#ive only had it in my eyes like four times. for the record. BUT I REMEMBER EVERY TIME.

[fooltofancy]

i've been using the angel hair shampoo bar from lush for a few months at this point and dude idk what it is about this shampoo but good fucking lord has it been in my eyes more times than any other shampoo i've ever used and also. also.

it's not as bad as having jalapeno oil in your eye but that's like. the only comparable thing i can think of lmao.

[tokkiwrites]

ㅤ𔓕ㅤㅤꪆৎㅤ𓈒ㅤ THREE'S A CROWD ＼ ㅤ♰ ㅤ⊹ㅤ ︵

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales

summary: your dad befriended some nice customers from his bar. fast-forward a year, they're all you can think about.

tags: pwp honestly, threesome mfm (YEEPPEEE) dbf! Santiago & Frankie, afab!reader w she/her pronouns, age gap, pet names (lots!!), Santiago has a thing with you being 'pure', virginity loss, reader is literally horny 24/7, doms! santi and frankie, sub! reader, rougher santi and softer frankie ig, dirty talk, slapping, spit (for like a sentence), choking, hair pulling, double penetration (in the same hole), head m receiving, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (wrap your dingaling!!), masturbating in the mirror for like a bit, lmk if i missed anything!!

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ ive been on an oscar isaac rush for the past few weeks, and i had to. first time writing ab a threesome...sooo. im trying to write in different ways, so if it all seems jittery, apologies!!! this has like 3.6k words. its not proofread!! I TRIED MY BEST :( enjoy !!

'i need it.' was becoming like a mantra for you now. every day, needy for touches and attention, those dirty reflections that never left your mind.

of course, you've done things with boys. well, one boy, your boyfriend, and those things being your average makeout sessions and hand jobs, nothing more. you knew what sex was, of course, but the urge to experience the rougher side of it was overflowing by the day. and you know these wishes started appearing and consuming as soon as your dad befriended two customers from the bar you help him run, Santiago and Frankie. One year ago, you saw them only three times, maybe four in the span of 3 months, but their visits were more and more frequent and well, that's how their friendship started.

At first you were skeptical, unsure of their means, but you missed seeing your dad so happy and when you got to know them you realized they were good. What mattered was your dad being less lonely.

all though, that kind of changed eight months ago when, in the dead of july, you witnessed them helping your dad building a small summerhouse in your backyard. There's nothing wrong with that. Just seeing them both sweaty, with muscles bulging and hands dirty, woke something inside of you. and the fact that you broke up with your first boyfriend ever, that you were together with since 17, didn’t quite help.

So yeah, you were happy for your dad, but hated that you had to see them almost everyday and in turn sit hours on end with soaked panties on and, like a broken record, playing fantasies in your mind of these older men doing as they please with you. and you don't know why these thoughts plagued your mind just now, at the age of 21, but it was getting in the way of every aspect of your life, these wild things making you want to live inside your fantasy world and never wake up.

Today was no different: another late night at the bar. your dad went home early to catch some sleep since tomorrow he'll have to leave for three days to help his brother, your uncle, move into his new home. That's fine. What's getting you is him assigning his friends to 'keep an eye on you' like you're some sort of child. but, somehow, you can get over that. What you can't get over is how are you going to survive three whole days being just in their presence? when your dad's here, it's different. You don't need to spend that much time in their proximity, but this? you'll have to lock yourself in your room to keep those thoughts at bay.

you we're getting lost within your mind again.

what if you were to tell them about these thoughts? not that they're about them, just... you know, boy advice?

that's insane. and stupid.

would they accept should you propose you three entangled in some...activities? they'd for sure disagree- you were their friend's daughter, and whilst they didn't know you for that long it for sure didn't sound right.

what if they agree, though? one night. one night for all of your dreams to become reality..but you couldn't live after that knowing what you'd be missing forever. they'd leave after. what if you'd beg for them to stay, to have them do things even more carnal to you? if you begged maybe and gave your freedom to them.

These kinds of thoughts cloud your mind every day, and now, they are making you forget about the real world, where you were supposed to serve Santiago a glass of whiskey. as the sound of a low chuckle pulls you out of your trance, you feel liquid pooling around your palm that was settled on the bar. and when it finally awakes you, your eyes meet him again. your heart jolts, and it gets you lightheaded again.

"Oh, I'm- god, I'm so sorry Mr.Garcia...I don't know what happenedㅡ" You panic, wiping hurriedly the bar, prompting yet another laugh from the man. " 's fine, doll, don't worry. all though... your dad might turn into the reincarnation of Lucifer if he sees how much whiskey you wasted." he leans over for some tissues, wanting to help you.

"No, it's fine, I'll do it-" you smile shyly, placing your hand on top of his to stop him from moving, this in turn made him tilt his head up only a little, which awarded him with a quick glance at your barely exposed cleavage.

'untouched.' he thought to himself.

"I won't say anything if you don't." your ears pick up his voice, and for a moment, you forgot about what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I'm not gonna...say anything." Your lips curl into a shy smile. " Hurry and clean this up. I'm gonna take you home since you gotta close anyway."

oh, lord.

"no, that's fine. I can walk-"

"said I'll take you home." you breathe out a quiet 'oh, my god' because you're sure you've just had an orgasm from his voice only.

"See, I know you have manners ‘cause your dad taught you to listen to your elders, seems I just gotta get a little stern with you, huh?" you shake your head, not sure what to make of what he just said, but you finish up cleaning as the door opens to reveal Frankie. "why're you still here, man?" he inquired as he took off his baseball cap to arrange his perfectly curly hair better.

you can't possibly be serious.

"on duty." he laughs and points towards you. "Ah."

"You know... my dad hasn't left yet, so you're not 'on duty' as far as I know. Also, he said to keep an eye on me. Not be my bodyguards!" You try to scold them in a way. At the end of the day, you are an adult, right? "Easy miss." Frankie puts his hands up."I just arrived.”

"Yeah, well I am leaving. Alone! So please-" you move your hands as a signal for them to leave. "Excuse us for ever bothering you, miss. May we at least stay here until you close?” Santiago sarcastically banters. "I guess.." You shrug, finishing washing your hands and putting the glasses away.

you hate how much you like them. and how much you want them to ravage you. if possible, you'd let them both take you right there on the bar counter, whilst potential passers-by saw you get fucked into oblivion.

9AM, your dad left, and you can't seem to fall back asleep. the bar will be closed for these these days, so you have nothing to do except steep into your own boredom. You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a book from the shelf. With your coffee in hand, you head out to the backyard, where you settle into a comfortable chair. As you sip your coffee and immerse yourself in the pages of the book, you find solace in the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature around you, embracing the quiet moments of the morning.

this works for a while, but there's an inexplicable itch you want to scratch. with a loud whine that scares some little birds away, you head back inside to find other things to do. "Please, i can't keep on thinking about them. What is wrong with me?" You scream whisper at yourself whilst looking in the mirror places in your hallway, "like..genuinely!"

as you stare a bit more into the mirror, your hands make their way up your torso and to your breasts, nipping at your lower lip as you can't seem to ignore the warmth from between your thighs. you start imagining both of them having their way with you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as they pumped your holes full of their come. touching yourself more, light fingers make their way under the shorts you were wearing, finally catching a feel of how wet you are. you moan, knees buckling as you picture both men marking you as theirs in all ways. "p-please.. Santi, Frankieㅡ"

"my, what do we have here, huh?" your eyes open wide, and still in your pants and palm still over your sensitive nipple, as two other reflections in the mirror stare back at you. "Mr.Garcia, Mr.Moralesㅡ"

"Cut the shit, doll. I think we're way past that." he motions loosely towards the indecent position you were in. "You're lucky it was us and not your dad. '' Frankie states. "I'm so sorry, I don't even..I can'tㅡ" you stutter and turn around slowly to face them, arms now falling to your sides.

"You want us?" Frankie asks you in the most serious tone you've heard him. "I- what? Huh?" you're left speechless by this sudden interrogation.

"Do you want us to fuck you, doll?" Santiago reiterated. But you stayed quiet, head low, too embarrassed to admit your true intentions. was it wrong? certainly. but was it the only thing you've dreamed about since you first saw them? Of course.

"Why don't you answer? You act like a little slut and yetㅡ" He steps closer and Frankie soon follows. "You're too shy all of a sudden? We were the ones who walked in on you, you know? touching yourself in front of the mirror like a dirty whore, huh? what would your dad say, baby?" he taunts you whilst Frankie reaches his strong grip and tilts your head up to look them in the eyes. "You didn't answer the question, sweet girl."

it takes a few seconds, but you muster up a hushed 'yes', causing them to smirk. "Show us, baby. C'mon, tell us how bad you want it." Dizzy and drunk on arousal, you succumbed to their touch, kneeling at their feet and looking up, pleading with tearful eyes in a silent entreaty to do as they please with you. but they don't budge. They wait patiently for you to show them how desperate you can get. it all overflows you, the cold floor in contact with your knees, their scent, your rugged breaths. "Please, I want- need it. I need you...so bad. need you toㅡ use me" you rub your thighs together. "Please..?"

"We'll take care of you. But...we can't promise to be too gentle. All though I don't think “gentle” is what you want." Your eyes glimmer, and your head spins. Did you hear that right? Is this really happening, or are you having the most beautiful dream, and when you wake up, you'll be sorrowful for days?

"for how long, baby, hm? since we first met? 'cause i know I've wanted to bend you over from the first moment I laid my eyes on the pretty thing you are." Frankie admits. " knew you had nothing else in this pretty head of yours, sweetheart. " Santiago laughs as he shoves your head lightly with his finger, causing you to whimper. "just wanna be fucked stupid, right? be our stupid, little fuck doll? that what you want?" and you nod in response, it takes you all of your power to not cry from how bad you want to feel them right now. "Ever done something like this?" and you shake your head no. "Shit. You poor little thing." he was right about you. He can feel his dick twitching at the thought of having you all splayed out, so innocent and untouched.

They instruct you to get undressed, clothes falling to the floor as they force you to crawl onto the couch all whilst they watch, fully clothed. getting closer to you, their calloused hands explore each part of your warm body as trails of kisses leave you hanging onto them. "gonna ruin you, baby, you know that, yeah?" of course you know. you've been yearning for this moment for almost a year.

they proceed to get naked, Santiago positioning himself in front of you and Frankie a little to your side. You couldn't believe it. This was so much more than you imagined; they were both long and girthy, with Frankie being a little more veiny than Santiagoㅡ a sight that made you drool. this will forever be imprinted into your brain.

"You look like a dumb puppy staring like that." Frankie snorts. "Haven't seen a cock before?" he's getting cockier with his remarks, as he urges you to respond. "Yes, but.. n-ot soㅡ big.." your cheeks grow red as you see Santiago's dick jump from your words. "Stroking my ego like that baby... how 'bout you stroke my cock instead, hm? can you do that for me?" anything. you were willing to do it all for them, make them so proud, they'd never want to leave.

your shaky hands wrap, barely, around both their lengths, as you stare up at them whilst standing straight so your boobs are on full display for them to eat up with their hungry eyes. you do it slow, unsure if you're doing it good, licking some of the precum from their slits from time to time, swirling your tongue around eachㅡ putting on a show. "You've done your homework, huh? Do it a little too well for a virgin."

"c'mon, hands and knees, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours." Santiago pushes you back as Frankie strokes himself. "Pretty thing" he says as two digits trail down your back and help you position yourself better onto the couch. Frankie finally places himself behind you, teasingly playing with your folds, letting out a soft 'fuck' whilst feeling how wet you were. "Stretched yourself out for use before we came, right, sweet girl? You want me to help you out a little moreㅡ?"

"Noㅡ! Please.." you eagerly interrupt. "You cockslut. Haven't had an eager little thing like you since I was in college." He laughs as he positions his length in line with your hot entrance, leaving kisses down your back he slips inside slowly, and you choke out a cry, eyes brimming with tears as a sting pangs through your whole body. "sh, sh..I know, baby. I know." Whispering gently, Santiago pulls himself down and cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. As your lips finally met, time stood still, the world faded away, and all that remained was the electrifying sensation of something within you igniting. It was a moment painted with the hues of passion and longing, a symphony of emotions echoing through your soul.

He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you as the pain slowly fades away and is replaced by pure pleasure. pulling away, he levels himself and taps on your chin for you to open your mouth. Santiago hisses, tugging harder at your hair as a response to your warm tongue enveloping the tip of his dick. "shit, baby, open up for meㅡ thaat's it. good girl."

shuddering in anticipation, you part your lips further, allowing him to push deeper inside. you were already a mess- drool dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth like there was no tomorrow, tears that stained your cheeks as he pushed your head lower; muffled moans, how you were gagging around his length, pure music for both of them to listen to.

"look so pretty, baby, mouth stuffed with cock.." you stare up at him through wet lashes as he lands a slap to your right cheek.

At your other end, Frankie was cautiously moving back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the tightness of your wet cunt that almost sent him over the edge just as he put the tip in. "so fuckin' tight, baby. fuuck-" he groans as he hits a few hard strokes, your back arching against him and fingers digging into Santiago's hips. "you hear that?" Frankie asks, moving himself deep into your hot core, letting you catch the lewd and wet noises your cunt made wrapped around him. "she's so wet for us, isn't she? poor pussy.." you pathetically whine, as Santiago pulls your head back by your hair, making you stare straight into his darkened eyes. "don't go shy on us now, doll." he laughs, delivering another sharp slap to your already heated cheek. "you wanted to be a little slut and we're gonna treat you like one, soㅡ" he tuts, thrusting into your throat before he continues, "so, really, you should thank us." Santiago pulls away, leaving your needy mouth wide open, as if asking for his shaft in a desperate plea. Frankie firmly places his rough palms onto your ass before taking his length out and you cry at the sudden lack of them inside of you. "Go ahead," he adds. "Thank us, baby, c'mon."

you lick your lips, feeling yourself dripping down onto the mattress under you, too cock drunk and embarrassed to say anything. Santiago sighs, giving your cheek a few light slaps as his other palm slides down to wrap around your throat. you gasp, the feeling so new yet it felt like something you'd been missing for so long. "i didn't take you as the ungrateful type, little angel." he coos, as Frankie reaches under to cup your breasts into his hands. "are you an ungrateful little whore?" taunting you. " 'm n-ot.." you gasp, the lack of blood flow to your brain keeping you on the edge. "you're sure acting like one." the one at the forefront proceeds, running the tip of his leaking length along your puffy lips. "and here we were..-" he stops to slap it onto your left cheek "ready to reward you, hm?" they look at each other and chuckle, as if they weren't mocking you and the pitiful mess you were. "please, I'm-" you swallow. "I'm sorry, please. Thank you so muchㅡ ! just- please, please..."

"you sweet thing." Santiago intoned "sweet filthy thing."

"I say we fuck her like she wants us to." Frankie hums from behind you, his cock rubbing against your leaking entrance. "that's what you want, right baby? want us both inside your little pussy. stretch her out and ruin you for others.." and you whimper as your cunt pulses around nothing. "Yeah, she likes that. dirty fucking girl." It was raw and intense— how their command over you ignited an unyielding desire to please them, to make them proud.

they both pull away, and in no time, your body is squished between theirs, strong arms holding you down as if you're to run away. Santiago harshly cups your face, forcing your mouth open; He gathers some spit into his mouth, for him to promptly spit it down onto your tongue. He watches proudly as you swallow it all, his thumb running across your bottom lip. Frankie was biting your shoulder, sucking at your sensitive skin as he held you by your throat in a way that's sure to leave marks.

"lift your hips for us." Santiago commands, and you do as you're told. He tangles his hand around in your hair as his other one reaches down to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. He eases in, making you throw your head back onto Frankie, his fingers now massaging your sensitive clit. "Fuckingㅡ look at her, swallowing me in one go. pretty girl.." he coos, pulling your head back by the hair to face him. From behind you, Frankie slowly lifts you up with his knees and slips inside of you, both men moaning into your ears. Tears slip past your eyes again and you cry from the pain and pleasure as your mouth falls open, unsure if you're still conscious or not. "feels good, baby? us splitting you open right here where anyone from the street can see... you like that?" Frankie was right, all it took was for a taller person to stare a bit over the fence and they'd have front row seats at this show.

" 'course she does. little whores like her get off to that. bet she'd let us fuck her in front of her dad. let him see the slut his daughter actually is." With that, Santiago finally starts to move, his eyes rolling back as Frankie pushes down onto your lower belly, as he moves his hips. "So fucking deep, shitㅡ feel that?" he laughs "want us to come this deep, huh? have you all filled up till you can't hold anything inside of you.."

"p-pleaseㅡ"

"i could fuck this tight cunt forever, god." the other in front of you grunts, the hand from your hair now focused on your nipples and one placed firmly onto your hips. Frankie had one hand on your stomach and one onto your face, two of his fingers stretching your mouth open. You let yourself be taken over by them. it felt like you were flying so high and intoxicated by them, you weren't sure how you'd recover.

"thank you, thank youㅡ" you babble incoherently.

Santiago quickened his pace, causing Frankie to do the same, and with a few more strokes, they both bury themselves deep inside your core, white warm ropes painting your velvety walls. The sudden warmth and full feeling sends you completely over the edge, having you shake and pulse around them as you reach your orgasm.

you all sit there, them deep inside of you, you between them, breathing heavily as they planted kisses upon your skin. After you came down, you realized what happened, and worse, that it was over, a thought which made you let out a pathetic sob and clench around them out of desperation. "easy girl, we still have two days left." Frankie breaks the silence. "It was you who said you wanted us to use you, no? you who wanted be our cum doll forever.." Santiago follows.

You're right where you want to be.

[nobody-nexus]

Sinful! Pomni Lore

Polina was dragged by two people while in a straitjacket. She kicked and wiggled, tears streaming down her face as she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the hallway. "NO NO NO! PLEASE! I DIDN'T DO IT! NO PLEASE!" She cried out to no one's response. Her frazzled hair covered her eyes, making her look just as crazy as people see her as. She was put into a dark room. The room itself had others within. People on computers and people in chairs with headsets on. She couldn't recognize ANY of them, however they all had orange jumpsuits on which only meant that they were all prisoners just like her. The men that were dragged her undid her straitjacket only to grab her by the wrists. There was an empty seat at the very end... One just for her. She struggled as she tried to fight them, however there was nothing that could be done

She was forced into the chair, her arms and legs strapped down tightly to it. She looked over to see the person next to her. They were a dark-skinned person, pink dyed hair that was dying out, the pink only really visible at the tips of their dreadlocks while the headset on their head obscured basically everything else. She tried to fight it, but her skinny figure was nothing for the straps. IVs were stuck into Polina's arm, making her wince. Then some noise canceling headphones were put on her, everything becoming incredibly muffled and hard to hear. People were talking, but she didn't know what. She witnessed a machine appear from the ceiling, a headset on the end. She struggled more, aggressively attempting to escape as....

....................................

She awoke in a kitchen. One that was gray and lifeless. She looked around in confusion. Where was she? She looked down at her own figure. Her feet weren't feet. They were hooves. Hooves on goat like legs. She tugged at her outfit. Dark red and dark blue with some yellow is what covered her. And a tail! She began to panic. Where was she!? WHAT WAS SHE!? She hyperventilated as she looked around. Suddenly, a voice appeared. "Oh! A new prisoner" She quickly turned to see a... man? Was it a man? He had four cards for a head and wore blue and gold. "Are you okay?" He showed his abnormally large hands as he stepped closer. She screamed. "G-GET AWAY FROM ME! What are you!? W-What am I???" She backed up and hit a counter, seeing something shiny out of the corner of her eye. "Well, I am Able. And I need to wait for your records to come into my database. For now, how about we just talk?" Able said as he only stepped closer, reaching out and touching her shoulder

It stun. It STUN. She yelped as she recoiled, putting her hand on the counter and feeling something on it. She grabbed it and pointed it at him. "D-Don't touch.... me...." She realized that she was holding a knife. She looked at it for a moment as she twitched for a moment. Adrenaline ran through her as she started to smile. Able retracted his hand as he noticed her eyes turned into scribbles as she started to laugh. She was breathing quickly and heavily, but laughing all the same. "Heheheh... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" She twitched a few more times before lunging at Able, tackling him to the ground due to the sudden burst of energy she had. Able noticed that knife glitch out in her hand as she stabbed it into his card face. He screamed as an alarm started to go within the kitchen, but she didn't HEAR it. Out of nowhere... The goat girl was picked up. She thrashed in the unknown thing's grasp as soon enough the knife was taken out of her hands. Suddenly, she stopped moving, going into a bit of a catatonic state, limping like a ragdoll in her hands. "A new one and she's already attacked you? That's new" It was a sun faced woman that help her in one hand. "Should she go into the cellar?"

Able was bleeding black, and certainly seemed in pain, but somehow kept a cool head. "No" He replied as he got up. Sun looked at him with surprise. "But sir, she assaulted you. You are bleeding" She gestured while she spoke. Able snapped his fingers as he brought up some screens in front of him. "I have her files. She suffers through an intense PTSD whenever holding anything that could be considered a weapon. Besides... That knife is malware. That's why it harmed me so badly. It seems that malware saw her and decided to have its fun" Able was surprisingly calm despite the pain- but he's been through worse. "Hmm... Very well. I shall take her to her new cell. When she wakes up, we shall do our new prisoner protocol"

"Yes, Sun. Thank you for the assistance"

[onyxrosess]

Pain is My Hometown

vergil x reader [multi-chapter series]

Chapter I: Prisoner of Your Own Reflection

Chapter I [you're here!] | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Table of Contents writers notes: hello loves! for those who didn't find me on ao3, I'm posting my ongoing book/series here! Though for those who found me on ao3, this isn't a new chapter BUT chapter four is coming out very very soon!

・warnings/tags: mature topics, drinking, endless banter (it's dmc that's all they do)

( cross posted on ao3 )

“Nero! For fucks sake pick up your tools, I almost just died again because they're all over the floor!” The hot summer day did not help your crushing annoyance, bringing a hand to your ankle, nursing the soon-to-be bruise. Hoping the children were outside as you didn’t think yelling would be a fond childhood memory. Hindsight is 20/20, what do you do anyway? 

“If you put on your glasses you wouldn’t trip over them!” Nero shouted back, seemingly in the kitchen inside the house. A frustrated grunt left your mouth, removing your helmet, little hairs sticking against your sweaty forehead. The motorcycle stood parked on the concrete, and the culprit of your trip was stuck under the tire of your bike. Stupid socket wrench, why was it on the ground anyway? Whatever, maybe Nero will stub his toe on it and see how he likes it. 

“I don’t know how Kyrie has put up with your displacement of practically everything you own.” Your eyes floated over to the bedside light on the kitchen counter. “This is my house you’re crashing by the way so I don’t see how you have any say in it.” Nero defended himself as his hands poked and prodded at the lamp, from the looks of it he was attempting to fix it. Keyword; attempt. 

“Smart ass.” Turning on your heel she left him to “fix” the lamp. Making it to your room rather; Nero and Kyrie’s guest room you’ve been hoarding, your steps became heavier the closer you got to your bed. Dragging your feet you plopped down onto the bed with a grunt you’d likely hear from an elderly person. 

Too hot. Way too hot. Peeling off the protective gear for your bike- why can’t you just regenerate limbs like Nero could instead of having to be careful with this thick-ass clothing that supposedly protected you? It, unfortunately, did do its job, just way too warm. A plug-in fan panned around the span of the room, clicking every so often, the cool air was lovely. A shower is what was needed, immediately.

After confirming with Kyrie she didn’t need the bathroom for one of the children, or herself, you have since put the metaphorical flag on top of the hill proclaiming this was your bathroom for the next hour and a half. Leaning forward into the mirror above the sink, your hands instinctively drove to your face, squeezing and picking anything you could see on your face. 

Stepping foot into the bathtub-shower combo, the cold water hit your body, not without a shiver of course. Even if you felt like you were on fire and how tingly your hands felt, damn them. Music playing from the radio was atrocious, only two of the songs were halfway decent on this channel. Your actual nice CD player had fallen into the tub a week prior, which was unfortunate because she couldn’t even be mad since one of the kids thought it was a bathtime toy. You really did need to put things up higher.

After a record time of only 47 minutes in the shower, you stepped onto a towel laid on the floor, soaking up the droplets from your hair and body. Wrapping a towel with stains from previous hair dye adventures around your body. The mirror’s reflection was obscured by the condensation, you wiped it down with the end bit of the towel. Your hair was a disheveled mess, combing through the strands, it somehow dripped with more water. 

“(Name)! Dantes calling for you!” Kyrie shouted from downstairs. Dante…Nero’s uncle- got to admit their family situation was odd. Though not far from your own. You scurried down the stairs with messy wet hair and clothes that were barely put on correctly. You held the cold piece of plastic to your ear, “Hello?”  “Hey, you wanna go out for drinks tonight? I thought it would be a change of pace.” Dante’s dancing around the subject and your history of going out to bars, especially on your birthday, was admirable. And the delicacy of the topic was appreciated.  “Will Lady and Trish be coming?” You asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, tapping your fingers. “You think they’d let you go to a bar with just me?” Dante’s smile was apparent when he was talking, almost to a chuckle. You just let out an amused huff. “I guess I could’ve answered that question myself.”

“Where are we going anyway?” “A new bar opened up recently— Trish and Lady seemed to enjoy it so, whatever they say.” You hummed in agreement.  “I’ll see you at 9 then.” Dante agreed and hung up. Quickly rushing back upstairs to finish drying your hair, hopefully, you didn’t drip water all over the kitchen tile like a wet dog.

The sun was still visible, illuminating the sky with its brightness and awful heat. You walked out from ‘your’ room, where Kyrie was cleaning dishes with her cute little apron on, how domestic. Nico, who was originally the one who was the oddball staying in Nero and Kyrie’s house has since been promoted to slightly less odd since you’ve crashed their house. Nico opened the door to the garage, walking inside with grease covering her hands and some spots scattered around her arms and face.

“Who’s got you all dressed up?” Nico gave her a sly smirk, wiggling her eyebrows as obnoxiously as it sounds. “Well first off, I’m barely dressed up, and secondly just Dante, Lady, and Trish.” Nico let out a huff, hoping for something new, not Dante . Officially stamped the worst flirt signed by Nicoletta Goldstein.  “Fine, at least Lady and Trish know how to have actual fun.” Nico walked to the kitchen sink, luckily it was big enough for both her and Kyrie. “Do you wanna tag along?”  “Shit!- I mean” She realized how loud she cursed, “I got work to do on the stupid van, Nero did somethin’ to it. He just doesn’t know how to speak mechanic like I do.” Nico dried her hands on a towel on the counter. Kyrie just chuckled at her comment, Nero did have a history of being a cheap mechanic. He knew the basics but you would never let him touch your bike. Not since you made that mistake the first time. “Enjoy yourself, (Name), call me or Nero if you need anything.” Kyrie looked over her shoulder as she scrubbed plates. That woman was sent from heaven, you were fully convinced. “I’ll be alright Kyrie, thanks though.”

Stepping into the garage the socket wrench has since migrated from under your bike, Nero definitely stubbed his toe on it. You chuckled to yourself as you put on your helmet, you were not above being safe, but you were going out, and the shop wasn’t too far from here so your protective- hot ass gear can stay. 

The sun wasn’t quite setting but the sky was still vibrant,  driving a little above the speed limit when driving through the streets. Subtly tapping your foot to the beat of the music drumming in your ears. Weaving through familiar streets, you turned down the alleyway behind Devil May Cry. You kicked her bike stand down, making sure the thing didn’t fall- your precious child. Luckily you didn’t get sweaty on the ride over so your hair was mostly intact. 

Walking through the back door, to hear Dante and Lady playfully bickering, as always. Trish leaned against the counter of the kitchen, “Look who made it!” Trish announced to Lady and Dante who were up front. Trish greeted you with a hug and Lady also followed suit. Dante just slapped you a little too hard on the shoulder, he has to know he’s strong, and that sometimes leaves a mark. “I’m surprised I didn’t get a message saying I’m in bed, maybe another time.” Dante interjected, “That’s only happened a few times okay?” You just rolled your eyes. “Cut her some slack Dante, you’re a party animal, and she actually ages unlike you. At least in a meaningful way.” Lady defended you. Dante just held up his hands in surrender. You weren’t that old you just got into your 30’s… 5 years ago. God Lady’s right.

“Mid-life crisis aside, let’s go drink, shall we?” Trish urged as she started walking out the front door. The rest tagged along quickly, and you trailed behind. And this bar that was “close to the shop” was like 4-5 blocks down the street. Of course, the demon hunters had no problem walking a ways but you were quite frankly out of shape, nowhere near as strong as you used to be. Walking up to a storefront with a flickering neon sign that said “Eddy’s Bar” with a logo next to it. 

Upon entering the building, many voices began to jumble together into one noisy building, masking the music that you could barely hear even if you tried. Dante of course b-lined it for the bar, Lady and Trish ventured off into the crowd, for some reason, they usually get drinks first. You just shrugged mentally. Dante sat down at the bar stool, man spreading per usual, his gloved hands resting on the countertop. Why he barely changes his attire besides his shirt and pants- which all looked the same to you- still puzzles you a tiny bit. You joined Dante, sitting next to him on the neighboring stool, he motioned for the bartender. 

“What could I do for you two?” The bartender questioned, preemptively going for an empty glass. “Brandy Alexander,” Dante answered, panning over to you.  “And for the lady?” The bartender looked at you- the lady? You suppose Dante and you look like a couple right now, gross. You shook it off with a slight tug at your lips. “Midori Sour, please.” Fidgeting with your hands, the bartender nodded, within a minute he handed you and Dante your drinks and wandered off.  “The lady , huh?” Dante smirked, smug bastard. “Yeah, the lady apparently.” You just shook your head, putting your glass to your lips.  “Where did Lady and Trish go?” You tried searching for them with your eyes, or if you could hear one of them.  “I dunno, maybe they were looking for fun.” Dante mimicked you, sipping from his glass. “Us four were supposed to go out, not just me and you.” You sighed, holding your drink in your hands which sat on the counter.  “Wowww, I’m hurt.” Dante dramatically faked his ‘hurt’. “Well I get to talk to the girls about girl things, you wouldn’t get it.” Still trying to locate the two women, it’s not like they were too short that they sunk into the crowd. 

Dante clutched his heart, again, what a drama queen. You would’ve thought he was a theater kid if you didn’t know any better.  “Nothing against you Dante- but I would much rather save my dignity than talk to you about girl things.”  “Oh, you have dignity left?” Dante’s face had a sly smile plastered on his face. Reminded of an unpleasant memory of your past adventures with Dante going out to bars. Never again, even if the memory was just fragmented because you were so so so drunk. “I was more drunk than I had ever been in my entire life- my drink at that point could’ve been laced with an aphrodisiac.”  Dante just chuckled, “Yeah whatever you say, with your dignity .” This smug little bastard, not a doubt he remembers the entire thing. Hell, he could probably drink an entire bottle of Everclear and only be tipsy. 

Through the crowd came Lady and Trish, Lady was practically dragging Trish. Their faces said it all. “(Name)! There is a smoking hot guy over there, like seriously, even for your standards.” Lady exclaimed, very proudly. She and Trish had been almost searching for men for you, since your last outing with a man ended up with trauma and far more physical scars that reminded you. But now is not the time to be drowning in that side of your past.

“I need more alcohol to speak to any man right now.” You sighed, still having your current drink in your grasp. “I guess that's better than nothing.” Trish sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Dante ordered a round of shots, vodka, of course. You lift the shot glass to your lips and the liquid burns as it goes down your throat. You definitely made a face. Squeezing your eyes shut and opening them back again, you realize the half-devils barely even feel alcohol like a human does. Ugh, whatever, more for you. 

Trish and Lady drag you out to the floor of the bar, slipping through the crowds of dancing people, trying not to bump into too many people without a ‘sorry’. “You look so stiff, just relax (Name). You have the best demon hunter and best man-eater here protecting you, all three of us will kill anyone who tries to do anything to you. You have my word.” Lady spoke over the music, trying to soothe your bubbling nerves. You just nodded as she let go of your hand, like sending off your child to college. Taking a step backward, your back collided with something, namely, someone. You turned around immediately to apologize for your clumsiness, even though that's the name of the game in this mess of a bar which at this point, it seemed more like a mosh pit.

The man you bumped into was a little taller than yourself, he just smiled. “No problem.” He went and walked off somewhere else. You cursed at yourself, that would’ve been a smooth way into a: “You wanna dance with me because I’m lonely”. Sighing you retreated closer to the edges of the crowd, you need another shot. Dante still perched on the seat you left him in. Weird, he’s usually quite the party animal, always has been, according to Lady.

You approached the corner of the bartop that you and Date were sitting at earlier, leaning against the counter, “I need another shot.” You said with a small exhale.  “The smokin’ hot guy is too much for you? You seemed to handle me quite well that one time.” Dante is too good at this, if you were in your 20s again, Dante’s clumsy attempts at flirting would definitely be working. “That one time was strictly one time.” You quickly ordered another shot from the bartender, Dante called one for himself as well.  “And yes, the ‘smoking hot guy’ was too much for me to handle with just one shot in me.”

Dante barely gave a response before tapping the shot glass on the table twice with you before the two of you downed the rough liquor in unison. You shook your head slightly, whispering a curse. It had definitely been a while since you drank. “I’ll scream if I need your assistance, Dante.” With that, you bid him farewell and wiggled your way through the crowd at the center of the bar. You had seemed to lose Lady and Trish at the moment, in your haste, your shoulder collided with another. You turned to face the person and attempted to apologize and continue your search for the man from earlier.

“You keep bumpin’ into me like that, it's gonna make me think you’re into me.” The voice came from next to you, and your body froze. Well, you found him. That was your opening— for fucks sake live a little, trying to push yourself. “Maybe I do.” You just smiled, yup the alcohol was hitting a little. The man looked quite frankly handsome under this lighting, the occasional flashing lights of random colors and the haze that clouded your better judgment. “Stay for a little, if you’ll indulge me.” His words were sickly sweet like honey. But the fog in your brain melted, and now like a spider claiming its prize, he wrapped a gentle hand around your waist. Closing the gap between you two, and now you were smelling him, a sweet smell of dark chocolate and fresh rainfall swept into your senses. How a man can be so bold and yet so sweet was an experience you’ve yet to have up until this moment.

And how the night went on, with risqué moves rather than dancing. And without a doubt, a couple more shots. His hands wherever they migrated to, it was a ghost of a touch, it was gentle, surprisingly so. He pulled you away from the crowd, with a hand around your wrist, and occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check if you were still with him. You landed at the other side of the bar with him, thank god, far away from Dante, but you knew he could see you. Very clearly. 

“What kind of shots do you like?” The man- whom you didn’t get the chance to know the name of, quizzed you. “Vodka.” You answered plainly, a glaze over your eyes when you looked at him. He ordered another shot, he sat down on a stool. You sunk the familiar taste, yet the feeling was yet to fade. You hoped you didn’t scrunch your face too much, setting the glass down, he looked at you, not saying a word. At this height, you didn’t have to crane your neck to see his eyes were beautiful, a dark green, seeing the speckles of yellow across his iris. He stayed silent until you realized how awkward of a staring contest this was and turned away to meet the other side of the bar. 

A thumb and an index finger pulled your chin away from your musings. You were back at his eyes again, the glittering flower field on a spring day, yet the fierceness of a flowing river, the undercurrents sweeping you under into its grasp. A breath fanned over your lips. Now you were completely submerged. His lips were soft against yours, so soft, but pulling you closer, enough to keep you reaching for more. Your hand perched itself against his chest, the button-down he wore was opened slightly. The kiss continued, it barely felt like you had to do anything as your hand moved slightly to connect with his bare skin. Your other hand played with the hem of your shirt, the only place to exile your excitement because going full throttle into this kiss didn’t seem like the appropriate move. 

You broke away from his mouth, finally getting your head above water. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the racing of your heart, working unpaid overtime.  “I liked that.” Your words came out before you had a chance to proofread them. A smile formed on his lips, and slight stubble moved with the skin. “I liked that too.” Matching the simplicity and honesty of your words.  “I didn’t expect you to be so gentle.” You admitted, for why? You had no idea. “Why is that?” He asked you, if you were sober you wouldn’t have been so easily fooled by his question, which was obviously just to stroke his own ego. “I guess it’s the way you smell, and maybe the stubble.” Your hand reached out, connecting with the side of his cheek, the rough hair touching your palm. His expression morphed into a more surprised one, then softened again.  “I did ask, so I can’t be surprised with the results.” Your hand left his cheek, did you offend him? You certainly did not have that intention,  “I mean in like a good way- I noticed how you smelt when I got closer to you. It wasn’t anything bad, it was really great actual-“ Your sentence was quickly brought to a halt when his lips met yours again, but this time it was more like a raging river with the rain thundering down on top of the water. Both of his hands now pulled you closer, meeting your bodies. You stood between his legs as his hand covered your lower back, slipping under your shirt just the slightest bit. His teeth caught your lower lip, and your eyes fluttered open, to see him looking directly at you. The embarrassment was too much, you closed your eyes, letting your tongue invade his mouth. Thankfully it seemed to have been received well as you became dancing, metaphorically of course. His hands did not wonder, much to your disappointment since you were at the bartop. Oh my god, you were having a make-out session- at the counter of the bar, where people were sitting close to you. 

He separated from you- maybe he felt your face heat up like a tea kettle. He just looked at you and chuckled, before your embarrassment could not exceed its limit now you shoved your face into his chest and collar bones. A laugh that vibrated his chest escaped him. “What did you get so embarrassed over?” He asked as you made your retreat from the safety of his chest. “I-“ “I think I need another shot.” Was all you could mutter without your head spontaneously combusting.

So many rounds after another, really it was only a couple of rounds. You downed another shot, did you count how many? Nope, and did you care? Also no.  “It feels awkward now, but, what's your name?” You sheepishly asked, as you now sat at the bar stool next to him. “It’s Kane, and no it's not awkward.” He tapped a finger on the counter. You tested the name out on your lips; “Kane.” He responded with a hum. “How do you like it?” Kane asked. “It’s simple, and gentle, like you. I like it.” Your sentence was a little jumbled from your brain frankly being jumbled from the alcohol too.  “Do I have to ask the question now?” Kane chuckled as he spoke.  “What question?” You tilted your head- oh right. “What's your name?” Kane asked, not without a laugh. You smiled, jeez you were slow right now. “(Name).” You responded, more calmly than the racing thoughts of your mind.  “Then, (Name), would you mind exchanging phone numbers with me?” God, you felt like you were back in high school again asking your crush out for the spring dance. You nodded, “I didn’t think I’d be able to leave without it.” 

Kane reached for a napkin, and clumsily found a pen, with barely any ink left in it. You grabbed the pen, trying not to punch a hole through the papery fabric. You re-read the sequence of numbers to make sure it matches. “I have roommates— if you want to call them that, so they might answer instead.” Kane nodded. “One more drink?” You asked as he shoved the napkin into his back pocket. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

That one more drink pulled the two of you back into the pit of swarming people, it was all moving so fast, and now the two of you were actually dancing- well dancing as in; the clubbing type of way. His hands moved far more freely with the alcohol running through his veins. And you definitely moved more smoothly with the same alcohol. 

And now you were being pulled to the side again by Kane’s hand on your wrist. Peaking through the veil of the crowd, you saw Trish and Lady speaking to a couple of guys at a booth. Kane stood in front of the table, holding you like he had just caught you cheating on the chem test. “These are your friends right (Name).” He barely asked, less of a question more of a confirmation from Trish and Lady. He still had his wits about him, you however barely had anything intelligent left in you. Lady couldn't bear to hold in her laugh. The two men that were talking to them excused themselves, Trish whispered something to the man you didn't quite catch.  “I am far too gone myself to take her home, and the two of you look like a safer option.” Kane basically was asking them to take you home, he was leaving. “Yeah, she does look pretty fucked up.” Lady admitted, not without a ‘hey’ from yourself. “We’ll take her home,” Trish spoke up.  “Thank you.” Kane turned to you and let go of your wrist, “I’ll call you okay?” You just nodded as you leaned your weight against the table, Kane walked off and it felt like you’d never see him again- would he even call you- would he abandon you? Just like Treyvon did? Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. Trish quickly stood next to you as you now shifted your weight onto her. Not without a quick sniffle of your nose, Dante wandered over and regrouped. “Yeah, she’s just gonna have to stay at the shop tonight.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you will stick around for my bullshit :) - onyxroses

Next Chapter

[crypticspacecat]

Prisoner Chapter IV (Yan!Dr.KujoxBlack!Femreader)

Hey, it's been a while! I do apologize for taking so long, besides being busy with work, I've been dealing with mental health stuff. I also apologize for the short chapter. Also, lmk if you want part of the taglist!

Enjoy!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

TW: Mental health, suicide mention, and ableist language

@chaichaiiskai

You lay in bed, feeling like you just left an acupuncture appointment. The only bright side to dealing with needles was that you got to eat lunch right after. Despite being in your room most of the day, you were brought some books to curb boredom. Your personal favorite out of the collection is, “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. You hear another knock at the door. Nurse Lynn walks in with a bag full of clothing and a pair of shoes.

“They just finished checking everything. They only kept your other pair of shoes because they have laces.” She mentions while placing the bag on your bed. You thank her as she leaves to tend to another patient. You sort out the clothes, wondering which one to wear today. You find your favorite simple blue shirt with Sonic the Hedgehog printed in the middle. Alongside, you pick out some plain black sweatpants and some slippers. Something about having your own clothes makes you a little more comfortable. You quickly grab your toiletries to hop in the shower.

10 Years Ago…

As a graduate student, one of the requirements for Jotaro’s degree was to shadow more experienced psychiatrists. For one of the psychiatrists, he had to observe an appointment involving a 13-year-old girl. Walking into the office, he couldn’t help but notice the cramped space. The room felt incredibly tiny but the girl in front of him looked even smaller. Well, at least compared to the 6’5 30-year-old. 

“Ok, Ms. (L/N), right? I am Dr. Lewenski and I have a medical student observing us today if that’s alright with you.” He says, not even looking into the young girl’s eyes. Something that Jotaro definitely noticed and it annoyed him. The young girl only nodded, afraid to make eye contact with either man. The doctor proceeds to log into his laptop to prepare for the interview.

“What brings you in today?”

“I was referred to you by the local hospital.”

“Ah yes, I see the file they sent over. You were admitted to St. Mary’s for a suicide attempt via overdose. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir.” The young girl mumbles with her arms crossed. The silent giant can’t help but notice the doctor’s lack of life when talking. He doesn’t want to be there.

“Well, how have things been so far?”

“I don’t think the medicine is helping, I still feel bad and I’ve been crying a lot. Even going to school has been hard because of my classmates calling me a ‘psycho’” She confesses, on the verge of tears. Unfortunately, the doctor couldn’t care less and wanted this appointment over with.

“Since you were only put on the medication a week ago, I would give it more time. With those kinds of medications, it gets worse before it gets better. I’ll see you again in a month.” The doctor deadpans before giving her a paper with her information printed out. Despite her dejected appearance, she slowly nods and abruptly leaves the room.

Jotaro finds himself extremely irritated. Despite her records being right in front of him, the neglectful doctor couldn’t be bothered to actually check on her current state.

“He didn’t even make eye contact…” He whispers to himself in disgust. He honestly felt for the young girl, being so young with a disease you can’t easily get rid of like the common cold. The fact that the doctor was so unengaged was baffling and almost infuriating.

When Dr. Lewenski left for lunch, Jotaro used his laptop that he conveniently left behind to find out more information about the young girl. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t certainly such crass statements from her mother.

‘So you’re telling me she’s crazy?’

‘That girl has always been troublesome…’

‘Can she be fixed?’

Jotaro almost slammed the laptop shut in fury but he knows he has to keep going. If no one is going to help this girl, he will…

You leave the shower, feeling refreshed and not as sluggish. While changing into your clothes, you notice the sun going down. Despite the window bars, you can still appreciate its beauty. You hear a soft knock before seeing one of the nurses walk in.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Kujo wants to see you before dinnertime. When you’re finished I’ll be waiting outside.” The nurse explains. You nod in understanding and put on your slippers. You hope to God you won’t be here for very long.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

tagged by @ragnarokhound <3

name: kai (yes im a trans man named kai, its a good name, okay?)

pronouns: he/they

where do you call home: eh the general answer is west of england, midlands and up. theres a sentimental answer but its a pretty small area so im not gonna potentially dox myself in a tag game dhdjsjs

favourite animal: walrus all the way, baby! although my url is actually unrelated to my love of walruses. theyre just the best animals, theyre big old chunky boys with two big front teeth that can grow to over 3ft in length. when on land, they huddle together in cuddle piles. AND mama walruses can use their flippers to pick up their babies and cuddle them to their chest; tell me thats not the cutest thing youve heard today.

cereal of choice: im not really a cereal person or like a breakfast person at all, but if im having it, golden nuggets or nothin'

visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner: ...all of them? idk, it depends on what im learning. auditory probably less so than the others just because my auditory processing isnt just trash, its trash the binmen wont take.

first pet: my parents had four cats before they had me and my brother so i guess them? they were thomas, alfred, cally and misty. my uncle, who incidentally doesnt believe in seatbelts, named alfred.

favourite scent:

no but seriously i have a very strong scent of smell which is part of why im such a picky eater like im yet to meet a food that smelt bad and tasted good, but i just,,,, dont have a favourite scent?

my brother gave me a lynx body spray of his he didnt want pretty soon after i came out the third time, as trans this time, and its definitely a he got the spirit moment so i guess that.

do you believe in astrology: nah, its not my thing really. all the more to you if its yours as long as you dont try to ascribe my behaviour to me being a taurus, thats the mental illness or the autism or the adhd or the neurological disorder thats pushing my eyes out of my skull very slowly.

how many playlists on spotify/apple music: 28 which is more than i thought i had. right now, theres only like 3 im cycling through named dead reckoning, the old swan, and dutch angle / danish pastry.

sharpies or highlighters: yeah so like, we could never afford sharpies in my house so its highlighters my default. sharpies are like mega expensive in the uk and by mega expensive, i mean unaffordable for a child of a working class single parent.

songs that make you cry: hmm. thats kinda difficult because whether i cry depends almost entirely on my mood. if i had to name some, i guess id go with:

a little fall of rain, turning and empty chairs at empty tables from the london cast recording of les mis (its vital to specify this, okay?); george blagdens secret? recording of drink with me; breathe from in the heights; flowers, doubt comes in, promises, gone im gone, and we raise our cups from hadestown (are you sensing a theme yet?); unruly heart from the prom; here i go again specifically from the rock of ages musical (and NOT the tom cruise movie, i saw this musical live and i cried); i know where ive been by queen latifah, and also from pretty much any hairspray cast recording; if i met myself again, ugly in this ugly world and hes my boy from everybodys talking about jaime and i have sobbed at all three of these songs.

and finally: grandmas song, deep into the ground, he could be a star and once we were kids from billy elliot, and yes i cry at most of act 2, i was raised working class in a working class area that was once revered for its industry and has since been forgotten and left to drown in poverty, how am i meant to not cry at it?

songs that make you happy: hmm again. throw the entirety of the first mamma mia soundtrack onto the list. then welcome to paradise & coming clean by green day (when i was a very depressed teenager, listening to green day always made me feel better, both about the world and about myself); the irony of choking of a lifesaver by all time low because its moms favourite song of theirs and weve gone to see them live five times together; merry christmas maggie thatcher from billy elliot because fuck that bitch; legend of coco chanel from everybodys talking about jaime; sexy from the mean girls musical; do it for your lover by manel navarro; strangers & i dont want to talk about me by stereo jane (the strangers music video is so fucking bisexual yall); king of my heart by sub-radio; ghost ship of cannibal rats by billy talent; carpe diem by joker out; who the hell is edgar by teya and salena; let me entertain you by robbie williams because i sang it in karaoke as a 7 year old who did not know the words and then proceeded to get obsessed with robbie fucking williams for a while; slipping away by materia; and 68 guns by the alarm which is a funny little one because it reminds me of my dad but i still enjoy the song and ive made a conscious choice not to limit my music taste just because some asshole whos not even a good hobby ghost hunter likes it too, you know?

do you write/draw/create: all three! granted i havent done much of the first two in a while, but on my defense, losing 7-8 months worth of your memories kind of fucks you up and its oddly time consuming. also developing fainting attacks and spending a week in hospital while they fail to figure out whats wrong with you other than weirdly low blood pressure does not help. but i do have a drawing planned out to do and while i went a little too much detail on one small detail (i will justify it as soon as i actually finish it), im going to finish it. i also do origami pretty often as well as baking, and i am currently building a wooden replica of the titanic AND LISTEN, i started before the titan submersible stuff happened and i havent touched it yet because it just feels weird to, you know? also, i didnt even want to do the titanic, but like, good luck finding any starter kits that arent a) titanic and b) upwards of a £100. i would love to do a ss malolo or a mts stockholm but that aint happening and while i might be able to find an ss normandy or ss united states, im not gonna be able to afford. its titanic or bust which sucks.

tagging but no pressure: @bottlesandbarricades @vaellusvitutus @rad-roach

[hornime]

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[historieofbeafts]

What about some of the weirder and underappreciated sea monsters?

I’m going to level with you, this took forever because whenever I see the words “underappreciated sea monsters” a part of my brain statics out & starts chanting ALL👏 OF👏 THEM

but since I can’t figure out how to turn a beam of concentrated enthusiasm for every sea monster ever to exist into a tumblr post, here’s an attempt to cover some greatest hits:

Serra/Sawfish

Underappreciated really only applies in modern times, since the sawfish had a wildly successful career as a medieval ocean menace & is one of the few marine creatures to regularly appear in bestiaries

Isidore of Seville describes it as having a serrated back that it uses to cut through the bottom of boats (clearly based on Pliny the Elder’s account of swordfish stabbing passing vessels)

But in its most popular iteration the sawfish is more irritating than lethal. Standard operating procedure is to force any ship it sees into a race, only to get bored and tired partway through and plunge back into the depths out of frustration                         

This is supposed to teach a moral lesson about persistence, but it mostly seems like a fun random encounter

The real delight is that, because no description other than “serration” and occasionally “wings” is really offered, artists were free to draw whatever they thought a commitment-phobic sea nuisance should look like

Is it a bird? A dog? A fish? Unimportant! It’s here to cause problems 

[Bibliothèque nationale de France , Latin 10448, fol. 119v]

[The Morgan Library & Museum, MS M.81, fol. 69r]

[British Library, Sloane MS 278, fol. 51r]

[British Library, Sloane MS 3544, fol. 42v]

[Det Kongelige Bibliotek, GKS 3466 8º, fol. 44]

Flying Turtle

This implausible little guy’s first recorded appearance is on a 1558 edition of a map of Northern Europe by Dutch mapmaker Cornelis Anthonisz

It was quickly copied by many of the biggest names in 16th c. cartography, including Abraham Ortelius & Gerard Mercator (of Mercator projection fame/infamy)

In Sea Monsters on Medieval and Renaissance Maps Chet Van Duzer suggests that, since Anthonisz’ publisher printed under the sign of the turtle, it’s possible this was a piece of branded content that got mistaken for a real creature

That’s both great marketing and a great origin for a cryptid. Modern publishing houses take note

“According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a turtle should be able to fly...”

[Michele Tramezzino,  Septentrionalium regionum, Suetiae, Gothiae, Norwegiae, Daniae et terrarum adjacentium recens exactaq. descriptio.]

[Urbano Monte’s 60 sheet manuscript map of 1587, fully digitized and assembled into a planisphere @ the David Rumsey Map Collection]

[Mercator, Tabulae geographicae Cl. Ptolemaei ad mentem auctoris restitutis ac emendatis.]

The Sea Pig of 1537

Blatant favouritism because this is both my icon and the only thing on this list I’ve written about semi-seriously, but it’s forbidden pet time!

In 1537 a pamphlet was printed in Rome briefly describing a monster found in the North Sea and much less briefly explaining how it was a sign of moral decline

Sample interpretations: extra eyes to signify lust & gluttony, a moon on the back of the head to signify turning away from truth, four dragon feet to signify malice from all four corners of the earth

*slaps the roof of sea pig* this bad boy can fit so many allegories for sin in it

Was this propaganda related to growing tensions between Catholics and Protestants? Probably! Was it also cutting edge marine biology? Yup, and it was a breakout hit, making its way into the works of Olaus Magnus, who calls it “ominous in every feature,” and Conrad Gesner, who reclassifies it as a kind of hyena

[The 1537 pamphlet, Monstrum in oceano Germanico a piscatoribus nuper captum & eius partium omnium subtilis ac theologica interpretatio, available in a bad scan from google books here]

[Conrad Gesner, Historia animalium liber IV, digitally available @ the Biodiversity Heritage Library]

Honourable Mention: Whatever This Is

I genuinely don’t know

It shows up off the coast of Sardinia in the 1584 Mercator edition of Ptolemy's Geographia & the monsters in that are mostly derivative, but I can’t think of any source with this much hair, so here are some other possibilities:

Timetravelling wookie

Bigfoot’s No Good, Very Bad Beach Vacation

Lost dog

[ Mercator, Tabulae geographicae Cl. Ptolemaei ad mentem auctoris restitutis ac emendatis ]

Dishonourable Mention: This Guy

Only appears in two sources that I know of, for which I’m eternally grateful

Those sources are 16th c. world maps by Giacomo Gastaldi and Urbano Monte, men who owe everyone an apology for what they’ve unleashed upon the world

Here’s Chet Van Duzer’s translation of Monte’s description: “ …in the ocean here there often appear some fish in human form of such strangeness, that raising themselves above the water they surpass the highest masts of ships, so that, screaming horribly and making some valleys in the water, they move themselves with their arms which they have in the shape of great tree trunks twenty-five palms long, and there is no boatswain’s mate so brave that he would not be terrified by their monstrosity.”

Don’t care for that at all

Joking dislike aside, this resembles a water spirit of the kind more commonly found in bogs, fens, marshes, ponds or streams, and it upsets my sense of order to see it out of its natural habitat & in the open ocean

[Again, you can find Monte’s fully-assembled 60 sheet map at the David Rumsey Map Collection, and it truly is a work of art despite containing this man]

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?��� 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[mokutone]

u posted a snippet of a comic where kakashi was coaxing tenzo to take off his anbu mask, i was wondering if u would ever post the full comic? it seems so sad and sweet and id love to have the full context of why tenz was keeping the mask on and why kk was afraid that he was doing so? if not its okay!

AH i'm surprised you remember that!!!! that feels like ages ago...back in may, i think?

i will post the full comic one day, but i have to ink it and muddle through a color palette first! because ive been so busy, i haven't had time to work on it so the pencils are still at 4/12 pages, but i can share with u what i have atm bc it'd be good to refresh my memory too. be warned obviously that like, these are pencils and not a finished, ready-to-consume product, so many things may be unclear! I'll add a little elaboration of my thoughts at the bottom of each one that should hopefully help!

page one. the top of the page and the box right below it are going to be flat black—the implication that Kakashi is speaking into a room which has no source of light. In the second one, Tenzō's pose is unclear, but he's curled up defensively into as tiny of a ball as he can manage, like a pill bug, even his speech bubbles fall along the outside of him, like he's trying to use them as another defense. In the third, we have Kakashi from Tenzō's POV. He's just opened the door, is standing tall and somewhat rigid like he's expecting an attack, taking in the situation. In the fourth and fifth panels, Tenzō sees this, and turns away, becoming deeply embarrassed that he's come to Kakashi for help at all, and that somebody he respects so much is seeing him in such a "pathetic" moment.

This is the panel you referenced—you can see by Kakashi's posture (low to the ground, loose limbs and no longer stiff or anticipating conflict, keeping a distance between he and tenzō) that he's not actually scared, per se. He's approaching Tenzō with the same gentleness that somebody might use in approaching an injured animal. If he's frightened at all, he's frightened for Tenzō's sake, but mostly he says it because he's having a trouble getting a read on the situation when Tenzō is wearing his mask.

It's true that like, as a former root agent, Tenzō is one of the least expressive people in Konoha, but even still, any movement of his face gives Kakashi more context than the cold porcelain of the cat mask, and walking into an unknown situation with a clearly unwell teammate, Kakashi wants as much context as possible so that he doesn't make the situation worse by accident.

Whether Tenzō complies because he doesn't want Kakashi to feel "scared" or simply because he was given a command is unclear at first, but Immediately after, he starts talking about how he's going to have to be re-evaluated for duty, and how hopsital dodging is a serious problem for a shinobi, etc, indicating that he's not really in a space where he can process emotional consequences very well.

I also make a point of not showing his full face during this page, because a full face will generally ask us to relate to the feelings expressed on the face, and I want those feelings to be as hard to read and unsure as they are for Kakashi in that moment, but I couldn't help but show his eyes when he removes the mask.

Top panel is Tenzo responding to Kakashi's command "let me see it," and him stretching his injured arm out for Kakashi to examine. The second panel should have Kakashi's hands gently grasping Tenzō's. Kakashi doesn't go into his space, and instead asks Tenzō to come into his, so that Tenzō can take his time if he needs it.

Idk, with a shinobi that's Going Through It, pushing their boundaries before they're ready is a good way to make their situation worse, or end up with a kunai in ur gut, so it's not something kakashi's gonna do. It's also, not coincidentally, the first panel we see Tenzō's whole face in (though it's still tilted away), and are therefore asked to try and imagine his feelings.

The next panel where he's observing his shaking hands is almost normal, but then the second he goes right back to covering his face with one of those hands and apologizing, stumbling in his attempt to be open. The two blank panels after that should have Kakashi looking directly at Tenzō, and then looking back down at the wound he's inspecting, and giving Tenzō the verdict "You'll be okay." (i know the speech bubble is low there and looks like it's part of the lower Kakashi panel, but I'll fix that in inks).

Then, like a record caught in a scratch, Tenzō just keeps apologizing, like he's forgotten he can do anything else. Kakashi mistakenly assumes it's because Tenzō thinks Kakashi's mad at him (Tenzō does not think this, both because Kakashi is rarely mad at all, and certainly not at him, and because he doesn't have the emotional space or skills in this moment to consider that Kakashi does feel any particular way about this situation)

Kakashi, who is trying his best but sucks at this kind of thing, is getting frustrated with the apologies, and uncomfortable because it feels like they're directed at him, even though they aren't. It's an unbearably uncomfortable position for him to have somebody apologize so profusely, especially somebody he sees as a trusted teammate and friend, and especially for something that's so clearly out of their control. He doesn't want it.

So, frustrated, he redirects. "What happened on this mission to fuck you up this bad?" the only real indicator of his frustration is that in this sentence his language is more coarse, where before he'd been very placatingly careful, and the expression he makes at Tenzō's arm.

He's thinking "well, this sucks and we're not getting anywhere with it, so I'm just going to ask what happened and get it over with."

Then we see Tenzō's full face again as he takes in the question. Around here, when I add color, the page will begin to shift green, and lighter green near the bottom.

Then, as his hair begins to lift, as though it's floating in water, with a blank face Tenzō will say that he doesn't know what happened.

Then, turning to fully face Kakashi (or us, the viewer) for the first time in these four pages he will correct himself, and say "nothing. nothing happened." But he will be green, and much like within the test tube he was raised in, he will be unclothed and his hair will be floating. The first time we're fully asked (by his direct eye contact) to understand and relate to his feelings, he will make it very clear to us the viewer (and Kakashi who is with us, listening to Tenzō say nothing happened when Clearly Something Happened) that the world he's experiencing for the moment is at odds with the body he's sitting in and the room he's sitting in it with, and that's why he's having such an incredibly difficult time processing anything.

[zambie-trashart]

Caught in My Chest 2/2

Marinette looked around her classroom taking her seat in the back and no one even gave her a second glance except Adrien.

"Marinette, since you missed so much class I can help you after school today if you feel up for it," Lila said sweetly before fake wincing. "Or maybe not my port has been acting up lately," Lila said crocodile tears coming to her eyes.

"Port?" Marinette asked and Alya glared at her from the front of the classroom. "Wouldn't that mean you have..." Marinette started holding her right arm where her piccline was.

"Go on Marinette ask her!" Alya yelled holding Lila close.

"But that's, I just..." Marinette started. "I was just discharged from the hospital with Hodgkin's Lymphoma," Marinette finally said and all faces turned toward her.

Never before had Marinette seen the class so mad at her all because of a lie. How Lila had gotten a hold of this information was unexplainable but the fact that she would turn it around was unspeakable. "I can't believe you would say you have cancer just to try and show up Lila Marinette! You know she was recently diagnosed!" Marinette's breath was caught in her chest and she felt like she could never breathe again. Adrien stood up red faced and shaking.

"You're all idiots! Lila has been playing you since day one and the only reason why I haven't said anything is because I didn't have any proof," Adrien said and Marinette looked at her former crush in shock. "If any of you even bothered to do some research you'd know what a monster she is." Lila looked at Adrien angrily.

"What do you mean proof?" Lila asked trying to keep up her hurt persona.

"Medical records," Adrien said slapping them down on the table. "Also the fact that Marinette here has been in a healthy relationship with Damian Wayne for almost a year now and the fact that he is paying for her treatment and housing her after you turned her parents against her is another factor." Lila's face started to turn red.

"You have no right to go through my documents," Lila said picking up the files.

"I mean if there were any there, your bill of health has been clean for years Lila, Marinette's on the other hand not so much," Adrien said. "That's all I needed to say, we can wait and do more have later when Damian gets here but I can't say he'll be as nice about it. Marinette is the only family I have left and I'm not going to let you drag her through the grass anymore," Adrien added going to sit in the back of the classroom next to his friend.

"You didn't have to do that," Marinette said leaning on his shoulder. "But I appreciate it kitten," Marinette said winking and Adrien knew he was busted.

"I'll always be here for you M'lady," Adrien said and class started without delay.

Lunch rolled around and everyone was conflicted, Lila had lied to them about a deadly illness about so much, and Marinette, who they treated like garbage, was the one who was really sick. A large sigh could be heard from the door and two boys with black hair stood in the doorway one pushed sunglasses to the top of his head smiling and the other's face was stone cold.

"Alright, students of Francois Dupont, my name is Dick Grayson and today we're going to be talking about some certain behaviors of slander toward our name," Dick started and the whole lunchroom froze. "Recently we have heard from a patient of our program to help cancer patients around the world that there has been some issues, we are here to clear that up." Students suddenly noticed that he was reading from a screen on his wrist. "I sound like a robot," Dick whispered to Damian who rolled his eyes.

"Furthermore, patient 13078, Marinette Dupain-Cheng of the Wayne Foundation clinic was taken under our care at time 4:37 on March 30, 2021, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma and moved to urgent care on April 2, 2021, after a biopsy on the first of April, 180 days of treatment are being provided and paid for in full. Lila Rossi who is not a patient of the Wayne foundation clinic has been seen harassing the patient which can cause stress levels to increase and therefore panic attacks which lead to trouble breathing and a shutting down of her lungs or windpipe in general if Miss. Rossi does not comply with our orders or removal from the school and distance from Miss. Dupain-Cheng, then we will be forced to take more forceful action..." Dick continued.

"Is this really necessary? Just stop messing with my girlfriend and apologize you assholes," Damian said and Dick sighed putting his arm down.

"Marinette, we know that things will never be the same but we're here to fight this with you," Alya said and Marinette felt tears well up in her eyes. Even if these people had been nothing but cruel to her she still wanted their support.

"We'll help you in any way we can dudette," Nino said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"That really means a lot guys but I need time to get over this with people who are truly going to be at my side, I'll appreciate everything you do though," Marinette said getting up and walking over to Damian with Adrien following close behind.

"You did what you thought was right beloved," Damian said and Marinette just smiled sadly. Damian looked over her head at Adrien who stared right back. "I think I know someone who might be able to make us all feel a little happier during this time, I'll see what I can do," Damian said leaving the superhero duo together to call a friend who could certainly bring the sunshine into Marinette's life again.

"A lot is about to change kitty," Marinette said holding the blond's hand watching Damian talk on the phone.

"180 days of fun M'lady," Adrien responded and suddenly a boy landed next to Damian and ran over to Marinette.

"Ready to kick some ass future Mrs. Wayne?" the boy asked and Marinette just chuckled blushing. She could already feel the weight being lifted off her shoulders.

The first few weeks were hard, she had to work to stay awake and study, keeping up with others was becoming a challenge.

The second month was painful but then again there was poison in her body constantly being flushed in and out.

The third month, radiation started, she was scared but she knew it had to be done.

Month four, she was almost done they said maybe even healed soon.

Once they had the caner isolated, she just had to have that laser there and then, hopefully, it would all be over.

Marinette had 180 days of meeting Damian's self-proclaimed best friend Jon by her side being whatever he needed her to be, she had the best partner she could ask for who was there to talk to her whenever she was scared, and she had Damian, her rock in the ocean.

When Marinette went into the doctors office and read off her paperwork, tears flooded her eyes as she bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

She was cured. Sixteen years old and she fought cancer and won.

She walked into school looking at the anxious faces of her peers.

"I've wanted to tell you something that I've known since the beginning of treatment, I'm moving to America after this was over, there's something about being here that makes me feel tied down. I did it, I fought and won a war far bigger than myself but somehow there's still something that I feel like I need to do or say, like there's something caught in my chest," Marinette said smiling sadly. "Lila never said anything, and that's what stings the most but I know I leave you guys as better people and you'll never make the same mistakes again, I want you to know I forgive you, every one of you." Marinette looked over her classmates one last time eyeing their expressions of tear-filled faces. "I have a flight to catch, bug out," Marinette said taking Damian's hand and walking past Jon and Adrien at the door and out of the school.

For the first time in a long time, Marinette felt her heart flutter as she took a deep breath and got on the plane.

a/n: This was such a hard story to write for me and I'm so happy to anyone who is reading and hope you enjoyed this experience. It has actual factual information in it and maybe you might have even learned something which would be cool huh? I hope to end up like Marinette in the next 163 days. thank you for reading

-Zambie

Taglist is closed due to story being complete: @hateswifi  @crystalangelluna @liquid-luck-00 @thatonecroc @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @professionalfangirl1738 @mochegato @wannajointhecrabcult @ranger-gothamite @moonspiritwolf1 @mochinek0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ash-amg @enchanted-nerd @mewwitch @zorua-adorable @jumpingjoy82 @coolspidermanmusicflower @yazz-frost  @bugsy05 @rhetoric-question-mark  @myazael @rosep16 @elmokingkong @kking13 @heaven428 @vixen-uchiha @arcticfox487 @toodaloo-kangaroo @battybatbat 

[bitchassbucky]

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet- chapter 66: mistakes

All Chapters

Chapter 65

I was bored and we hardly got to talk openly at the school. And I did want to know a little more about his life before me. "I thought you didnt care about that?" he asked as he began to clean up the food. "I don't, i'm just curious about how you spent your...time before me? I mean we didn't talk much for awhile" he nodded and I stood cleaning up with him. 

"Ok well. I went in one day for a drink after a particular argument with a stubborn, know it all student, who was truly bewitching." he began looking at me and I titled my head at him, laughing quietly and pretending to be offended by his description of me. "And then, I don't know, she just started flirting with me." he got quiet and I smirked at his awkwardness. I could tell he was a little uncomfortable talking about it to me. "Did you guys ever hook up more than once?" I waved my wand and used magic to finish cleaning up and he just looked at me. He didn't care for me cheating my way with everything, and he was perfectly content cleaning it up for me, I knew he enjoyed doing these things for me but why spend the time when I can do it in a swipe. He shook his head walking over to the living room.

"No I never do that." he said, waving his own wand and putting a record on as we sat on the couch next to each other. "You never what?" I asked confused and he sighed looking away. "It's ok Severus, I've passed the level of maturity needed to discuss these kinds of things. Especially since we are partners now." I said softly, resting my hand on his arm and rubbing it comfortingly. "Ive never slept with the same person more than once." he stated not looking at me, it sounded kind of sad when he said it. He said it casually in his deep smooth stern voice, but to me it said a lot about how closed off he'd been. "Severus, have you never dated anyone?" I asked shocked and he shook his head, "No ive never met anyone I could tolerate enough." I was surprised, but it made sense if I thought about Severus and his tendencies. I hoped he hadn't been so incredibly lonely all his life, I mean I may have not dated many people and none of it may have been something real, but I got some feel of the idea. I thought about how old he was and how often he needed needs fulfilled. "How many people have you.." I didnt finish the words hoping he'd catch on and he thought for a moment, "Well how many have you?" he asked like a kid, trying to distract from his own answer. "Well it depends on what we are counting, because I haven't um.. Ya know." I said awkwardly and now regretting having asked, the air got cloudy with the tension and nervous feeling settling it. I had officially put us in the middle of something that wasn't pleasant for either parties. "Oh well, I didn't really keep track." I looked over at him at this comment and my brows pushed together as I held in a laugh, "You dirty man." I smiled and he sighed, "It was just a lot of one night stands and drunken mistakes alright?" I just shook my head, pretending to shame him, "I'm not surprised because you are just so dreamy, but I can't believe you put out so easily." I giggled, "Please can we talk about something else." he said in a more serious tone and I nodded, my head, "Fine." he raised a brow cockily at me. "What about you?" I widened my eyes and shook my head. "Um no I don't think we need to go over that." I went to stand but he held my hand keeping me on the couch, "It would only be fair, I mean we are partners after all." he mocked me in his sarcastic teacher voice and I rolled my eyes. "Ok if you really wanna know." I sighed turning to him, "Just some old school makeouts and hand stuff really. And I think it was stretched over about, ehhh four or five people." he looked a little unhappy with my revelations, so I just stayed silent staring at him. "I see." was all he said and I poked him, "What is it?" He just shook his head, "I didn't realize you had so many different experiences, you're still only a sixth year." He practically scoffed and I laughed, "Are you calling me a slut?" I gasped and his eyes went wide, "No of course not." he said seriously and I laughed, "Severus come on, I have barely done shit compared to other girls my age, I mean what year were you when you lost your virginity?" I asked, trying to prove it wasnt that insane. He stayed silent.

"I was 18 for your information." His tone was full of sarcasm and attitude. "Well thats a good age, I mean things are different for my generation, everyone grew up too soon so we are all on different levels." I reassured him and he just stayed quiet. "Who was it? Besides Lucius." he expressed anger in his tone at the mention of the blonde man. I got silent not knowing what to say, "I cant remember." was all I said and this time he was the one calling me on my bullshit. "Darling it's ok I guarantee I don't know them." I looked down, hiding my scared grin. "No no its best not." was all I said and I quickly got up moving to walk away, he placed his hand on my stomach to stop me. I swallowed slowly, looking down at him and he smirked up at me. He had a cocky little smirk, flashing his eyes, telling me this wasnt done until he found out, now that I was making it a thing he was too intrigued for his own good. "You cant be mad." was all I said and he looked at me with a doubtful face.

"It was just a little making out and... grinding ok nothing like with Malfoy." I continued to lessen the situation. "Y/n for merlin's sake just tell me." he quipped and I sighed looking down at him, "It was Remus." his face dropped and I sighed, "I'm sorry!" I immediately pleaded and he just looked at me with a plain face, pale and cold as ever. I could see his eyes darken and I quickly put my hands on his shoulders, "I swear that little mutt!" he muttered through his teeth, tensing up, "Ill get him fired so fast." He added and I quickly shook my head, "No you won't, I like Remus, and we are just friends now, but It was also just a drunken thing that happened after an incident with someone." He looked up in my eyes at my comment and sighed. I walked closer to him and he rested his head forward on my chest, I just laughed and brushed my fingers through his hair, "You know you went for some of the men I despise the most." he mumbled and I laughed, lifting his head and sitting on his lap, "Im sorry, but I want this to be out in the open, we still have so much to learn about each other, and I want us to be comfortable together." he nodded in agreement and I smiled. "Whatever are we to do for the rest of the afternoon?" I asked adoringly, admiring his face and mouth. He looked at me and leaned in, placing a kiss to my lips making me smile and blush. I hummed into the kiss and pulled away looking in his eyes. "I think we should just stay in together." I bit my lip and fluttered my eyelashes and he let out a small laugh. "Now who's the dirty one." he mocked and I rolled my eyes. I was still a nervous wreck around him but I tried my best to keep up with my sarcastic remarks. I decided to just take control and respond with another kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. I pressed my lips to his soft cold ones and pulled the hair at the base of his neck. I hoped I wasn't overstepping, usually Severus had been making the first moves so It was a change to be instigating for once. He pulled away to breathe and just brushed my hair from my face, "What's gotten into you?" he asked, a little taken aback by my actions, assuming he was also referring to last night. I just shrugged, "We don't get much completely alone time." I reminded him and he nodded, "Yes I suppose that's true." he patted my legs as I sat across his lap and looked down, "You know we have only been together not even a month." I said softly and he just looked over my face, reading my expression and listening closely. "It seems like longer almost." I mumbled and he nodded softly, "We fought for so long." he added and I frowned, "There's still so much I dont know.." I stated softly, realizing that I really didn't know a lot about him. "I mean what were you like in school, what were your parents like?" he tensed at the questions and I looked at him in the eyes, He gave me a look as if to check I was serious, "You really want to talk about this now?" he asked, raising a brow and I nodded.

We spent hours sitting on the couch and telling each other things, he told me all about his rather sad childhood, I couldnt even imagine how scary it was. And it explained a lot on why he was so jaded and cold. His mother, who was in the picture on the stairs, was kind and beautiful. However his dad was a shitbag, abusive and a drunk. He made deals with bad people and his mother and young Severus would often pay the price. I felt there was a whole other part of his life he neglected to tell me, but I didn't press on the idea. And he asked me about my sister, and my family as well. Tensing up when I would talk about my father.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom, maybe pick out a book for us to read." I suggested after our conversation had come to an end. He nodded, smiling and dropping my hand as I walked off around the couch and up the stairs. Making my way into the bedroom smiling as I thought about my kind Professor I had finally snagged after months of pining after. Doubtful we would ever get this far. I heard a small snicker and I turned around, not seeing anyone. I guess it came from Severus but who knows what he was up to and it didnt sound like a noise he normally made. I felt a pinch in my neck and grabbed it with my hand, "Ouch." I whispered, walking into the bathroom and looking in the mirror. I felt the sting make its way down my neck and watched in the mirror as the veins spread across my collarbone and shoulder. I furrowed my brows looking around confused. Once again I was having a reaction and it wasn't being spurred on by anything. "Y/n come here." I heard a hushed voice and jumped slightly looking around. I didnt see Severus anywhere, and it didnt sound like him at all. I listened closely only hearing the sound of rain hitting the window, "hello?" I whispered back hissing as I felt a sharp pain in the spot on my shoulders. "What the fuck." I mumbled before hearing a laugh again, "Y/n over here." I heard the voice again and I looked all around the small room. It sounded right behind me but also distant and it echoed. I felt my shoulder begin to sting worse. "Ow mother fucker." I said gripping my arm. It continued escalating and I squeezed my eyes shut, "Fuck fuck fuck." I whispered not wanting to alarm Severus. It had never hurt this bad when I was perfectly calm before.

I could hear a heartbeat in my head and leaned over the sink, I felt a migraine take over and I grabbed my head rubbing my temples, I started to see my vision flash and I looked up in the mirror, my view flickered and morphed into another, like I was in someone else's body. It went back and I gasped at what just happened, squeezing my eyes shut once again at the throbbing pain prickling through my head. It was so strange it was like when you enter someone's mind and are viewing a memory. Except I wasn't viewing it from above, I was in it. It happened again, my surroundings shaking and flashing to the other reality. I looked around and saw I was in a bathroom only it was somewhere else, looking in the mirror I gasped and jumped back seeing a familiar face. It was Harry. Except I was him, I was seeing what he saw, and he looked equally as afraid. "If you want help follow me." I heard the voice echo through the air, Harry and I looking around. "What do you want?" I asked as I closed my eyes, "If you want your school safe, come see me." I opened my eyes sharply at the demand. I was back in Snapes bathroom, looking like myself in the mirror. It got very silent, all I could hear was my heart pounding and my heavy breaths.

I felt a energy pouring out to me and leaned up from over the sink slowly, looking towards my right. I slowly locked my gaze with something outside the window. Out in the field behind Severus' house. I sucked in a breath, ignoring the buzzing pain in my head and the stabbing hot pain in my shoulders and back. It was some sort of person it seemed. In all black and a covered face, it didnt look like a death eater, and its energy was making me feel very uneasy. I just heard murmured whispers and felt my hands shake. "Want to keep your friends safe?" I heard a voice snicker and I just nodded, "Want your mother to be left alone?" I swallowed the fear and sighed. I didnt know what this was but I didn't like how it was threatening me in such ways. "Just come talk to me." I made my way up to the window and the figure just stood still, not tearing its gaze from mine. I looked at the door, seeing if Severus was around, before looking back at the creature. I sighed, letting my curiosity get the best of me once again and waving my hand, apparating out into the yard.

I appeared in front of the tall form and immediately was washed over with a burning feeling all across my skin. I held in the groans of pain enduring it all as the veins spread across my arms slowly seeping through every crevice, as i shook from the pain. It had never been this bad before. The cold rain hit my hot skin and it felt like pins and needles all over. "What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice stern. I heard the sound of a door open and I turned to look behind me along with the masked thing in front of me. My Professor stood in all black with a worried look on his face, "Y/n!" I heard Severus yell from across the way. He began making his way over to me, pulling out his wand. "Come with me now and don't fight and I can promise his safety." The man behind me hissed calmly and I turned looking at him. I squinted as the rain drenched my hair and face. "Who are you?" I asked over the sound of thunder, the rain starting to come down harder. "Make a decision." I felt a lump form in my throat and looked back at my professor. He had been listening in and shook his head, I locked my eyes on his and he sent me pleas with his dark irises, filling with rage and worry. "Im sorry!" I yelled and he swiped his wand, apparating closer to me. I grabbed the strange mans hand, mouthing an 'I love you' to Severus just as he reached us, the masked figure apparting us away.

 Taglist; @lovelyhoneylemon @juliijah @lmao-liz

[jadelynlace]

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture. 

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back. 

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest. 

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,” 

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time. 

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion. 

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start. 

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour. 

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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[heli0s-writes]

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.  

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

-

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud. 

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

-

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.  

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.  

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again. 

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

<Two days ago, pictures were taken in Hong Kong of James Barnes and a mysterious woman. Our sources here at TVB have worked tirelessly to uncover her identity.>

<Today we have the pleasure of introducing her to everyone tuning in. This is the first time you’ve ever been in the public eye, and astonishingly, next to two of the best pilots in the Program. There are so many questions, but first, the whole world wants to know…. why keep it secret?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally­­—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

<Natasha Romanoff-->

“She was one of a kind.”

<Was it hard to—>

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until  Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses. 

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

<The jacket tells a different story.>

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

<Do you plan for James to return to the cockpit? Is that the goal? James, how do you feel about all of this, taken away from your own Jaeger?>

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay.  “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

<What is priority at the moment?>

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.” 

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

-

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”  

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.” 

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

[words-for-holland]

Your Shoulder to Cry On

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N has been feeling down all day and Tom wants her to know that he’ll always be here for her.

Maybe it was just one of those Mondays, but today just seemed like the worst ones Y/N has ever experienced. Truthfully she didnt know how it happened. She was having a great morning, waking up in Tom’s arms, giving him his daily dose of kisses before he left to film, and actually getting her work done with time to spare.

But there was definitely a change in the wind that day and it all started with a...

Ding

With all the free time Y/N had she couldnt help but check her phone, guessing it was either Tom or her parents checking up on her, or maybe her hometown friends who are updating her on what’s going on with their new found adult life.

It was her friends all right...but the conversation was far from friendly. Arguments ensued from her three friends coming after each others neck and of course pulling..no...dragging Y/N unwilling into it. While she said no words, as she tried to find the best way to relieve the tension it was too late. Her good day had become the shittiest day of the week...and its only just begun.

Now abandoning her work, Y/N waits for her boyfriend to come home as she mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, only to see a notification pop up on her phone. Assuming it was another nasty text from her friends, she was much surprised to be welcomed a picture of her and Tom on her feed with a caption saying...

“Cant wait to see my girl after work. It’s been a long day 😫.”

If anything made Y/N smile at all today it was Tom. In some weird way its like he knew how she felt without even telling or seeing him. He was her rock after all and if there was anyone she could count on to make her smile in the least it was Tom. Just on cue, he called her right after.

“Hello darling.” He greets sleepily.

“Hey babe.” Y/N responded quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm. Oh..yeah just fine.” She lies, hoping not to worry him too much.

“Darling, I can tell you’re not. You dont sound like yourself. Ill be home soon okay? Tell me all about it?”

Y/N nodded as she whispered, “Yeah.”

“Okay..I love you so much. Ill be home soon.”

“I love you too.” She croaks.

Just like that Tom was home in record time, but not without capturing a few things to cheer his girl up. He welcomed her with freshly baked cookies from her favorite cookie shop, and nothing was better than food from her favorite Italian spot. Tom placed the food on the counter as he searched for his girl.

“Love, Im home.” He called out. “Are you okay, darling?”

Y/N popped in the hallway as she ran straight into his arms, not saying a word but holding onto him as if she would lose him.

“Hey..hey. Whats wrong?” He asked in his soothing voice.

“Lots of drama.” She mumbled. “I love you but you didnt have to go through buying all this. I could have cooked for us.”

Tom pulled away from her, giving the look confusion and disapproval. “Cooked for us while you’re clearly upset? Thats absolute bullocks. We’re gonna eat all this food because we can and then youre gonna vent everything out and then.. Im gonna hold you in my arms and coax you to sleep so you can relax and have a shoulder to cry on.”

Y/N smiled at the gesture already wraaping her arms around him, shedding a slight tear at how he would always be here for her. “I love you so much Tom.”

“I do too. Now tell me what’s wrong, darling.”

So Y/N did tell him everything from what happened with her friends and how the unecessary pile of work came up on her, and all the insecurities that have just risen out throughout the whole day. She was on his lap as they cuddled into the sofa. Showing her phone, he reads the last remaining texts from the conversation.

“I’m unfollowing y’all on everything and i am not answering another text just thought i would throw how crazy that is, out there. So at this point i’m done. forget it y’all can chill i’m out:) ”

“Wow.” He said, taking a moment to process what happened. “She really meant it, didnt she?”

Y/N nodded as she put her phone away. “Yeah and now Im just in the middle because I dont know what to do or who to support. Our whole friendship is breaking apart and I just dont want to lose any of them.” She cries silently, occaionally bring up the sleeves of Tom’s hoodie to wipe her nose and eyes.

“Hey, look its not your fault you were just trying to help. I know you guys have been friends for so long and Im sure that this is just a small bump and all four of you will get together and this will all be put past behind you.” Tom encourages as he tucks a small piece of her hair behind her ear, leans in for a comforting kiss on her forehead. “Darling, I know how much you wanted to fix things between your friends but it’s not your fault. This isnt yours to fix you just need to give it some time yeah? Even if your friends dont stick around thats on them, but just know I will always be here for you. Ill be your shoulder to cry on, and I sure as hell wont leave or unfollow you.” He chuckles at the situation, wiping away her tear stained cheeks.

“Haha how funny.” She sniffles and smiles at Tom’s corny attempt to make a joke of the situation like he always does.

“See theres that smile, Ive been waiting all day to see. I just can’t get enough of it.” Tom compliments. “That smile should stay there for good. Fuck anyone or anything that tries to take it away for you.”

“Thank you Tommy.” Y/N says sweetly, leaning in and pressing her lips against Tom’s.

Tom smiles back into the kiss gently cradling the back of her head. “Anytime darling. Now let’s see if there are other ways to make you feel better.” He winked as he carried her up to their room.