#my sanity stands on the edge of a knife and i have to do what i can.

[crowtrobotx]

Just a heads up that I will likely be muting my phone and all social media tomorrow and possibly longer. I just do not have the energy to engage in any discourse or frankly See Anything Upsetting. I did what I could and tomorrow and probably the next day is just going to be about surviving for me.

[xmattschainx]

Push and Pull

the one where you get in a fight with matt and say you hate him so he also wants to show you how much he "hates" you but only in the mirror (12.3K words)

Contains: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, self voyeurism, overstim, soft!dom! boyfriend matt x sub!fem reader

The room felt like a pressure cooker, the walls squeezing in tighter and tighter as I struggled to breathe. Every creak of the old floorboards seemed to echo in the tense, suffocating silence between Matt and I. The air was thick with everything left unsaid over days, weeks, maybe even months. Every muscle in my body was wound tight, frustration coiling up inside me like a snake ready to strike. I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me—or not looking at me, really. Matt’s face was blank, his lips pressed into a stubborn line, his silence like a brick wall I kept slamming into. My hands were clenched at my sides before I gave in to the rush of frustration and shoved him.

And I shoved him hard, surprising myself with the amount of force that exuded from me. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing anymore. My hands were shaking, but I pushed him, needing to see some kind of reaction, needing to make him feel something. “You don’t get it, do you?” I shouted, my voice breaking around the edges and slicing through the stillness of the room. The hurt that had been simmering there for so long clawed its way up, twisting my words into ugly, desperate things. I pushed him again, harder this time, as if I could physically shake the understanding into him. “You never listen. You never even try to, Matt.”

Matt stood there with his jaw clenched, unyielding, his cold blue eyes locked onto mine. He took a small step back to steady himself, his body coiled tight, ready to break. He didn’t speak, not yet, even though I could see his composure fraying. His silence, his infuriating, maddening silence, made my chest tighten with even more anger.

I shoved him again, desperate for any kind of reaction out of him. His body barely shifted, but I felt the tension in him, like he was barely keeping himself together. The way his jaw stiffened, the way his fists curled at his sides, it was evident something dark was brewing inside of him, simmering beneath that infuriating silence.

“You think it’s okay to just shut down like this? To stand there and act like I’m the crazy one?” I screamed, my voice cracking despite my attempts to keep it steady. I felt like I was suffocating. Every time I spoke, it felt like I was throwing my voice into an empty void. His silence was a knife, cutting deeper than any words he could have said.

Matt didn’t move, didn’t say a damn thing, and something inside me snapped. I shoved him one more time, my palms pressing against the hardness of his chest. I hated how solid he felt, how immovable. “Say something, damn it!”

His nostrils flared, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. Something I couldn’t quite name. His silence wasn’t calm; I knew that. I could feel the storm he was holding back, the one that mirrored my own. But he kept swallowing his words, which kept pushing me to the edge of my own sanity.

My breath came out ragged, and I hated the way my voice trembled. The frustration clawed at me, tearing me apart. I felt like I was burning alive, and his stillness, his stubborn refusal to fight back, felt like gasoline on the flames. I stepped forward again, my voice breaking. “Do you even care?” I demanded, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes, hot and furious.  “Do you ever care, Matt, or am I just… am I just screaming into the void?”

Matt’s eyes flickered, and I saw something crack, his composure visibly crumbling. As his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, he finally spoke. His voice coming out low and rough, every syllable trembling with barely controlled anger. “You think I don’t care?”

My heart lurched at the sound of his voice, at the force of it, but I didn’t let myself falter. My heart was pounding erratically. I wanted to throw his words back at him, wanted to scream that it felt like he didn’t. But the raw anger in his voice made me freeze, just for a second, before I forced myself to stand my ground. “Yeah, maybe I do! Because all you do is—” my words cut off, caught in my throat as Matt finally, finally, moved. He stepped forward, closing the distance I had been trying so desperately to maintain.

“I’m not saying anything because if I do, it’s going to make this worse. Is that what you want?” His voice was still low, but the sharp edge was there, like a crack in the surface of something dangerous. His eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw how close he was to breaking, how much he was holding back.

For a moment, we just stood there, locked in that terrible, fragile tension, neither of us willing to back down. We were standing so close that I could feel the heat radiating from him. My hands hovered near his chest, fingers trembling, and I realized I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shove him again or pull him closer. The space between us was charged, full of everything we had never said, everything we had buried under fights and stubborn silences. The anger was still there, but this time it was different. It was dangerous, on the verge of tipping into something we might not come back from. It made me want to either scream until I lost my voice or pull him closer until I lost myself. The heat between us wasn’t just anger. It never had been.

But I was afraid. Because if this fight tipped over the edge, if the anger broke and gave way to whatever was underneath, there was no telling what we would become.

The silence hung thick between us, pressing down on my chest until I thought it might crush me. My hands were still shaking, hovering inches from his chest, and I could feel the tears still burning at the corners of my eyes. I was unraveling, breaking apart in front of him, and he just stood there, looking at me like he was barely holding himself together.

I hated how much I wanted to pull him closer, to make him feel everything that was tearing me apart. I hated how he could make me feel so angry and desperate all at once. The words came out before I could stop them, my voice cracking as it sliced through the silence. “I hate you sometimes.”

The second the words left my lips, his expression shifted. Matt’s eyebrow shot up, the surprise flashing in his eyes for only a moment before something more dangerous settled there. I felt my breath catch as he moved, swift and sudden, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. Before I knew what was happening, he had me pressed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. My back pressed against the cold wall, and the contrast made the heat between us feel even more intense. His body loomed over mine, trapping me there, and my pulse raced as I looked up at him. His face was close, so close, his blue eyes searching mine with an intensity that made me forget how to breathe.

He had me pinned, but he was careful… so careful. His hands stayed on the wall, never touching me, even though his presence was suffocating. His body was tense, muscles coiled with barely restrained energy, but I knew he’d never hurt me. That tension that had been building between us was almost suffocating now, crackling in the air, making me feel like I was balancing on the edge of a cliff.

“Sometimes, huh?” Matt’s voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that made my knees weak. His eyes burned into mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembled with barely controlled restraint. “You hate me sometimes?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. His face was so close that I could see the way his jaw flexed, the way his eyes grew colder. My words had pushed him to the edge, and now he was here, trapping me between him and the wall, daring me to say something else. My chest rose and fell rapidly, and I could feel the heat rising in my face.

I wanted to shove him away, to scream at him to stop driving me crazy. But I also wanted something else, something that made me feel even more out of control. The way he looked at me, the way he held himself back from touching me even though he was so close, made my skin tingle with something that wasn’t anger anymore. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all of it, tangled together so tightly that I couldn’t tell the difference.

I bit my lip, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Yeah. Sometimes.” The words shook, but I held his gaze, even though it made my stomach twist with that same confusing, overwhelming feeling.

Matt’s eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually step back. The anger still simmered between us, a tangible heat in the air, but there was something else there, something that made my pulse quicken. His hands moved from the wall, coming down slowly to rest on either side of my waist. I could feel the tremble in his grip, the restraint that was slowly breaking.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my ear, and his voice was rough, like he was fighting every word before letting it escape. “I hate you, too.” he said, and the confession made something clench inside my chest. But his voice softened, cracking around the edges. “I hate how you drive me insane.”

I shivered as his fingers curled around my waist, his touch careful but strong, grounding me even though I was falling apart. He pulled back just enough so he could look at me, his eyes blazing with everything he hadn’t said until now. His gaze drifted over my face, and he lifted his hand, brushing his thumb over my cheek.

“I hate how you bite your lip when you’re trying to hold back your anger.” he murmured, his voice low. His thumb tugged gently at my bottom lip, and the touch sent a thrill racing through me, even as his words made my cheeks burn. “It drives me crazy.”

My breath caught in my throat, but he wasn’t finished. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair out of my face, his fingers trailing down the side of my neck. “I hate the way you push your hair behind your ears when you’re frustrated, even though you know it’s going to fall right back in front of your face.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted, heat blooming under my skin. “And I hate that I notice it every damn time.”

His other hand moved up to cradle the side of my face, his thumb tracing over my jawline. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity there made my knees weak. “I hate how your eyes light up when you’re angry.” he said, his voice rougher now, full of the emotions he had been holding back. “The way you look at me like I’m the only person in the world who can make you feel this much. It makes me want to kiss you and fight you all at once.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers brushing over my collarbone, making my breath hitch. “I hate how soft your skin is.” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “How every time I touch you, it feels like it’s never enough.”

I was trembling, caught between the anger still burning in my chest and the way his touch made my head spin. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine, and his next words made my heart stop. “I hate how much I need you, even when you’re driving me insane.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me again, his hands still holding me, keeping me pinned between him and the wall. His eyes were full of emotions I couldn’t even begin to untangle. “I hate how beautiful you look even when you’re yelling at me.” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I hate that I can’t stop wanting you, even when I know I should just walk away.”

His hands slid back to my waist, holding me tighter now, and I could feel the way his control was slipping. “God, I hate you for making me love every single thing about you.” he whispered, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way that shattered me.

My breath was shallow, my heart pounding. His words had stripped away the anger, leaving something deeper, something more dangerous. The way he looked at me, the way his hands held me like he never wanted to let go, made me feel like I was on the edge of something I couldn’t control.

My heart was racing, every word he said sinking into me like a flame, leaving me breathless. His confession left us both raw, vulnerable, and unguarded, but the intensity in his eyes made it impossible for me to look away. I was still pinned between him and the wall, but it felt different now. The anger had morphed into something deeper, something that twisted and burned in my chest.

His hands on my waist tightened just a fraction, and the tension between us crackled, a spark threatening to ignite. My breath hitched, and I knew he could feel how my body was reacting to him. My heart was slamming against my ribcage, and the space between us felt suffocating, electric.

“I can’t stand you.” I whispered, my voice breaking, though there was no anger left in it. My hands, which had been balled into fists, unfurled and rested against his chest, feeling the steady, erratic thump of his heart beneath my fingertips. I was still shaking, but now it wasn’t from rage. It was from everything else. Everything he made me feel. “You say all that like it’s supposed to make me hate you less.”

A low laugh escaped him, though it was more of a sound caught somewhere between frustration and desire. He leaned in until his forehead pressed against mine, his lips hovering just inches from mine. I could feel his breath, warm and ragged, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You really think I want to make you hate me less?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, sending a thrill straight through me. “I think I’m more addicted to you when you hate me.”

His fingers moved slowly, tracing small circles over my hips, making it hard to breathe. I wanted to shove him away, but I also wanted to pull him closer, to erase the sliver of space between us. I hated the way he knew that, the way he knew me better than anyone else.

“I hate that.” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I hate that you get under my skin like this.” My hands curled into his shirt, pulling him a fraction closer, and the tension between us reached a breaking point. “You make me feel insane, Matt.”

He exhaled heavily, and his eyes locked onto mine. His lips hovered so close to mine that I felt dizzy, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to lose myself in him. His fingers moved from my hips to my back, his touch sending heat rushing through my body. “You drive me insane, too.” he murmured, his voice rough and full of something that made me ache.

And then, all at once, he broke. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, and the fire that had been building between us exploded. I kissed him back instinctively, hard, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. The anger melted into something desperate, something that had been buried under all the shouting and frustration, something that had always been there.

Matt pressed me harder against the wall, his hands gripping my hips, and I felt the heat of his body, the way he couldn’t hold back anymore. I gasped against his mouth, and he deepened the kiss, his touch consuming me. My whole body felt like it was on fire, and I realized that every push and pull, every fight, had led to this.

We were a mess, tangled together, caught up in this endless cycle of love and hate and everything in between. His hands roamed over me, careful but desperate, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, our shared frustration dissolving into something we couldn’t control.

I didn’t know where this was going, if we’d go back to fighting tomorrow, but right now, it didn’t matter. Right now, all that mattered was the way he made me feel, the way his kiss made me forget everything except for him.

Matt was panting, as his forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel the way his body trembled with the same tension that had been boiling over between us. His hands were still holding me against the wall, strong and steady, but he was careful, he always was, even when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. His eyes searched mine, wild and full of emotions that made my pulse race.

“I hate you.” he whispered again, but his voice was breaking now, rough and full of something I could almost taste between us. His lips hovered so close to mine that it was impossible to ignore how my heart was slamming in my chest. “I hate that even when I can’t stand you, when you make me so damn furious, I still want you. So badly.”

His words sent a jolt through me, and my fingers curled tighter into his shirt, feeling the hard beat of his heart beneath my touch. He leaned in, his voice rough and low, and it made every inch of me shiver. “I hate that even when we’re at each other’s throats, I only want to touch you.” he said, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. “I hate that you’re in my head, that you’re under my skin, and I can’t get you out.”

My breath caught, and I didn’t know if I was burning with anger or desire or if there was even a difference between the two right now. His lips brushed against my ear, and I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted, a shiver running through me. “You make me so mad I can’t think straight, and yet all I want to do is kiss you until I can’t breathe.” he murmured, his voice like a confession, breaking with the frustration that had been building between us for so long.

My heart felt like it might explode. His words undid me, made me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. The tension between us was electric, our anger shifting into something that burned just as fiercely but in a completely different way. His hand slid up to cup my jaw, his thumb swiping across my parted lips, and his eyes were so full of need that it stole my breath away.

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze, my body trembling. “Then what are you waiting for?” I whispered, my voice shaking with everything we’d been holding back. “If you want me so bad, Matt, then do something about it.”

For a moment, his eyes widened, and then the last shred of restraint shattered. He closed the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine, and it felt like the world finally fell apart in the best possible way. His kiss was fierce, desperate, and I kissed him back just as hard, my hands tangling in his hair and pulling him closer.

The anger, the frustration, the need, it all melted together, consuming us. His hands gripped my waist, his touch rough and hungry, and I felt like I was free-falling, completely lost in him. The heat between us was overwhelming, and I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the way he made me feel.

And in that moment, I realized that maybe we’d never make sense, but I didn’t care. Because being with him, feeling him, wanting him, and needing him, was the only thing that made me feel alive.

Matt’s hands gripped my waist tighter, and in one swift movement, he pulled me away from the wall. I gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t break the kiss. His arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto him as he held me against his body.

The sudden closeness made my head spin, and the way he carried me, strong and sure, sent a thrill coursing through my veins. His mouth was relentless, his kisses consuming every thought, every shred of doubt, and I clung to him, my hands still tangled in his hair. The need between us was electric, crackling through the air, making everything else melt away.

He moved through the apartment, never breaking our kiss, his lips desperate and unyielding. I felt my back press against the wall for a moment as he adjusted his grip on me, his mouth trailing hot, searing kisses down my neck, and I let out a shuddering breath, my hands sliding to his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

Somehow, Matt managed to navigate us to the bedroom, and he didn’t slow down. He carried me across the threshold of the room with the same desperate energy that had consumed us. But instead of tossing me onto the bed as I was expecting him to, he slowed his pace, his breath heavy against my neck. His grip on my waist was firm as he set me down gently in front of the full-length mirror that stood a few feet away from the bed.

His arms swiped past my waist as he walked around to stand right behind me, so we both could face the mirror standing before us. I felt the heat of his body radiating into mine, while his hands held my hips firmly. I barely had a moment to catch my breath before he leaned down, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear. I met his gaze in the reflection, and the look in his eyes made my heart pound even harder. His expression was raw, full of so many emotions that it left me breathless. The anger we’d been tangled in had transformed into something almost reverent, and it was impossible to look away.

“Look.” he murmured, his voice rough, his hands sliding up my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “I want you to see what I see.” His eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I could feel the way his body pressed against my back, strong and protective. He kept me pinned there, not with force, but with the magnetic pull between us, the connection that felt as though it was tightening, drawing us even closer.

“I hate,” he whispered, his lips grazing my neck. “The way you look at me with those eyes.” His hands slid up, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, making me shiver. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I could barely breathe, the intensity in his voice making my knees weak. “I hate how you bite your lip like this.” he continued, his thumb tugging at my bottom lip. “Oh, the things I want to do to them.”

My breath came out shaky, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he held me there, making me face the reflection of us together. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, like he could see right through me. His hands slid lower, tracing over my collarbone, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“I hate how addicted I am to you.” he said, his voice low and full of longing. His hands slid down, grazing the sides of my waist, and I felt every word reverberate through my body. “How I can’t stop touching you, even when I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

He took a slow, shuddering breath, his eyes darkening as he watched me in the mirror. “And I hate how you drive me absolutely crazy, how every little thing you do makes me want you more.” he whispered, his hands tightening on my waist. “The way you make me lose all my self-control, the way I can’t think straight when I’m this close to you.”

I was trembling, caught between the heat of his body and the intensity in his gaze. He moved one hand up, tilting my head back slightly, making sure I was looking at him. “Do you see what I see?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, full of all the things he never said out loud. “Do you understand how much you drive me insane?”

The way he held me there, made me face myself through his eyes, was more intimate than anything we had ever shared. My heart raced, and I swallowed, unable to tear my gaze away from the raw, vulnerable way he was looking at me. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was desire, devotion, and a fierce, desperate need that consumed us both.

I bit my lip, and his eyes darkened further, his hand tightening on my jaw. “You see?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Even now, I can’t stand how much I need you.”

His hand slid from my jaw down to my throat, not to hold or restrain me, but just to feel my pulse racing under his fingertips. His touch was gentle yet commanding, and I was hyper-aware of every place our bodies pressed together. His other hand drifted lower, moving along the curve of my hip, his fingers splaying across my stomach as he held me against him.

“Look at you.” Matt whispered, his voice heavy with desire. His eyes never wavered from mine in the mirror, and I could feel the way he was fighting to keep his control, the tension coiling in every muscle of his body. “Do you see why I can’t walk away? Why I can’t get you out of my head, even when I’m so angry I can barely think?”

I swallowed hard, my breath catching as he kissed the side of my neck, lingering there, his lips brushing over my skin. The heat between us was palpable, overwhelming, and I couldn’t stop the way I leaned back into him, craving more of his touch, more of this intensity. My hands reached down, covering his where they rested on my stomach, and I felt the shiver that ran through him at my touch.

“I hate that you do this to me.” he continued, his voice rough and unsteady, full of raw honesty. “That you make me feel so out of control, like I’d do anything to have you. Even now, when I should be letting this anger go, all I can think about is you.” His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear, and his voice dropped even lower. “I hate how perfect you feel pressed against me.” he murmured, his hand sliding back up, tracing the line of my waist, igniting every nerve he touched. “How even when I know I shouldn’t, I need you like this.”

My breath came out in a shudder, and I tilted my head to the side, giving him more access to my neck. He took advantage of it, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to my skin, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “Matt…” I whispered, my voice breaking, and he groaned, his grip tightening on me.

“You make me lose my mind.” he confessed, his lips trailing lower, and I could feel the frustration and longing pouring out of him. “And I hate that even when we’re at each other’s throats, I still want you more than anything.”

His hands moved with more urgency now, sliding over my body like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he touched me made it feel like he was trying to claim me, to remind me that no one else could ever make him feel this way. Our reflection in the mirror was a mix of heat and tension, the line between love and hate blurred beyond recognition.

I turned my head slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that was just as desperate, just as full of everything we hadn’t been able to put into words. He kissed me back hard, like he was trying to make up for every angry, unsaid thing. His hands tangled in my hair, slightly tugging so my head could be titled higher.

Matt’s kiss was hungry, devouring, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I turned in his grip, breaking free from our mirrored reflection so I could face him directly. My fingers reached for the hem of his t-shirt and I pulled it up and over his head, discarding it onto the floor. My hands slid up his bare chest, and I felt the rapid beat of his heart underneath my palms, and it somehow made me feel grounded in the moment. He was mine and I was his. Our thundering heartbeats were the proof of that.

His hands found my waist again, gripping me tight as he pulled me flush against him. The intensity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, a storm that reflected everything he felt but couldn’t say. He kissed me again, harder this time, and I kissed him back with just as much desperation, pouring every ounce of frustration and need into it.

Our bodies pressed together, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, his touch hot against my skin. I gasped at the feeling, and he swallowed the sound with a growl, his lips moving to my neck, trailing kisses and light nips that made my knees go weak. “I can’t stand how much I want you.” he whispered against my skin, his voice breaking, raw and full of longing. “Even now, after everything.”

My fingers were found in his hair again, as I tilted my head back to give him more access, and he didn’t hesitate. His hands roamed over me, igniting every inch he touched, and I felt like I was being consumed, lost in him. “Matt…” I breathed, and he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto mine.

The look we shared was a mixture of everything, anger, desire and vulnerability. It made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t control. “Do you understand?” he asked, his voice shaking as his hands cradled my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Do you get how much you mean to me, even when we’re tearing each other apart?”

I nodded, too breathless to speak, and he leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine. “I hate that I can’t let you go.” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “That no matter how hard we fight, I’m always going to want you. Need you.”

My heart twisted at the raw honesty in his words, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a mix of overwhelming emotions flooding through me. I cupped his face, brushing my thumbs over his cheekbones, and pulled him into a kiss that was softer, more vulnerable. It was an answer, a way to show him that I felt it, too. Every burning, uncontainable emotion.

He kissed me back, his lips gentle now, as if we were both afraid of shattering this fragile moment. His hands slid down my sides, and he pulled me closer, his body relaxing into mine, though the tension was still there, simmering under the surface. “We’re a mess.” I whispered against his lips, and he let out a chuckle.

“But we’re our mess.” he replied, his voice husky. His fingers traced small circles on my lower back, and the touch made my head spin. “And I’m not going anywhere, even if you drive me insane.”

I smiled, a shaky, broken thing, and kissed him again, feeling the fire between us transform into something softer, something full of hope. The fight had stripped us bare, exposed every raw nerve, but here we were, still tangled up in each other, still holding on.

Matt’s hands moved to my waist, and he picked me up again, his eyes full of something warm and unbreakable. “We’re not done yet.” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “I’m going to show you exactly how much you mean to me.”

He carried me to the bed, never breaking eye contact, and I felt my heart race in a different way now. The anger was gone, replaced with something even more powerful, and I knew, no matter how many fights we had, we’d always find our way back to each other.

My back met the softness of the mattress, but he was right there, following me down, his body pressing against mine as he kept me pinned beneath him. His weight was a comfort and a thrill, and I couldn’t stop the way I arched into him, my lips finding his again, hungry and desperate.

My hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense under my touch, and the fire between us only grew. His mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot on my neck, and I couldn’t stop the small, breathless moan that escaped my lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hands exploring, his body pressing me into the bed with a possessive urgency that made me feel like I was on fire.

Then something shifted inside me. I could feel the heat of his body, his touch, his gaze, but now there was a different kind of pull. A daring thought that made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected. We were both so raw, so stripped of our walls, and I knew this was the moment to push the boundaries, to ask for something more.

I ran my fingers down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under my touch, and the way his muscles tensed in response. I could sense the hunger in him, the need for more, but there was something else, something I’d always wanted but never quite said aloud.

“Matt.” I whispered, my voice low and a little unsteady as I met his gaze, watching his eyes flicker with curiosity. “I want you to teach me a lesson.” I said, my words hanging in the air between us, daring him to challenge me.

His brow furrowed slightly, a questioning look crossing his face. “What do you mean by that?” His voice was rough, but there was an edge of caution in it, as if he wasn’t sure where this was going.

I could feel the weight of his uncertainty, and it sent a rush of excitement through me. “You know how much I like it when we’re reckless.” I continued, my words coming faster now, a mix of confidence and need. “When we’re not so… careful. When we’re not playing it safe.”

I saw his breath hitch at my words, and a slow, dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The same smile I’d seen before, when we’d both let go of our inhibitions and let the passion between us burn out of control. It was a reckless thing, but it was always what pushed me, always what made me feel alive.

“I want you to take control.” I said, my voice quieter now, but full of intention. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel everything.”

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide. The air around us seemed to grow thick with anticipation, every nerve in my body lighting up under his gaze. He was still, but there was a storm brewing beneath the surface, and I could feel it. The tension in his muscles, the quickened breath, he was holding back just as much as I was, and I could feel it.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” Matt’s voice was low, gritty, as he hovered above me, looking down at me like I was something he couldn’t resist. “You’re asking for it.”

I shivered at his words, the rawness in his tone making my heart race even faster. My pulse was pounding in my ears, and I felt a thrill of excitement rush through me. It made me feel like I was losing control in the best possible way. I smiled up at him, my lips curling into something that was part challenge, part desire. “Then show me.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Show me how much you really want me.”

Without a word, his lips crashed onto mine, but this time it wasn’t tender. It was demanding, hungry, filled with everything we’d both been holding back. The kiss was deep, fierce, his hands roaming over me with a hunger I hadn’t seen in him for a long time.

I could feel the way he pulled me closer, closer, until there was no space between us, and I knew this was it. There was no going back now. He wanted to teach me a lesson, and I was ready to be taught, ready to give in to everything he wanted.

Matt pulled my hands over my head and tightened his grip around my wrists as he pressed me further into the bed, his weight following down on me in one swift, controlled motion. As he topped me, I could feel the weight of his presence which was solid, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore. Every nerve in my body was lit ablaze.

His free hand moved quickly, impatient, but deliberate. He wasn’t being gentle anymore. His fingers trailed down my body, skimming over my chest, my stomach, making my skin burn with every touch. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as he pushed me further into the mattress, his body pressing against mine with an undeniable force.

His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in anticipation. His expression was intense, the kind of look that made everything else fade away. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just pure need. He slid his hand down my body, taking hold of my waist, his thumb brushing over the waistband of my sweatpants, his touch sending jolts of electricity through me.

He didn’t give me a chance to think before he was tugging at my pants, pulling them down with a raw, impatient motion. I gasped as his lips moved down on my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as his hand worked their way up my thighs. I shuddered under his touch, rough and possessive, making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” he whispered, but there was no softness in his voice, just a challenge, a dare. His eyes burned with a fierce desire, and I could tell he was barely holding it together. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

I shook my head, my voice barely a breath as I answered, “Don’t stop. Please.”

A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face, and he nodded as if that was all the confirmation he needed. His hand moved closer to where I ached for him, exploring with no caution, only the promise of a wild, unfiltered kind of connection that I knew would drive me crazy. I arched into him, my body reacting before my mind could catch up, and the intensity between us grew, more electric, more desperate.

There was nothing soft about the way he began to kiss me again. His lips were bruising, his teasing fingers pulling me tighter, with an urgency that left me breathless. I felt completely consumed by him, every inch of my body aching for his touch, for the wild, reckless connection that had always been a part of us.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice dark, and there was something primal in the way he looked at me, something that made me feel both wanted and lost in the best way possible.

I managed to nod amidst the writhing from the delicious play of his fingers. “Yes.” I breathed, my voice trembling with need. “I want this. I want you.”

With that, Matt’s remaining restraint snapped. “On your knees. Now.” he demanded standing up, and I obeyed instantly as I sat up on the bed. Before I could fully adjust, Matt was already moving behind me, sliding onto the bed with a fluid, almost predatory grace. He settled himself against me, his chest pressing to my back as he let out a satisfied hum. I could feel his heat radiating off of him, and it made my body tighten in anticipation.

I finally registered what was happening, we were facing the mirror again. His hands grabbed my hips and began to draw circles onto my skin. I watched in the reflection how I was a panting mess while he looked at me with sheer determination probably coming up with ways on how to ruin me tonight in the best way possible. There was no hesitation in him now, just pure drive.

He didn’t say anything at first, but I could feel his hands moving over me. They slid up my back under the fabric of my shirt, until his fingertips found the bare skin of my stomach. I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his touch, and just as I thought I might lose myself in it, he spoke, his voice low and heavy with intent.

“Look at us.” he murmured, his voice gravelly with desire. “I want you to see exactly what’s happening. See how I have you, how badly I want you.” His hands shifted, moving to my waist and he tugged me back into him with a force that made my pulse spike. I could feel the press of his body against mine, the weight of him behind me. “Eyes on us only.” he commanded, his voice low and filled with an intense, possessive edge to it as his hands gripped me tighter urging me to face the reflection at all times. “I want you to see how much I fucking crave you. How much you drive me insane. I want you to see this. All of it.”

My pulse quickened at the sight of us like this. This image was not going to leave my mind anytime soon, guaranteed. I could feel his breath against my neck, as his hands slid all over my body.

Matt’s eyes watched as he held me in place, steady and determined. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately, brushing my hair aside and kissing my neck again, the sensation sending waves of heat through me. The image in front of us caused me to let out a whine. Watching the way Matt took me was enough to make me lose my mind.

I could see us in the mirror, my body pressed up against his, desperately grinding to be able to feel him in every way. His hands roamed over me as I surrendered to his touch, my eyes meeting his in the reflection. The way he touched me was nothing short of possessive, but there was a wild intensity in his gaze that made everything inside me burn hotter.

“You’re mine.” he declared, his hands tracing the line of my waist as he continued to guide me, to make me see the way he had me, the way he needed me. “And I’m not letting you forget it.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mirror, from the sight of him behind me, his hands moving over me with such authority. It was like a constant reminder of what we had, what we shared, what drove us insane. There was no softness now, only the raw, unfiltered connection that we both craved.

Matt moved again, his lips pressing to the curve of my shoulder as he spoke, his words a dark promise. “I want you to see how fucking perfect you are for me.”

The intensity in his voice, in his touch, made my breath catch. But it was the way he made me look at us in the mirror that took me to the edge. He wanted me to witness it, to see the rawness, the passion, the hunger.

“Tell me you see it.” he demanded, his voice a low growl against my skin, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Tell me you see how much I need you. How much I fucking hate that I can’t stop wanting you, even when I should.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us, and I nodded, breathless. “I see it.” I whispered, my voice shaky, as I caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror again. Matt’s hands roamed over me, his eyes locked onto mine, both of us caught in the heat of the moment. “I see everything.”

Matt’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good.” he muttered, before pulling me closer, forcing me to feel every inch of him against me, to feel how badly he wanted me, how much he couldn’t stop.

In the mirror, we were nothing but two bodies tangled in heat, raw and real. The recklessness, the intensity, it was all laid bare for us both to see.

His hands slid lower, pushing the fabric of my shirt up, exposing more of my skin to his touch, and I couldn’t help the gasp that left my lips. He leaned in closer, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just beneath my ear as his hands continued to explore me in a way that was possessive, urgent, and relentless.

I stared at our reflection and I could barely recognize myself. My face was flushed, my body trembling under his touch, the raw hunger between us reflected in the glass. The tension in the room was thick, palpable, and as he moved against me, guiding me to a rhythm that was anything but gentle. I could feel every inch of my body burning for him, the need growing, swelling, until there was nothing else but us.

The last piece of clothing was peeled off of me and thrown off the bed. The tension, the heat, everything in the room seemed to intensify as we came together skin to skin. His hands skimmed over the newly exposed areas of my skin, touching me like he was marking his territory, claiming me in ways that made my head spin. Every movement felt like it was too much and not enough at the same time.

I felt completely exposed, held in place by his hands, his body, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me in the reflection. He was so close, the heat of him making me tremble with desire. “Fuck, just look at you.” he groaned, his lips just brushing my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as my eyes fell closed. His hands gripped my hips hard, pulling me back into him with a force that made my eyes shot open. “Eyes open, remember?” he whispered, his voice rough, demanding. “You’re going to watch me take you how I want to.”

Matt’s hands moved with intent, his fingers grazing over my skin like he was marking every inch of me, every curve, every soft, trembling part of me that responded to him. My body was completely alive under his touch, each sensation driving me wild, and I couldn’t escape it. His lips, his body, the heat between us, everything blurred into one, and the reflection in the mirror only made it more intense.

I could see in the mirror the way his eyes darkened with something darker than just lust, something deeper, something more possessive. The way his jaw clenched, how his body seemed to take on a life of its own as he held me, as if the two of us couldn’t be separated by anything now. My breath caught as he moved me again, pressing me harder against him, both of us becoming consumed by the moment.

His hands slid upward, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my bare stomach before moving higher, teasing me with soft, deliberate touches. My breath hitched as his palms cupped my breasts, his touch firm yet reverent. I tilted my head back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttering shut, but his low voice brought me back.

“Eyes open, remember?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of admiration and control. “Look at yourself. Look at what I see.”

I opened my eyes reluctantly, meeting our reflection in the mirror again. The sight made my pulse quicken. His hands were moving slowly, as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of me. His gaze was fixed on mine in the mirror, which made my skin flush and my heart race.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my neck as his hands continued their maddening exploration. “God, the way you feel under my hands. Like you were made just for me.” he groaned as his hands continued to move, roaming lower and then higher again, tracing over my skin like he was sculpting me.

His fingers faintly grazed my sensitive nipples and I shivered, my head falling back against him. My breath hitched, my body arching slightly into his touch as his thumbs continued their teasing. 

His hands cupped me roughly as he pulled me back into him. The way he massaged the swells of my breasts in a tantalizing way had me whimpering defeatedly, and the glass reflected every moment of it. With one hand I reached behind and held onto the nape of his neck, in an attempt to anchor myself as I slowly spiralled away, as the other held onto one of his arms that had me currently at his mercy. His touch was so consuming, it felt like he was imprinting himself on me, marking me, claiming me in ways that was far from soft and gentle.

He wasn’t holding back anymore, and neither was I. Every inch of us was a mix of hunger and heat, of something wild and unrestrained, like we were both completely untethered in this moment. The reflection showed how much he was losing himself in me and how I was losing myself in him.

I could feel myself slipping, and yet, I didn’t want to pull away. If anything, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

“Fuck…” Matt whispered, his voice trembling now with that same rawness that had been building since the moment he touched me. His hands moved lower, pressing into me with an almost desperate urgency, his chest rising against my back with every heavy breath. “I can’t get enough of you.”

His words were pushing me further to the edge, electrifying every part of me. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I could only feel him, feel the way he gripped me, the way he held me against him, the way he claimed me. And I couldn’t stop myself from giving in.

“See how much I need you? Even when I can’t stand you.” he said, his breath warm against my skin as he kissed along my shoulder. “You drive me fucking wild. You make me lose control in the best way.”

All that came out of me was a pathetic breathy cry in response to his confession, because I couldn’t form any words right now even if I tried. I could only focus on how mercilessly his fingertips were pinching and rubbing my now erect and sensitive nipples.

“You’re fucking perfect for me.” he went on, his lips close to my ear. “I hate how much I can’t stop needing you. Even when we’re tearing each other apart.”

“I- I can’t anymore.” I shook my head desperately not being able to handle it anymore. “Please… I need you so bad.” I begged him.

“I hate how perfect you are.” he said, his tone darkening as his hands slid lower, exploring every inch of me calculatively. “How every part of you drives me insane. Your body, your skin, the way you sound when you can’t take it anymore…”

“M- Matt.” I stuttered, my voice trembling as I watched him in the mirror. My hands gripped the sheets trying to steady myself as I felt him swipe against my swollen folds. But the way his hands moved, slow and teasing, never giving me enough to satisfy the ache building inside me made it impossible to hold on.

He smirked, his lips brushing against my shoulder as his hands continued their torturous path. “Look at you fall apart so beautifully.” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower as he made sure to neglect my aching bud just so he could torment me for a little longer. “Completely undone. Completely mine.”

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment before I forced them open again. The sight of us in the mirror, the way his hands roamed over me, the way his lips hovered over my skin, was almost too much.

“I can’t…” I gasped, my voice breaking as one finger pushed inside me, slowly pumping me, his pace steady, as if he was intent on driving me over the edge.

“Yes, you can.” he said, his tone firm but filled with dark amusement. His hands tightened slightly on my hips, pulling my legs further apart. “You can take it. Because you love this. You love what I do to you.”

I couldn’t deny it. The way he touched me and the way he looked at me. It was overwhelming, maddening, and yet I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t think I could bear it if he did.

I watched, wide-eyed, as his fingers moved expertly, almost effortlessly, sending jolts of pleasure through me that made my head spin. My body reacted to every touch, every movement, and the reflection only made it worse. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his body clenched as he held me, the way his chest heaved with every breath. I felt like I was drowning in the heat of it all, but there was no escaping.

“Matt, please.” I pleaded, my voice trembling as I met his eyes in the mirror again. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make my breath catch, and I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet.

“Say it.” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. His hands moved slower now, teasing me with a maddening precision that made my body tremble. “Say you love how I touch you. Say you love how I make you feel.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I tried to form the words. “I love it.” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible.

He smirked again, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And as another finger entered me, teasing and tormenting me, I knew he meant it. I couldn’t look away from the mirror, couldn’t escape the intensity of his gaze, the way he made me feel like I was completely his. Completely consumed. Completely undone.

Matt’s other hand caressed my curves, igniting sparks with every touch. My body was trembling under his control, caught between desperation and surrender. In the mirror, I saw the reflection of myself which was blushed and breathless, as my chest rose and fell rapidly whereas Matt looked so much more composed and steady behind me, with his eyes never leaving mine.

His hand then slid down to my thighs, his grip firm as he pulled my legs further apart so I could stop clenching them close. I could feel the strength in his hold, the tension in his body as if he was holding himself back, waiting for something. His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, then down my spine, taking his time as if he had all the time in the world all while his fingers continued to pump me. And it only heightened the ache building inside of me.

“Matt, please.” I gasped, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I was feeling. The tension in my body was unbearable, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He smirked against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Please, what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you want, baby. Say it.”

I met his eyes in the mirror again, my reflection a perfect picture of surrender. My parted lips trembled as I tried to find the words, but I could only focus on how his fingers felt against my walls. His calculated torture continued, and I couldn’t hold back the shaky cry that escaped me.

“Please.” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t take it anymore.”

His smirk deepened, his hands tightening on my hips as he pulled me even closer. “You can.” he said, his voice firm but filled with dark amusement. “And you will.”

Probably gaining some sympathy for me, his thumb finally attended my throbbing bud, his touch sending a fresh wave of electricity through me. My body arched against him, my head falling back against his shoulder as I let out a soft, breathless moan. The tension inside me was unbearable now, a storm building with no escape.

“Look at yourself.” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, his gaze so intense it made my heart race. “Look at how beautiful you are. How perfect you are. So needy just for me.”

My breath hitched, my hands gripping the sheets below me as I tried to hold on, but the way his hands moved, it was impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Look at me.” he commanded softly, his voice low but firm. His hand slid up my back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as he pressed gently between my shoulder blades, making me arch just enough to meet his eyes in the mirror. My breath hitched at the sight.

There we were, framed perfectly in the reflection. My hair was messy, cascading over my shoulders, my lips parted as I tried to catch my breath. Behind me, Matt’s eyes were locked on mine, intense and smoldering, his chest rising and falling with the same rapid rhythm as mine. His hand gripped my hip now, steadying me, grounding me, as if he could feel how close I was to unraveling. The reflection captured every detail of us, the way I was on my knees, my hands gripping the sheets, and Matt right behind me working through me. But all I could do was whimper at the sinful moving image in front of us.

Matt’s hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to my stomach, pulling me closer against him, while the other remained between my legs buried in me, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. My body trembled under his hands, as he pushed me further and further to the edge.

“Don’t look away.” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes never left mine in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to do anything but obey.

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers clutching the sheets beneath me as he moved more quickly now. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to drive me to the brink and keep me there, hovering just out of reach of release. It was maddening, overwhelming, and yet, I didn’t want it to stop.

“Matt.” I gasped, my voice barely more than a whisper. My head tilted back slightly, but his hand on my stomach tightened, guiding me back into the position he wanted.

“Eyes on the mirror.” he reminded me, his tone firm but filled with dark promise. “I want you to see yourself. See what you do to me.”

My eyes flicked back to the mirror, and the sight was almost too much. His jaw was tight, his lips slightly parted as he watched me, his own desire evident in the way his breathing quickened.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intense. His fingers moved with purpose, his touch bringing me closer and closer to the edge. “So perfect. Do you feel that? Do you feel how much I want you?”

I couldn’t answer. Words failed me as the pressure inside me built, my body trembling under his touch. My reflection in the mirror told him everything he needed to know from my flushed cheeks, my half-lidded eyes, and the way my body leaned into his every move.

Suddenly I felt my chest tighten, but it wasn’t just the physical rush, instead it was the overwhelming flood of emotions, the raw intensity of it all. The hunger, the desire, the frustration, the anger, the need. It all mixed into something I couldn’t control. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Tears welled up in my eyes, emotions bubbling up from deep within me as the weight of everything we’d been through hit me harder than I expected. I was shaking now, but it wasn’t just from desire. My mascara smeared, the black streaks starting to run down my cheeks as the tears broke free. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. The overwhelming combination of wanting him, needing him, and everything else crashing inside me was too much.

I felt Matt’s hands on me, his touch soft but firm as he caught sight of my tears. He stopped for a moment, his eyes moving over my face with something tender in them, even though his breath was still coming hard and fast. His thumb traced the path of my tears, gently wiping away the mascara that had smeared across my cheeks. His fingers lingered, his touch almost reverent, as if trying to memorize every part of me in this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something darker, something deeper. His words seemed to crack through the haze of everything, and for a second, everything felt surreal. His gaze never left mine as his hands moved to gently cup my face, his thumb wiping away the last of the tears. “You have no idea how much you drive me insane. Watching you like this… watching you fall apart… fuck, you have no idea how much I need you.”

I couldn’t respond, the words were caught in my throat. It wasn’t just the physical sensation of him from his touch, his lips, and his body which had me trembling. It was the rawness of it all. The way I felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet wanted. The way he made me feel seen, in every sense. Everything I had kept locked away, all the things I couldn’t say, couldn’t express, were being poured out in that single moment. And he wasn’t pulling back. He was letting me come undone, and I could feel him losing himself just as much in me.

“I’ve got you, baby.”  Matt whispered into my ear, consoling me. His lips grazed my neck showing his devotion to me as I tried to catch my breath.

I was shaking, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. The vulnerability, the need, the rawness. The emotions, the fight, and the desire, it was all merging together in a way that felt too much, and yet, it felt right.

“You’re everything to me.” he said, voice rough as his lips brushed against my skin again, his hands moving to hold me tighter. “Everything I can’t stop wanting.”

My breath caught as he pressed into me again, his body against mine, every part of me responding to him, and all I could do was surrender to the moment. To him.

And as the tears continued to streak down my face, I felt something shift. In that moment, as Matt held me against him, his presence overwhelming and his love, despite everything, suffocating me with warmth, I knew that no matter how much we fought, no matter how much we struggled, we were made for each other.

“I can feel it.” he whispered, against my shoulder now, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

I nodded again, my breath hitching as his movements became more insistent, more purposeful. My fingers gripped the sheets tighter, my body trembling as I felt myself nearing the point of no return.

“I got you.” Matt said, his voice rough with need. His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze sent me spiraling. “Let go. I want to see you fall apart.”

And I did. The moment his words hit me, the wave crashed over me, intense and all-consuming. My body tensed, then shattered into pieces, the release hitting me so hard I could barely breathe. My cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as Matt held me steady, his hands gripping me tightly, guiding me through the overwhelming sensation.

In the mirror, I saw it all, the way my body gave in to him, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine, watching me with a mix of pride and possessiveness that sent another shiver down my spine. He looked at me like I was his world, like he couldn’t believe I was here with him, falling apart because of him. My reflection in the mirror looked as undone as I felt, my hair wild, my lips parted, and my body trembling under his touch.

As I came down from the high, Matt leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. Still recovering from the intensity of what we’d just shared, he wasn’t letting go of me… at least not yet.

Matt’s hands gripped my hips firmly as he spun me around, my back now meeting the mattress, causing me to shiver from detaching from his warm body to now laying on the cold bedsheet which heavily contrasted against my heated skin. His mouth crashed onto mine with a force that stole my breath away, and a spark igniting between us once again. As his weight pressed down on me and I felt our bare chests colliding, I arched into him finally getting to embrace him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

His lips moved from mine, trailing along my jaw, my neck, and lower still as he explored my naked body with an unrelenting intensity. My head tilted back, my hair spilling off the edge of the mattress, giving me a disorienting but electrifying view of the mirror.

Through the reflection, I saw him and his dark hair falling over his eyes. His body taut with control as he moved deliberately, his lips and hands worshiping every inch of me. The sight was almost too much, my chest heaving with every sharp intake of breath, my body trembling under his care and command.

“Matt…” I whispered, my voice breaking into a moan as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin below my ribs, making me arch further into him.

He looked up, his eyes catching mine in the reflection, a smirk playing at his lips. “Still watching?” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he kissed his way back up to my chest, his mouth claiming me in ways that made my head spin. “Good. I want you to see everything.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning softly, my hands gripping the sheets as he positioned himself above me. The weight of him was grounding, his hands guiding my thighs as he pulled me closer.

“Fuck...” he hissed, his voice raw with emotion as he hovered above me, his eyes locking with mine in the mirror again. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

“I don’t want you to.” I whispered, my voice trembling but certain.

He didn’t hesitate to strip himself of the last pieces of garments on his body. Before I could brace myself, in one swift movement he took me completely, the world seeming to come to a halt. Every nerve in my body lit up, the intensity of him overwhelming me in the best way. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, each deliberate thrust sending shockwaves through me.

The reflection in the mirror caught my eye again, him above me, his body moving with purpose, and his jaw clenched as he fought to keep control. The sight of us together, tangled and raw, sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

His lips found my bare chest again, kissing and teasing as his hands smoothed across my body, making me moan his name. “Matt… oh God…” I cried, my voice cracking as he drove me higher and higher, each movement deliberate and unyielding.

“Hold on for me just a bit longer, sweetheart.” he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing against my stomach as he thrusted deeper, his hands tightening on my hips.

My head tilted further back, my gaze catching the reflection of my flushed face, my body trembling beneath him, the way his hands claimed me so completely. The sight was overwhelming, my breathing erratic as I felt myself falling apart under his touch.

He kissed his way back up to my neck, his lips grazing my ear as he whispered, “You’ve never looked more beautiful. Falling apart for me.”

His words sent me spiraling, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. The air became thick with the weight of everything from our desires, our frustrations, and our need for one another. I could feel Matt’s hands on me, his body pressing into mine, his movements rough and yet achingly tender. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper of his breath against my skin only drove me deeper into the madness we’d created between us.

I could feel his body press harder against me, our hips aligning, and the moment was too much. Everything inside me was about to snap. I could barely breathe, barely think as the desire for him overtook every part of me, and the desperate need for release clawing at me with each passing second.

“Matt.” I gasped, my voice broken as I moved with him, the rhythm of our bodies desperate and uncontrolled. “I can’t… I’m-”

He silenced me with a kiss, his lips crashing into mine with a ferocity that only heightened the fire between us. My body tensed beneath him, my nails digging into his back as I cried out his name, the intensity of my release crashing over me.

I felt Matt’s own release moments later, his movements slowing as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His body tightened against mine, his grip on me unrelenting, like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

For what felt like an eternity, we stayed like that, entangled, breathless, and our hearts racing in sync. I could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, the warmth of his body surrounding me, as if he was holding me together, holding me whole.

And then, as the world slowly started to come back into focus, I felt him lift his head, his eyes meeting mine. The way he looked at me, so full of something raw and something deep, it made my heart flutter. He kissed me softly, his lips lingering against mine before he pulled back just enough to brush the hair from my face.

“You’re perfect.” he said, his voice soft now, almost reverent. “You’re perfect for me. I don’t care how much we fight, how much we push each other away… You’re all I want. Always.”

The tears that had fallen earlier now dried on my cheeks, and I realized they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were from everything I felt in that moment. From everything we’d been through and everything we still had to face, together.

I rested my forehead against his, breathing him in, and in the stillness that followed, I realized just how much this man and this relationship had shaped me.

“I love you.” I whispered, my voice trembling with a softness that felt so strange after everything we’d just shared. But it was true. So deeply, so undeniably true.

Matt’s hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek where the last remnants of my mascara still lingered. “I love you too.” he said quietly, his voice a whisper against my lips. “No matter what.”

fin.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

I had a dream last night that I was pen pals with slasher Johnny while he was still locked up and now I'm depressed that he didn't really show up at my door unannounced despite never having given him my name or address and he ate Chipotle with me on my couch before fucking me within an inch of my sanity 😭

You know what's absolutely hilarious to me about the whole Slasher Handler universe? I'm not actually a Horror Girlie. Having dreams about slashers showing up at my house - with or without food - sounds like the most hilarious nightmare. Soap???? John "Soap" MacTavish???? That unhinged motherfucker???? In my house??????!? Have a drabble. CW: Kidnapping/reader is taken hostage, implied stalking/surveillance, disrespect to a puzzle, implied dub/non-con

The knock at the door should have been the mailman. He was nice, a bit more chatty than you really wanted, but you never complain. It’s nice to have a friendly face while you adjust to your new city. But the man standing on your porch hadn’t been James, the affable, middle aged mail carrier.

Your whole body had locked up as blue eyes you’ve only ever seen through a google search met yours. You'd stopped sending letters two years ago, but you were undeniably face to face with John “Soap” MacTavish. He had grinned like a devil as he held up a wicked looking knife and a brown paper bag. Chipotle.

“Brought yer favorite!”

That had been two hours ago. Now, arms and legs bound to a chair in your kitchen, you feel almost calm. Soap sits across from you, sorting the edge pieces of one of your new puzzles and chattering like you aren't gagged and unable to answer.

“And then,” he declares, pointing at you. “Nae more letters from my bonnie pen pal! Figured ah was bein’ punished, that maybe yer letters were bein’ returned to sender. Nae yer fault, nothin’ f’r it. But in the last letter you said you was movin’, an’ ah didnae get the new address. Too bad, that!”

He puts his chin in his hand and taps the table with an index finger as he contemplates the box of the puzzle. Something in him shifts. The silence, the way his eyes go intensely focused, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ye ken why ah like puzzles? Because all the little fiddly pieces fit together,” he turns the box toward you. “So why in the fuck would anyone make one with pieces that stick out the sides like this?”

He gives you a significant look, so you make a muffled noise behind the gag and shrug.

“Bonnie as anything,” he says, apropos of nothing, reaching out to take your chin in one strong hand. “Used to think about fuckin’ you all over that house of yours. Especially that old leather couch.” His grin turns predatory at the way you jolt, heart in your throat. “Oh, hen, the dreams ah’ve had of your old place. Used to jerk off to a picture of that laundry basket. Cute pair of black knickers right on top. O’ course, we’d’ve had to lock the cat out. Much as ah love an audience, ‘e don’t need to see his mam that way.”

You never mentioned a cat, or your furniture, or anything like that in your letters. Certainly, you never sent photos. The terror that had clenched around your heart while he bullied his way into the house and forced you into your kitchen comes roaring back.

Please, you try to say around the gag. What do you want?

“Ah’m only in town for a couple more days,” he says, carelessly dumping all of the pieces he’d separated back into the box again. He stands, one hand going to his belt as he gives you an exaggerated wink. “Hate to rush, but we’ve got to christen your new place. An’ if ah’m not back tomorrow, the Ghost will come lookin’.”

[swaqcenix]

༻ My Impossible Oiseau | Miss Peregrine ༺

Handprints on my soul | chapter 4

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Warnings: A little swearing, small specks of angst, kinda manipulative Alma? if you squint, mainly a lot of confusion and tactics, flasbacks and mention of violence, kinda mean Alma for a second! 18+!

Chapter Summary: Sometimes, to get away with things Miss Peregrine must lie. If it protects her children, it must be done. Yet marriages aren't in the cards for ymbrynes.. until now when a contract must be negotiated for her and Ophelia.

Pairings: Alma Peregrine x OC!

Word Count: 2.6K

AN: It's been SO long since I wrote a chapter for this story, I apologise but I'm back now! Definitely intend on finishing it so enjoy loves <3

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The silence that followed suit was almost deafening if it could speak. Ophelia felt like she could cut it with a knife and her knee's were trembling underneath her.

Still, she stood tall and firm with determination that's what she'd always been trained to do. Ymbrynes, peculiars couldn't, certainly not to the average person who knew nothing of their kind.

"I'm sorry Miss but what did you say?"

Ophelia watched as the officer's eyes widened in shock or confusion, disbelief she wasn't sure. Frankly, she didn't blame him, how she was able to stand on two legs and act completely fine was beyond her.

Instead, the younger woman felt the ymbrynes arm wrap tightly around her waist, stepping closer into her proximity. Ophelia could smell Alma's perfume now, the aroma of her was filling her senses, intoxicating her entirely.

"I'm quite certain you heard what I said, officer," Alma stated curtly.

"I- that's not?" He stumbled over his words, unable to form a full sentence.

"I'm sorry, your incessant babbling is giving me a headache. You stated I'm raising my children alone, I only corrected you. She is my wife."

Ophelia wasn't sure how to process anything that was unraveling before her. When she flew to Cairnholm, nobody mentioned anything about Alma being so forward going.. Hell she could have asked her on a date first, that thought almost made her chuckle.

"That cannot be possible though, she's a female," he seemed to gain some more composure, though his voice still sounded strained.

Ophelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his obvious point. She'd never taken too well towards those who judge on genders especially on how to love others. It was the 40's for you, but she didn't care, love shouldn't be judged, hell she was peculiar and could bend darkness, control light and simply never age for crying out loud.

"It's the 40's. I understand your views, but you stated she needed someone to care for the children. She is not alone, I am here," Ophelia chirped in.

The surge of confidence she was hit with was surprising, at first a wave of worry had overcome the younger woman fearing Alma scolding her in due course. However, the squeeze of pressure on her waist allowed her to relax, knowing the older ymbryne was happy with Ophelia's passing comment.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, hm?"

Alma's voice was laced with sweetness, but not the good kind. While the younger ymbryne had only known Miss Peregrine for only a mere couple of days she knew well of that tone. It was overly-sweet, the kind you'd get if someone was on the last edge of sanity, their patience running thin. It was the kind of sugar sweet, that lead you to get stung or poisoned.

The officer tilted his head slightly to the side, almost as though he was analysing Ophelia. She wasn't sure whether to feel intimidated or unnerved but it certainly set her stomach reeling, her anxiety heightened and body on edge. Yet, he didn't say anything his breathe could barely be heard. He just stood still, examining before stepping back.

"No Ma'm's," with that he simply turned and left.

Ophelia watched as Alma's free hand lifted up and shut the door silently, the light leaving allowing both herself and Miss Peregrine to be cast once more into the shadows.

Ophelia let out a breathe that she wasn't aware she was holding and realised the older ymbryne still had her grip on her waist. It was then she realised just what the two of them got themselves into. That and the fact she hadn't consented anything to the older ymbryne.

Her mind was racing, worry and fear settling in instantly. It was like the earth was burning as it spun through the sky and the thoughts of pain and anguish only grew louder in her mind. She looked up towards the older ymbryne and let out a long sigh.

Alma stood poised next to the heavy doorframe, her composure not faulting until the children that had been spying filtered away into different rooms. It was then that Ophelia watched her slump slightly, her usual composed posture changing entirely and her hand came to rest on her temple.

Ophelia wanted to speak but her voice felt like it would shatter every wall around them. Instead she just leant herself against the wall next to the older ymbryne, watching. The silence was becoming unbearable though and someone needed to break, someone had to step forward rather than backwards.

She cleared her throat, stepping forward and rested her thumb in between the crease of the older ymbryne's eyebrows. She applied pressure and gently moved her thumb back and forth, bringing comfort to Alma. The ymbrynes eyes opened slowly, emotion and warmth within them and Ophelia wasn't sure why she'd stepped forward to do that. It felt normal, almost natural like she'd always done it to Miss Peregrine.

"We need to talk," she scarcely whispered to Alma voice uneven and she wasn't sure if she was angry at Miss Peregrine or just confused.

The older ymbryne studied Ophelia for a moment, her eyes narrowed slightly before she closed them. Her hand came into her pocket and she felt a wave of fear hit her for a second. That was until Ophelia observed as Miss Peregrine removed out a simple match and her pipe.

Her delicate fingers moved gracefully, placing the pipe in her mouth with such grace it was mesmerising to see. Ophelia found the older ymbryne captivating, but also startling. She felt if she stepped to close claws would show, shadows would surround her and she'd fall into them.

The pipe was lit and Ophelia stood in silence as the ymbryne inhaled the pipe, before breathing out the smoke in a way that intrigued the younger woman further. The smell of smoke mixed hit her, the smell being of oakwood and tobacco, with hints of lavender scented perfume.

Miss Peregrine snapped her watch out in a rather swift speed causing Ophelia to almost stumble back before letting out a hum. She offered a curt nod towards the younger ymbryne before turning on her heels.

"Follow me, we'll talk within the drawing room," her voice was firm with no place for arguments.

Ophelia allowed her brain to click into action as she swiftly followed Alma into the drawing room, trying not to dawdle or allow her mind to wander. She simply wondered on what exactly they were going to state towards each other.

— Blackpool —

His hands drifted along the side of the board, before reaching up and unclipping a photo. His head tilted to the side examining it with an intensity that could on be described as possessive, a mad man in addiction.

Barron scanned over the board, filled with arrows pointing towards different locations as he let out a heavy sigh. Eyes glancing towards the photo, he glanced at it once more. He was making it his goal, life passion.

Finding Ophelia, the loop, all of it was his goal. Nothing mattered, nobody else, no thought no noise, no single utter thought or emotion. Just the set focus on Miss Peregrine's loop. Especially Ophelia.

He found her a dainty little thing. How could such a dainty, sweet thing like herself be capable of so much? Barron's mind often drifted through so many thoughts, so many things danced through it. He'd had his mindset on the younger ymbryne for sometime.

The break in of Miss Nightjar's loop. He was so close, it was at the tip of his fingertips, the shadows were bending for him. The world was falling into place, apart and breaking all so he could find her. Yet, she'd managed to escape.

Ophelia had slipped through his fingertips so fast, he only blinked to see it all happen. Barron only remembered seeing red, flashes of blood curling red, the shadows closing once more. He never got outsmarted, certainly not from an innocent thing like her.

He had spent so long examining her. To Barron it was funny she had no knowledge of how powerful she was, of where in fact she came from. It took him months, in fact years to understand where she came from, her origins, her peculiarities.

Yet those stupid ymbrynes kept the little one locked in a cage, a cage of protection they'd assume. More like a cage of locked secrets, trying to keep her locked in away from everyone and everything, including herself. Ophelia could indulge in so much more, be the key to understanding their kind and her own so much more.

He just had to locate her again, he was certain and determined in himself that she would not in fact slip through his fingers. Ophelia Kestrel wouldn't run this time, she wouldn't fly away, he needed her. Alive and well, but needed her all the same. If she allowed herself to see Barron perhaps would want her to understand that she needed him too.

His hands brushed over the photo, looking down at the younger ymbryne he had clasped in his hands. He stared at the image with a hungry expression, hungry for power, minds and the power the younger women held within her. He needed-

"Mr. Barron?" a voice from behind him, startled Barron.

He turned angrily, facing the other wight with a look of annoyance and anguish painted all over his face. He wanted a simple time to himself, one day would suffice, but instead he was left dealing with bumbling idiots who couldn't think for themselves.

"What is it, I'm busy as you can see," he gritted through his teeth jaw clenched.

"They've found her," he mumbled in a little fear of the older man.

Mr. Barron froze for a moment, allowing himself to think in his emotions and thoughts drift away. His jaw began to unclench and he flexed his fingers back and forth before tilting his head up.

His mouth curled upwards into a deep smile, one that would send little children into fits of fear and anguish. The one that would haunt their dreams, their nightmares becoming reality as his clocks turned fast and furious in his brain.

"Let the games begin," he stated as he walked out the room a feeling of pride succumbing him.

— Miss Peregrine's loop —

Ophelia eyed the paper Alma had placed down in front of her, her face contorted in a picture of confusion.

"So you're saying a contract?" Ophelia eyed the older woman who simply sat on the edge of the chaise lounge.

She seemed a picture of utter certainty, as though everything the older ymbryne did was completely calculated. Ophelia hadn't seen her like this, not entirely. She seemed relaxed before the officer had arrived, now she seemed cold and firm. She wasn't opposed to this, it was just how she seemed to calm it was rather unnerving.

Alma let out a sigh, rubbing her temple once more before glancing over at the younger woman. Both seemed apprehensive, nether were expecting anything like this to approach them. Yet, that's what being peculiar was, they had to expect the unexpected, look for the peculiar amongst themselves.

"It's a contract we'd create together. There's rules of course. For example, no sleeping in the same bed. No dating other people, not that's an issue for us granted our current situation. No.. intimacy, in that regards anyway," Alma explained waving the pipe around in her hand.

Ophelia's eyes widened in realisation as she looked between the paper and Miss Peregrine. It was essentially a business contract, but through marriage the type she'd seen CEO's do in modern times. Sure Ophelia had her times out of the loops, dotting to and from modern times, so she knew exactly what it was.

A sudden surge of anger littered through her blood stream as she came to realising what was happening here. She came to the loop for comfort and to get away from being caged. She couldn't be put back in one.

"This isn't.. a good idea, besides what's the next one going to be Alma? No falling in love?" Ophelia questioned glaring at the older woman.

She only received a deep hum in response as Miss Peregrine placed her now out pipe down in front of her, before standing up. She stood in front of the younger woman, eyeing her down as though she was calculating her next move.

"I'm not saying it's ideal Ophelia, but it's the only option we have. Yes, though that's the concept we have, especially no falling in love, it's not in the cards for us," the older ymbryne explained carefully.

The younger ymbryne however wasn't at all impressed. She knew it wasn't Alma's fault, nether was at fault aside from the officer. He tried to undermine the older woman the only difference was Ophelia got caught in the cross-fire.

That being said, she didn't want a contract, it made her sound like a slut some ridiculous type of business shit that she wasn't into. Frankly she didn't have time, she wasn't supposed to be here and her very presence puts them all in danger, she knew that.

"No, it's wrong. Not us both being women, but I shouldn't be staying here for long periods of time. Besides the laws state," Ophelia began.

"To shitting hell with the laws," Miss Peregrine snapped startling the younger ymbryne.

She'd never heard so much as the word 'damn,' slip past the older woman's lips, so the use of her language caught Ophelia of guard. She watched as she began to pace up and down, partly out of rage and partially because of stress and worry.

"The children will be in danger. We are ymbrynes, we have to protect them above all else. You should know that, especially after what happened in your own loop," she snapped and cut herself off completely then.

Ophelia's throat tightened at the memory and her jaw clenched in retaliation. The pictures of the children laying their lifeless flashed through her mind and her cheeks began to stream of hot tears, burning her inside and out. She hated that she was the one crying when it was her fault they'd been annihilated.

Her eyes opened to see the older ymbryne kneeling down now, facing her directly in the eye. Ophelia felt a surge of anger once more, sickness succumb over her body that Alma could even dare bring up those children.

"Ophelia, I'm sorry. I- that was wrong of me to state, I apologise profoundly for that darling," she stated and Ophelia shook her head not daring to look.

"Look at me please?"

Miss Peregrine lifted her hand up to wipe away the tears from the young ymbrynes cheeks. However, she snatched her hand back as though she'd been burnt the moment Ophelia flinched. Yet, the younger woman turned to face the older woman she looked scared, like a startled deer caught in headlights it almost broke Alma's heart in ways that were unexplained.

"How long for..?" Ophelia's voice was now raspy, filled with emotion that she couldn't comprehend nor control.

"2 months and you can leave, you have my word Ophelia Kestrel," Alma responded gently this time.

Taking thoughts into consideration, she decided she had no choice. The lingering blame from her last loop was still there and she couldn't let another child die in her name. She had to keep her secrets of her peculiarity a mystery and simply stick out the 2 months.

"Where do I sign?"

As Ophelia's hand danced slowly across the page of agreement, she simply had to not fall for the older woman in front of her, which seemed hard at first but now she saw a shell of who she was before. She'd hand printed her own soul away for 2 months. They'd decide on the terms now, the terms of her own cage.

[blackjackkent]

All right, after an extremely emotionally turbulent exploration of the rest of the circus, time for Rakha and co. to finally meet Dribbles. Once again, Rakha has become deeply invested in making sure Wyll gets to see the show, which is the only reason she doesn't turn around and leave as soon as she realizes what exactly that entails.

"Buddy the Dog is my very best friend? Do you know why?"

Oh, Rakha thinks. That is what a clown is.

She remembers the terrible night in the Shadowlands when she was cursed into a strange, nonsensical face-painting (twice); it was fundamentally one of the worst days she has any memory of and resulted in her having a complete breakdown out in the curse-shrouded dark. And now she understands the full import of the pixie's mocking gesture, for she sees similar paint on the face of this entertainer surrounded by excited children, telling terrible jokes.

"Because with him, anything is PAW-sible! Wahey!"

Rakha comes very close to turning around and walking away right there - except that Wyll, at her side, laughs delightedly.

"Haha!" He snickers, nudging Rakha gently in the side with his elbow. "Between you and me," he whispers, "I love a good clown. And Dribbles is the best."

Rakha sets her jaw and remains still, resisting the urge to turn away. Wyll is happy. That's what matters. That was the whole point of being here in the first place.

No matter that something prickles uncomfortably in the back of her mind as she looks up at the strange, brightly-colored man and his inhuman stretched and painted grin. No matter that the beast in her head sees the crowd of innocents around her and longs to rip and tear and shred and bleed...

"Did you hear about the scarecrow who lost a fight?" Dribbles crows brightly.

He seems to be expecting some answer from the crowd, but Rakha has no idea what that answer might be.

Simply watch.

"He got the stuffing kicked out of him!" the clown finishes the joke to a burst of laughter from the onlookers. "Wa-hey!"

Jaheira groans good-naturedly. Wyll laughs again. Lae'zel is standing stock-still next to Rakha, her head cocked with an attitude of mild puzzlement. Minthara casually pulls a dagger from her hip and begins to examine its edge.

Rakha's head aches. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth suddenly, her palms damp in her gloves. The crowd presses around them, too close, too loud.

"Oh, oh, you're all such good friends!" the clown shouts cheerfully. "I've had a wonderful time, but I have to go..." This elicits a predictable chorus of groans and protests from the children watching, and Dribbles' grin widens. "Oh, well, if you insist! How about a magic trick? But first - I need a volunteer with nerves of steel and the heart of a lion." He begins to scan the crowd with exaggerated intensity, a hand over his brow. "Who will it be? Who...?"

The crowd begins to shout, the children all bouncing up and down with their hands in the air, excited and eager.

Rakha's vision blurs, going white at the edges, and she feels for a panicky moment as if she is about to lose control--

Narrator: A bloodthirsty rush of fury engulfs you. You want to butcher the crowd, women and children alike, and soak in their innards. It is glorious.

It's some combination of the memory of her curse, the crowd and noise around her, the clown's sharp-edged cheeriness, Wyll's smile and her own darkness-- she can't bear it. She will break, she will snap, she will kill--

"Rakha?" Wyll's hand is on her arm, his voice in her ear, laughing.

Her vision clears and she realizes that Dribbles is looking directly at her, one hand outstretched.

"You!" he calls. "My special assistant. Come on up!"

No. She flinches. No. She can't go up there in front of these people. Not with her sanity hanging on a knife's edge, not with her head aching like there's a dagger in her temple. She's struck with an odd sourceless feeling that Dribbles knows, that he sees exactly what she is thinking, what she is...

That's nonsense, surely. It is just a game, like Wyll said the dryad was. This is a bit of foolishness, of fun.

But she can't go up there.

She shakes her head once sharply, turns to look at Wyll with an inarticulate plea in her eyes. "I-- think this is a job for the Blade of Frontiers," she says haltingly. She makes an attempt to smile, to give the words an attitude of play, but can't quite manage it; the whites show in her eyes. "Don't you, Wyll?"

It's better that he go up, anyway. This show is for him...

He knows something is wrong, certainly, and takes her hand and squeezes it for a moment. "I'm not so sure," he says hesitantly. And through the haze in her mind, she loves him for that hesitation, for not wanting to leave her side.

But she shakes her head. "Go on, Wyll," she mutters, as the clown shouts encouragement from the stage.

He draws back, and she sees the smile work back onto his face almost in spite of himself. "Well," he says - to the cheering crowd around them as much as to her, "if you insist!"

She struggles to focus, to watch attentively as he climbs onto the stage. The clown grins and the blink dog at his side steps back out of the way.

"Now!" Dribbles cries. "You're *very* special! As special as can be! Does anyone know why?"

Rakha knows a hundred, a thousand reasons why Wyll is special. None she would speak aloud to this painted fool, though. She remains silent as more shouts erupt from the crowd around her, her eyes locked on Wyll, trying her best to shut out the chaos.

"You're special, my friend," Dribbles continues, "because I have a message just for you!"

It happens in an instant, like a switch being flipped. That wide painted grin goes from cheerful to menacing, from bright fire to cold ice. All the humanity drops out of Dribbles's eyes and his smile suddenly shows all of his teeth.

And Rakha feels all of the beast's inarticulate fury coalesce into a fear-rage that suddenly has a very specific target.

"Praise the Absolute," the clown whispers.

"Trap," Jaheira hisses. Minthara growls something in Undercommon and Lae'zel curses, her blade flicked out of its scabbard and glinting in the late afternoon light.

But Rakha is only conscious of the clown and Wyll and the dog leaping forward from among the curtains and sinking its teeth into Wyll's arm. The smell of blood crashes across the arena and the crowd's shouts turn to screams.

Rakha's control, already strained to the breaking point, snaps. Her vision fades and the beast takes over, and she surges forward with only one thought remaining in her mind.

KILL THE CLOWN.

[tundra1029]

Hey, I don't know if your request are opened but will you write a reader that has sh problems and when they relapse they pass away? (I had a relapse a couple days ago and in desperate need of suicidal reader) you can choose the character if you want

ngl its been months since you have requested this of me and i got real burnt out of it quickly as you know that im more used to posting prompts and College has been taking too much of my time that i cant finish it. instead of making you wait for many more months, im gonna post the headcannons and drabbles that @maryannecrimsworth @vorsdany @dragonfirerogue and @cursedchar have helped me with. this is probably gonna be the last time i post a story and will probably continue on doing prompts idk... sorry if i disappointed ya man.

i dont even know what to title this story but ill call it....

"MY ANGST FIC THAT I HAVEN'T DONE SHIT WITH YET :D"

My mind just went to the dark.

Random Headcannons

this is just what my mind was on when i first read your request

I imagined gun, screams and red petals as blood

Andd im imagining a cliff a knife and screaming

I need a headcanon

Hyper fixated on Wednesday TV series

So! I was thinking of Enid and Y/N established relationship

But it slowly fell apart after the Crackstone incident

Enid spending more time with Wednesday

Replacing their dates with investigations and girl nights with yoko

Investigations with Wednesday

But here's the thing! Y/N used to be an avid sh

But then they met Enid

So they stopped once they had their anchor in the world

But with Enid drifting apart

Their world started to darken

Days becomes mindless routine

Getting used to being put aside

Bottling it all in until.. It.. Cracks..

Now reader just avoids everyone

Then we would see R in their room

Breaking down and loosing their sanity

Then ended up acquiring a weapon, whether it be a gun or a sharp object

AND I REMEMBER THAT ONE QUOTE

"This world is cruel, but i still love you"

"Ill keep you safe, i alone will face the price"

They thought of killing everyone who interacted with enid but with a sudden burst of sanity, they thought back to that, and realized they are a danger now with these thoughts

There's a song to this https://youtu.be/VkOJNkQHpqM

Or this song https://youtu.be/5gyANphz_Kk

They would notice R leaving Nevermore, they would think R would go to Jericho

You know werewolf instincts are a lil spot on sometimes yea?

The friends would just think nothing of it but Enid felt something is wrong and with guilt of avoiding R plagued her mind, she decided to follow

And now they are different scenarios to this

And im still deciding on one

Enid didnt realize she was neglecting reader badly as she keeps on having to help Wednesday and having fun with her friends))

DRABBLES WITH MAH FRENS

I am trudging through deep within the forest, stepping over rocks and fallen branches while facing forward not once have i strayed my eyes from the path i have made in my minds, a path to where it was once my quiet place and now will be my grave, almost tripping over a tree branch and i curse underneath my breath "fucking hell" i grit my teeth and continue my journey to that one cliff was, the only place for me to have peace, not once noticing enid following me

i touch my hip where i have hidden the gun under my shirt and pants, as i stand near the edge of the cliff and i give out a sigh as i give one last glance at the scenery infront of me, where the mountains and forest bathe under the sun, where the river shine and glisten under its light. 

I hear a tree branch snap and become fully alert and turn around quickly to look at the one who disturbed my thoughts and my eyes harden "Enid Sinclair..." i glare at her "Why have you followed me here, dont you have Addams waiting for you back at Nevermore?"

Xin (aka Vorsdany): maybe Enid would reply with some rage too, because she doesn't understand why R is being so standoffish and accusing her about Wednesday

Jac:  ENID POV: The weather was good. The day was beautiful; the weekend was getting closer and Enid was planning a perfect outing for her friends. You, and, of course, Wednesday included. The forest was still dangerous, so she preferred to go out with groups, but she didn't understand why you went first. Why you went alone, why you stopped so close to a cliff. She approached you, cautious steps as her body warned her of the danger of a fall from that height.

"Why are you insisting on this again? She is our friend!" Her tone was impatient, as was yours.

I scoff and barks out a laugh "who wouldn’t be after their girlfriend basically just fucking abandoned you" i shake my head and presses a hand on my face and pushes back the hair that had fallen on my face "you left me. You left me for Addams, Enid and never have I ever felt more betrayed than that" 

Jac: our accusations increased along with your voice, and confusion and anger took over her. "She needed help, more help than you, to fit in at school! It was never that, Y/N, I never looked at her in any way, but my friend needed help."

"You didnt left me for Wednesday? That's a laugh, i saw how you look at her, i saw how you start to stop hanging around me just to talk to her, i saw how you fucking brushed me aside when talking to her" My eyes are filled with rage as my words starts to get harsher and harsher, they trembled with rage

Jac: "Wha--Are you serious?" Enid shakes her head. "That's not it! Y/N, why can't you listen to me and understand for once?" She sighs. "NO! You're getting it all wrong!" /More crying and angst, i suppose/ "Please, you have to understand..."

my glare is harsh but my tone is soft "Enid enid enid... I always understood but... After you stood me up on our dates, Dates that we have been planning for weeks..After all the texts I sent you saying i need you but you just left on read.... That's where I finally understood, so I gave up. I stopped talking and texting you for days now, and you didn't even bat an eye... But that's fine" i close my eyes and opens them again to stare at her with tired eyes "im done" notices her coming closer and pulls out the gun and takes it off safety mode and aims at her "Don't you take another step Sinclair"

Jac: People here in Brazil have a saying "You don't argue with old or crazy people" (My father says that about my mum lol) So I think Enid could follow that thinking and agree with the reader Something like "O-okay! I messed up, Y/N! I messed it all up!" And take the guilt and apologize until Reader calms down and put the gun down She doesn't have to be honest, but she's saying anything to stop reader I can't do begging without feeling really bad BUT something like "Please, I'll make it up to you, please, just put it down"

i chuckle darkly as if to interrupt her "so now you say that... Pathetic" keeps the gun aimed at her "too late for that isnt it?" lets out a sigh " i can't help but be... Disappointed"

keeps pointing the gun at her "disappointed as i am... As the Whole World has been beating me down, ur the only good thing in this mudball of a planet.. Even when you have hurt me so.." my eyes glistened as tears sprung up "I still love you so.." tears started running down my face "and I promised to protect you... Even from me" squeezes the gun but does not pull the trigger

#2 (HURT AND COMFORT) HEADCANNONS

I blink away the tears and as my voice trembles "a-and.. I don't think I can help myself anymore... So in r-respect for all we used to have... Turn around and never look back, Enid and live your life to the best of your abilities.." as i let out a stuttering sigh and lowers my face as my hair shadows my eyesJac:"I won't!" Enid finally speaks back, screams back at you. Her voice was shaking, tears were falling down her face, not out of fear, but out of sorrow. Of pain and despair, of finally knowing how you felt after all the times she let you down. She decided to help Wednesday, her stoic and loner roomate, while you, your lover(IDK GOOD NAMES FOR THIS), suffered in silence, completely alone. "No, Y/N! You're wrong! I'm not going to leave you, the world is not like this, you're not like this(helpless)!" She jumps over you and holds your wrist, immobilizing the hand that's holding the gun. "Let me show you. Let me show the colors of it, of the world, all the good things in it. Stay with me, Y/N." Her voice cracks as she see the pain in your eyes. "Please, forgive me, Y/N. Give one more chance."

and now we head over to the Ending Headcannons! the part where i got really stumped

you look at her eyes and sees the emotion and sincerity in them but they did not make you feel relief and safe, in fact it enrages you

you growl, you pull your arms out of her grasp and kicks Enid back a few feet as angry tears drags down to your face

“You think after all this time that you can just waltz back in and make everything better? Fuck you Sinclair! this aint a fucking fantasy! WAKE UP!”

okay let's just put in that reader was wearing a jacket for the entirety of their stay in nevermore and has not shown anyone their sh scars

“you have shown that you do not give an ounce of care about me these couple of months! I had put my trust in you and you threw it away! You promised me that you will always be by my side and you left me.. ”

You drop the gun to the ground and zip down your jacket, shrugging it off and leaving you in your tank top and opening your arms wide.

Enid is shocked as she sees a plethora of scars littered all over your body. collarbone, arms, under the tank top, you name, nothing is left unscarred  

"I have suffered all my life. So please… just let me rest"

You drop your arms as your body expression turns from defensive to tired, your arms slumped, your eyes tired as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders

You were expecting Enid to respect your wishes but She surges forward and holds you in her arms tightly, catching you off guard.

Enid keeps on apologizing and promises to be better for you.

You struggle, trying to get out of her grip.

Enid tightens her hold and tells you that she loves you

You stop struggling and looks at her face as no one had ever said they loved you before and this was the first time hearing it meant for you

"Y-you love… me?"

you stare at her eyes as she holds your face

Enid proceeds to tell you again that she loves you and only you, she didnt realize that she was neglecting you and she swears that she didnt mean to do it to you.

Enid:"you.. You are my light in the dark, my star in the sky, my Polaris. You mean so so much to me, it hurts me that I have been hurting you when you have always been there for me.. I was so dumb when i did that to you and I swear I will do my very best to fix this, to fix us. You deserve the world nothing less! I love you now and forever. So please.. give me one more chance"

She would stare at you with teary eyes, wiping your tears away

“I…” You open your mouth to speak but..

Enid closes her eyes and kisses you as she snakes her arms around your neck, holding you close

you jolt a bit in shock and try to pull away but she doesn’t let you

new tears would run down your face as you melt into the kiss and into her arms, wrapping your arms around her waist tightly

you missed this, you missed her lips, you missed her touch, you missed her love, you missed her scent, you missed her.

You were supposed to let her go, to not be corrupted by your species - by you. to keep her away from the horrors of the world you could bring onto her

You then deepen the kiss and hold her closer to you.

maybe this once… you could be selfish to just have her be yours.

you let go of the instincts that you oh so locked away ever since you learned the importance of will and boundaries. you let go of the instincts of your race and what you desperately hid from the eyes of others. 

You now finally embraced what you truly are, A dragon.

Scales start to appear under your eyes and on your arms as your hands shift into claws.

horns slowly protrude out of your forehead as your wings burst out of your back and wrapped around her.

Enid did not notice the changes as she focuses on portraying her love through the kiss.

you pull your head back, breaking the kiss. You open your eyes and they turn into draconic yellow with  slit pupils.

“Would you still love me? even when I am a monster?” you ask, you stare at her face as she opens her eyes

You tense as Enid lets out a quiet gasp as she stares at your new appendages and changes to yourself.

 She sees you tense and all she wants is to see you smile again.

Enid:”I dunno about a monster. All I see is someone 'monstrously' hot."

You just stared at her, surprised. did… did she just-?

Enid:”Of course I still love you. Nothing could 'tip the scales' on that”

of course she is making puns. your mouth just twitches, she notices and keeps on going

Enid:” if this isn't love, You're definitely 'dragon' some more feelings outta me" at this point she is grinning like a cheshire cat.

a smile breaks out of you and you giggle a bit.

Enid: “I guess I'll just have to deal with you being a little more 'horny' than me”

you laugh at that “Enid!” Enid just sweetly smiles at you

Enid: “there’s that beautiful smile and melodious laugh that i love so much”

you blush a lil bit and bury your face on her shoulder with a bashful smile

“Ancients, you don't know what kind of things you do to me Enid”

you pull back a bit to gaze at her with an intensity that most would flinch at 

“How much do you know about dragons?”

She looks up a bit, pops her bottom lip out and thinks if she has any information about dragons

Enid: “I know dragons are territorial and like to hoard stuff that interests them like what I heard from my childhood stories, i used to believe that they are just fairy tales but you are here, in front of me as living proof that they exist ”

you nod

“Did you know that those who made those fairy tales have gotten in contact with dragons? so some of the facts showed in those are actually true”

Tag List: @maryannecrimsworth @casbrawel @vorsdany @cursedchar @wol-fica @dragonfirerogue @jinxscatbomb (i kinda forgot the other people who wants to be tagged and too lazy to look up the post i made for it, sorry)

thats where i stopped, looking back on this i realized that maybe i should have kept the angsty vibes but then again my mind was going through multiple scenarios of the ending and it just burnt me out and i couldnt even type out whats on my mind. maybe i will revise this and complete this with a whole one page story or abandon this. tho if any of you guys planning to write this, i just ask one thing.. to get pinged in the story thats it no special mentions or anything, i just want to read what you guys can come up with this lil mess of mine.

[frailfemme]

Today started so well, and ended so poorly…

Like. Started today off too early and venting vaguely on Facebook through pointed shares. But then I got up and had my meds and went to feed my cats and sit with them in the room they are in. Cleaned their litter box.

Then, I took my first call with my care coordinator and got hyped about that enough to want to finish setting up this blog and also to change things around so it wasn’t password protected but also not so connected to my main, and write up a post explaining what care coordination is and why chronically ill and neurodivergent people can benefit a lot from it. So I did all that.

And then one of my brothers and my mom came in to the living room (which is where my partner and I have been sleeping for four months) to take the Xmas tree down, so I got stuff ready to go to put the furniture back in place.

My partner came home and we had lunch together, while watching some Bob’s Burgers. Then, they played some games while I fiddled with settings and my pages. Then, we played some Minecraft. We started wrapping up on that as dinner was delivered. Mom had ordered sandwiches, but the shop messed up our order. And, as was always the case while growing up, it was my food that was the most wrong. And I’m viewed as the pickiest eater in the family. So, you can imagine the frustration building in me, as I was reconnecting with my body and catching up on all the needs I inadvertently neglect when I focus on something intently like a video game, realizing just how hungry I was, and processing that I didn’t seem to have food.

I was attempting to deal with it quietly. I was rocking a bit and kicking my feet. And the other brother, Shithead, decided to nose in and ask a bunch of questions I had just answered as I had announced through building tears that my sandwich didn’t come with mayo, and yet had mayo on it (I hate mayo, especially on an Italian sub!). He was looking at the receipt, and was in the process of reading that my sandwich hadn’t been ordered “without mayo” (because it doesn’t come on the sandwich in the first place! Which I had just said!!). Mom came in and started fussing at me, and Shithead said some more shit about how I needed to stop freaking out, and I chucked a half-empty box of plastic utensils at him.

He immediately reacted by calling me a bitch (uncalled for, imho), which prompted my partner to jump into things to my defense. All they did was stand in front of my brother and tell him not to do that again, and he shoved my partner out of the way while swearing some more (important, because mom hates it). As he stormed upstairs continuing to rant about how I need to get a fucking hold of myself, I was silent at the table. Then I said “I’d like to point out how I’m going to be entirely blamed for this even though I wasn’t responsible for that.” And that apparently was what finally pissed my mom off. She told me I could deal with the sandwich myself. So I went to throw it away, and she started yelling at me and grabbing at me, talking about not wasting food she paid for (even though she just told me it was my problem and to handle it myself??)

So I fully lost it for the first time since before Christmas (almost three weeks, I only blow up like this once every couple weeks (we’ll be needing this important tidbit later)). And started yelling at her about how I don’t know what she wants from me cause she keeps threatening things like she means to kick us out the next time I fuck up, and then turns around and acts so offended that that’s what I understand from her VERY VAGUE THREATS. And she was like “I haven’t threatened once to kick you out!” Okay, so what do you mean when you make these threats? “I’m not threatening anything I just want you to stop yelling at us all the time.” Yeah, I’d like to, also, but you all are intentionally keeping me on a knife’s edge between sanity and having a full-blown paranoid driven panic attack. And you won’t even listen to me. “I AM LISTENING!” You really aren’t though, mom. You haven’t listened to me in so so long.

Reminding myself that healing is almost impossible when your situation is as tenuous and stressful as this. I’m constantly being triggered or retraumatized, not just having my sense of independence and stability threatened. Because I feel like the worst scum of the earth for (checks notes) wanting my mommy to care about me the way she does my siblings.

Healing takes time. But it also takes the right conditions.

[lyssaterald]

A Letter to My Addiction

Why am I in rehab?

I am here because my emotions are a wild wave crashing through with the jagged pieces of my broken heart. I am here because I cannot deal with the rage, grief, and all the other emotions that broke me. Alcohol was the quick and easy answer that I turned to after May 18, 2019 when the first rape occurred at the hands of a stranger in a place where I was supposed to be safe. It has been so long and there have been so many other traumas and experiences that the memory of if it was a gun or knife has faded and started to bother me. I'm having to learn that this is actually a normal part of memory and that these memories will soften or blur with time time and that is ok.

I haven't been allowed to feel safe for the last four (almost 5) years up until June 25, 2024 of this year. Its been a long time since I was allowed to be in charge of myself as well and allowed to do what I feel is necessary to my first steps in recovery. I am in rehab because I lost all feeling of control and this is the first place where I am allowed freedom and sobriety as long as I don't touch alcohol.

I am here to find a new path to freedom and to regain the control which I lost so long ago.

Now, to the letter (read at your own discretion):

------------

Dear Addiction,

You found me in the worst moment of my life and dug your claws deep into me. There was comfort at first in the oblivion and gentle numbness that you wrapped me in when those memories became too much and the pain too great to bear. you took my hand and helped me to walk a path of destruction I never dreamed I was capable of. My life became a series of destruction and self-sabotage as you seeped into the cracks of my broken faith in God and in humanity.

The masks that I had worn my entire life became brittle and riddled with cracks under your influence. I always knew what the next wrong thing with you was but I was powerless to stop it. You took my strength as your defense and twisted my kindness until those around me had used me to their satisfaction and felt compelled to throw me down a flight of stairs or to try and choke me into unconsciousness for their own sick pleasure.

Compulsions and desires, not wants and needs, are what drove me to the edge of sanity and freedom. First it was the destruction of my faith in humanity and in God. Then, it was the desire to escape pain and memories of death and the things done to me. You hid beneath the darkness and wrapped me in your wings.

I questioned who I was and why it had been me to survive when my unborn and her father passed together. You helped me survive the torture he family blamed me with. Breathing became difficult and you helped me until you no longer did, until you started to burn me along with my life (again and again and again).

Really, it's not you I'll miss. It's the way you made me feel in the very beginning of it all.

Let me now feel the sting, the pain, the burn beneath my skin. You've put me to the test time and time again, but I've proven that I am strong. I won't let myself believe that what I feel is wrong. It just means that I am alive and very much human.

I loved and hated you in equal measure from start to end. You taught me how to fight with everything in me, but I'll teach you how to lose.

Light shining from the sober side of life was always like a candle burning down before my wild eyes. Even on my darkest nights, you were my sword and shield. We were tired soldiers in an endless war together, but I have to keep in sight what it is that I am now fighting for, and what it is that brings my weary soul staggering back from the edge.

You may not have killed me yet, but you provide no life worth living. I might be losing my mind burying the trauma and the grief without talking about it, but that is still better than losing my entire self within you.

Standing face to face with my own humanity has shown me that I just want to be ok. I really just want to be whole once more and no longer defined by the jagged edges of my broken heart.

I know that I am a resilient warrior beneath everything and yet that warrior side has protected the gentle kindness of my youth from you this whole time. So, no more I say.

No more.

You cannot take from me what was never yours to touch. Scars that you have left on me and my shattered heart will remain until I grow so much that they simply fade away with time. I know I am worth at least that much to myself.

So, for how you ate my shame and the excessive cares that I had for other people's opinions: I thank you from the bottom of my heart. However, it is time to take your claws, your wings, and your darkness from me and be banished by the light that will become my life.

Faithfully yours no more,

Me

Lyrics and Songs that helped inspire this letter: "Meet Me on the Battlefield" by Svrcina and "Warrior" by Beth Crowley

[morgansmornings]

“Yeah, we’ll go with that.” She had debated telling him that It was Italian, but she didn’t think that would go over very well. Taking her phone from her pocket, she found the waiting number in question. The name was surrounded by a set of emojis that made little sense to anyone who could have peered over her shoulder. The one name that usually meant comfort, safety, and no judgement, now filled her with nerves.

Setting the phone down she focused on getting the coffee going. She added a dash of cardamom to the coffee grounds in the basket, letting the water fill up the glass pot in the meantime. She could still feel him in the room. Not used to a stranger in her home had her senses more attuned to her surroundings than she normally would have been.

“There is a little pimento cheese, and the cubes are Tillamook sharp cheddar.” It was a delayed answer and she knew that. But her mind was working on several things at once. Each echo of her own inner thoughts louder than the next and close to downing out the ambient sounds. “I used a bread knife. It’s serrated for just that reason.”

Setting the coffee to brew after putting all the components together, he focused back on her phone. Shoulders came up to her ears as her hands wrapped around the edges of the blanket. A sudden and unspoken thankfulness that he insisted she cover herself with something. Cashmere like yarn soft and welcoming her in a protective embrace a stark contrast to the whirlwind she was in.

“No, she lives in her own home.” Jay hit the dial button and brought the phone up to her ear, covered by the blanket so she didn’t have to deal with the immediate shock of magic and witchery afoot. She swayed a little in time with the ringing. Trying to distract herself as she now plotted on what she was going to say. “I do. It fills the time in spring and winter. It also saves me the money I would spend otherwise.There is apricot, peach, and raspberry to choose from.”

A few more rings and the connection was made.

“Howzit Sistah!” Came the soothing voice of her cabal mate, best friend, and last hope for sanity.

“Hi. I love you.” Jayden spoke, holding a hand up as if asking for a moment of silence. “Can-Can-Can I ask you something?”

“K-den.”

“Come on a journey with me and pretend for a minute.” Jayden spoke leaning against the counter with the phone facing away from Ben, but keeping him in her line of sight. She scratched the side of her neck in embarrassment.“If, IF, I were to say… Been working on something for someone and that caused a… rift in time if you will. And I ended up with… Well, um, a very prominent member of the Revolutionary Army standing in my apartment looking like he just fell off his horse mid battle…. What would I do? Hypothetically speaking.”

There is a span of time where nothing is said. No hint of breathing, no sounds of movement. Not even a hum of background noise. It was too quiet to the point Jay almost pulled the phone away to see if it was still an ongoing call. She should have cast a rote to make this a bit easier. But then again, she already had one mishap, and she was not keen on tempting fate any further than she already had. Then the silence was shattered.

It was the same wind chime like, delicate and full of life, giggle that Jay was used to. Only this sounded a bit unhinged, a dash breathy. Not enough oxygen getting despite the knowledge that Beth would almost prefer to get air through a process similar to photosynthesis.

"Oooh, Mastah of Time! Infallible all seein' eye an' always double check contracts….No mistake evah!"There was more giggling. Something that both made Jay smile and cringe at the mental image she could see. Of Beth standing there. Arms swaying above her head and wiggling in place. Then doubling over and holding her sides in thin wispy fingers. Eventually Beth Calmed down, a chuckle breaking in every few breaths before she was collected once again. "No, for reals, wha' happen?"

“Truth? Okay. I was working on something for the House. And I’m now looking at General Washington’s Spymaster appraising the bread and jam I just served him.” Jayden scanned over Ben trying to see if he was eating or still twisting the bread in his hands. “To be honest, this was not on my bingo card, but it’s my problem now. What should I do?”

"I mean, I could always use a small kine more fertilizer for my Tree? No for real. Wow. Uhm. Give him cocoa an' some place to sleep. Nevah let him leave ya sight, an' mebbe call…someone who got mo' beddah spheres from me? No kine of mine really can help an' currently I'm a sorta not in New York."

“Oh. Well, of course that is… Perfect timing.” Jayden muttered under her breath as she reached up to pull the hair stick out that were keeping her hair from her face. She could feel the start of a headache forming. “I can’t just let him wander around. You know?”

“Oh! Oh! How 'bout…read ritual backwards? Mebbe dat send him back? But firs' wipe his memory.”

“I mean it is worth a shot. He panicked over Jenna, so I can at least get the scroll from my office.” Jayden pinched her thumbnail between her teeth in thought, not chewing just holding it there. Mulling it over she felt a prickle of dread drip down her spine. Keeping her voice low she did her best not to have a minor meltdown. “Wait.. am I supposed to vaccinate him? What if he gets a cold and dies on my couch overnight?! Do you know what that would do?!”

"Make it easier t' feed my tree," Came the rare deadpan snark from her sister, too tickled by the idea to keep it to herself. "K. So ya wanna go down t' my clinic, mebbe take him wi' you. Code for locks an' alarms is my SAT score. Go to da vaccine fridge, swab him down an' you're gonna wanna…" What followed after was a list of vaccines and dosages. Where they needed to be administered {mostly the arm though she does say that his backside is also good for it. "Dat's da best I can do for now, should be home in a couple weeks for a check up an' boosters."

Or, in this situation, a little life magick woven into the man's pattern but that didn't need to be spoken over the phone.

Her tone softens. "Don' panic, we'll figure dis out, I promise."

“Yeah, this is.. Fine? No, it is. Everything is fine. Clinic, shower, clothes.” Jayden said, nodding to herself and letting her shoulders go slack once more. The plan proposed making her racing inner monologue pause. She could do this. “If I can keep your plants alive, I can do the same with a person. He’s just a person. Right, okay. Uh, I’ll let you go and keep you updated as much as I can.”

"See, not so bad?” She heard Beth said and a sigh left Jayden. “Oh, also… Pics…or it nevah happen!”

The line went dead before Jayden could snark back. As subtle as she could she did take a picture of Ben, weapons, uniform and all. SHe didn’t text it to Beth just out of caution. From there she turned and started getting ready to make a cup for herself. The caffeine would help with the headache.

“Hey Major? Do you drink coffee?”

((Honorable Mention: @brooklynislandgirl))

Although Benjamin assumed Jayden was trying to explain herself, each word that tumbled from her lips was more befuddling than the last. Once her back was turned, he finally felt safe enough to openly appraise her -- or at least, without such blatant embarrassment -- and cocking a brow, he watched her pad off into what appeared to be...well, he didn't know what in God's name that room was, but it seemed just as spacious as the rest of the house.

"What do you mean 'now'?" Benjamin asked. Craning his head to try and get a better look, his puzzlement grew while Jayden shifted about in the strange room. "With all due respect, madam, you're the very first woman I've ever seen wear breeches -- no...you said they're called pants? -- and I have certainly never heard your curious vernacular. Is the style French, perhaps?"

The French were always the most innovative (and wildly outlandish) with their fashion choices.

He also didn't know what she meant by "comfy," but he already felt quite dim-witted and decided to hold his tongue. A Yale scholar should know more than he was presently alluding.

When Jayden returned, she looked ridiculous shuffling along, much like an over-sized cocoon. For the first time during their encounter, Benjamin bit back a smile. Or at least, he had until she set down the peculiar-looking meal.

Intrigued, he shuffled forward in his seat, lifting the bread in amazement. "How did you get your slice so straight?" he asked, impressed. "There are no signs of any knife-work..." Lowering his head toward the plate, he sniffed the jam and cheese experimentally. It smelled like jam, but the cheese was...well, he couldn't say he'd seen anything like it.

"What is this orange stuff?" Benjamin asked, lifting one of the cubes and appraising it between his fingers. Despite his distrust, his stomach gave a healthy little rumble in response, causing a faint pink to dust his cheeks. It was far from gentlemanly to be a glutton.

Before he could think to apologize, however, Jayden spoke of "bullshit," and his jaw dropped, stunned from hearing profanity from such a pretty mouth.

"Er...what does your sister have to do with this?" Benjamin asked, growing all the more perplexed. "Did she inherit this estate, as well?"

It was clear by Jayden's posture that she was growing agitated -- as if her foul mouth wasn't proof enough -- and embarrassed on her behalf, he carefully popped one of the strange-looking cubes into his mouth to appease her.

All at once, the sharp taste exploded across his tongue, making Benjamin cringe in surprise. It wasn't bad, per se, but it wasn't exactly good either, and yet his manners dictated that he at least pretend to enjoy it. "Ah..." Swallowing around the perplexing flavor, he quickly reached for a piece of bread -- something he actually recognized -- that might staunch the peculiar assault on his taste buds. "Thank you," he concluded, though it was clear by the twist of his mouth that he was unconvinced. "Do you harvest and can all your jams yourself?"

[smurphyse]

Hey friends! I'm turning 25 on the 29th of June, and I wanna celebrate with y'all!

What's the Challenge?

Well, it's fairly simple... I want you guys to create either a oneshot, OC, moodboard, gifset, series, art, really anything based on the prompts below for fandoms, original work, anything! I'll take the time to read through them all and like, comment, and share each one!

You can pick an existing series, character, oneshot, OC, etc to create these for! I just wanna see what you guys create, and I'd personally love it if you wanted to make anything based on my own Masterlist (a little gift for me and I'd honestly DIE)!

Tag everything for this as Smurph's Birthday Challenge so I can keep track of it!!! and tag me too if you like @smurphyse

When does the Challenge end?

July 29th! One month from my birthday, and even though I will share, like, and comment on each one, I am going to declare my favorite <3 :)

Smurph, what are the Prompts?

Pick from as many of the categories below as you like! These are just my favorites, but feel free to pick some of your own or just GO WILD and do what you want!

Category 1: Song Lyrics/Titles

Miserable Man by David Kushner

Moonlight by Future Islands

This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory

Why Am I Like This? by Orla Gartland

Inkpot Gods by The Amazing Devil

Loving You Is Lonely by Harmony Byrne

Wolves Still Cry by Lawrence Rothman

Romance by Ex:Re

still feel. by half-alive

Talia by King Princess

Dreaming of You by Selena

This is Heaven by Nick Jonas

Sexy Weekend by Scoundrels

Mansard Roof by Vampire Weekend

Everything Now by Arcade Fire

Category 2: Dialogue Prompts

"But did they experience pain? Did they know they were going to die?"

"I will knock you on your ass if you even THINK about it!"

"He was gonna hurt you..."

"Get on your knees and show me."

"I love you. I'm still gonna kill you, but man am I gonna feel bad about it!"

"I don't think I'm doing this right."

"What the fuck-? Oh... OH."

"When I picture myself growing old... it's always with you."

"Who's gonna let you?" "Who's gonna stop me?"

"How long have you been standing there?" "Longer than you like."

"When this is all over, I want my sanity back."

"Hah! You owe me ten whole dollars!!"

Category 3: Naughty Prompts

Doggy style

Reverse Cowgirl

Cum stuffing

Consensual Non Consent

Free use

Cum play

Blood Play

Shower Sex

Anal sex

Plugs! (any kind, but oh boy do I wanna see some vaginal plugs)

Pet play

Collars

Knife play

Bondage

Shibari

Suspension

Edging

Overstimulation

Double Penetration (or multiple penetration!)

Kidnap!kink

Fisting

Pillow humping

Thigh riding

Boot licking

Choking

Breath play

Deepthroating

Risky texts/sexts

Public sex

Voyeurism

Mutual masturbation

Cock warming

Watching porn together <3

Somnophilia

Spitting

Forced kisses

Clit slapping

Forced orgasms

Breeding Kink

Bruise Kink

Size Kink

Pick anything you want from any category, or just create something on your own for the Challenge/Celebration! I'd love to see what you guys come up with and I can't wait to see!

Happy birthday to me! - Smurph <3

Don't forget, tag it as Smurph's Birthday Challenge!

[dienamights]

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere​ ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

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The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you. 

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,” 

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement. 

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible. 

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-” 

“How is your hero boyfriend?” 

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention. 

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?” 

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior. 

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention. 

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful. 

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it. 

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him 

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time. 

He told me so. 

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.” 

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt. 

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.” 

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek. 

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it. 

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

[lioxmp]

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  The inked ball of his pen makes its way across the clean off white of the page of an open journal as his thoughts fly from his mind. They scratch along the keeper with an almost manic speed as the feelings he’s been carrying for the last few months soak down with the ink. The impressions of worries, the fleeting edges of happiness, and all the fragments of dreams and nightmares he’s watched unfold around him— all of it makes words that will speak louder than he ever will in the confines of this little book.

  He fills one page. Then another. And he’s part way onto a third with the smears of memories on the outside of his left hand as it goes across the page too. It doesn’t matter- not as long as it gets out of him.

 ‘Good afternoon, Invidia’

  That hand stops, the pen bleeding a spot on the page as he holds it there too long before he lifts it again. His eyes lift and find the form of Lio standing before him. It’s like his ears don’t work right anymore, the stillness in his chest deafening before the beat comes back to him again. It’s not rushing or hammering but it makes him touch lightly at his chest for a second. Oh wow!

  He looks at the vinyl that Lio presents to him and smiles fondly as he reads the title. A hand reaches out and touches the edge of it before his eyes drift back up to that familiar face as he hears the rest of what is said to him.

 “Hi Lio,” he says finally. He closes the journal and looks at him with a gentle smile. “I’m glad you like it. She got me through a lot. Uh…would you…”

   He gestures to the seat opposite him.

TW: mention of death, accident, murder, and mental health problem 

Lio’s eyes naturally land on the journal - or more like the ink spot left on the page, look back at Invidia as he is talked to, then briefly shift to the journal again as Invidia flips it close.  

“Thank you.” He replies with a polite smile before taking the seat across from Invidia, the album is placed neatly aside on the table on his left.

The atmosphere gets less comfortable, as he can sense hesitation and nervousness from Invidia. More than ever, Lio is aware of the reason why. Then he suddenly feels this urge rising up from the bottom of his heart, and it is threatening to burst, pressing tight against his ribs everything starts to ache. 

He gazes into Invidia’s amber eyes, feeling like a whole life has passed since the last time he takes in the other’s features from such a close distance. A lot has changed, and Lio has a premonition of what the future might bring, that this may be the last chance he’s got to have a conversation with Invidia. 

And so his brain rushes to steer through the current of thoughts, distills those that really matter, and organizes it in a way that Invidia and he himself could comprehend. Even though the weight on his chest is still there and his heart races the way it rarely is, Lio knows he now has enough sanity and bravery to tell the truth. What has been left unsaid should be no longer.  

Lio takes a deep breath, his eyes remain still on Invidia, and he starts to speak. 

“Invidia, I know it may be too late to say it now, and I’m not telling it to ask for your pity or forgiveness, for I do not deserve it.” His lips curve up into an apologetic smile, his voice remains as calm as he can afford. “I’m just speaking to offer you the truth from my side, about why I acted the way I did toward you. So, I hope you can listen, even just for a few minutes.”

He pauses to draw an old pocket knife out from the inner pocket of his jacket, places it on the table for Invidia to see. It is the same pocket knife that Lio has almost always carried with him wherever he goes, the knife he lays underneath his pillow every night, as if it is a talisman he has attached to since birth. He lets Invidia a moment to register the object, then continues speaking still with a calm, almost monotonous tone. 

“My dad was a gangster, a quite big name if I’m allowed to brag. He gave this knife to me on my thirteenth birthday. Two years later, he was gone, together with my stepmom and step-sister, in a car accident. They said the car ran off the cliff because it was snowy and the road was too slippery, but that was not true. Someone messed with the car’s brake, and my dad had actually been a target for a long while.” Lio’s fingers rest gently on the knife, as if to keep himself grounded for the sake of the story. 

“My uncle stepped up to handle the business, but since the enemies aimed at me, we had to move back to my grandparents’ hometown in Gyeongsang. There I learned the ropes of my dad’s business, then was told that my mother is Sekhmet, and that I should move here to, like my uncle said, nurture my powers,” he lets out a curt, humorless chuckle, his eyes advert from Invidia and cast down on the knife as he admits. 

“I’ve never stopped seeking revenge for my dad’s and step-sister’s murder since then. I focused on it so much that barely anything else mattered anymore, you know. There were the hunts and the kills, as I wanted to take them all down. Then I got impatient, nurturing my powers all the wrong ways possible, and like, I got too…murderous to think straight. I didn’t know who I was anymore, it felt dangerous for me to keep people close, so I pushed everyone, including you, away. And before I went absolutely nuts, I ‘died’, hoping to, how to say…to purify myself. And that worked almost well.” 

Lio’s eyes lift up to meet Invidia again, his gaze goes heavy in guilt and sadness.

“I’ve never told you, or anyone. Those who have known, they know pieces and not the whole story, as they are, like, business partners. It can’t be like talking about weather or food; I didn’t dare to think what your reaction would be, especially when things were still quite new between you and me. I didn’t wish to bother you, or more like, I didn’t want to think what it would be if I told you and you decided that it was too much for you.” He momentarily looks away, out at the window, where the world is peacefully passing by; both his hands are now on the table, fiddling with the knife. 

“But I also couldn’t think what if you knew it all and chose to stay. Whether I could treat you right, keep you happy, and away from those that want my head. I lost trust in myself, and I still can’t say for sure if I will never go back to that insane state again. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, Invidia.” 

Lio lets out a soft sigh at the last sentence, his head turns for his eyes to gaze at Invidia, another apologetic smile was offered to him. “But it seems like I’ve already hurt you a lot by keeping you out of it. I should have trusted myself and explained these things to you earlier. It has never been because of you, you have done everything right, so right that I didn’t know how to reciprocate. It is all my fault, and I sincerely apologize to you.”

He stops fiddling with the pocket knife, quietly puts it away, and lets his eyes return to Invidia’s face. His hands remain on the table, empty, resting still, welcoming whatever reaction Invidia may come up with after sitting through such an impromptu talk, or more like a confession from him.  

{{A birthday submission}}

♮

Invidia worries his bottom lip in thought for a good while as he sits in his car. Would it be weird now? No. Right? The box sits in his lap with it’s demure black satin bow proudly on top. It’s a large square thing that for a quiet sum of reasons makes him feel nervous to get out and deposit where it needs to go.

Just do it. He did the same for you.

The sinner drums his fingers over the gift as the words turn over in his head again and again and again. It’s true and Invidia bets there was not nearly as much trouble on Lio’s side when he left the gift he did. Rough waters had left him cautious though and so even as he puts his hand on the key and shuts the car off, he’s still nervous. Telling himself to relax he makes his way out of the car and into the building again. It’s thankfully easy to find his way in this space.

————-

Lio,

I didn’t forget that today is your special day. I came by this gift through a good friend of mine that is a remarkable singer and artist and I thought maybe you’d like to hear her sound. This record player I saw in a shop that sells vinyls and old memories and I knew it belonged to you. I’ve had it since September waiting for today.

May your day be filled with music, meals and much happiness.

Happy birthday, InvidiaP.S

The bangles are beautiful, thank you!

———————-

The neat card rests inside the large box with the record player along with several records by various artists and one (the one by Invidia’s friend) that is marked with an old Polaroid of Invidia hugging her while they both stand on the beach. In handwriting that isn’t the sinner’s but hers on the white bottom of the picture that reads ‘LBC, high by the beach’.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

‘Summertime, and the living’s easy…’ 

He did not expect any of the events that took place for his birthday this year, especially not the valuable gift and birthday wishes from Invidia. Things remained tricky or dare he said, dangerous, to be explained and understood. In this forest of unsaid truths and untold stories, he got lost; the night was thick, all luminaries were evacuated, all sounds muted and the ground melted down, and it started to feel like getting stuck in an infinite fall. 

And that was alright. Everything was fine when he set up the record, take a seat, and let the pieces of vinyl sing the songs Invidia had put a piece of his mind and heart in finding for him. And Invidia was right, Lio was hooked on his good friend’s music. His liking for her style grew so much that he was instantly on a long hunt to collect her other albums, like what he had just done when he ran into Invidia at a peaceful coffee shop. 

“Good afternoon Invidia,” Lio greeted with a relaxed smile. Fate had just put everything in perfect timing so that he could show Invidia what he was holding - another album of the other’s friend named ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell!’, and with it came what he had been planning to tell Invidia since his birthday. 

“Thank you so much for your gift, I do like it a lot. And guess I’m her fan now!”

[fulltimemoaner]

Zhongli is prosecuted for giving his Gnosis to the Tsaritsa, leaving him and Childe no choice than to flee to Snezhnaya.

Basically, some thieves cut Zhongli’s hair and Childe slaughters them because he really liked his hair.

Childe’s warm hand had felt comforting on his waist, even if he was hidden in a cloak under the warm sun of Liyue, being sneaked out of his homeland like the fugitive that he had become, like the land below him had forgotten the gentle rumbling of his energy and the security of his spears. He had fought back the urge to cry, thousands of years of protecting his safe harbour pointing their treacherous fingers at him. Yet, unlike Azhdaha, there was no bitterness, no disgust towards his beloved humans that had so willingly shunned him after news of his contract with the Tsaritsa had surfaced. In fact, the adoring citizens of Liyue had issued a warrant for him, for the Archon’s head that had wished to sign with the Fatui and sell out their safety.

Zhongli did not wish for the dominion of his beliefs, nor for acceptance, because mortal life was too brief and brittle to understand the gamble of him keeping his Gnosis when he could feel the claws of erosion leeching into his sanity. To their eyes, he had been their loving and protective God, who couldn’t be wrong, who would continue to reign for the millennia to come. The rusty floorboards had creaked underneath his feet, and he had caught the last traces of his homeland’s sun before he had been ushered to the basement of the ship for the first few hours, until they had been a safe distance from Liyue.

The adepti had weeped for this outcome, yet he had begged them not to rain down their vengeance on the mortals, to be gentle and understanding. He had entrusted them with the continuous protection of their harbour.

And the next air he breathed was that of Snezhnaya, the first light he saw was cold and fragile. He had emerged from his murky cabin in the early morning and had approached the railing that separated them from the freezing ocean. The rippling wind whipped back the hood of the heavy coat Ajax had provided him with, and now his hair waved in the wind, his eyes staring emptily into the distance as his skin itched from the cold. The Tsaritsa had accepted him as a fugitive asking for protection, and now, as his hands gripped the railing, he realised he hadn’t been that far away from home since the Archon War.

He looked up, feeling the soft tears that clung to his eyelashes freezing over, the sun obscured by a thick layer of clouds. How he missed the gentle breeze already.

The same went for Snezhnaya itself, it was cold enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his lungs ache. Ajax had taken his scarf off and wrapped it around his neck at the sound of his laboured breathing, then adjusted it to make sure it was covering his mouth and nose. Zhongli’s eyes had been curious as to why the ginger had been so gentle the past couple days, even the snark and edge having left his voice. Perhaps he felt for him. At least the gaze of the locals was gentle and welcoming, for the most part, offering him local delicacies and flowers before he and Childe could even reach his home. The Harbinger had been welcomed back like a hero, with huge bouquets and a massive meal prepared by his family.

Zhongli had been catatonic, at best, but at least, he had found some comfort in talking to the children, who were, as always, excited and easily impressed by his stories of dragons and extinct creatures.

He had stayed indoors for the first couple of days, too reluctant to go exploring on these foreign lands, but eventually, his confidence started building up again, so he picked up the small bag of money that Childe left for him every morning. -Zhongli had given his allowance of the two previous days to the little kids, since he hadn’t gone outside and concepts such as saving were nonexistent in his brain-

The attire, that he was getting used to. He wasn’t a huge fan of wearing boots, but he could say their smooth leather sealed him from the snow pretty well, and that the heavy coat felt strangely comforting around his shoulders. More than once, he had overheard people calling him the golden devil, which he considered to be quite endearing in its own, clueless way.

He stepped by a merchant’s booth with imported stones, including what they described as Liyuen Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jades. He leaned in a bit closer for observation, and the merchant seemed to shift uncomfortably, which pretty much told Zhongli that these were, in fact, fake. He straightened up again, unable to resist teasing the merchant. “Are these imported straight from the chasm?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes seemed to go wide, and he quickly tried to dodge the question. Thankfully, for him, a whistle tore through their ears and made the young foreigner turn, his eyes narrowed.

“Lovely accessory you have there, good sir.” A young man smiled, accompanied by three others. “Looks like the real thing too.” The Snezhnayan man caressed the piece of jewellery that held Zhongli’s hair into a neat ponytail in a leery way. The ex archon didn’t move, only observed with caution, his piercing gaze saying more than words ever could. “Say, you aren’t, by any chance, the Tsaritsa’s guest from Liyue harbour?”

The other men chuckled and Zhongli glanced at the merchant, who started packing up his items hurriedly, seemingly intimidated by the gang. “Why, yes, I am.” He said neutrally, his voice a notch lower than friendly.

“Huh, you have nerve, saying that so openly.” The Snezhnayan’s fist twisted around the half-golden ponytail and pulled Zhongli’s head back. “You owe us, since we so willingly welcomed you here.” The stranger smirked, reaching behind his back for a folded knife. “I’m sure we could sell Morax’s hair for quite a fortune.” Another yank to the head and Zhongli blinked apathetically. “Aren’t you fighting back?”

“I have no interest in fighting mortals.” Zhongli shrugged. “My hair is my hair. Three years to grow them back is like the blink of an eye to me.”

The man’s eyes flickered with fury at the stranger, and he brought that dagger into his coal hair, severing the strands roughly. Zhongli’s eyes stayed unmoving, hostile, hateful, in a way. The lump of hair fell into the snow unceremoniously, and one of the others scurried to grab it.

“Yo,”

Zhongli’s eyes flickered from the thief to the source of the familiar voice. Relief washed over him at the sight of ginger hair and ocean blue eyes, that slender figure hugged in his winter attire that Zhongli rarely saw him in. A primal sense of grounding gripped him, almost like the essence of his home, which he had eternally bound to Childe’s smiling face. Unorthodox, he knew, but he was like an oasis of familiarity that the weather hadn’t manage to freeze over yet.

“Where is your Snezhnayan upbringing, picking on the Tsaritsa’s guests?” Ajax sighed, walking leisurely towards Zhongli. “I have eyes and ears where my hands can’t reach, and right now, mr. Zhongli is under my supervision.” His hand found its familiar spot on the God’s waist, his eyes scanning for any traces of harm’s way on him. His hand reached the back of his head before his eyes did, and they narrowed dangerously. “Ah, is that what you were going for? It’s a shame.” Zhongli felt uncertainty creep up his spine at the shift in the Harbinger’s tone, still wishing for no harm towards the mortals.

“Ajax,”

“It’s a shame,” Childe continued, cracking his neck to the left, then to the right with a relieved smile. “Because I happened to love his hair, and I don’t take kindly to things being taken away from me.”

“Ajax, let’s go home.” Zhongli grabbed his wrist, the whole group of thieves frozen in fear at the sight of the Fatui.

“No, no. We can’t do that. When someone kisses you, they expect a kiss back, no?” Ajax stepped forward and stretched his arm out, his hydro dagger appearing into his hand. “You might not want to shift the tides here, mr. Zhongli, but these rascals are my own.”

“Run!” The leader of the thieves screamed, but they didn’t stand a chance. Childe threw the dagger first, hitting the middle one between his shoulder blades. Blood gushed out in waves and Ajax laughed joyfully, running to the gurgling body to pull his weapon out, then join it into a larger pole-arm. A jump and a couple of spins and heads went flying, legs were severed, and the snow was painted an abysmal red. Childe leaned his head back, feeling the wind swipe his hair back and freeze his smile in place. The weapons vaporised in his hands, and he slowly lowered his gaze to Zhongli, stood meekly by the scene of the slaughter. Childe wrestled the hair out of the dead man’s grip, for the sake of retreating the luxurious clip that his lover favoured since he first met him. “Measly thieves. Someone has to be the sacrificial lamb, the subject to teach the others a lesson,”

Zhongli’s eyes eased shut when Ajax closed in on his space, leaning close to his face and pushing the small accessory into his gloved hand. “I love you.” Ajax whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of Zhongli’s brow. “And I intend to keep you safe here.”

“They wouldn’t kill me, Ajax.” Zhongli sighed deeply, leaning into Childe’s neck. “They wouldn’t be able to.”

“No one will dare to try anymore.” The Harbinger’s hand nestled to the small of the ex archon’s back, pulling him close to his body. He started to caress the back of his head with his free hand, trying to feel the roughly cut strands through the fabric of his gloves. “I’m sorry they touched you.”

“You’re more sad about that than I am.” Zhongli smiled gently and pulled the Harbinger’s head down to press their foreheads together. “It will grow back in no time.”

“I’m a mortal like they are.” Ajax whispered sadly, his eyes easing shut. Zhongli pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips in response, trying to ease the pain in his lover’s voice.

“And I’m eroding, so let’s try to outlive each other.” Zhongli chuckled, making Childe squeeze him close, a neediness evident in his touch. “I want to live like mortals do, with you, Ajax. That’s why I’m here.”

“Please, don’t say such things to me.” The Harbinger breathed deeply, trying to choke down a few stray tears. “I promise I will make your stay worthwhile.”

“I know.” Zhongli kissed his jaw quickly. “You can start by taking me somewhere, I’m freezing.”

“Right.” Childe laughed, reaching out to grasp the ex archon’s hand and pull him away from the bloodied grounds. “I’m taking you for lunch. I will tell some underlings to clean up the mess.”

“You could had been more clean about it.”

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✾A.J.- Like a Teen Again?☼✶

Master list

Words: 2968

Warnings: masturbation, overstim, bit o’ begging, smut

Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki x FEM!reader

Summary: Tamaki gets hit with some sort of mood enhancement quirk, and it’s effects are questionable 

===NSFW BELOW THE CUT===

You weren't totally caught up on Tamaki's situation, but you did know his predicament revolved around a mood type quirk. You didn't know what to expect when you arrived at the hospital he was in. Apparently he was in great physical condition, which didn't really shock you. It also didn't shock you when Tamaki was leaning his forehead against the hospital wall, and you had to reassure the nurses that this was normal.

He was let out soon after you arrived, and the doctor filled in more of the details.

"This quirk isn't powerful," the doctor explained, "Just enhances Amajiki-kun's emotions; his moods are that of a fifteen year-old boy, basically."

You nodded along, not worrying too much about Tamaki. He would just be a bit more nervous and worrisome than usual; he'd have to take a few days off to recuperate. The doctor prescribed some medication if it got really bad.

"—typical teens have sudden waves of depression, so if he shows any serious symptoms he should take one of these in the morning. You shouldn't need to use them, but it's better to be safe than sorry," the doctor smiled, handing you a small vile of what you assumed to be anti-depressants.

You thanked the doctor, and Tamaki just gave a stiff nod as he followed you out of the building.

"I-I don't feel particularly different..." Tamaki stuttered, curling his pinky with yours.

"You just seem a bit off, is all," you flashed him a smile.

"Uh- hn," he stammered, his face flushing a bright pink. You didn't think much of it when you hopped into the car with Tamaki, but you did have to help him with his seatbelt because his hands were shaking.

"Why are you so shaky, Tami?" You placed your hand on his, and his eyes widened and he seemed to freeze.

"—uh, um. Ghn," Tamaki sputtered, his cheeks becoming impossibly redder. "S-so... so... you're so hot!"

Your jaw hit the floor, and you analyzed his terrified expression. He didn't mean to say that, you realized. Was he.. really like a teenage boy right now?

"I- oh my g-god. I didn't- I, I'm so sorry," Tamaki whimpered quietly, tears forming in his eyes.

"Oh butterfly, don't cry!" You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. "It's ok for you to say that, I'm your girlfriend, bub."

You bit your lip trying to think of what Tamaki was like in his first year of UA. How should you comfort him? Has he always been like this?

"O-ok," he gulped, wiping away his tears.

He was silent the rest of the way home, staring out of the window and probably overthinking what he did two minutes ago. His cape surrounded him like a blanket, and his face was hidden in his hood. Damn, was he really like this all the time? You wondered.

Tamaki practically ran out of the car when you finally got to the apartment, hardly waiting for you as he strode up the stairs to your guys' room. You caught up to him a few moments later, and he stood at the door waiting for you to unlock it.

"I would ask 'what has gotten into you?', but I already know," you said as you let him in.

"Y-you do?!" Tamaki sweat dropped, and he looked as though he was going to faint.

"Tami," you deadpanned, hanging up your coat, "not twenty minutes ago did the doctor explain to me your state of mind."

"Oh, r-right," Tamaki whispered, scratching the back of his neck. "I-I'll just be in o-our room."

You watched, flabbergasted, as he disappeared into your room, not quite closing the door behind him. Aaaalrighty then.

After you started prepping dinner, you realized that you probably shouldn't leave Tamaki alone for too long, incase something happened. You quickly finished chopping the carrots, and put down the knife. You hung up your apron and opened the door to your room a crack. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull; there Tamaki was in all his glory, hero outfit stripped to the floor, sprawled out on the bed with his hand on his cock.

"B-bunny~ p-please, oh you feel so good," he whimpered, eyes scrunched tightly shut.

Oh. Now this was a rare sight. Tamaki was usually very careful to not masturbate with you in the house, fearing that you would be disappointed that he didn't just come to you instead, (Only when you walked in on him and he started crying did you realize how he felt; integrating mutual masturbation into your sex life made him feel better about doing it).

"Oh fuck, y/n," Tamaki stumbled, his toes curling. "S-so good~ your hands— so.. good."

You couldn't help but walk in and close the door behind you. The sound of your arrival startled Tamaki, and his face reddened yet again, "I-I... uh.."

"It's ok Tami," you purred, edging closer to the bed. "Do you want me to... touch you?"

Tamaki could only nod, shock still in his eyes. He gulped as you crawled towards him on the bed, taking off your shirt and reaching out your hand to his cock. His head threw back once you teased a finger along his length, fisting the bedsheets under him, "I-I'm close."

You didn't tease Tamaki, instead you encouraged him, "c'mon, Butterfly. Come for me."

You gripped him loosely, using your other hand to gently rake your nails up and down his chest. His breath quickened, and his eyes hid behind his hair, trying to conceal his desperate state. You flicked your wrist in the way you knew he liked, and he came with a long groan. You licked his cum off your hand and his chest, not breaking eye contact with his awed expression.

"I'm sorry!" Tamaki squeaked, sitting up and pressing his knees to his chest. "I didn't— I just— I c-came super fast, a-and that was r-really weird and e-embarrassing-."

"Tama, baby, it's alright," you comforted, scooting closer to rest a hand on his exposed knee. "I'm always honoured whenever I make you cum. Doesn't matter how quick."

Tamaki peeked up at you through his hair, and gave you a shaky smile, face heating up considerably. You saw his eyes widen, and you knew immediately that he was getting hard again. Tamaki squeezed his legs closer together, attempting to hide his growing erection.

You leaned down to whisper in his ear, "let me finish making dinner, and after we eat I'm all yours for the night."

Tamaki's breath hitched softly, and he gave you a slight nod, gulping down his nerves. You rubbed his knee before standing up and walking towards the bedroom door. He let out a hefty sigh once you closed the door as you left, relaxing his legs and running his fingers through his hair.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. He was the horniest he'd been since high school, and he didn't know how to cope. It was so sudden, and his body was so overwhelmed with feeling. He tried to relax and close his eyes, waiting for you to be done with dinner.

Tamaki padded down the short hallway, now clothed with sweatpants and a T-shirt, to eat with you. He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, the short nap he had taken made him feel a tad bit better.

"Hey, Butterfly!" You cheered from the sink, a dishcloth on your shoulder, "dinner is just on the table. I'll be there in a sec."

"Thank you, Bunny," Tamaki blushed, pulling out a chair to sit in. "I-It smells really good."

You hung up your cloth and smiled at him brightly, "of course, Tama-chan!"

You steered over to the table, (hair askew, and) some flour on your cheek. Tamaki couldn't help but admire your slightly disheveled appearance; he felt wrong to think of such lewd things at your flushed face. He felt his own cheeks heat up again, and bowed his head down to his meal.

Tamaki listened to you ramble about your day, a small smile adorning his face at your enthusiasm. He couldn't finish his food, too flustered about what was to come later. "let me finish making dinner, and after we eat I'm all yours for the night." He shuttered at your words, sort of restless and impatient.

You giggled at your spot by the sink, watching Tamaki drown in his thoughts as you slowly started to undress. He hadn't even realized that you took his plate from him, chopsticks still in his hand. Once you were completely naked, you tied the apron back on and continued cleaning the dishes.

A clatter from Tamaki's chopsticks sounded a few minutes later, and you assumed that he had finally come back to his senses, "can you pass me your cup and chopsticks please, Tami?"

You could practically feel the heat radiating off of Tamaki from behind you, his utensils being placed beside you on the counter. You took a few more minutes to clean up, enjoying the tension in the air. When you finally turned around to face Tamaki, it was like he'd hardly moved. He was leaning against the table, cheeks completely red, head bowed to the floor, and a raging hard-on in his pants.

"Don't you have room for a little dessert, Tama?" You teased, leaning your forearms behind you on the countertop.

You saw him visibly gulp, and nervously look up to you. His knuckles were white, still gripping the edge of the table. Usually he wouldn't be too scared to step closer and engage in a kiss, but tonight was different. You had to initiate. You slowly walked towards him, reaching out a hand to lay on his shoulder. He was tense under your gaze, and looked to the floor again.

"B-bunny, I-I-," Tamaki shook. "I'm s-so overwhelmed. I'm so- t-turned.. on. I can barely function."

"Just try and relax, Butterfly," you cooed, stroking his cheek. "How about we start off here, by the table, hmm?"

Tamaki's eyes met yours, wide and dilated. He gave a stout nod, and swallowed harshly. You guided your hands to his hips, signalling him to sit on the table. He did as he was told, now around the same hight as you. You grasped his shirt with one hand and leaned in to kiss him, causing Tamaki to let out a muffled sob. A little bit of sanity came back to him and he wrapped his arms around you, eagerly deepening the kiss.

Your hand inched lower, hovering over his sweatpants' strings. Tamaki chirped when you grazed over his cock, bucking his hips up in an attempt to get more friction. You could feel him begin to pull away, prepared to apologize, but your other hand came up and fisted the back of his head, forcing him to stay put. Tamaki whined loudly, his crotch bucking up continuously to make contact with your hand. With another rut of his hips he let out a glut of groans and whimpers, desperately clinging to your figure.

You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, and you peered down to examine Tamaki's stained pants.

"Oh Bu-Bunny~" Tamaki said in a daze, head lolling to the side.

"Second time today, huh?" You ribbed, patting the wet spot with the pad of your finger.

"N-no," Tamaki shook his head. "Third time. I-I had a wet dream after you left and I took a n-nap."

You grinned at him, marvelling at the afterglow on his flushed face, "hm, maybe we won't even need to continue~."

"W-wait," Tamaki's eyes widened desperately, "I- I can go a few m-more rounds. Please."

You bit your lip at his puppy-dog eyes, pretending to think about his plea, "well, I don't see why not. You do have tomorrow off..."

"Thank y-you, Bunny," Tamaki cracked a wobbly smile, "I love you..."

"I love you too, my little Butterfly~," you kissed the tip of his nose, "y'think you can come to the bedroom with me?"

Tamaki nodded, hungrily licking his lips. You guided him to your room, hand interlocked with his, and lay him down on the bed. He was already semi-hard again, grasping the sheets beside him. He looked at you longingly as you slowly unraveled your apron, taking care to fold it neatly and setting it on your dresser.

Even though you stood butt naked in front of him, you still felt powerful from his zealous gaze. You took a slow turn, walking towards the dresser and pulling out a tube of lube. You placed it on the bedside table and went back to Tamaki. His chest rose and fell unevenly, elated from his past orgasms. His wide eyes watched as you slowly dragged down his soiled sweatpants, stuttering nonsense when you saw that he wasn't wearing any underwear.

"I-it was just, um. I, uh— well, y'see.." Tamaki rambled.

"S' ok, Butterfly," you soothed, throwing his pants in the laundry basket. "I was wondering why you looked so much more delicious this evening."

Tamaki whined when you gripped his tumescent cock, gleaming with leftover cum, "I-I'm so sensitive. It almost hurts, b-but I want more. So, so b-bad, bunny."

"Hm, how about I fuck you real good? How's that sound?" You asked, picking up the pace of your pumps.

Tamaki nodded eagerly, "yesyesyesyesyess pl-please."

You sat up and positioned yourself above his twitching cock, eager for his gorgeous moans and whines. You slowly dropped your hips, quickly adjusting to his size, and bottomed out.

"F-fuck, bunny," Tamaki cried, throwing his head back against his pillow. "You feel so-ho good!"

Tamaki's indigo halo of hair was spread out; sheening with his sweat. He looked dazed, his body sprawled out on the bed, and his thighs slightly sticky with cum. He sobbed in pleasure as he watched you bounce on his cock, his hands were too weak to even grip the sheets underneath him. He rubbed his hands along your thighs and waist, squeaking out moans and jumbled sentences.

"You look so pretty like this, Butterfly," you lulled, swaying your hips in teasing motions, "you're doing so well, baby. I love you."

"Iloveyoutoo~!" Tamaki griped in reply, hardly able to decipher your words. He felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon of clouds and pleasure. Is that what they mean by 'cloud 9'? He didn't have enough brainpower to think about that; or much of anything, really.

You reached over and grabbed your vibrator, having a feeling that you wouldn't be able to come from the slow pace you were set at for Tamaki. Soft buzzing filled the room as you pressed the button a few times, and you pressed it to your clit.

"Feels so good, Tama," you moaned deeply, trying to egg him on.

He seemed to stir, eyebrows scrunching up, and letting out a small whimper. Tamaki honestly felt like he was dreaming, or maybe even in Heaven. He squinted his eyes open, gazing at your blurry figure riding him. He weakly bucked his hips up, wanting you to bounce harder.

"Please," he whispered, "h-hard— harder."

You did as he wished, laying the vibrator on his stomach so you could get more leverage. Your pussy clenched deliciously around Tamaki's cock whenever your clit made contact with the vibrator, practically forcing groans and whimpers out of Tamaki.

He felt his abs clench once again, alerting him that he was close. Again. His abs were sore as hell, but he still wanted more. He wanted you to absolutely ruin him, ride him into oblivion, and milk him completely dry of his cum. Your pussy felt so good, and he thought he could feel his tongue lull out of his mouth. So... good...

A long keen left your lips as you watched Tamaki's face contort in pleasure. He was so fucked out, babbling pleads and whines. You scrambled for your phone, still riding him, and snapped a few pictures. Your little Butterfly was so hot.

You gripped the vibrator again, pressing it against your delicate clit, desperately chasing the upcoming high. "You're being so good for me, Tama. Come again with me. You can do it."

Even though your voice was muffled, your words urged him on. Tamaki nodded helplessly, not sure whether he was sobbing or moaning, (probably both).

"Please, Bunny," he tried to call. "Cum. Want you to cum on m-my cock."

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, rocking your hips faster. "Oh fuck, Tamaki. So good, so good~"

Tamaki couldn't tell if he was coming once again, or if he was just feeling really good. He heaved out a sharp whine, squirming and bucking up from under you. Yeah, he was coming again.

"Yes!" You hollered, eyes rolling back and legs uncontrollably shaking. "Yesyesyesyesssss~ Ta-ma-kiiiiii."

"Thank you thank you thank you," he pleaded, vision turning white and fuzzy. "I- cum- I came so h-ard."

You switched off the vibrator, and tossed it on the bed. You weakly lifted yourself off of Tamaki's now soft dick, a few glops of cum falling onto his stomach. Tamaki was a trembling mess, whimpering 'thank you''s, and 'let me come one more time'. You sneakily snapped a picture before rushing off to grab a warm soapy cloth.

"How are you feeling, Butterfly?" You soothed the cloth carefully around his pelvic area, cleaning up dried cum and sweat.

"A-again?" He mumbled weakly. "Please?"

"No, not until you rest up. You're over your limit and you're way too out of it to be thinking clearly," you explained, wiping his face clean of drool and sweat, "I'll get you some water and then we can cuddle."

He nodded weakly as you left for the kitchen, and you made a mental note to phone the doctor that you were pretty sure this wasn't any normal mood quirk Tamaki was hit with.

[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

Chapter Ten

Word count:4,179

_______________________________________________

Tony putters through the common room’s kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets. He gathers two mugs from a shelf, setting them by the coffee maker. A bag of coffee grounds lays open on its side. Y/N stands at the doorway, teetering between turning around and entering.

Shocks of desolation from visiting Bernie— cataloging his wounds and pallid skin— reverberate through her body. She wants to be alone; can’t handle playing nice with Tony Stark, of all people. But, more than that, she wants coffee. Her comfort drink, a staple to her life and sanity. It sits out of reach, guarded by Tony’s waist.

“You gonna stand there all day or do you want a cup?” he asks without turning.

Y/N starts, spine straightening and fists clenching. She considers ignoring him and cutting her losses. “If you’re offering,” she decides, tentative.

He bobs his head, pouring the grounds into the filter. Doesn’t he have someone to take care of menial tasks? He reminds her of Batman: an eccentric billionaire turned masked vigilante. Where is Tony’s Alfred? Although, she supposes JARVIS suffices in an abstract sense; wired through the Tower to bend at Tony’s whims.

“Well, come on, then.”

Y/N ventures into the room, steps short and light. She doesn’t trust him as much as she suspects he doesn’t trust her; she hasn’t given him a reason to. Still, she pulls out a chair at the island. The coffee maker gurgles to life on the counter. Tony turns around, leaning against the marble, ankles overlapped and arms crossed.

“You gonna chuck another knife at me, or are we good?”

Y/N looks at her hands clasped on her lap. Heat burns on her cheeks from embarrassment. With the distance of a turned day, her haste to punish someone—anyone— for Bernie’s pain flashes through her mind, tainted by shame of taking it out on the wrong person. She doesn’t know how to apologize. It forms on her tongue in sharp edges and dumbbells, but how can she get it out?

It’s not the hardship of choking on her pride that stilts her admission, but facing the truth: she chose violence over pragmatism; heart over head.

She turns her palms against her thighs, rubbing away the sweat, before meeting Tony’s eyes. He cocks a brow. “Tony,” she starts, unsure of where to go next.

A saving grace, Tony waves his hand. “Bygones.” He turns at the beep of the machine, filling the mugs and passing one to Y/N.

She wraps her fingers around it, thankful for the warmth and a place to put her hands. Swallowing, she tries again. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Tony shrugs, sipping his coffee. His nose scrunches and lips smack. “Least I could do, I guess.”

Y/N nods, gaze trained on the opaque coffee as it glistens under the lights. Oil shimmers, bubbles dissipating to edges. Tony sighs, setting his mug down with a gentle clink.

“You know, before I made JARVIS into an AI he was my father’s butler. Chauffer. Whatever he needed.”

Y/N snorts. So he did have an Alfred.

Ignoring her, he continues, “JARVIS was around more than my dad, most times. Knew him better and all that.” He speaks frankly, as if confirming water’s wetness or the sun’s heat.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Tony stares at the archway that leads into the hall. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers drumming his bicep. “It’s called an olive branch. Building a rapport. Finding common ground.” He looks at her. “Bernie is to you what JARVIS was to me.” He picks his coffee up and raises it in cheers. “This coffee is symbolic of our shitty fathers and shittier circumstances. Drink up.”

She sips the coffee at his command. “Who says my dad was shitty?”

Tony rolls his eyes over his mug. “Aside from my deep dive into your background, it takes one to know one.”

Silence settles, interrupted by wayward slurps and clinks. Tony doesn’t press, and Y/N doesn’t ask. The camaraderie of shared experiences speaks louder than either could.

The coffee tastes like coffee. Y/N expected Tony to buy blends jam-packed with flavor: French Vanilla, hazelnut, pumpkin spice. With his plethora of wealth, he can afford it. But the familiar bitterness rolls over Y/N’s tongue, and it tastes like home. Like waking to a frozen dawn and layering sweatshirts to sit on her fire escape. If she closes her eyes, she hears the clambering of early-risers; smells the stench of her side street; feels the burn of cool metal under her thighs and the chilling wind on her fingers.

“How’s your ear?”

Tony runs his fingers over it. “Meh. You didn’t get me too bad.”

Y/N chugs the rest of her cup, standing. She rinses it out in the sink to Tony’s left. “Do you know where Steve is?”

Tony snorts, glancing at her in his peripheral. “You going on an apology-Rock-of-Ages tour?” She doesn’t answer. “If you are, I suggest you get better with actually saying the words. Capsicle ain’t as gracious as yours truly.”

She steps back from the sink, arms crossed and eyebrows high.

He flutters a hand while putting his mug next to hers. “All right, all right. He’s in the gym. Said his muscles were looking a little small.”

Y/N huffs a laugh for the first time in two days, cracking half a smile. “Much appreciated, Funko Pop.”

“That’s all you got for me?” he shouts after her as she walks away.

Grunts and punches lead her to the gym on the opposite side of the floor. She wandered, taking chances at turns rather than asking for directions, until it led her to an observatory overlooking weight racks and sparring mats. If she asked, JARVIS would have directed her, but she didn’t want to cheat. Or listen to a disembodied voice tell her to go left, right, or straight.

Below, Steve pummels a punching bag, sweat gleaming under the lights. His shirt molds to his back, moving with his muscles as he strikes. It shows more than if he didn’t wear it.

Y/N averts her gaze to the skylight. The sun hovers at its peak, streaming into the room and highlighting dust motes floating in the air. The permanent musk of perspiration mingles with citrus cleaner. If not for the likely reinforced and expensive equipment, the gym could be any other.

She rolls her tongue in her mouth, running through conversation starters in her mind. Should she come in, guns ablaze, with her apology? What is she apologizing for? Not how he treated her at Blue’s; he had no right to grab her and corner her.

But she acted like an ass when they brought in Bernie—threw threats and insults like her goddamn job.

Swallowing her pride here is lighter than with Tony; she didn’t hurt Steve.

She breathes in for seven breaths, holds it for four, and exhales. A set of stairs lead to the floor below. She glides her hand on the rail, taking her time. Without shoes, her socks absorb her steps. With shoes, Steve’s wailing on the bag would drown out her entrance. It gives her time to think, but not long enough to change her mind.

Y/N clears her throat to announce her arrival, but Steve keeps hitting. She steps closer, clearing her throat again. Should she call his name? At his back, now, she reaches to tap his shoulder. Before her fingers land, his hand shoots up, grabbing her wrist in a vice grip. Steve twists her arm behind her back, a sharp pain shooting up her spine.

She grunts, spinning with the motion to unlock her joint. Her rotation ends with her facing Steve, who holds his hands up. “Shit!” he hisses. “I’m so sorry. I felt someone behind me and I— well.”

Y/N drops her hands to dangle by her sides. Her chest heaves, adrenaline coursing and tingling beneath her skin. She hasn’t sparred for shit and giggles in awhile; too long. She misses the rush without the danger. “It’s fine. Makes us even.”

Steve frowns, nose scrunching. “What?”

Y/N shrugs, massaging the shoulder he twisted. “I came to say sorry for being an ass. You put me in a joint-lock. I figure we’re one-one, now.”

He snorts, crossing his arms. The swinging bag knocks against his thighs. “Is that right? What if I still want an apology? You were an ass.”

Y/N gapes. “You’re shitting me.”

Steve chews his bottom lip, lifting a shoulder. They stare at each other, Steve amused and Y/N glaring. The longer he looks down his nose at her, the stronger her stubbornness grows. Fuck an apology.

He relents first, a grin pushing up his cheeks. “Yeah, all right. Apology accepted. Even if it was a shitty one.”

Y/N sighs, chest deflating with a slow exhale. “Right. Thanks.” She turns on her heel, confused. She expected… well, she doesn’t know what she expected, but this wasn’t it.

“Wait!” he shouts. Y/N stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Your shoulder. It’s okay?”

She looks over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, I got out in time.”

He nods. “I noticed. Not bad for a— what did you say? Street rat?”

Y/N doesn’t know what to say. The Captain America she grew up with in history books reeked of righteousness and a holier-than-thou attitude. Black and white pictures of World War Two above quotes about right and wrong. Poorly filmed videos of the Howling Commandos in their camps before covert operations. Nary a grin or joke in sight.

“What?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I didn’t know you knew how to joke, to be honest.” She steps from the stairs to lean against the railing.

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone says that. The first time I cracked a joke about hitting the ice, Tony asked if I was all right.”

“I mean, have you seen the propaganda they spread about you? Put you on posters to encourage kids to sign up for war. Said, Captain America ate his Wheaties and you should, too! Anyone born after you grew up thinking you’re a stick in the mud.”

Steve rocks from his heels to the balls of his feet, hands shoved in his pockets. Red blossoms across his cheeks. “Well, if I had anything to say about it, they’d’ve used me to caution against war. Also, Wheaties tasted like shit. Still do.”

The man before her looks less like a national icon and more like a sheepish nerd turned gym rat. Reconciling the differences between history books and the person behind the legend draws her to one conclusion: the similarities between Steve Rogers and Captain America are sister circles in two different Venn diagrams.

Steve clears his throat, shoulders encroaching on his ears.

“God, you’re just a kid, huh?”

“What?”

“Yeah, man. You hibernated for seventy years, sure. But, fuck, you’re like twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?” He hums, unsure and still flushed. “And they still got you fighting wars,” she mumbles, shaking her head.

“It is what it is. The world needs Captain America, I guess.” He swipes his tongue along his lip, tilting his up to peer at the sun.

Y/N mulls over her response, hesitant to disrupt the precarious peace. A twenty-seven year old charged with dying for one war to wake up in another. Reduced from a person to a thing; a face on a poster; a body built to take the hits. She wonders at his loneliness, how he stands it.

She chose her solitude. Despite her complaints, she loves her apartment with the thin walls and cracked ceiling. It’s hers, and it’s home. She earns enough to pay bills and entertain a job on the side.

Steve sacrificed his autonomy for his generation’s war, and they took that as willingness to join the next one.

“Maybe,” she acquiesces, pushing the ping in her chest for his losses down and away. She doesn’t know him to deduce his state of mind or opinion on the future. Y/N offers a final nod, stepping up the stairs. Thundering punches echo through the gym, a symphony over Steve’s grunts.

In the hallway, she spins in a circle on her heel and examines the walls, trailing to the ceiling. The smooth walls, painted to perfection, hide JARVIS’ inner workings. The ceiling is bare. Where are the intercoms or speakers?

“JARVIS?” she whispers, hesitant to use his services when she can’t see him. It?

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” His voice fills the corridor from all sides.

Y/N wouldn’t put it past Stark to hide microphones behind thin plaster to maintain a polished exterior. She toes the tile. “Where’s Bucky?”

It’s gotten easier to admit to herself that she likes Bucky’s company, at least in comparison to the stilted conversation with Steve or Tony. She aches for the familiar jabs in his gravel tone; warm and smooth. His no-holds-barred frankness. Anything to get out of her head.

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, ma’am. Would you like me to get him?”

The roof of a skyscraper? She hums, rocking onto her heels. “No. No, thank you. Can I— am I allowed up there?”

A pause.

“Sergeant Barnes consents to your company.”

Y/N turns around to the other end of the hallway. It forks left and right, chrome doors against the wall. “Can I take the elevator up?”

“To a certain point. You must take stairs the rest of the way.”

She marches to the elevators, shoulders back and head high. The moment of weakness in a vacant hallway gone, she dons her brutish mask. The doors ding open at her approach, JARVIS a step ahead. She strides inside, the doors closing at her back.

Without pressing a button, the elevator ascends to the highest level. Floor numbers rush past. Untainted by brimming rage or desolation, she appreciates its smoothness. It stops at the entrance to a stairwell.

“How many floors to the roof?”

“Ten, Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N groans, pulling open the door. The concrete steps stare in mocking. “Tell Bucky he’s an asshole.”

“He laughed and said: ‘I could’ve come down, idiot’.” JARVIS’ voice gives way to Bucky’s teasing tone.

Rather than answer, she begins her trek up.

The stairs are cold but a welcome reprieve to the stifling air of the gym. It grounds her in the moment, even if goosebumps raise on her skin. It’s quiet in the stairwell, save for her steps and labored breathing— she can scale a small building if permissible, but ten flights of stairs may just do her in.

By the time she reaches the door to the roof, she’s had enough of this shit. Through the window, Bucky stands facing the horizon, hair blowing in the wind. She’ll have to make fun of him for that later. As it is, the door is heavy and refuses to budge with a normal push. She braces both hands on the latch and shoves. It slams open, hitting the wall with a bang.

Bucky turns, a brow raised. “Well, hello to you, too. Where the fuck is your jacket?”

Y/N shrugs, wrapping her arms around her waist and meeting him at the edge of the roof. The sun grins through skyscrapers, shining like a personal spotlight. Her shoulders shake with shivers despite the clear sky, the breeze resilient and harsh.

“Didn’t think that far ahead. Kinda a spur of the moment decision.”

He huffs. “You’re makin’ me act like a gentleman, Y/N. Ruining my image,” he complains but pulls off his jacket.

“Oh, for fucksakes, keep your coat, Casanova.”

Ignoring her, he slips it over her shoulders. “Can’t have ya freezing up here. Steve and I got that title covered. And Tony’d have a field day with new nicknames.”

She grips the lapels, pulling it tighter. It protects better than bare skin, but her toes tingle, rocks digging through the socks. She leans into the ledge so it supports her weight. “Tony and I are friends now, didn’t you hear?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

She glares at him, both in mock annoyance and against the sun. “I’m serious. Ran into him making coffee, and you know I can’t resist a good cup. He bared his soul to me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, chin propped on his fist. “Oh, yeah? What for?”

“I dunno. Something about common ground or an olive branch or other.” She waves her hand between them.

“Oh, yeah? You going soft on me, Y/N?”

“Never. Who’d keep your ego in check?”

He cants his head as if thinking. “Sam, probably.”

“Ah, yes. Mister Righteous two-point-oh.”

“You still harboring bad feelings against Steve? C’mon, he’s practically a teddy bear.”

“Nah. We talked, too, you know.”

A grin pushes up his cheeks. “Man, you’re just making amends with everyone, huh?” He turns to the skyline, hands clasped and floating over the edge.

She laughs and nudges his arm with hers. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, where’s mine?”

“You’re what?”

“My apology! You’re handing ‘em out willy nilly, and I don't’ even get one?”

“Why in the fresh hell would I apologize to you, basket case?”

His chin dips to his chest, head shaking. “Well, case in point, for one. You got more insults than Tony, himself.”

“I reckon I owe you a few for breaking and entering, Barnes. We ain’t even yet.”

He tsks, looking at her in his peripheral. “You gonna hold that against me forever?”

She grins. “Probably.”

The buildings glisten with deep oranges and reds. Distant horns carry through the air, punctuated by returning honks. The unforgiving gale cuts across her face, an excuse for flushed cheeks and watering eyes. Heat rolls off Bucky in waves, their sides centimeters apart. Y/N ignores the whispered sigh of content in her chest; the pushing desire to close the distance and huddle into him. The rest of her mind is silent. No admonishments or red flags. Nothing but shallow peace.

She covers her left foot with her right, rubbing her toes to regain feeling before switching. The fingers on the jacket burn, reddening. She pulls it tighter.

“Christ, kid. No shoes, too?”

She covers her left foot again. “Like I said, didn’t really plan to join you up here. Why are you up here, anyway?”

He turns to her and unfurls her fingers from the jacket. She whines at the loss and onslaught of goosebumps. “C’mon,” he commands, holding the collar open for her to put her arms in the sleeves. “Once a sniper, always a sniper, I guess. I like the height.” He pulls the zipper to her chin. The sleeves reach past her hands. “Clears my mind.”

His confession, although small, burrows into her skin, zinging with familiar electricity. She gets it. Any reprieve from a chaotic mind is a good one— hundreds of feet above the ground or not. “You sure you’re not up here to brood? Keep your reputation of tall, dark, and mysterious?” she drops her voice in jest, a barrier between herself and his honesty.

“That, too.” He adjusts the hood to his sweatshirt and returns to his position on the wall.

Beyond the cityscape, boats traverse the Hudson, horns blowing. Buses and big wheelers and cars drive to and fro over the bridge into Brooklyn. Further past and up, her apartment is vacant, clothes and knick-knacks strewn about. Blue’s bustles, Carter pouring shots and patrons knocking them back.

She inhales until her lungs fill, chest swelling. Up here, the air is clean. New York’s perpetual stench, unable to climb the distance, sticks to dumpsters and the subway and the streets. Sirens blare, red and blue lights blazing down Madison Avenue. The sun falls behind another skyscraper.

Y/N turns her back to the wall, sliding down until her butt hits the ground, her knees pulled to her chest and arms wrapping around them. Pebbles and gravel poke through her sweatpants. She folds the sleeves over her hands to rub her toes.

Bucky plops beside her, legs splayed out. “Come ‘ere.”

Her cheek presses against her kneecaps to look at him. “What?”

He waves at her legs. “Gimme your feet.”

“What, you gonna give me a massage? What happened to your reputation, big guy?” she jokes, but turns to face him anyway.

He rolls his eyes, guiding her toes under his thigh. She hums, wiggling her toes to press against his leg. “See? You’re welcome. Now we’re even.”

Chin on her knee, she narrows her eyes. “Nah, I don't’ think so. You also took all my hard work. Gotta make up for that, too.”

“You practically shoved your hard work into my hands!” he protests, curling his fingers like quotation marks around ‘hard work’.

“Yeah, to get you outta my hair, you geriatric tin-can.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. His hands clasp in his lap. “Whatever you say.”

She grins in triumph, flicking his thigh. Light refracts off his metal hand, casting jewels on the ground. “You ever used that thing for a distraction?” She locks her fingers together to suppress the desire to run her finger along it.

“What?”

“Look.” She nods to the shiny spots on the ground. “You could, like, shine it in your enemies eyes or something, ya know? They’re looking at the light and— bam! You hit ‘em where it hurts.”

Bucky purses his lips around a smile, twisting his wrist to change the reflection. “If I can’t knock ‘em out or shoot ‘em, I’m not sure what good a distraction is.”

“Just a thought. It’d be pretty funny, though. Everyone expects the Winter Soldier to come in guns a-blazing, but instead you skulk on your roof tops and shine light in their eyes.”

His hand stills, curling into a loose fist. The smile slips away, the corners of his mouth turning down. He clears his throat, looking away. His jaw clenches and unclenches, like he rolls his tongue through his mouth. The leg on her toes shifts when he crosses his ankles and sits straighter.

“What?” she whispers.

Still staring holes into the far wall, Bucky sighs. His head falls back, shoulders sagging. “I—” He coughs once. “I’m fine joking about the arm. Got it after Wakanda. It’s mine now. I don’t… I’m not—”

“I’m sorry.”

His head shoots up to look at her, face scrunched.

“I won’t joke about that. Shouldn’t’ve anyway. So, sorry.” She says it frankly, figuring Bucky won’t like the fanfare of an impassioned apology anymore than herself.

He nods once. “Thanks.” He relaxes again, his hand falling to wrap around her ankle. He rubs his thumb over the bone. It sends shivers up her body, from the warmth and the proximity and… just Bucky, she supposes.

It shouldn’t be this easy to fall into a routine with him. The jabs and the jokes and the casual intimacy of honesty. She’s bared her own frayed edges without meaning to, but it didn’t feel wrong. Even in her stupor of panic, clutching on to Bucky’s shirt made sense. It wasn’t just holding tight to a fabric tether, but the man in it. Leaning into his shoulder, letting him touch her.

Her heart races, now, because it’s laid out in front of her like a week old newspaper she hadn’t read yet— old news in general, but new to her. She likes him.

She likes him.

The juvenile revelation sends just as juvenile waves through her stomach. She’s a grown woman who has seen things and done things; she’s already loved and lost, and walked the block a few times. A man shouldn’t make her all warm and tingly; shouldn’t make her feel like it’s all gonna be okay, so long as she gets to insult Bucky and have him smile at her.

Even still, she doesn’t pull away. She clears her throat to dislodge the new truth from her throat, but allows herself to revel in the comfort— at least for now. She can deal with this after everything.

After the Vipers.

After the Avengers do whatever they have planned for Hydra.

After Bernie walks out of his hospital bed.

Then, and only then, will she give herself the liberty of acknowledging, not only liking someone, but having the ability to like someone. She thought that mercy long dead.

The next time they speak, Bucky laughs at Y/N. Her stomach growls loud and ferociously. The sun finished the crest of its descent, painting the sky in rich purples and pinks and reds. Twilight, her favorite time of day. She memorizes the streaks of colors as they fade to a deep blue, a halo protecting the rising moon.

“Shut up,” she mumbles.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She parses through the past two days, considering. Before the meeting, before her panic attack, before Bernie. Blue’s. She says as much, sheepish.

Bucky snorts, patting her ankle. “C’mon. I’m hungry, too.”

[kashimos-hajime]

if the world was ending | b.b.

summary: bucky knows he’s still in love with you a year after the two of you mutually agreed to break up. when one phone call spirals into one plan being made and then another, and then suddenly he’s staying at your place, he wonders if there may be a chance to try again.

WARNINGS: small angst, a whole lotta fluff, literally fluff, swearing, mentions of s e x but they don’t do the do pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: inspired by if the world was ending by jp saxe (ft. julia michaels). a kinda real take on how sometimes the timing just isn’t right for a relationship and how sometimes it is.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your voice echoes in his car and he nearly shivers at how gentle, sleepy, you sound. He wondered where you’d be: at a bar or at home, working overtime or eating out after a long night, on a date. The thought had made him tired, sad, but it didn’t tear a hole through him as it once would.

“Was there something you needed? Are you okay?” you ask, something shifting on your end and he stops at a red light, turning on his left turn light. He doesn’t know where he’s driving to or how long he’s going to just press on until he goes home. The clicking of the light fills his head. “I know the earthquake was a bit weird.”

“Earthquake?” He remembers it at the mere word. Him not even feeling it, not even realizing he was driving through one until Sam had called him from the office asking if he was okay. “There was an earthquake, yeah. I’m fine. Didn’t even know it happened until after it happened.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic?”

He laughs, softly, because you still know him so well. “Yeah. Got trapped in the office.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You’re never fucking here! It’s like I’m dating a ghost and I don’t know if it’s because I’m boring you or if you just don’t love me anymore. Your voice, angry, twisted with grief and frustration, rattles in his skull as he clears his throat. The light switches green and he turns, driving until he spots an off ramp he knows leads to the highway

“Yeah.” It comes out tight and choked.

Of course I do. I love you, I just—

Just what?

“Yeah,” you say for lack of anything else. There is nothing but silence, but the sound of your gentle breathing and the sound of commercials running. 

“Did you fall asleep watching TV again?” he teases, his throat easing up a bit as you chuckle with a slight sigh.

“Yeah.” You sound like you’re smiling. Bucky hopes you are. “Just staying up late.” Because I’m still used to waiting up for you, the hopeful voice in his head adds quietly. “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a few months.”

Because I just figured out how not to text you when every little thing happens.

“I just thought of you,” he says, “after the earthquake happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Your end of the line falls silent and he hides his sigh. He knew it was a mistake. “I thought of you, too.” Your voice is hushed, tender, still full of a love both of you agreed wasn’t meant to be. The thought has always made Bucky torn with sorrow, shackled with guilt and regret. He doesn’t know if they are simply not strong enough to fight for their love or if their love just wasn’t meant to be so strong.

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that he is still in love with you—he always will be. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. “I still care about you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” You reply so instantaneously that he is convinced and he finds himself driving down familiar roads. His feet ache and he’s exhausted, but he keeps going. He doesn’t want to go home. “I care about you, too.”

You were my best friend.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“I’m okay. Single, if that’s what you really want to know,” you confess openly and his eyebrows rise. You don’t sound disappointed or angry about it, but he wonders if you still love him like he adores you. “But, yeah. Work is okay.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Alpine?” 

Bucky chuckles at the thought of the white cat back home. He’d been the one thing they truly fought over when they broke up, and he knows his cat misses you more than he does sometimes, if the persistent clawing in the middle of the night is anything to go by. He’s taken to shutting the windows to prevent his stupid cat from trying to make his way back to you, for his own sanity and Alpine’s safety.

“He misses you.”

“Well, you know he’s welcome to visit any time,” you point out. You let out a heavy breath and Bucky thinks maybe you’ve laid down or sat up, but he wonders what the apartment they used to share together looks like now. You always rearrange it however you see fit. It’s one of the most frustrating things about you but Bucky could never bare to tell you to stop. 

It kept their life together ever flowing, different despite living in the same place. 

He pulls over at a gas station when he notices the light flicker on.

“You know if the world was actually ending, I’d drop everything for you,” he says to ease the silence but it doesn’t. Instead, it only prolongs it and he sighs, eyes closing. “I don’t say it to confuse you or cause you pain. I just… wanted you to know. I—”

“I love you, too,” you murmur, voice dulcet and soft as feathers he can imagine you kissing the words into his skin. He tilts his head back until it rests against the headrest and he swallows. He doesn’t expect it to hurt but it does. Like a dull knife jabbing into his side. Not quite enough to bleed but enough to bruise. “I do. I don’t think I’ll ever not love you.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wished it’d work out.”

“Me too.”

Knock. Knock. Bucky opens his eyes to see a station attendant mouth ‘gas’ and he nods, rolling down the window. 

“Fill up, thanks,” Bucky says, and the guy nods. He unhooks his phone from the bluetooth and shoves it between his ear and shoulder, fiddling with his wallet. “Do you want anything from the gas station? Did you eat?” He doesn’t mean to sound boyfriendly but it’s natural and he can count all the late nights he’d walk in with no question to buy you candy or chips. He hands his card to the attendant, taking hold of his phone again and switching off the engine.

“I didn’t. I fell asleep before I could,” you confess and he shakes his head to himself, looking out the window. It’s not too busy. The only other person is a dad filling up his gas while his kids are knocked out asleep in the back. “I don’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna go to McDonald’s anyway.”

“I could meet you there?” He winces at how much he immediately regrets his words and you let out a soft breath of surprise. “If you’re comfortable, I mean. It’s the one by the apartment, right?”

“Yeah.” You pause for a moment as if thinking it over. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He knows if you didn’t want to, you’d say so and he wonders how he lucked out. “Give me fifteen minutes?”

“No need to dress up,” he assures but you scoff as it sounds like you get up.

“I’m going to look like utter garbage next to you in your suit. The pillow is permanently marked into my face.”

“It’s casual and it’s McDonald’s, although that’s not really healthy.”

“Fine, you health nut. Always trying to make me make better food choices.” You sound only vaguely annoyed and he knows you’re just joking. Your voice echoes in a way that tells him you’re in the bathroom. God, the fact that he still remembers the sound of your voice in different rooms over the phone is a red flag for his heart. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“There’s a new place on the corner of your block.” He knows that because he drove past your apartment building too many times to count, trying to work up the nerve to confess he regrets everything: not spending enough time with you, being a shitty boyfriend, changing from the man you love. Not to get you to take him back, just to apologize.

You deserve better than his preoccupied, stubborn, uncaring, can’t-delegate-his-time-to-spend-time-with-the-love-of-his-life ass.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to try that place,” you comment, your voice distant. “It’s on the way to the bus stop and since my car broke down—”

“What? Your car broke down?” 

“What?” Your voice picks up again as the guy hands back Bucky’s card and receipt. Bucky connects his phone to the bluetooth audio as the engine ignites once again. “Oh, yeah. A few days ago, it wouldn’t start. I’m lucky I wasn’t in the middle of the road.”

“I could take a look at it, doll,” he offers, pulling out of the gas station. He doesn’t even realize what he’s called you until the silence hits and he clears his throat. “You know, still know a few things about cars from back in the day.”

“Yeah. Bet that hot ass mechanic is still in there somewhere,” you reply. “I don’t want to trouble you. It’s late as it is.”

“It’s fine. Promise.” He wonders if it hurts as much for you to hear it as it is for him to even say the word. He can only repress the guilt poking at his sides. “We can eat and then I can take a look.”

Your sigh is heavy, tired, but he thinks there is just the slightest smile in your lips as you agree, “Okay. But you’re not paying for my food.”

“Old habits die hard, doll. I can’t say I can do that.”

“James—” A warning is edging into your tone and he laughs. As if he could ever be afraid of you, just seeing and imagining the adorable pout he always wanted to kiss off your face. This is a bad idea.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, “she called me James.”

“It’s your name, doofus.” Maybe you’re wrinkling your nose in annoyance, maybe your eyes are narrowed in an effort to hide the mirth seeping into your gaze. He doesn’t know, but a prickling sensation pokes into his limbs as he just imagines seeing you again. “I’ll see you in a bit? Drive safe.”

“I will. See you in ten, doll.”

He hangs up before you can comment on the pet name.

.

Walking into the bistro, he scans the place to find you sitting in the corner. The place is all wood and warm off-white paint and light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Plants are everywhere, and he quirks an eyebrow at the tiny succulent sitting on the hostess stand. The lighting is mostly dimmed down to provide a more intimate setting, and a few other people are sitting and chatting as he approaches you. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, painting you in orange-gold.

You perk up when you spot him, and he notices with a half-smile you sit on your hands like you do when you’re nervous, your knees bouncing as you release a hand to wave. He sets down his coat over the back of his chair, sitting down and he soaks in the sight of you. Although he said you didn’t need to dress up, you’ve put on a nice light-blue off-shoulder top and a pair of dark-washed jeans, swiped on a shiny layer of pink lipgloss he knows tastes like strawberries, and winged your eyes black with eyeliner.

In short, you’ve managed to go from beautiful to exquisite, and he doesn’t need the comparison. He’s been wowed before.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say lowly, the menu open before you. A waitress comes to offer him another and he looks up with a small thank you before his eyes fall to the words he can’t quite focus on. “You look nice, as usual.” A small grin catches his eye and he sucks in a breath when he’s met with your face again.

Every goddamn time, you take his breath away.

“And you’re…. you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. As usual.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lower your eyes to the menu, picking it up and tilting it so you can hide your face. He smiles to himself and looks at the salads.

.

Bucky can’t quite remember when the last time he laughed like this, full of life and light and easy. “Stop laughing!”

“Was that even English?”

“Bucky—”

“It was honestly like you had a stroke.”

“I honestly did.” “Do I need to call 911?”

“I hate you. I am trying to live my life here, Barnes.” You snort into your iced tea at the memory replaying in your head, covering your nose and lips with the side of your hand as you bite into the straw. You’ve been recounting the tale of how you nearly ripped Natasha’s hair out with your bare fists on pure accident when you both completely lost the ability to speak English and choked on air, causing Bucky to just lose it. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“I can’t. I have this face,” you retort sourly and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop the ache in his gut as the waitress places the small apple pie between them as well as two dessert forks. A scoop of ice cream is slowly melting on the flakey crust and he picks up a fork just as you do. “This was really nice, Buck. Hanging out with you again.”

“Yeah. We should do it more often,” he says, twirling the fork in his grasp and allowing you the first bite. You manage to catch ice cream and steaming apple pie on your fork and blow on it carefully before placing it in your mouth. You nearly sigh, your eyes closing and he digs in too. Warm syrup seeps into his blood first when he chews down on the apple filling before a sense of longing for home fills his soul. His stomach heats up from the inside and he sinks into his bones with relief. This is exactly what he needed. “We can be friends, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, I guess.” You smile for a moment before focusing on the pie again. “You know, maybe the distance was good. We got time to stand on our own two feet again.”

“Yeah.” He grins softly, almost sad but not quite. You look so blissful in the warm light of the restaurant, gentle music filling the air. The restaurant has gotten fuller since they’ve entered and sometimes Bucky wishes it was just them in this little slice of healthy heaven, but you’ve gotten remarkably brighter the more people have entered. “It took some guts to end this, I guess.”

“Five years,” you agree. “Think it might’ve been a waste of time when we knew we wanted different things?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad all the time. Maybe thirty percent of the time.”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Five. Five percent was terrible and it was all near the end,” you state and Bucky swallows, the sugar of the pie turning sickly sweet in his mouth. “You can’t sell yourself short, Buck. I know that you regret a lot of things, but we both weren’t perfect in this relationship.” You stab the crust half-heartedly. “And maybe we could’ve found common ground. I mean, we both wanted Alpine, didn’t we?”

“And two or three kids,” he intones dully. He remembers the nights they’d lay awake researching names for their hypothetical baby, staying up to god knows when to read all about colic and teething and how to even survive the trimesters without tearing off your hair. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I never could imagine a family with anyone before you,” you confess, bringing another bite of apple pie to your mouth. The ice cream melts between the prongs of the fork and he grimaces when it lands way too close to your sleeve. You wipe it away with your used napkin. “I never told you that before but I really could see us being happy, Buck.”

“So could I.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, prompting your lips to begin to pull into a small smile. Something sad lingers in your eyes, though, and he leans onto his fist, elbow digging into the table as he tries to think of a way of getting that smile back on your face. “We would’ve made cute babies.” You raise your eyebrows, a doubtful smile digging into your cheeks.

“That’s what I said to Nat after we broke up. She said she always prayed your genes were stronger than Steve’s.”

“They have blonde children.”

“They climb walls and pretend they’re masterclass spies.”

“Okay, fair enough. How is Nat?”

“How’s Steve?” you shoot back playfully. “She’s okay. Tired, but with the new baby and all, it’s a given.”

“I have no idea how Steve convinced her to give him another kid.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim, setting down your fork and holding your fingers to your temples. “Okay, so, Nat loves kids but she agreed to two for Steve when they got married and now they’re having number three and it’s like wow.” Bucky laughs at the wondrous light in your eyes. “Maybe the sex is that good.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes squinting as you pick up your fork again. “They probably talked about it a lot, debated, made slideshows. Knowing Steve, he wouldn’t do a thing out of Nat’s comfort zone even though he wants enough kids to build a Rogers basketball team.”

”Honestly, that would be so cool, but we both know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

“Steve is very happy wearing the skirt.”

“Yeah.” It falls to silence. They finish up their apple pie and you appear to be deep in thought so Bucky doesn’t say anything. Suddenly, you shake your head, chewing on the straw of your iced tea. “Was the sex good?”

Bucky’s eyes widen but you only stare him with honest eyes. You want to know like he didn’t turn into a mess when you kissed the spot underneath his jaw, like the simplest swipe of your fingers up his leg, the tiniest trail on his inner thigh, didn’t make him nothing more than melted putty in your hands.

“Fuck yes.” He sighs. He hasn’t had sex in a year. “Especially the last time after Wanda and Vis got married?”

“We didn’t make it past the kitchen. That was good.”

“Yeah.”

You hum as you think and Bucky pokes at the soggy flakes on the plate. You look at him and he looks at the plate and there’s a strange silence that comes over the table that has been wild with laughter for nearly an hour, maybe more. He leans back into his chair, his prong nudging an uneaten nibble of apple.

“Always thought we should’ve ended in bed,” he finally says half-heartedly. “That mattress took a hell of a beating whenever we argued.”

“Or, whenever you came home after a business trip. I’d miss you so much.” You grin and there’s something mentally exhausted in it. “I miss you so much but I think it figured out how to think about you without it hurting, too.”

“I’m glad.” He lets go of his fork and offers his hand, palm up. You reach forward and grab it, the heat of you sinking into his muscles. His fingers fold over your hand and squeeze. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “I miss you, too.”

“Will we want one check or two?” the waitress asks suddenly and their hands spring apart. Bucky fishes out his wallet, looking up at her.

“Two.”

“One.”

The two look at each other. You narrow your eyes, eyebrows furrowing together. “We agreed that we would split.”

“No, you said it and I disagreed and then you got distracted.” He grins triumphantly as your hands still in your bag and he pulls out his debit card. 

“One and I’ll pay by card,” Bucky clarifies and she nods, slipping away to get it.

“Jerk,” you mutter crossly. You cross your arms underneath your breasts and lean back against your chair. “I can pay for my food just fine.”

“It’s not about whether you can or can’t. It’s about me wanting to pay for you,” he retorts. 

He pays and the two get up, grabbing their jackets and leaving the bistro. They stop dead in their tracks underneath the small canopy when they notice the startling, thunderous rain.

“What the fuck,” you state flatly, staring at the puddles forming in the dents of the sidewalk and Bucky grimaces. The air isn’t frigid but it isn’t warm either, and he bundles his coat around himself as he tries to figure out how to stay dry. You’re tugging a scarf around your neck, your overcoat already settled well on your shoulders as you look at him. He’s got his own raincoat folded over his arm and he shivers against the thought of getting wet.

“I hope it’s not too presumptuous a thing to do to say I parked in the apartment’s visitor lot,” he begins and you raise your eyebrow. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe and maybe take a look at that car?”

“Oh, right. Too bad we could’ve used your car right about now.” You smile, pulling the hair out from underneath. “Okay. What’s our game plan?”

“Stay dry.”

Your smile turns wry. “Apt.”

“Here.” Unfolding his jacket, he holds it above his head. “Get under and then we run.” 

“We are not gonna make it.”

“Gotta try. Get under.” You slip beneath his arm, your hands wrapping around his waist and he takes a deep breath to prepare himself. “Let’s go.” They sprint out into the pouring rain, their shoes slapping against the wet pavement as they run up the block.

“This isn’t working, Buck!” You twist as you try to keep pace but it’s clear that they’re both gonna get soaked. Bucky can’t quite run with you latched onto him so he throws his coat over you, tugging it tight around you before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you into his arms. As if on instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. Rain soaks into his skull and he squints as it drops into his eyes while you hold the jacket to your head and he tries to regulate his breathing. Your arm looped around his neck, you press against him in an effort to take off some of the weight in his arms.

Your heat soaks into his dress shirt and he pants into your ear, finally reaching the apartment lobby’s door. Dropping you in a dry spot beneath the glass shelter, he shakes his head and flicks off the wet while you unlock the doors.

“Are you good?” he asks, heat burning into his cheeks and you glance at him as you pull open the door. He rakes a hand through his hair, grabbing the jacket you’ve extended to him.

“I’m dry,” you affirm. “Come on. We’ve gotta get you dry.”

“You don’t have to.” Walking into the apartment lobby, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s been a year since he’s breathed in the filtered air that carries just a whiff of vanilla. Before, it was five years coming home to this. Rubbing his shoes on the carpet, he follows after you with a squeak and he drips all over the tiled floor while you get to the elevator. “Whew.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you point out, peering at him. “I’m not gonna complain if I get wet but you are and I’m not, so I’m gonna feel bad if I don’t at least get you a towel.”

“I didn’t want you to get wet,” he replies stubbornly. “We can just look at your car and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not bothering me, Buck.”

“Still.” The elevator doors open and they walk in. You swipe your fob before pressing the floor and lean against the rail while he drips onto the middle of the floor. Wiping at some of the droplets dotting his head, he turns to you and grins. “Bet it’s just like old times.”

“God, don’t remind me. I can’t believe you asked me out right before we fell on Splash Mountain.”

“It made it memorable and you said yes.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Steve lost fifteen dollars to Nat who I clearly remember saying if you can convince me to say yes to Splash Mountain you can get me to say yes to a date.” The elevator chime and the doors open. You walk out and the keys jingle against your fingers. “Do you want anything to drink? I can make some tea.”

“Nah.”

“You hate tea. Right. Well, how does hot chocolate sound?” You glance back at him with an impish curl to your mouth. He resists the want to grab your hand and instead does a small jog to catch up with you. You walk with your hands shoved in your pockets and he casts his gaze ahead of him, swallowing. 

“Perfect.”

“That was actually a pretty good place, you know. I’m gonna need to go more often.”

“Yeah. The spaghetti was al dente and everything.” He hears you snort at his comment, reaching the door and opening it with a quick twist of your keys. He doesn’t know what to expect of the apartment he’s moved out of, but when you step in to reveal what used to be his home, he knows he shouldn’t have expected so much to change. The furniture has shifted, that much was a given, but that’s about it. It still smells like your strawberry shampoo everywhere and fresh laundry, and there’s still the dent on the wall from when Steve had tripped and spilled four bottles of beer he’d been carrying. The stains were removed. The dent Steve made with his head was not.

“Welcome home,” you joke weakly to him, your eyes flashing for a moment before you turn to head to the bathroom. He hangs up his coat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and you reappear with a towel before looking at the mess that is your ex-boyfriend. He’s soggy wet everywhere, even his socks. He thinks he might’ve stepped in a deep puddle based on the pant cuff absolutely plastered to his ankle.

You hand him the towel, eyes surveying the damage of his clothes and you chew on your lip. He runs his strands of hair through the towel, the heat of the memory of your body against his fighting off the chill nipping at his skin. You’ve always done that. Your hugs are warmer than any fire that he’s ever known and just the trail of your fingers has left a fire in its wake.

“I have the clothes you said I could keep,” you state lamely and he looks at you with surprise. He thought you’d have donated or burned it all by now. It was the hoodies and sweats he didn’t want anymore because they looked terrible on him and way better on you, but anything is better than being squelchy and soaked to the core. “I could get them out.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Alright. Help yourself to… well, anything. You know where it all is.” Peeling off his shirt, he heads to the sink where you keep plastic bags beneath the sink and throw it in, following it with his undershirt. Running the towel over his skin, he sighs. His heart doesn’t thunder nor does it beat wildly—that was young love—but it does feel fuller now that he’s here.

“Here.” You toss a red hoodie at him and a pair of black sweats follow after. He catches both with a grin, but it soon fades when he realizes what he holds and what you wear. You’ve changed into more comfortable clothes, wearing a matching hoodie to the one he holds in his hands. 

Thing 1 and Thing 2. Right. Before we were even dating. Just best friends.

“Old time’s sake.”

“Always said you should keep it for the next guy to come along,” he says, pulling it over his head. Your eyes stay on his own. Definitely past young love. You don’t even look at his abs and something about how familiar it is makes him sigh into the fabric of the hoodie. 

“Well, it never seemed right. This was when we were best friends, Buck,” you point out. He’s against the counter so it hides him changing out of his pants and into the sweats while you bustle around to gather what’s needed for hot chocolate. “I miss us.”

“Especially when we started sleeping together. Best sex ever,” he cheers and you laugh, getting a pot on the stove. Shuffling in beside you, he grabs some mugs and searches for the marshmallows while you get the milk to boiling.

As he brushes past, his hand rests on his back and trails across, and it’s not until you’re looking at him that he realizes.

“That was habit. I’m sorry.” He blinks. It’d been so natural to do, it’s strange to think it’s wrong now. “My bad.”

“It’s okay.” You grab a whisk and a measuring spoon, waiting patiently by the stovetop. “If I wasn’t comfortable with you touching me, I’d have reacted. You know that.”

Because of your shitty ex that isn’t me. Yeah, I know, he thinks. You’ve got a streak and I hate that I’m part of it.

“Yeah.” He pours marshmallows into the bottom of each mug. “Sorry I’ve gotta add to your string of terrible ex boyfriends.”

“Bucky!” The intensity of your voice makes him turn to you in surprise and you stand there, hands on your hips, face warped in an image of vexation. “If I hear you say you were a bad boyfriend one more time, I’ll smack you with a pan. You weren’t. If I have to spend the rest of my life, convincing you and reassuring you just so you’re brave enough to get back out there, then fine.”

“Doll, I—”

“I mean, seriously. You’re a fucking great boyfriend. You spent time with me but you gave me space, you listened, you always made sure I was comfortable and you’re so patient.” You turn back to your pot, dumping in some hot cocoa powder and whisking it a bit more angrily than he thinks you intend. “You do these things that seem small but mean the world to me, and you’re always looking out for me. I just… there is no way to say you were a bad boyfriend.” You look at him again and his eyes are wide as he regards you. “I don’t want you thinking just because we didn’t work out, no one ever will.”

He’s quiet as you gently pour each cup full of hot chocolate, the marshmallows floating to the top and he leans on the counter by his hand, looking down.

“It’s more than just the sex that I miss,” he says suddenly, and you look at him, expression easing.

“I know.”

“No, it’s… more. I miss your laugh, and the way you fold my clothes, and the tiny little post-it’s you leave on the fridge. I’m not asking you to take me back, I just… I’m still in love with you, you know? You’re the love of my life. It fucking sucks that apparently we aren’t meant to be.”

“I’m still in love with you, too,” you whisper, handing him a cup of burning heat.

“You ever think we could have a second chance?” he wonders, trying not to sound too hopeful. You smile behind your porcelain mug, just a tinge sad and sip before nodding. You set down the mug against the counter with a soft clatter and so does he, his finger tracing the rim of the white mug.

“I want to think so,” you murmur. Your eyes are focused on the small movement of his finger and he presses his lips together, trying to get something out. But then you turn away with your mug towards the couch and he follows after you. The TV switched on, you flip through the channels. “My car’s parked in my usual spot, if you actually do wanna take a look. I can’t force you to.”

“Maybe in the morning? You still take Saturdays off, right?”

“Yeah. Unless I get called in.” He walks up to you and sinks into the couch beside you. You lean on the armrest, knees tucked beneath your bum as he sits on the opposite end. They sip their drinks, a quiet falling over them. No one knows how to talk after the mention of a chance a relationship can come back to life once again. You pipe up when there’s a commercial break and Bucky blinks. “You know how you said you’d drop everything for me if the world was actually ending?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Sky could be falling but it wouldn’t matter, long as I knew you were safe and that I was holding you tight, protecting you how I could.” You unfurl from your ball, leaning forward to set down your cup of melted marshmallows and hot chocolate and he drains the rest of it down. It settles in his gut warmly, but it also squirms as you sit up and face him. He sets down the mug. “All I want to do is protect you. I know in the end, it was me who was hurting you and just… I never wanted that. I wouldn’t let anything touch you if I could help it.”

“It’s impossible not to hurt people you love. That’s part of it all, Buck. And I’m sure I hurt you too, and I’m sorry for that,” you say, reaching forward past the knees tucked your chest. He takes your offered hand. “But I’m glad that you’re always here. That I know you have my back. Just know that I have yours. You can count on me.”

He squeezes your fingers gently and you smile wider. His own lips pull into a tender smile as he gently pulls you into him and you go willingly, crawling across the couch to rest against him. His arm settles around your shoulders as he extends his legs over the cushions. You nestle yourself, your cheek on his chest and his thumb rubs circles along your arm, gentle pressure through the sleeve of your hoodie. 

He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and there’s a moment when that is all there is—two lovers on a night in, too tired to sleep, unwilling to part for even a moment. You touch his cheek, and his thumb swipes over yours as his lips part.

“There’s no one else for me,” he whispers and your hand flattens against his cheek. He sits up and so do you, your other hand on his waist while his settle on your hips. There is something intense about his gaze, and by the twitch of your lip, he knows you’re bemused, but he’s serious.

“Bucky, there’s always going to be someone out there for you that isn’t me, no matter how much we both hate it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” It is simple for him. The simplest thing he knows. Your eyebrows furrow together and you open your mouth but he continues on, “I’ll love you even if the sun goes black and the moon splits into two. I’ll love you even if you get married, even if you don’t, even if you have kids, even if you have none. I’ll love you if you become a dog person or even a fish person, and I’ll love you even if you move away.” You shift in his lap, and he swallows, shaking his head at the incredulous feeling you bring to him. Love fills him up and drains him hollow, and you are everything. 

“I’ll love you if I never see you again. I’ll love you if I see you once every six months, and I will love you if I am lucky enough to see you every day. I’ll love you when you’re old and grey and don’t remember who I am. I’ll love you enough to bring you back. This isn’t young love anymore. We danced around each other for three years before we got together—I’m past the honeymoon phase. This is fucking real for me. When I say there is no one else, I mean that I will never love anyone like how I love you. And I’m fine with that, as long as you’re happy.”

A beat. Bucky can hear his heart in his chest, slow and beating. He is sure of this and your eyes scan him, searching for lies. There are none.

“The hot chocolate inspired this?” you question teasingly, but your voice trembles, soft as feathers and he wonders if it is the same emotion that stitched his heart and lights it on fire. He is dynamite dormant, waiting for a spark. 

“Everything about this night did,” he murmurs. Your thumb swipes at his lip, a gentle thing and he smiles. His own gaze stays on your eyes and he remembers a time when he’d do anything to kiss you. Now all he wants is your smile.

“I don’t know if I love you as much as you love me,” you begin quietly, your words tasting like chocolate and sugar against his skin. He chuckles. “But I do love you a whole damn lot.”

“Never one for words, huh.”

“I prefer action,” you agree. Their noses brush and his lungs hitch as you close your eyes. He does too, the presence of you nearly overwhelming. His every nerve tingles and his hand on your hip tightens as your lips gently meet his. He doesn’t know anything but the familiarity of you against him, the gentle tug of your fingers in his hair, the blissful quiet that fills his head as his chest explodes. He kisses you back but you pull away, a soft smile on your face. Your arms loop around his neck as he looks at you and you look thoughtful. “That sounded a lot like Lemony Snicket the more I think about it.”

“I read books to my best friend’s kids,” he points out and you laugh. “Sarah really likes A Series of Unfortunate Events.”

“Well, we can’t fault her. Steve and Natasha are some of the biggest bookworms ever.”

“Doll, she’s four.”

“She’s a smart kid.” You shrug innocently and he laughs, scrunching up his nose. It has always been easy with you. Tentatively pressing another kiss against your mouth, he feels you reciprocate it quickly and his smile spreads wider across his face. Your arms tug him closer. “Bucky,” you mumble against his mouth and he hums against you. His fingers bunch the fabric at your waist and you squirm in his lap, inching to get closer. “I want to try again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers dust over his brow, swiping away hair that’s fallen into his face. He grins, eyes closed blissfully at how fond the gesture it is. “I know we can do this.” His eyes flutter open at half-mast, watching you as you carefully trace down his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, right? We’re gonna make it work, right?”

“We’re gonna do our damn hardest to try.”

“Okay.” You hug him tightly, resting your head on his shoulder and he wraps you in a tight embrace, letting you melt into him. Your whole body seems to relax in his hold and he closes his eyes, burying his face in your neck. “I needed a hug.”

“Well, you can always count on me to give you one now, doll.” You pull back and he raises his chin as a slight smirk twitches at your lip.

“Never thought I’d be thankful for an earthquake,” you whisper nefariously and he laughs into your mouth as you press a kiss hard enough to push him onto his back. He falls, legs straightening along the length of the couch. You fall with him, your hands on either side of his head and he simply holds you to him, laughing when you pepper kisses down his neck. You know every ticklish spot on his body and he can’t help but raise his head to expose the expanse of his neck.

“You’re evil,” he gasps, scandalized, and you peek up at him through your eyelashes, your eyebrow arched. He meets your eyes and it’s like the sun is in his chest. He is lighter than he has been in months.

“You love me anyway,” you say. 

Bucky can’t help but agree.