re gonna do so good, angel,” he cooed.

Your knees felt like jello at his words and the only thing holding you up was Yixing’s firm grip.

He left you for a moment, adjusting his hard member as he moved away and he turned on the shower, “I’m gonna warm it up for us. Do you like it hot?”

You nodded. You needed your skin to melt.

He smiled at you again, “Good. It’s going to be hot in there.”

After touching the water and being sure it was warm, he reached for you, spinning you around in his arms until you were standing in front of the mirror with him, your eyes moving over the marks on your neck as you pressed your ass against his boner.

His fingers trickled down your neck as he counted the marks, “You’re so pretty like this.”

You smiled, your hands reaching behind you to grab his neck. He took advantage of the moment to strip you, pulling your shirt over your arms and then pulling down your pajama pants and underwear in one quick swoop. He groaned at you, enjoying the view of you almost naked and pressed against him before he unsnapped your bra and threw it on the ground.  

His hands roamed over your body, delicately pressing into your skin as he felt all of your curves before they made their way back up to your breasts, cupping them gently with his hands before releasing them and watching them bounce.  

“Beautiful,” he praised.

You pressed your ass against him, “You too, Yixing,” you said in reference to his clothes.

He nodded, stepping away from you to strip quickly.

You watched in the mirror and the moment his cock sprang free, you were stunned. He was packing and you were thoroughly surprised at the boys in the house. Why hadn’t you thought of sleeping with them before?

Oh.

Chanyeol.  

You focused on Yixing, trying to push away the thought as he came up behind you, grasping your hips and pressing them into his. His cock rubbed against your ass cheeks as he did so.  

Both of you let out quiet moans before Yixing pulled you towards the shower, opening the glass door and pulling the two of you inside.  

He watched you as you stood under the stream of water and he grinned. “You’re really perfect. Has anyone told you that?”

You shook your head, nobody had really ever said that to you.  

Definitely not Chanyeol.  

Oh god.

There he was again. Coming back into your thoughts when you least needed it.

You reached for Yixing and he embraced you, rubbing his hands down your wet sides and kissing you.

“Yixing, please,” you begged, “I really need this.”

Hot water splashed down onto both of you as he gave you a look, “No foreplay?”

You laughed, “You’re enough foreplay. Feel me if you’re not sure, but I’m drenched.”

He growled before nodding and turning you around, bending your body over. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes,” you squeezed as he rubbed his hands over your ass. He dipped a finger inside you and groaned when he felt your wetness.

“You’re so ready for me,” he muttered.  

Your hands hung in the air, not really sure where to put them as you were bent over but that was the least of your worries when you felt Yixing push inside you.  

A strangled moan escaped your lips when he thrusted harder, forcing you to bend further down and your hands to press their palms into the tiled floor of the shower. You don’t know if you had ever had it like this before. You were so far arched that you could feel every movement from Yixing and every thrust was him hitting your cervix. The pain was delightful and took away all of your worries.

He grabbed your hips, pulling in and out of you, fast and slow all at the same time. His rhythm was unique and fuck if you needed it right then.

“You’re doing good, angel,” the words came out needy and whiny, but you found it arousing the way his words dripped with sincerity and emotion.

You moaned out his name, feeling the pressure building inside you as he thrusted faster. His moans were turning you on so much that you could hear the squelching sound your womanhood made when he pressed in and out. You felt slightly embarrassed but the more he fucked you, the more he fucked the embarrassment, worry and pain away.

His hand splayed over your back momentarily before coming down and around your breast, grabbing roughly and running his thumb over your nipple. When you let out a howl in pain, he released you, muttering a “Sorry, angel,” and releasing his hand.

One of his hands gripped your thigh, lifting it slightly and nearly causing you to eat shit against the tile, but he steadied you. Thrusting harder thanks to the new angle. You pressed your palms and heel into the tile as hard as you could as your mouth had fallen wide open and you couldn’t stop the loud moans that were escaping. Thankfully, the loud shower would cover them. Yixing’s new angle put pressure on your clit and it made things that much more intense for you.

After a couple of moments, he released your leg, letting out a loud moan and pressing his hands into the small of you back.

He continued his assault on your body, running his hands over your wet back and ass, caressing you in all the right places before pulling out without warning, forcing you to bend back over when you tried to stand and bending down behind you, his tongue lapping over your opening and clit.

You moaned loudly, reaching back to touch him and he grabbed your hand, holding it back.

His tongue moved up and down, wrapping around your clit when he got the chance and causing you to climax directly on his face when neither of you expected it. Way quicker than you had intended.

“Sorry,” you murmured as he just laughed.

“That was the goal, angel.”

“What about you?” You asked out of breath and still bent over in the hot shower. You could see the steam coating the glass door and the marks you guys had left on it.  

“I can just get off really quick, don’t you worry your little head about it.”

You shook your head and then stood, before getting down on your knees in front of him, facing away from the shower head.

You took him quickly in your mouth before he could oppose and he groaned loudly. You sucked hard and fast, not wanting to get anyone off as badly as you wanted to get him off in that moment. Your cheeks hallowed and you took him to the back of your throat, gagging as you did. One hand wrapped around his shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth and the other cupped his balls as you sucked faster.  

You could feel him thrusting into your mouth slightly in response to the feeling and it made you smile around him. You loved having Yixing like this. You loved having control over a man more than anything.

He came hard and you swallowed every bit that you could even if you gagged as he came when his cock hit the very back of your throat. Yixing took a few minutes to come too before pulling you up and kissing your lips lightly. “You’re great,” he complimented as he reached for his shampoo. “Ready for the good part though?”

You raised a brow and let out a heavy sigh as you tried to catch your breath, “What’s that?”

He scoffed, “Getting your hair shampooed.”

Your lips spread into a grin as your turned around and let Yixing wash your hair and body. He was gentle as his fingers massaged the woodsy smelling shampoo into your scalp. You let out a slight sigh as he scrubbed away at your scalp, being sure to coat every strand of hair in shampoo.  

When he was done with you, you gestured for him to bend down so you could do the same. He laughed, bending his head so you could rub your fingers into his scalp and coat his short hair. You made quick work of it though because you knew the angle was awkward for his neck.

With the shampoo washed out, he grabbed a loofa, dripping some body wash onto it before gesturing for you to stand in front of him with your arms out.  

You giggled as he gently tickled your body with the loofa, cleaning every crevice of your skin that he could.

It turned out, Yixing was quite the gentleman and his aftercare was the best you had received in years.

You finished up the shower Yixing after you helped wash his perfectly sculpted body, the two of you having stayed in there until the water ran cold and both of you sought the warmth of his large bath towels.

He apologized for the marks he left as the two of you dressed and you just waved him off, “I like them,” you responded and no matter how true it was, you were nervous to hide the marks since you barley wore makeup. If Chanyeol saw them, you were scared what would happen.

He helped you put your clothes on, gently and tenderly pulling every piece of material over your limbs and making you smile when he kissed your forehead when he was done.

“I wish you didn’t have to go. I’d love to keep you in my bed all night.”

You smirked at him, “I’m sure you would.”

And you could tell Yixing was starting to get hard again but unfortunately, you had to go before it was too late and someone noticed you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Like the gentleman he was he gave you one last kiss before you left his room.  

You let the room just past two am, cold from getting out of the cool shower and nervous to run into anyone leaving his room.  

But fate was never on your side when you ran into Sehun in the hall. He eyed you suspiciously before pointing his fingers at his eyes then at you, “I’m watching you.”

You put your hands in the air in defense, “I’m not doing anything.”

He pursed his lips, “Explain coming out of Yixing’s room then.”

You stumbled over your words, “I was just hanging out with him.”

“Then who are those from?” He pressed, pointing at the marks on your neck.  

You froze, trying to cover them with your hands and your teeth started chattering, “What are you talking about?”

He had one brow raised, “Did you go to his room just to shower? Don’t you and Chanyeol share a bathroom?”

And then you freaked out when you heard his name, “Please for fuck sake don’t tell Chanyeol.”

He smirked, “So you were up to something,” he said with certainty.

“I-I-“

He laughed, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me sweet Y/N, but don’t think I don’t know everything that goes on in this house.”

And you parted ways, panic was heavy in your heart things getting worse when you went back to your room and you found Chanyeol sleeping in your bed. You gasped in shock, not sure what to do at first but you tried to keep your cool. Chaneyol always used to sleep in bed with you, this should be nothing different. But fuck, it after you just slept with Yixing and seeing the man in your bed, all you could imagine was Chanyeol holding you that night all over again.

And the burn was only gone for so long as your heart started to press roughly against your chest, and you felt pain all the way up your throat.

You sighed, going to the bathroom quickly before joining the man in your bed, keeping an arm length distance and falling asleep.

♣ ♣ ♣

~ ❤ Three ❤ ~

tags: @yourexotextplus and @xiusoomygod​