#okay. enough rambles I need to actually work the job that currently pays my bills 😂

[hummingbirdswords]

*drowning in research*

my little dream is starting to slowly become a reality. it's only been a week, but this is the longest I've ever stuck with a job idea that wasn't writing related. so it's starting to feel real and scary. but exciting? just wish life would stop, well, life-ing so I could focus more on this and less on worrying about the other stuff

[femme-enby]

Actually I WILL be talking about this-

So I’m sure I’ve rambled about my (singular) friend before, but long story short- I often feel (felt?) as though I was giving significantly more.

More time. More patience. More money.

And yet��� seems as though always being the one to drive 45ish min to her. Another 45ish minutes back home, always being ready to make that drive just to hang out or to help with hair or to be a support buddy for shopping, or simply to listen for about an hour or two before heading back home just wasn’t enough.

Not enough to make up for how I can sometimes be forgetful and get dates mixed up (not that this ever cost money btw- any incidents of that were either for dates already taken off work or on the weekend and I was just meant to be a tagalong, I wasn’t forgetting like… beach trips or whatever) or perhaps not enough to make up for how annoying I can be (too talkative, two talkative people can end up not really working out well in spoken conversations, especially if one definitely has ADHD and the other might)

Or… maybe, it wasn’t a good friendship.

maybe my partner genuinely has a point- he is more “cut throat” when it comes to his own relationships, so I always take what he says with a grain of salt.

But…

He basically said I seem to be giving my all and not getting much of anything in return. I wouldn’t necessarily agree with that- having someone I consider a friend, who I can be completely open with, who cares about me, is plenty!

But… it’s when that person knows everything about me, knows why I am like I am and knows my current situation… and there’s no real patience. There’s never a “oh no it’s okay, we’ll reschedule no big deal” or even a “bitch you are broke and doing my hair for me,” a 4hr to 2 day thing btw “don’t stress about it”

Like… I understand being serious about your money! I get it! I also enjoy getting money owed back! I also don’t tend to be rude towards a friend who I see regularly and who’s home address I know about when they’re gonna pay me back when they’re between jobs tho. Can’t imagine doing that if I was in a position where all my bills were getting paid AND I was also able to regularly drive around and look for squishmallows, which if anyone is unfamiliar, are not cheap at most locations, and have dropped in quality too!

And I know some people might have a certain opinion since I mentioned my partner having an opinion on my friendship, plus me only really having the one…

But tbh at this point it is a pattern.

I continuously end up friends with either people who end up showing a wild disregard for *pick a marginalized community* and obviously needing to drop them when they show me they won’t even listen to why that’s wrong, or people who just… seem to take advantage of me.

Either advantage of how much I am willing to give emotionally, or physically (in terms of like… items or even buying stuff for them) and then whenever I try and communicate this, it’s a problem no matter how flowery I put it.

I have gotten better at recognizing this and speaking up, but I honestly have to think that there is just something wrong at this point. Like maybe I simply have the worst luck, or perhaps something about me just tends to draw in a specific type of person more.

Do I just generally give off a “doormat” vibe? Or is it more of a “pitiful” vibe?

[wizardouxie]

PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

[cherryrogers]

➸ call me baby {2/3}

SUMMER NIGHTS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | biker au

warnings: swearing, violence, implied smut, mainly fluff.

word count: 7.8k

synopsis: Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker. And when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either. That was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

series masterlist

a/n: ok so this has turned into a three part series!! the next part will likely be a bit shorter, but i wanted to wrap up the story properly and i felt that needed it’s own separate part. i’m gonna post a masterlist for this series tomorrow, and i might write some drabbles for this fic to add to it once it’s finished if anyone has any hc/drabble ideas they’d like to send in?? i need to stop rambling so much lmao,,, please enjoy!!

Sunsets; consisting of an array of warm tones, reds and oranges bleeding into each other, casting a dim, natural light over cities before the artificial yellow beaming of street lamps lit up the world instead. A comforting reminder that every bad day eventually ends, but a sad reminder that every perfect day ends too.

In your case, they’d been unsettling ends to a continuous string of perfect days. And following those, a bright sunrise poured light through your windows every morning, indicating that you were one day closer to the end of the summer.

Currently, the deep, warm sky was the background of a blissful ride through the city. Perched on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, your arms enveloping his waist, fingertips grazing lightly over his stomach through his shirt. No destination in particular; just an excuse to be close to one another.

Since the night at Wanda’s bar, the night where you simply let yourself begin to feel for Bucky, things had been different. Better.

Rides around the city were a frequent occurrence, usually happening when Bucky offered to take you home on his bike, but taking the long way back to enjoy the view and the feeling of you next to him for a short while longer.

It was therapeutic, tranquil. Well, until your road rage got the best of you.

“Dude, it’s a green light,” You shouted at the car in front you. “Green means go, didn’t you learn that in kindergarten?”

“Christ, you realise you’re yellin’ straight in my ear, right?”

“Sorry, Buck,” You patted his chest apologetically, before proceeding to yell once again. “Not my fault some people don’t know how traffic lights work!”

It was entertaining to Bucky, anyway. Even if it did earn you some middle fingers, which you gladly returned.

As the sky began to lose its vibrant hue, the two of you headed back in the direction of your place, definitely your least favourite part of the ride, but you savoured it nevertheless.

You were friends. Teasing each other incessantly because you just bounced off one another like that, but you often found yourself gravitating towards him. During meals at the clubhouse, you sat in the same spot as you did when you entered the place for the first time; right next to Bucky. While that likely meant for Steve and Peggy that they were in for a painful time, consisting of them slowly losing their patience with you both, they didn’t mind. Well, they did a little.

It’d been almost two hours since you started your game of Monoply. You weren’t sure if you were anywhere near the end of the game, but everyone was still pretty into it. Clint and Sam were paired up as a team, Steve and Peggy shared the little top-hat token, you and Bucky had the wheelbarrow, and Natasha had the car. She claimed she worked better when was on her own team, which was proved to be true by the fact she was winning.

It was Steve and Peggy’s turn to roll, and their top hat was moved to land on the ‘Boardwalk’ space.

“Oh, that’s our space!” You chirped. “Pay up, my dudes.”

“_____, you don’t have a house on that space.”

“Well, could you pass me one? I want this space.”

“You have to buy one.”

“Then I’ll buy one.”

Peggy sighed. “It’s not your turn, you can’t buy a house. Your token isn’t even on that space.”

You furrowed your brows, turning to Bucky. Maybe you should’ve read the rules before playing; you’d never actually played Monoply before. “Oh. That kinda sucks then.”

After a moment, Bucky reached over to the little bag of houses, picking one out and placing it on the Boardwalk space.

“Buck, that’s cheating.” Steve glared at his friend, who only shrugged innocently.

“She’s never played before, let her just have the damn house.”

“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause she’s on your team, jerk.”

Bucky just shrugged again, turning to shoot you a wink as you smirked in satisfaction and placing your little house on the space, missing Steve and Peggy sharing a look of annoyance as they passed a pile of yellow bills over to you.

It was safe to say the two of you weren’t allowed to play as a team during board games anymore. Natasha always won the games anyway, so it’s not like you and him cheating made much of a difference.

You thought things were moving smoothly with Bucky. You knew that you liked him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew that — it was pretty fucking obvious at this point. But it would be a rather dumb move to escalate things even if you wanted to. The summer would be over in two months, one third of it was already gone, and you would be too by the beginning of September. Naively, you’d told yourself that you simply wouldn’t take things further. Easy enough, right?

Wrong; so very wrong. You’d proved to yourself that you seriously needed to stop acting impulsively on one fateful after a day spent at the clubhouse.

You’d been about to leave, but had decided to head off to the office where Bucky had been pretty much all evening while everyone else was out in the backyard, which was odd considering you would’ve assumed he’d be the last to not spend the night drinking beer and hanging out with friends over, well, anything else.

You knocked loudly on the door, hearing shuffling and the clicking of a computer keyboard before a quiet ‘come in’ followed. Furrowing your brows, you stepped into the room, eyes landing on the biker slumped in the chair at the desk, forcing a small smile. Did he really think your were that oblivious?

“You’ve been hiding in here all night,” You approaches the desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is there something you wanna share with the class?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between the computer screen and your face, before he shook his head. “Just dealin’ with club stuff.”

“Hm, and what counts as club stuff?”

“It’s stuff you don’t need to worry about.”

You scoffed. “Huh, what happened to not doing stuff you shouldn’t be? Not getting into trouble?”

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Bucky questioned bluntly, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

Mirroring his expression, you leaned against the desk next to him. “Not when someone is clearly trying to hide something.

The biker bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a few moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Sure, he’d only known you around a month now, but you were... his friend. A good friend. He just didn’t want you mixed up in anything dangerous. Steve wasn’t lying when he said that the club tried to stay out of trouble, because they definitely didn’t go out of their way to get into shitty situations. But if they needed to get their hands a little dirty to deal with clubs that thrived off trouble, then so be it.

Eventually, Bucky sighed, moving a hand back over his computer mouse and letting the screen light up again. Crinkling your brows, your eyes scanned the screen. He’d been looking at a map of Brooklyn, and the little red location pointer was pinned onto a warehouse downtown.

“Peter Parker, he’s just a kid. Parents died when he was barely five, lost his uncle a few years back. He lives at home with his aunt in Queens since he’s still in school, but we sorta took him in a while ago. The night after his uncle died, Tony found him on the sitting on the curb a few blocks away from here, completely distraught. He managed to talk him down though, and found out he was pretty good with engineering. We said if he wanted, he could help out with fixing bikes and cars at the clubhouse, and he comes by every so often since then.”

You didn’t know Tony that well; he was a little older than the rest of the club, and he lived outside of the clubhouse with his wife, Pepper. You hadn’t met Peter at all, but you trusted Bucky when he said that he was a good kid.

“Last week, he showed up to the here with a busted lip and broken nose. Said that Rumlow and his guys had jumped him, and that they wanted him to do a job for them — collect a weapon shipment from this warehouse.” Bucky nodded towards the screen.

At the mention of Brock Rumlow, you felt your jaw tighten. Thankfully, he’d kept his distance from Wanda’s bar since your last encounter with him, but you were still pissed off about the show he put on there, and there was nothing you regretted more than not jumping over the bar top and kicking him in the balls. Now he’d resorted to threatening a kid and making him do his dirty work?

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Peter’s meant to meet the guy delivering the weapons next week, so I’m gonna take Nat, Sam and Tony down to the warehouse and deal with any of Rumlow’s guys that are nearby.”

Upon seeing your face light up, Bucky chuckled, standing from his seat. “And no, you can’t come.”

“Bucky, I’m not a woman of many talents, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s handing people’s asses to them.” You lifted your chin confidently.

“Baby—”

You held a finger up to shush him. “Okay, I know I said that I liked when you call me that, but not now. Brock is the guy that grabbed me, Buck. And the guy that punched you in the face!”

“I know, and we’ll deal with him,” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I thought you weren’t part of any club. Can’t do club stuff if you’re not a member.”

“Well, not that I want to... but how would one go about becoming part of your little gang?” You weren’t lying; you definitely did not want to be a damn biker, but you did want the chance to boot Brock Rumlow and his group of dipshits in the face.

“You could become an old lady.” The biker cocked a brow, and you chuckled heartily.

Not that you were up to date with the biker lingo, but you could take a good guess at what being an old lady meant. “Hm, if only there was someone that wanted me to be their old lady.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky glanced over your features, waiting for you to laugh and brush the comment off as a joke since the majority of your vocabulary was sarcasm, but you didn’t. The corners of your lips curled up slightly, not teasingly, but softly...

...Until you became painfully aware of the silence that’d fell upon the two of you, and let out a sigh to break it. It was already late when you were supposed to leave, anyway. Now, the dim moonlight was casting shadows outside of the office window, the only source of bright light being the yellow streams from lampposts dotted up and down the quiet street.

“Well, I should get going.” You reluctantly stepped back from him.

“You don’t have to go, you know. Peggy stays overnight when it’s late.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, cause Peggy has a boyfriend that she can share a bed with.”

“Hey, I’ve got a double bed.” Bucky teased, and you’d be lying if you said sleeping next to him in his bed didn’t make you feel a certain type of way.

Though, you definitely wouldn’t let him know that. “You’re stupid, Bucky.”

He shrugged, following you as you continued for the door of the office. “I mean, even if I had a single—”

“I would still not be getting in your bed,” You deadpanned, finishing his sentence for him and promoting the stupidly hot little smirk of his to appear again. “Okay, now I’m leaving. Goodbye, Bucky.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you will not,” You breathed out a laugh. “There are two bottles of beer on that desk and death isn’t on the cards for me tonight — can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A look of realisation washed over his face, a pink colour tinting his cheeks. Was Bucky Barnes blushing? That was certainly a sight, and what a sight it was.

“S’alright — I don’t wanna get rid of you,” The biker stepped in front of you, dangerously close as your back hit the door. “Not yet, anyway.”

You couldn’t lie; Bucky was hot, he was beautiful. Even when he was being a sarcastic ass, but he was just as much one of them as you were. God dammit, as much as you wanted to slap yourself for letting your insides melt for a guy you didn’t know all that well, you knew that if you didn’t fucking kiss him right this second that you’d regret the hell out of it later.

And so, you did.

You grabbed the collar of the leather jacket he never failed to make an appearance without— or perhaps he just had a lot of leather jackets, though leather jackets didn’t necessarily need washed so it was probably the same jacket— not the time, _____. Carrying on, you swiftly captured his lips with yours, relief washing through you as you felt him react almost immediately. Almost, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to do that.

The kiss was gentle; gentle enough so that you could simply savour the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste a mixture of smoke and minty chewing gum. It was slow, but quick. Bucky didn’t even have the chance to move his hands to your waist before you pulled back, raising your hand to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

“You still planning on getting rid of me?” You grinned, amused by the biker’s dumbfounded expression.

He laughed breathily after a couple of seconds, nose nudging yours playfully. “Not if you keep kissin’ me like that, baby.”

“Hm, maybe you’ll just get lucky again.” You pushed at his chest softly, letting you step forward and open the door to leave the office.

Bucky let out a scoff. “You’re really just gonna leave? After that?”

You shrugged, cocking a brow. “I mean, I could stay if you let me come with you next week...”

“No chance,” He smiled smugly. “Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

“You know what? I’m never kissing you again.”

“Whatever you say, _____.”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, turning to make your way out of the room. “And I’m leaving the door open!”

“Hm, get home safe.” He called back.

Trying to bite back a smile as you looked over your shoulder back at him, you mouthed a final goodbye and left the office, a rush of feelings suddenly emerging as you stepped out of the clubhouse and onto the street.

You’d just kissed Bucky. You had kissed Bucky. And he had kissed you back. Well, shit.

Did you need to talk about it with him? What it meant for the two of you? Did he just kiss you for the fun of it or did he actually have feelings for you? Ugh. You’d always hated serious conversations, because apparently using sarcasm to cover up actually talking about your feelings was inappropriate and unhealthy. That’s what Peggy always told you, anyway. Perhaps there was no conversation to be had. Bucky could be your summer fling; a couple of months of fun before you were off on your travels again. The only reason he kissed you back might’ve been because he knew you were leaving eventually, which meant he didn’t have to commit to you.

Whatever — you were simply going to go with the flow. If you and Bucky ended up becoming... something more, that would be great. If not, you’d be slightly disappointed, but you’d be out of Brooklyn soon enough to forget about it.

And now, as you tightened your arms around the biker’s waist, you just enjoyed the moment. As someone that rarely stayed in a city for longer than a couple of weeks, enjoying the moment was all that you could do.

* * *

“Pegs, I am working. You can’t just call and ask me this kinda stuff during a shift.”

“I certainly can, especially when I had to hear it first from Steve.”

A strained sign fell from your lips as you leaned against bar, checking that no customers were approaching the counter before you turned your back. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I didn’t think Bucky was gonna kiss and tell as soon as it happened.”

“I don’t think it was exactly a kiss and tell situation,” Peggy chuckled over the phone. “Steve said it was written all over his face after you’d left the clubhouse.”

Feeling heat rushing to your own face, you lowered your head, hoping no one was observing the bartender getting all embarrassed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Peggy about your kiss with Bucky. She was your best friend, of course you wanted to tell her. But considering that you weren’t really sure what direction you and him were going in, you thought perhaps that it’d be better to just keep it between you and him, like a Danny and Sandy situation — if everyone had known about their summer affair, it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Can you... tell him to not question Bucky about it?” You asked. “You told me he’d never been in a proper relationship before and neither have I. I think we need to work out... whatever we are ourselves, you know?”

Since the kiss, you hadn’t had the chance to even see Bucky that much. Wanda had been asking you to work more shifts at the bar because one of your co-workers was going on vacation for two weeks, which you didn’t mind doing. Other than hanging out with Peggy and seeing everyone at the clubhouse, it’s not like you had much better to do. Plus, it meant more money to put towards your travels at the end of the summer. At the rate you were earning and including what you already had saved up, you’d be getting your dream London trip a lot sooner than you’d thought.

“Of course, I understand,” She replied. “_____, I— I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, but have you thought about what’ll happen when summer ends? When you leave Brooklyn?”

The thought had crossed your mind, yes, though it was also pushed to the back of your mind whenever it popped up. In all honesty, you had zero clue what’d happen when you left Brooklyn again.

“Nope,” You said defeatedly. “Do I need to think about that now? What if we don’t even last until the end of summer?”

From the pause in conversation, you could just tell that Peggy knew you were bullshitting. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you did not just say that. You don’t just kiss guys, _____. And Bucky doesn’t get all flushed from kissing any old woman. It’s obvious you two click easily, and I honestly don’t think it’s something that can just end once you leave.”

The girl was right, she was completely right, but you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do. It’s not like you could stay in Brooklyn forever and abandon your travels. That wasn’t who you were; staying wouldn’t be you being true to yourself. You couldn’t throw that away for a man you barely knew, a guy that possibly may not want you anymore after the summer ends, though there was a large part of you that didn’t believe that.

“I can’t talk about this right now, Peggy, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the kiss earlier, everything is just... it’s just confusing,” You rambled, wanting to steer the conversation away from your love life for the night. It was nearing nine o’clock, and with an hour still left of your shift, you didn’t want to waste your energy on a conversation that could be had another time. “Anyway, how is everyone? Has Steve heard from Bucky?”

This night was also the night that poor Peter Parker was meant to be carrying out Rumlow’s dirty work, and Bucky was going to get his club to back off. Well, hopefully. He’d already been punched in the face by that bastard once, you hoped that he’d be able to avoid having that happen again. You’d texted him earlier, telling him to let you know when he was home and safe because you would, in fact, worry about him. He teased you for your concern, but you frankly didn’t care. The fact they were having Peter pick up a weapon shipment implied that they wanted to use them to hurt people, and opposing biker clubs seemed like the type of people they’d target.

“They’ve been out an hour, so they should hopefully be back soon,” Peggy assured you. “We haven’t heard from them yet, though.”

“Right,” You exhaled, a little upset that there was no update from them. The sound of the door opening a few metered behind you reminded you that you were still at work, and that you should probably say goodbye to Peggy for the time being. “I’ve gotta go, Pegs — duty calls. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright, darling. Be careful going home.”

With a quiet ‘will do’, you quickly ended the phone call and shoved the device into your jean pocket, turning around to identify the source of the footsteps getting closer to the bar. Well, fuck.

An ugly smirk, scruffy jaw, messy hair — Brock fucking Rumlow was standing right in front of you.

You could’ve laughed, in fact, you did laugh. He was back, even after the embarrassing show he put on last time he was at the bar, and this time, he was alone.

Putting back the glass you’d pulled out from under the bar on instinct, because there was no way you were serving him, you cocked a brow, waiting for him to make the first move.

He slid onto the stool in front of you, the same place he’d sat during his last visit. There was a short silence as his dark eyes roamed your face, before he exhaled heavily. “You not gonna ask for my order?”

“No.” You answered instantly. It looked like he was expecting the cold shoulder from the way he chuckled at your answer.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, why he wasn’t down at that random warehouse making sure the teenager he manipulated was doing the job correctly, but you didn’t imagine it was a good idea to let on that Bucky was telling you about that sort of stuff. He’d probably try to hurt him as opposed to you, and you didn’t want to put Bucky in any unnecessary shit.

“You know, it’s against the law to refuse service to an innocent customer.”

Clearly, he didn’t know the law at all, but you found it awfully ironic that he was claiming that you were in the wrong side of the law. You cocked your brow higher. “And you’re always abiding by the law, Brock?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” The man narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Last time you were here, you were the one assaulting an innocent customer, and me.”

Brock scoffed. “You’re calling Barnes innocent?”

You only stared at him, waiting for an elaboration.

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Yes — dealing with your bullshit and the rest of your gang.

“Enlighten me.”

“A dirty warehouse across town, meeting a dude that’s sellin’ him weapons. Rifles, pistols, you name it.” He leaned forward on his elbows, pursing his lips.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you met his eyes, dark and full of hope that he’d somehow miraculously turned you against Bucky -- he was going to have to try a little harder than that if he wanted to sell his lies.

“Where are the rest of you pals, Brock?”

He furrowed his brows. “Down at the warehouse, shutting down the deal.”

“And why aren’t you with them, hm? I don’t think it’s ‘cause you decided you wanted a drink over the chance to screw Bucky and his club over.”

The guy clearly thought you were oblivious, that you’d be naive enough to believe that Bucky was the one having Peter collect the weapons instead of him. Maybe he thought it’d turn you against him, and then you’d carelessly join Rumlow’s club without a second thought. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you anything, there wasn’t a thing that could come out of Rumlow’s mouth that could convince you Bucky’s club was doing anything of the sort.

Unfortunately, the comment seemed to tip the conversation in the exact way you hadn’t wanted it to.

Brock’s jaw clenched, eyes hardening as he sat up properly on the stool. “What’s he been tellin’ you, huh?”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Brock.” You glared at the man. There was no way you were letting him sit and annoy the shit out of you when you weren’t going to serve him.

“You see,” He laughed emptily. “If Barnes has been spillin’ things that he shouldn’t be, I need to know. Can’t have any false information spreading.”

“False information, right,” You muttered. In your defense, all you knew about his club was about them manipulating Peter. Though you could assume that wasn’t the only stupid shit they were doing, you didn’t know anything else for sure. “Well, you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything, so get out of here.”

Brock tutted, rising from his seat and cracking his knuckles. “You’re a good liar, but I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“That’s not my problem,” You glowered, loving quickly around the bar to pace towards the door, opening it in an attempt to lure him out. “You need to go, or I’ll call Wanda over.”

Stalking towards you, the man shook his head. “If Barnes thinks he can tell his little girlfriend all of our business, he’s a fucking idiot,” He took a grasp on your wrist, his other hand curling into a fist. “Someone’s gotta show him what the consequences of that are.”

Anger flashed in your eyes as you struggled against his grip. “Get off me, dude. I don’t know anything.”

“Liar.” He murmured, before taking his fist and colliding it with your cheek abruptly.

A groan of pain left your lips as you stumbled back, the clutch on your wrist gone as Brock eyed you cautiously. Carefully, you brought your hand to where you’d been hit, blood quickly staining your fingertips as they grazed over the cuts on your skin from Brock’s rings. He’d hit you. That stupid, fucking son of a bitch had punched you. If there was any justifiable reason for you to kick him in the balls, this was it, and you were going to take advantage of the opportunity.

He definitely thought you were done with him for the night; you could tell by the way his chapped lips curled into a sick smile. He thought he’d won — how cute.

When your parents made you take self-defense classes ‘just as a precaution’ when you were a teenager, you thought it was unreasonable. Now, you’d never been more thankful.

Brushing your hair out of your face, your eyes flickered up to Brock, who was still staring down at you. Slowly, you moved so that your back was pressed against the closed bar door, clasping your hands around the long metal handle. The man assumed you were just catching your breath, and wasn’t ready for when you forcefully pushed your body forward, raising a booted foot and slamming it into his crotch.

A string of swear words fell from his lips as his upper body fell forward, Fuck it, you thought, striding over to his hunched over form and smashing your own fist against his cheek. He staggered back, just catching himself on the bar. Eyes wide, he raised his head to scowl at you, spitting blood from his freshly split lip onto the floor beside him.

From the other side of the bar, Wanda jogged over to the scene, an unimpressed scowl on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

The woman knew it wasn’t you causing the trouble, and there was even a smug smirk threatening to peak through her annoyed demeanor at the sight of Brock Rumlow with a split lip. She strode over to him, pulling him up harshly by the collar of his jacket.

“You’re banned from this bar. If I see you in here again, you’re getting a bullet straight through your gut, yes?” Wanda practically spat at the man, who nodded reluctantly and pulled away from her grasp. She turned to you, a small smile on her lips. “_____, you’re free to go early. Do you need...?”

Wanda eyed your cut cheek and bruised jaw, but you only shook your head. “Thanks, Wan, but I’ll just head home.”

The strawberry-blond nodded, sending a final glare towards Brock before heading back behind the bar.

Of course, your stubborn self wouldn’t let yourself leave without having the last word, causing you to approach him as he haphazardly stood from where he’d fallen. “If I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, and you try to hurt me or anyone else, I’ll cut off your fingers and force them down your throat, you got that?”

Before you could wait for an answer, you were spinning around and heading out the double doors of the bar, ignoring the throb on the left side of your face as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. You’d never considered yourself to be a violent person, but when it came to assholes like Brock Rumlow, you didn’t mind getting your hands a little dirty. When you told Peggy about what happened, she’d likely scold you for even just mouthing back at him. You had zero regrets, however. You’d always wanted to experience a bar fight, and now you’d experienced one first hand.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Stretching out your aching knuckles, you swiped it from your jeans.

Back at the clubhouse safe and sound. You want me to pick you up from work in an hour?

You chuckled under your breath, typing out a response.

Can you come up now? Wanda let me off early.

Sure, I’ll be there soon. Did you do something special to get off at this time?

Pausing, you debated whether to let him know straight away about the incident. You decided against it; when he saw your face, he’d figure it out soon enough.

Something like that...

After twenty minutes of aimlessly standing outside of the bar, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine caught your attention. As the bike came to a stop, the beaming headlights had you squinting to even make out the outline of Bucky in the dark. However, judging by the speed at which he was dismounting the bike, you were sure that the light had allowed him to see the state of you.

“Holy shit, _____,” Bucky paced over to you, hands coming to your shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Uh, rough shift?”

Scoffing, the biker narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, looks like it. What— are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assured him, removing his hands from your shoulders and squeezing them comfortingly. “Trust me, you should see the other guy.”

“You were fighting?”

“Bucky,” You intervened, for now deciding against telling him that it was in fact Brock Rumlow you’d gotten on the wrong side of. It’d only result in him marching into the bar himself and starting another disturbance, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wanda pulled out her pistol again. “C’mon, can we go? My house, the clubhouse, wherever — I’ll explain when half of my face isn’t aching like hell.”

The man paused, eyeing you cautiously before a soft chuckle left his lips. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You patted his chest, plastering on a smile. “Now come on; I didn’t wait this long to clean you up when you got decked across the face.”

With an amused eye roll, Bucky tugged on your hand and led you to the bike. He’d never seen someone so calm after getting a punch to the face, but then again — as cliché as it was — he’d never met anyone like you before.

Half an hour later, the biker had you sat on the counter-top in one of the bathrooms at the clubhouse, standing between your legs and gently dabbing at your cut with a wet cloth. The bleeding had stopped by the time you got to the clubhouse, but it still needed cleaned up. You were holding a cool ice pack to your jaw, watching him intently as he took care of you. Might as well take the opportunity to stare at the guy, right?

“I’m gonna put some antiseptic cream on the cut, just to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” He muttered, reaching for the tub of it in the wooden cabinet above you.

“Are you getting a sense of déjà vu too?” You quirked a brow, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Hm, a little bit; I guess we both just can’t avoid trouble,” Bucky cupped your jaw as he applied the cream, chuckling when you mumbled a ‘motherfucker’ under your breath at the sting. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Well,” You sighed. “Long story short... Brock Rumlow happened.”

Pulling back, Bucky furrowed his brows and waited for you to elongate the story, but you only shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. You knew that Brock being involved would only fuel a rage that he couldn’t relieve.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a frustrated laugh falling from his lips. “Rumlow did this to you? Why didn’t you tell me at the bar? Was he still there? I would’ve went in there and—”

“I know exactly what you would’ve done; why do you think I waited until now to tell you?” Though you were smiling, Bucky was still understandably apprehensive. Pursing your lips, you grabbed one of his loosely clenched fists and held it in your lap. “I meant it when I said ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’ — Brock’s face looks the same as mine and he got a boot to the balls. Plus, I think his ego was bruised enough without someone else going in there and knockin’ his lights out.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, unable to suppress a small grin. He never underestimated your power; anyone would be a fool to do so. When you were angry, you showed it. When someone hit you, you hit them back harder, metaphorically and literally. It wasn’t even that you had a short temper, you just didn’t put up with people’s shit, and Bucky highly admired that. “Well, I’m jealous of anyone that was there to see it — I bet it was damn hot.”

You scoffed, though seconds later you were shrugging in agreement. “It definitely was, you would’ve loved it.”

While he returned the first-aid stuff to their rightful places in the bathroom, you explained to Bucky what had gotten Brock so riled up. He wasn’t surprised that Brock tried to convince you that he was the bag guy in all of this; he’d tried to do it with Peggy too when she first started dating Steve. In his misogynistic mind, he thought that women were naive enough to be persuaded of anything that he wanted them to believe, and that by getting you on his side would mean he’d ‘won’ over Bucky. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson that night to not underestimate a woman’s power — dumbass.

Down at the warehouse, they’d managed to get Peter out of there before the person delivering the weapon shipment could arrive. There were one or two of Rumlow’s guys there keeping watch, but without him, they ran away like scared children. You teased Bucky about being a ‘big bad biker’ as he explained the night to you, but he insisted it was Natasha that had them crapping their pants; she never usually made an effort to hide the set of knives on her hip, and she apparently had a death-stare that could have anyone shaking in their boots. With him being banned from Wanda’s bar and unsuccessful with his plan of using Peter, they doubted Brock Rumlow would show his face around the area for a while. He’d only be embarrassing himself if he did.

Not long after your cut had been tended to and the pain in your jaw had subsided, you found yourself once again fighting the temptation to stay the night at the clubhouse — the temptation being a whiny biker named Bucky Barnes.

“But you’ve had a rough day,” He bargained, following after you as you made your way to the front door of the clubhouse. “It’ll save you the ride back if you stay.”

Chortling lightly, you turned around to face him. “A rough day? Buck, I gave an asshole a well-deserved kick in the balls, I’ve had a great day.”

“But what about your cheek? It might start bleeding again and—”

“Bucky,” You cut him off, biting back a smile. “Why do you really want me to stay?”

There was a short pause, heat pooling in the biker’s cheeks at the question as he raised a brow, silently asking you if he was supposed to actually answer the question. When you only quirked your own brow, he sighed, his lips curling into a fond smile. “...because I don’t like it when you leave? ‘Cause I like you a whole lot and I really wanna kiss you again?”

Slowly, you trailed a slightly bruised hand up his chest, stopping at the nape of his neck to tangle your fingers in the hair there. “You should’ve just lead with the kiss, biker.”

Before you could notice the doting grin on his lips, Bucky had looped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest, soft lips locking with yours tenderly. Your other arm was quick to wrap around his neck as you found yourself wanting to be impossibly closer to him. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his lips, and you pulled away with a satisfied smirk.

“So you’ll stay?” Bucky spoke against your lips, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“If you keep kissing me like that.” You imitated his words from your last kiss, to which he shook his head and clasped his hand around yours, leading you out of the hallway and up to his room.

You hoped the rest of the club were asleep, because from the thump of your body being pushed against Bucky’s bedroom door after he’d dragged you inside and shut it, you were sure that they could assume who was causing the racket at almost midnight.

Bucky’s mouth was on yours in a matter of seconds, hands cupping your jaw, carefully avoiding pressing against the side that was bruised. Meanwhile, your fingers gently traced across the hem of his t-shirt, riding it up so that the pads of your fingers came into contact with his lower stomach, ghosting over the waistband of his jeans. He stepped back momentarily, shoving his leather jacket down his arms and letting it fall to the floor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your jacket,” You breathed. “It’s like you’re naked already.”

“Who said anything about getting naked?” He teased, hands coming to trace over your own exposed stomach. “Someone’s eager.”

“You’re stupid,” You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “Coming from the guy who just said he liked me, sap.”

“Real mature,” He snickered, riding your shirt up to your chest and tugging it off when you raised your arms to aid him. His lips moved to the crook of your neck, trailing light kissed along the soft skin there. “I meant it, though. I really like you, baby.”

A whimper escaped your lips as his attached to a certain spot on your neck, your hand fisting his shirt in response. You didn’t even have to say it back; it was obvious that you felt the same way about him in pretty much every way. The way your body was reacting to his, the breathy way that his name was falling from your swollen lips, and the fact you’d kissed him the week prior was a good indicator too.

“And you said you’d never get in my bed.” Bucky smirked after helping you pull off his own shirt.

“Technically, I’m not in your bed yet.”

“Yet,” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his hand down your jaw, along the curve of your shoulder and down to the hem of your bra. “Can’t wait to have you there, moaning all pretty for me.”

Your face grew hot at his words, but his lips were on yours again too quickly for him to notice. When he eventually pulled back for air, you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Hm, let’s not wait any longer then.”

And he didn’t let you wait any longer, leaning down to kiss you with a passionate hunger as he dragged you by both of your hands to his bed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t rush, that he took time memorizing every inch of your skin with gentle lips and wandering hands. Maybe it was the sighs and moans of pleasure that he’d managed to draw from you so easily, or the way he whispered praises and sweet nothings into your ear as he positioned himself comfortably between your legs. But after the two of you had reached your highs and were left grinning like idiots and panting for breath, you realised how fucking hard you’d fallen for the damn biker who’d somehow gotten you in his bed.

* * *

Soft snores gradually drew you from your slumber, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks before you eventually squinted your eyes open. It couldn’t have been any later than 5am; daylight was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, but the world outside was still quiet. Quiet for New York, anyway.

Bucky had his arms tucked under his pillow, face buried into the cotton, lips parted, brown strands of hair falling in front of his face. Back muscles relaxed, shoulders raising slightly as he breathed quietly. He looked pretty like that, innocent even. Innocent in comparison to what occurred in his bed the night before.

As you idly observed him in his peaceful state, you couldn’t help but think about what Peggy had said to you earlier the prior night. She was right, as always. Especially after the night you’d just had with him, there was no way that your feelings for Bucky would just leave along with you leaving after summer. Perhaps sleeping with him was the stupidest decision you’d ever made. Perhaps it would’ve just been easier to not stay the night and pretend like you’d never kissed him in the first place. But you didn’t want that. You wanted him, even if you could only have him for the summer.

A muffled moan jerked your attention away from your thoughts and back to the man laying next to you, who was shifting as he began to wake, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so. It was a sight you could get used to for sure.

Soon enough, his baby blues met yours, a lazy smile overcoming his lips. “Watching me sleep?”

“No.” You denied, though he could see straight through the lie.

He hummed, reaching a hand out to trace over your bruised cheek. You leaned into the touch. “Still hurt?”

“Not really. Had a good doctor fix it up last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, he slept with me afterwards which I thought was a little inappropriate...”

The biker scoffed, enclosing an arm around your bare waist to pull you closer. Sloppy kisses were planted down your jaw to your shoulder, ghosting over the dark bruises he’d marked you with only hours ago.

“I’ll miss you, you know. When you have to leave.” Bucky murmured, pulling away and laying back down against the pillow, his nose grazing yours.

You smiled sadly, pushing some of the hair away from his face. “Do you think this was stupid of us? To start something that’s just gonna have to end in a month?”

“Maybe, yeah,” He mirrored your expression, voice still a little raspy. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” You twirled a lock of his hair sigh your pointer finger. “What’re you gonna do without me, huh? You might have to find another girl to take rides with you at sunset.”

Bucky shook his head, squeezing your waist. “Nah, I think I’d rather ride solo. Won’t be the same without you just over my shoulder.”

“Even when I get road rage?”

“Especially when you get road rage.”

“Well, we should probably make the most of the time we have left,” You propped yourself up on one elbow, a smirk playing on your lips. “How about a ride while the sun rises?”

“Sounds perfect.” He loosened his hold on you, letting you roll away from him and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“Mind if I take a shower first?”

“Mind if I take a shower with you?”

You thought for a moment. It’d be saving water, wouldn’t it? “Screw it, why not. C’mon, Buck.”

You scurried off to the bathroom, still naked as Bucky followed after you, suddenly not so tired anymore.

Perhaps the summer hadn’t went in the direction you’d been expecting, but you had no complaints about the turn that it’d taken. You’d never believed in fate or destiny, much like you’d never believed in love. However, you’d like to believe that you were meant to meet Bucky when you came back to Brooklyn at some point. You’d never met someone— someone so perfect for you, if you were being honest. He didn’t scold you for your sarcasm, or shame you for standing up for yourself. He responded to your teasing with his own, he knew how to make you laugh, how to make your cheeks hot and your knees weak. You were always on the exact same wavelength, always knowing how the other was feeling, being able to bring out the best in one another.

It seemed like a waste to spend the little time left at home thinking about summer ending, so you simply pushed it out of your mind. Enjoying the moment was something you’d learned to do over and over again, because that was all you could do in the life that you led.

The moments spent with Bucky Barnes were just going to be a little harder to let go of.

* * *

Taglist:

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character: possesive! takami keigo (Hawks) - my hero academia - NSFW

song recommendation: the way I are - Timbaland ft Keri Hilson

you had been under a lot of stress for what felt like a million reasons. school. work. familial issues. it felt like everyones issues were on your shoulders and all you wanted to do was get drunk, fuck someone, and feel like you weren’t on the verge of screaming or crying at every second. 

you woke up Friday morning with the birds chirping unusually loud. you bent over to check to see a plethora of text messages from your group chat. sighing, you opened it to see that all of your friends wanted to go out for the night. 

“I can’t, I have work piled up and I need to get it done.” 

you put your phone down before hearing the Facetime sound going off. you knew your friends wouldn’t let you deny them so bluntly. 

“NO, YOU’RE GOING OUT TONIGHT, YOU OF ALL PEOPLE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE,” your friend Ami screamed as you sighed, “I can’t! work and papers need to get done!” you replied as you made your way to brush your teeth. 

Ami gave you a look, “sorry, we don’t take criticism, love you, bye!” Ami screamed as you tried to deny again but before you could even finish spitting out the water, she hung up. 

you sighed before thinking of the time and realizing that if you started working on some of your things now, you could have a bit of free time for the night. 

you were still in university however, you were planning on becoming a teacher and a lot of your student teaching job went to correcting and grading papers. you felt like a lot of your job went to the things that your boss didn’t want to do but you couldn’t complain. you were a student teacher at U.A. and that internship alone would work wonders on your resume. 

after grabbing the load of student papers, you piled them on the table and made a cup a coffee for yourself to get you through the first half of the pile. 

“God, this is gonna suck,” you groaned as you slammed your head on the table. 

for what felt like hours, you continued grading and correcting papers before hearing a knock on your door. you put your pen down thinking it was Ami but you were quite surprised. 

“Hawks?” you said a little to loudly, “holy shit, I have the number #2 hero at my door,” you managed to say over your quivering voice. 

“hey, pretty lady, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you a few questions, would you?” he asked walking into your apartment, “not at all! I apologize for the mess, I’m grading papers,” you rambled as you piled all the papers into a huge mess and moved them aside. 

Hawks remained silent as he watched you clean up the mess, “teacher life, huh? shouldn’t you be teaching at this hour?” he asked simply. 

you laughed, “I’m a student teacher. I’m still in university but getting my teaching hours in with U.A,” you explained as you sat down, “wow, U.A? such a pretentious school to be student teaching at,” he said jokingly. 

you shrugged as you gave him a look, “are you here about the murder that happened to the class B hero a few days ago?” you asked realizing why he was here now. 

“bingo! you wouldn’t have happened to hear or see anything, right?” he asked tapping his chin, “I’m sorry but I didn’t. I worked late that night and came home to see a bunch of heroes and first responders,” you explained as you noticed your phone ringing. 

you flipped your phone the other way to indicate that you weren’t planning on answering it, “however, I always seen him entering an apartment building a few doors down,” you mentioned as he nodded. 

you heard the Facetime sound going off again as you growled, “oh my god, Ami, what?” you basically yelled as she laughed, “what has you so upset today? we’re going to Señor Frogs tonight!” she said happily, “okay, awesome, fun! talk to you later!” you exclaimed before quickly hanging up. 

Hawks couldn’t help but start laughing, “you’re quite a busy woman I see,” he joked as your face went warm, “I am so sorry. I haven’t been out to a party or club in months so they’re excited that I finally agreed to come out but enough of that, that’s about all I know about the hero,” you said trying to change the subject. 

he shook his head before giving you a small card, “if you happen to see anything suspicious, this is my number, give it a call,” Hawks said giving you a card. 

you nodded getting up and walking him to the door, “thank you so much, stay safe,” you replied as Hawks gave you wink before leaving.

as you shut the door, you looked down at the card and realized that he didn’t give you his professional number, it was his actual cell number. the number was basically scribble writing but you felt odd. you didn’t want to just text him so you put the number on the fridge and went back to grading papers. 

once the afternoon came in and you realized that you needed to start getting ready, you put all of papers away and went to the shower. 

you decided to put on a short jean skirt with a white v-neck and decent black high heels. you didn’t put too much thought into your hair but your makeup was a little more bolder than usual. 

you had finished just as your friends called you that they were here to pick you up. you grabbed your small bag and phone before quickly locking the door and running out of your apartment building. 

“( your name )!” they all screamed as you waved at them a bit embarrassed, “evening ladies,” you replied as you jumped into the front seat. 

the entire way to the club was filled with all of you talking the entire time. you noticed that your friend had a bottle of New Amsterdam Pink Whitney in her hand. 

“you know the rules, three shots before we go in,” she said handing out the shot glasses to all of you, “bottoms up!” you screamed as all of you downed the first shot before quickly pouring two and three. 

“I forgot how good Pink Whitney was,” you mentioned as Ami laughed, “buy a bottle of it tonight! you of all people have the monetary necessities to buy the biggest bottle they have,” Ami said laughing as you rolled your eyes. 

all of you got your I.D.s  scanned as the music blared through the speakers. you couldn’t help but get chills. you hadn’t been out in so long that you felt yourself get excited. 

“find us a table, I’ll buy us a bottle!” you screamed to Ami as she nodded. 

you went over to the bar and ordered the biggest bottle of Pink Whitney they had along with a bottle of Tito’s Vodka and Orange juice. you knew that the alcohol alone would rack you up a bill but like Ami mentioned, U.A. did pay you a great amount for your internship so it wouldn’t make your pockets hurt too bad. 

“are you planning on blacking out?” Ami yelled as she seen all the bottles you were holding, “I’ve been working for MONTHS! I deserve to get blacked out!” you explained making everyone laugh. 

you poured the vodka into everyones glass as all of you cheered before chugging them down. for a while, all of you drank and sat at the table talking before hearing a few people gasp. 

“what’s going on?” you asked Ami as she stood on a chair to see, “holy shit! the number #2 hero is here!” she screamed as your eyes widened, “Hawks is here!”  

Hawks was here? you hated to think it but he must’ve came knowing you would’ve been here. 

you poured yourself another glass of Pink Whitney as Ami explained that he was sitting in the back of the club to himself, “what’s wrong with you? do you have a crush on Hawks or something?” Ami taunted as you rolled your eyes. 

“fuck off,” you murmured as you heard one of your current favorite songs start to play, “come on, let’s dance,” you suggested as they all nodded. 

all of you went to the dance floor as you started dancing up against Ami. you watched as a few guys stared at you as you were basically grinding up against Ami. 

as you looked back up, you noticed Hawks from his seat as the bar give you a wink before waving you over to him. you watched as your friends started to dance with the guys around you so you realized that you had nothing to lose. 

“hey!” you screamed through the music as he flashed you a smile, “evening, ( your name ), funny finding you here,” he joked as you managed to laugh. 

“funny you’re here knowing I would be,” you replied as he motioned for you to sit next to him, “would you like a drink? I tend to get them for free,” Hawks offered as you thought for a moment, “I’ve been downing a few shots of Pink Whitney,” you told him as he waved a bartender down. 

the bartender ran to him as he ordered the same bottle you had bought a few hours prior. the bartender immediately ran back to grab the bottle with the shot glasses. 

“so what made you come here?” you asked Hawks as he shrugged, “wanted to get out. might’ve wanted to talk to you again,” he said as straight forward as possible. 

your eyes widened as his confession, “me? you could’ve stayed at my apartment if you wanted to talk more,” you joked. Hawks poured the two of you shots before looking at the pink vodka, “how good is this?” he asked, “I’m not a drinker,” he added. 

you smiled before downing the shot, “it’s amazing,” you replied as Hawks downed the shots. he thought the liquor would be sweet considering the pink color but as soon as it his throat, Hawks felt himself choke a bit.

“oh come on, you’re the #2 hero, you can handle a little vodka,” you said playfully. Hawks poured himself another shot before chugging it, “maybe you’re the one who can’t handle it,” he retorted as you gave him a challenging look. 

“I’m going to get another drink, I’ll be back,” you told Hawks as you got up from your seat, “don’t worry about it,” Hawks said sitting you back down as he waved the bartender back again, “what would you like?” Hawks asked. 

you gulped as you thought for a moment, “can I get a jack and coke? how much will it be?” you asked again as you took your card out, “put it on my bill,” Hawks interjected as you tried to deny him that, “Hawks, no! I can pay for it,” you pleaded. 

Hawks stared the bartender as a way to tell him to forget what you said. the bartender left as you gave Hawks a pout, “I’m going to pay you back,” you told Hawks as he chuckled, “yeah right,” he replied. 

the drink finally arrived as you grabbed an extra straw, “share it with me?” you asked as you felt the liquid courage in you build up, “don’t mind if I do,” was all Hawks said before the two of you started to share the drink. 

one drink turned into three before the both of you felt the very drunk sensation hit the both of you. you grabbed Hawks by the hand before dragging him out to dance floor. 

you got a few envious looks from surrounding people as you couldn’t help but give them a confident smirk. you had arguably the hottest hero in Japan dancing with you but you had God honestly never thought you’d get this far. 

“I’d never think that I would ever be dancing with the one called Hawks,” you whispered into his ear, “you’re the only one who gets the chance,” he replied into your ear as started to grind against him.

as you took a sip of your drink, you felt his hands roam up and down your body. you interlocked your hands with his as he chuckled lowly, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I hope you know this ain’t the last time you’ll be with me,” he whispered in your ear, “I’m not here to play around with you.” 

you turned around and tiptoed to reach his ear, “and I’m not letting any other person touch you,” you replied as Hawks tightened his arm around you, “you got some confidence in you,” Hawks mentioned as you gave him a wink. 

it didn’t take too long until Hawks suggested you come back to his place to continue the party. you drunkenly texted your friends that you were leaving before Hawks scooped you up in his arms. 

you had no idea how Hawks managed to fly the both of you back to his place in his state of mind but eventually, the two of you got to his very nice looking apartment. 

“my apartment must’ve been hell for you, huh?” you slurred as Hawks shook his head no, “not at all,” he replied.

Hawks dragged you to his bed and shoved whatever was on it onto the floor before slamming you down on it. you dragged him down on top of you and brought him into a heated kiss. 

“fuck, Hawks,” you moaned as he cut you off, “call me Keigo,” he murmured as his mouth went to attack your neck with kisses. your fingers found a home in his ash blond hair. 

he went lower as his kisses went to leave you bite marks on your stomach, “I’m gonna fuck you up a wall,” he groaned as his mouth went to your panties, “you’re soaking baby,” he chuckled softly as ripped your panties to give him access to your pussy. 

Keigo’s tongue licked your clit softly as you let out a growling moan, “K-Keigo, come on,” you pleaded, “are you sure you’re ready for it? you gotta beg,” he moaned as he teased your clit again. 

you begged like your life depended on it so once Keigo got enough of your begging, instead of giving you his tongue, he realized he didn’t want to wait anymore and gave you his dick instead. 

“come on, be a good girl and release those moan,” Keigo whispered as he rammed into you, “oh God Keigo, please,” you moaned as you gripped the sheet. 

Keigo got to a steady pace as you let out moans that rivaled a porn star, “do you like my dick? how it rearranges your guts?” you moaned in response as his hand squeezed your throat slightly, “you’re mine now. I’m the only one who can touch you this way,” he groaned as his thumb went to your clit. 

“Keigo, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned as you felt your peak coming, “cum, scream my name,” he threatened as you finally let out his name. 

he knew his end was coming as you laid back to let him finish, “I’m gonna cum inside you,” he groaned as his pace got quicker. Keigo held onto the head board as you moaned his name to get him to finish quicker, “fuck ( your name ), you feel so good. there is not one person in this world who can get me like this aside of yourself,” he moaned as he finally came. 

the two of you stayed that way for a moment as Keigo stayed on top of you to catch his breath. you put small kisses on his shoulder as Keigo finally got off you and put you in a cuddling position. 

“Keigo, I need to get my retainer,” you whispered as you tried to get up, “where is it, I’ll grab it,” he said getting up. 

you bit your lip as you took in his naked frame, “in my purse in the small pocket on the side,” you whispered as you covered yourself with the thin bedsheet. 

Keigo walked to your purse and grabbed the box where your retainer was before seeing your phone light up. he knew it would be up against his moral judgement to check your phone but he looked up at the name to see who it was. 

“Rin.” 

his eye twitched at the male name but knew not to say anything. once he got back to the bedroom, you were picked at your nails. 

“thank you Keigo,” you whispered. you grabbed the retainer from the box and put it in your mouth, “I know, my hotness level got knocked down a few levels,” you joked as you got comfortable in his arms, “maybe you got even hotter,” he whispered as you felt your face warm up. 

as soon as you felt the sleepiness come over you, you cuddled into Keigo before letting the sleep come over you. 

the morning came as your eyes fluttered open to see Keigo already up and looking at you, “morning,” he said lowly as you gave him a sleepy smile, “morning Hawks,” you replied as he gave you another look, “what did I tell you to call me?” he asked as realized you called him by his professional name, “sorry Keigo,” you said. 

you stood up and wrapped the thinner blanket sheet around you, “I should get going, I wouldn’t want to intrude any longer,” you said as you tried to look for your clothes. 

Keigo shot up from his side and grabbed your wrist, “don’t, stay,” he exclaimed as you gave him a look, “you sure? I chalked you up as the type of guy who usually wants his one night stand to leave first thing in the morning,” you inquired. 

he pulled you on top of him as he shook his head, “didn’t I tell you? you’re mine now,” he reminded you as your eyes widened, “how bold of you,” you replied as you got comfortable in his arms again. 

-

it had a been a few weeks since your night with Keigo. he tried to see you as much as possible but with your work and school schedule and Keigo’s hero work, it seemed almost impossible. 

as you were getting out of U.A. one day, you had stopped to talk to one of the other male student teacher interns. he worked with the hero department but you had met him in the internship orientation and talked to him every so often. 

“Rin, how have your hero kids been?” you asked as he shook his head, “one of them nearly killed another one by accident the other day,” he said laughing. 

you started laughing yourself as you watched Rin’s eyes widened, “uh, ( your name ), there’s someone behind you,” he stuttered as you quickly turned around. 

“oh, Hawks!” you said as Rin gave you a surprised look, “you’re friends with Hawks?” he asked in befuddlement. 

Hawks laughed, “more than friends, isn’t that right ( your name )?” he asked as you nodded a bit embarrassed, “we’re kind of dating,” you told Rin as he stared at you in surprise without saying a weird. 

“yep, this princess happens to be taken by the #2 hero,” Hawks gloated as you tried to kick him with the nickname, “oh wow, congrats,” Rin stuttered as you gave him a small smile. 

“I’m going to take you out to dinner so let’s get going,” Hawks said as he ushered you to the very luxurious car that was parked on the street, “bye Rin, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you quickly told him.

once the both of you were out of faculty and students ear shot, Keigo nearly shoved you inside of the car and got on top of you. 

“didn’t I tell you belonged to me?” Keigo whispered as you nodded, “maybe I should remind you,” Keigo continued as he ripped your blouse open, “remind you that every time you talk to another man, you should be thinking of me.”

you gulped as you soon realized what Keigo was implying towards. you knew the dinner he planned on taking you would be put on the back burner, at least for now. 

ALITA 

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

i’m so tasty and the price is right (shigadabi)

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, name-calling, both feminine & masculine terms used for ftm genitals, uhhhh i think thats it, hit me if i’m wrong tomura has an onlyfans and dabi helps him out for the viewers

-

tomura shigaraki, the anxiety-riddled, anger-filled, screaming child prodigy turned drop-out streamer that dabi was currently rooming with, had an onlyfans. dabi had only found this out through coincidence one night when he, for the first time, actually grabbed the mail on his way up. tomura had a bunch of perverted letters sent in from fans, all knowing him by his streamer name ‘decay’. they called him by his given name in the letters, something that shocked dabi and made it even funnier to read through.

his first instinct was to charge into tomura’s room to question him on it. and dabi wasn’t really a thinking man, so that’s what he did. he charged in with the letters in his hand, interrupting tomura’s stream as he scrambled to mute himself. 

“what the fuck do you want, dabi?” his raspy voice stuck in a permanent whine. it was honestly kinda cute sometimes. it was very easy to antagonize the poor boy, so dabi did it as often as he could get away with before tomura started threatening him. and not that dabi was scared of tomura— he could easily beat his ass at this point in time, all made up of scrawny limbs and long-term malnourishment. the only times he ate a real actual meal were when dabi reminded him and/or provided him with food. it put another pang of worry in dabi’s chest that he chose, again, to ignore.

tomura’s eyes scanned dabi, falling onto the papers in his hands with a confused expression.

“what?” tomura repeated, “what’s that shit?”

dabi’s grin was maniacal. 

“nothing, nothing,” dabi moved them behind his back, “only your creepy fan letters. from your fans.” there was a beat of silence before tomura’s face heated up and he stomped over, trying his hardest to grab at the letters dabi held.

“dude, why didn’t you tell me you were a pornstar? that’s like—” his laughing was cut off with a cough as he held the papers above their heads, shaking them to taunt tomura even more. tomura eventually jumped and snatched them out of dabi’s hands, shoving them in his trash can and going to sit back in his chair. he paused his stream as dabi caught his breath.

tomura took a deep (slightly crackly) breath, and started a practiced monologue, “i’m not a pornstar, i just hold… extra liveshows later on for more cash because streaming doesn’t exactly pay the best and for certain legal reasons i can’t really get a good job. so i basically just…” he sighed and winced a bit, “i record myself jacking off?” his sentence ended in more of an uncertain question than a statement, almost as if he was scared. “i don’t do it when you’re home, or at least i try not to, and i don’t bug you with it, so i don’t see why it would matter—” 

his rambling was cut off as tomura looked up to see dabi suddenly being a lot closer than he remembered.

“that’s fuckin’ hot, no apologies needed.” dabi’s voice was lower than usual, setting tomura’s face even further on fire, lighting up red as he covered his face.

“what the hell, freakshow, you can’t just say shit like that—” tomura said, muffled through his hands.

“but i can, and i will. you know i’m a pretty honest man, creep.” dabi chuckled. “now are you gonna let me fuck you up on your little stream or what?” he leaned down to be level with tomura who was still sat in his chair. 

there was only silence from tomura’s end.

“c’mon, won’t another dude be good for business? i promise i’ll take good care of you.” dabi got even closer with these words, trapping tomura in with his hands on the elbow rests, mouthing filthy promises in his ear.

“okay. we can take turns blowin’ each other.” tomura grumbled, pushing at dabi’s shoulders to move him from his position over him. “but i gotta finish off this stream first, i’ll come get you when it’s time. get cleaned up and shit, i won’t suck you off if you’re gross.” tomura didn’t look him in the eyes, putting his headphones back on and officially ending the conversation as he got back to whatever murder game he was playing with an apology for being gone.

dabi stalked off to the bathroom, burying his intense excitement and arousal deep in his gut and turning on the shower. he got pretty much everything, cleaner than he had been in weeks as a gross dude with an illegal gig barely classified as a job. he always did wonder how tomura was able to pay so much of the bills, but he didn’t want to bring it up and sound bitchy. he was half hard just from the thought, tomura always being the grumpy catch he was always afraid to go for, for fear that he would get kicked out of the apartment the morning after or something along those lines.

the stunt he had just pulled was exhilarating. he thought about the flush he had seen on tomura’s face as he stepped out of the shower. he was still at half mast as he brushed his teeth and put on deodorant (stealing tomuras’), towel wrapped around his waist. dabi had always thought himself to be a kind of a catch, positively covered in tattoos and piercings and even some cosmetic staples. his brother said he was addicted to body mods, bu he chose to ignore those words in favor of finding something else to do to or with his body. 

he wondered what he should wear. he didn’t want to struggle with it too much, just going for what he had on before the shower. he shook his hair out like a dog, water slightly darkened from the hair dye (he had just redyed it a couple days ago and he never truly had the care to wash it all the way out).

and when he was done with all that, he went into his room and collapsed on his bed facedown. there he stayed for a few moments as he tried to calm himself down, before just turned to his bong on the side table for some manual chill. he lit up a few times, only enough to make his head swim the tiniest bit, and went to play a few shitty games on his phone.

apparently he had been playing a little longer than he thought, already gone through a cigarette and another couple rips before tomura knocked on his door.

“ready to start up the live stream, get your ass in here if you still want in on it.” he heard through the door, followed by tomura’s footsteps leading off into his bedroom.

dabi, of course, immediately followed, hopping up and throwing his door open, excitedly shimmying his way up to tomura’s doorway. 

man

he was. he was wearing black thigh-highs, held up by a garter that he could barely see the beginnings of over a sweatshirt that was giant on his small, skinny frame. dabi’s sweatshirt.

“did—” dabi was damn near short of breath at the sigh ton display in front of him, “did you get that from my room?” 

“no, i got it from the living room. now let me get the camera on and the stream rolling before you fuck me up.” tomura chuckled softly, something that he didn’t do often. dab’s heart skipped a beat, and he pointedly chose to ignore it.

“you look fuckin’ hot, baby.” he murmured, eyes glued to the sligh bit of thigh on display over the top of the sock and before the sweatshirt.

“baby? what happened to creep?” tomura pressed record, laptop set up next to the camera so that they could see themselves and the chat, not giving dabi a chance to respond. tomura waited a few moments, before addressing the current pileup.

“hey everyone. i have a guest tonight, my roommate and the dude who eats all my damn cereal—” tomura paused and turned back to look at dabi who was still out of camera, “do you want your identity to be anonymous? ‘n’ do you wanna show your face?” 

dabi had a moment of pause, before shrugging. “nah, i don’t really have any shame, you’re not really anything to hide.” dabi once again shamelessly looked tomura up and down, earning an eyeroll and the beginnings of… was that a smile?

tomura turned back to the camera. “this is dabi, my roommate, and the dude who’s gonna eat me out on stream.” tomura said with no pause, and no stutter or hesitation. this was a performance, surely. it was so different from the blushing and hiding man who was avoiding his eyes a couple hours ago. tomura cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, mimicking a stage whisper. “this’ll be the first time with him, so you get our genuine reactions for free.” tomura chucked gently, watching the chat blow up at the premise of some genuine roommate porn.

tomura turned back to dabi, moving to pull him into frame and pushing him to sit on tomura’s bed.

“well, here goes nothing,” tomura murmured to himself, climbing into dabi’s lap and pulling him into a kiss. he immediately heard the dinging of tip notifications off to his side, and he knew his chat was probably going wild. dabi’s hands wandered, up tomura’s thighs that were positioned over his hips, and over the other mans own hips, back down to his thigh-highs. he pulled at them, snapping it against tomura’s thigh, earning a gasp that allotted enough room for dabi to stick his tongue in the others mouth. tomura’s own arms were slung over dabi’s shoulders coming up to run his hands through dabi’s undercut. tomura ground down against dabi’s half-hard cock, trying to work him up further. 

eventually their kiss broke for air and dabi stared into the camera with a knowing grin as he ground his hips upwards. tomura gasped loudly, sensitivity intensified by the hormones he had been taking for a while now. dabi moved to kiss down the white-haired boy’s throat, leaving little nips that had tomura giving breathy whines. he could tell some were played up for the camera, but he didn’t mind at all. he was rock hard in his jeans now, and he could feel the slickness that tomura had built up— soaking through his panties. which, by the way— now that dabi could see them, he was obsessed. they were bright blue and lacey, gorgeous against the pale flush of tomura’s scarred thighs. they hugged his hips nicely and made dabi want to rip them apart. 

tomura gently pushed him away from his neck, rolling his hips against dabi as he leaned back slightly to look at the camera. “chat, who should go first? who do you wanna see cum first?” his words were syrupy and seductive as their hips worked in tandem. someone donated with a fairly large amount, spouting something about wanting to see the pretty boy choke on cock.

and who were they to deny the nice donator?

tomura turned back to dabi, running a hand down the man’s chest, grabbing at the end of his shirt. dabi got the hint and removed his shirt, hearing the chat pop off for a moment.  “your lucky day, freakshow. fuck me up.” tomura whispered and he hopped off dabi’s lap, spreading dabi’s legs manually and making himself comfortable between them.

“feel free to grab the camera to get that angle, yknow?” tomura looked up at him as he laid his cheek on dabi’s thigh, uncomfortable close to the bulge in dabi’s pants.

dabi leaned back on his hands, letting tomura unbutton his pants and shimmy his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. tomura had a moment of shock at the sight of it, long and thick with about 5 pieces of fuckin’ metal stuck into it. 

when his shock wore off, he decided a quip would be appropriate. “y’know i always did wonder if it continued on down—” tomura gestured to all of his various facial and body piercings, finally licking a stripe up his length and taking dabi by surprise, making him gasp. tomura was surprisingly good at this, dabi had thought him a lame little virgin before he found out about the whole onlyfans thing. but no, tomura had apparently had quite a bit of practice, shown off by the rapid rate at which he was able to adjust to the intrusion of dabi’s cock, sinking down and feeling the metal rods on the underside grind one by one against his tongue. it was heaven, and dabi reached one hand into tomura’s hair for support.

this led tomura to pull off, only to say the words, “pull on it,” before sinking his hot mouth back down onto dabi’s dick. and so dabi did what he was told, taking the hair in his hands and pulling, earning a genuine moan from tomura that reverberated its way down his cock. the hottest thing was that tomura was making him feel this good with only his mouth. his hands were currently on dabi’s thighs, moving up to his hips as if to insinuate something. dabi pulled him back by his hair. tomura whined, which was the hottest thing ever and looked up at dabi with a wanting— no, expecting stare. 

“use your words, babydoll.” he muttered to tomura, watching his face heat up, much more like his bashful self before the camera turned on. the audience was eating it up, so used to his unphased confidence and sheer no-fucks-given attitude, that seeing this form of subby shigaraki was like dessert for them.

“use me, dabi,” tomura muttered, eyes focused on the ground as he shuffled on his knees.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you, speak up.” dabi teased and used his hand that was in tomura’s hair to slip down and hook his finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at dabi.

tomura’s eyes glazed over for a second at the stern look that dabi was giving him, before blinking harshly and shaking his head a bit, as if to clear his mind.

“fuck my throat, dabi. use me.” his voice was clear and without any shyness now, an almost grin spreading across his cheeks. though his inner submission didn’t go unseen, as the look in his eye and the redness of his face and the way he arched his back even now, was more honest than any words he could say. 

“if you say so, baby. tap me if you want off.” dabi moved his hand back to tomura’s hair, gripping it tight and using it to line himself up with tomura’s lips.

“open up. you’re gonna be so good at this, i can just tell.” dabi growled out. tomura followed directions, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out to show up, dabi sliding his cock to the back of the other man’s throat. he stopped for a moment to let tomura adjust, but tomura took that to his advantage, meeting dabi’s eyes and sucking hard.

“jesus fuck, baby—” dabi panted, starting up a smooth rhythm with his hips, both hands now in tomura’s hair to practically use him like a toy. a human fleshlight.

“god, tomura, you whore— how’dya get so good at this? d’ya— d’ya practice?” dabi’s hips sped up as tomura moaned deep in his throat, vibrating against his cock. the words were turning tomura’s poor brain into jello. the chat was going wild, donations at an all time high as they watched their favorite creator get used like a toy. 

dabi felt the tension building up in his gut. a few more moments of this and he would be done for. he reached down with one of the hands to wrap around tomura’s throat, so that he couldn’t even semi-breathe through his nose. he felt tomura gag, throat clamping down on his cock. tomura had yet to tap him, so he continued with his wild ministrations, letting go of tomura and pulling his dick out until just the tip rested on tomura’s tongue as he worked himself off the final edge and came, coating tomura’s lips and tongue.

“don’t swallow yet.” dabi’s tone was winded yet still authoritative. “show your audience baby, you did amazing. show them how good of a slut you are.” dabi grabbed tomura’s chin and manually turned the boy’s head to the camera, watching with hungry eyes as he showed off the spend on his tongue. 

“okay, now swallow.” dabi ordered, watching as tomura did it easily. dabi knew at that instant that he had sent tomura into a momentary headspace of sorts. he wanted to treat the boy after using him so roughly, so he helped him up and out of the sweatshirt, splayed out on the bed, hair spread out around his head like a halo. he looked like a proper angel as the blurriness finally worked its way out of those eyes and the real tomura came back on line.

“jesus christ, dabi.” tomura grumbled. his pale face was on fire. dabi thought that was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. 

dabi was lowering himself onto his knees, pulling tomura’s hips to hang off the bed, spreading them so that he could lay lovebites along his inner thighs. it was almost agonizing with how long he carried it out, working numerous dark purple hickeys onto his thighs, as if to claim, and to show off. he knew that if tomura did a show in the next few days, they would be visible, and that made him hot under the collar.

“god, freakshow, get on with it!” tomura whined, trying to arch up onto something, but failing as a result of dabi’s iron grip on his thighs. 

“ah, ah ah— what do we say when we want something, babydoll?” dabi’s low voice made goosebumps rise up on tomura’s skin, and the poor boy nearly gave in and started begging right there. dabi stopped pressing kisses to tomura’s thighs, sitting back holding tomura’s legs apart, waiting on his reply.

“i need an answer, creep.” the familiar nickname from the man between his legs made it more… intimate. tomura swallowed his pride.

“please— please dabi, please suck me off, i need it—” he was rewarded with dabi ripping his panties off, exposing his nether regions to the open air. tomura whined at the cold, feeling it against his wet cunt. but soon the feeling of cold air was replaced with a soft, excellent warm suction on his dick, one of dabi’s hands reaching up to run two fingers along his slit. 

it made tomura nearly scream, instead moving one of his hands to cover his mouth. dabi instantly let up on the attention, reaching up to move tomura’s hand. “you gotta put on a show tomura, remember that.” dabi chuckled before he went back to work, moving his lips down to run his tongue against tomura’s hole. tomura was arching his back and more or less grinding against dabi’s face as he moaned loudly. dabi knew his way around eating out, so it wouldn’t be long for the other man, who had already been so wound up for so long. dabi went back to sucking on his clit and he moved his two fingers to enter, making an awful noise when they did. tomura’s wetness rolled down dabi’s wrist and before long, tomura’s legs were shaking as dabi brought him to the edge. 

now, dabi was a little shit by nature. so he doubled, even tripled his efforts in speed and pressure, rocketing tomura over the edge and working his fingers in and out at such a speed that had tomura writhing against the sheets in oversensitivity. 

and dabi kept going. he was on a mission, and soon enough, his efforts were rewarded when tomura soaked the sheets and dabi’s arm and lower face. dabi worked him through it, milking him of every drop, before he finally let up. tomura lay there practically braindead for a bit, dabi even going so far as to wave at the camera as he stroked tomura’s thighs, waiting for him to be coherent enough for dabi to leave for a second to get a towel. 

once he had come back to the land of the living, tomura ended the stream with a quick thank you to the donators and visitors, while dabi was up getting a towel, and tomura had caught his breath by the time dabi was back with towels and water. dabi wiped his face, arms and upper torso off, and tomura wiped his junk down, throwing the towel somewhere on the floor. 

“my junk hurts, you asshole. god— why are you so good at that?” were the first words out fo tomura’s mouth, eliciting a loud laugh from dabi as he opened the window and pulled out a cigarette.

“get me one too, freakshow. i need it after that. my dono’s are through the fuckin’ roof though, so thanks for our rent.” he spoke quietly against the sounds of the city as dabi lit his cigarette and tossed one and his lighter to tomura.

dabi only gave him a devilish smirk.

“you gonna let me do that again?”

[kittybellestark]

This is kinda an endgame fix-it of sorts. Tony is alive.

After the snap Peter and May were poor.

They were lucky to get an apartment with two bedrooms. They really were. And it was still in queens which was nice. But they were starting from scratch.

The government was useless. Well, maybe not useless, they were doing they’re best with the missing people from five years ago suddenly return. They had to deal with all of the deaths caused by the return, as well as all the now displaced people. Undoing the death certificates, finding any missing people. The government was doing a lot.

But it didn’t feel like it. Those who were snapped out of existence didn’t have their savings anymore. Or their jobs. They were entitled to ‘financial compensation,’ but that could take years to get, and would probably end up costing more then they’d get.

So, May and Peter were currently poor. And while their apartment seemed nice enough, it was pretty run down. They were lucky that Pepper had lent them one of the Stark’s many homes in New York until they found a place for as long as she did. With Tony having been in a coma for as long as he had been, and is still dealing with recovery, it felt wrong to intrude in such a way.

They’re new apartment has already been broken into twice. And May and Peter were currently sharing a cellphone where they bought minutes as they needed. May was finding small jobs here and there that was enough to cover the bills. And Peter was chipping in where he could.

Then the ceiling in May’s bedroom started to collapse. And while typically this would be the part that Tony would swoop in and save the day, May and Peter currently had no way to reach of to him, and Tony was still deep into recovery, still not permitted to even stand on his own.

Peter and May started putting money aside where they could to get the ceiling fixed. It was April and school had been cancelled until at least September to deal with the influx of students. So Peter got a full time job as a bartender while he isn’t actually old enough to serve or drink his ID is technically doesn’t say he’s too young either. And May finally found a full time position working for a non-profit that pays well enough to help relocate people after the snap.

May’s mattress is brought over to Peter’s room, (because the living room is too small and doesn’t have a couch yet, only too foldable chair and a little table in between) and they become roommates.

After 3 months they still don’t have enough money to fix the ceiling and Peter is feeling antsy.

May likes to sleep with the lights off, and Peter doesn’t want to tell her that the dark makes him think about the battle, or space, or the time he crashed an airplane, or when he was trapped under a building.

May goes to bed early because she has to wake up early, which means that Peter doesn’t get to be alone very often.

Peter misses having privacy.

He misses getting changed in his bedroom.

And crying without worrying about waking up the person a few feet away.

He misses having a place solely his own.

Peter understands why this is happening. He gets it. He knows they’re poor right now. Peter knows that they can’t afford to fix the ceiling. And he feels guilty. And selfish for wanting a place of his own.

He feels so selfish when he looks down at the pizza him and May just ate -because they were both over tired and their stove broke- and sees it as a luxury. Sees the money that could have gone to giving him his room back. He feels selfish for putting money on their shared cellphone so that he can check the internet to see if Ned or MJ were also snapped. To see if the news knows about Tony’s recovery.

Peter feels guiltly and horrible for just wanting to be alone for longer than a shower. He just wants to be able to be alone.

When Happy spots Peter when he’s walking home from work at 3am, Peter feels guilty for taking the offer for the ride home. He’s wasting Happy’s money. He’s wasting Pepper’s and Tony’s money. He feels like a burden.

“How come you haven’t come round to visit boss yet? I thought you too were close.”

Happy doesn’t want to say that he misses the kid. Doesn’t want to tell Peter he’s concerned over the hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. He wants to see if Peter is okay, but without the kid feeling like he’s put on the spot.

“Don’t know where he is.” Peter responds simply with a shrug.

The way Peter slurs his words slightly along with the raggedy look of the kid are some massive red flags for Happy. Peter isn’t going off on some tangent about anything and it isn’t right.

“If you called I could have given you a ride.” Happy tries to sound nonchalant, looking at Peter in the rear view mirror, the kid doesn’t even perk up.

“Gotta have a phone for that, Happy. And your phone number.”

Happy pulls over to where the Parker’s used to live. Where things were good and happy and there was no snap. And there was no missing out on five years of life or sharing a bedroom, it was just another day.

“You guys still live here?” Happy asks, hoping for something to turn the conversation around, hoping for something, anything.

“No, but I can walk the rest of the way, it’s no big deal.”

“Not happening.”

Happy pulls back out onto the road taking Peter out of Queens to visit Tony and Pepper and Morgan. Hopefully that’ll cheer the kid up. Morgan is the cutest kid, so it’s impossible to be upset by her. And now that Tony is doing better it’s bound to have Peter rambling in no time.

“Happy, Happy, what are you doing? You need to pull over. C’mon man, not cool. I gotta work tomorrow. Let me out!” Peter tried the open the doors to no avail not thinking to unlock it.

“Peter I’m just taking you to the Lakehouse, just for a night.”

“I have to work tomorrow Happy, I can’t not go. Just let me out.”

Peter felt desperate, and selfish. Tears were in his eyes and he was seconds away from crying. He couldn’t miss work. Couldn’t miss out on the money that went towards his privacy. Towards having his room back. 

As Happy turned to pull into the driveway for the Lakehouse it was turning to 4am and the kitchen light was on. Peter felt the tears escape and he couldn’t call May, or his job and they needed the money.

“Happy, please.” Peter tried again.

Happy and Peter both got out the car, Peter trudging behind, dreading the idea of intruding on someone else. He didn’t want to be there and he was sure he wasn’t wanted.

They both walked in, gathering the attention of Pepper, who was making food in her pajamas. Pepper looked up and smiled at Happy, not seeing Peter who has hidden himself behind Happy. 

“Look at who I found wandering through the streets of Queens.” Happy pulled Peter out from behind himself to show off the boy to Pepper.

“Wandering through the streets? Peter, honey I know you’re enhanced but it’s not safe to be walking through Queens in the middle of the night.” 

Pepper moved and gave Peter a hug, surprised at how skinny he way. He wore enough layers that it wasn’t that obvious in any place other than his face, but when she squeezed him. All there was, was bones.

Peter didn’t respond verbally, only a slight shrug, and that was so out of character for him it nearly had Pepper reeling.

“Let me make you some breakfast.” Pepper nodded to herself before moving back into the kitchen to make Peter some food too.

“I really shouldn’t be staying long.” Peter broke the silence finally when Pepper got him to sit with food infront of him.

“You just got here, honey, there’s no rush. We missed you.”

Peter doesn’t really believe her.

“I have to go to work. I can’t miss work.”

Pepper gives Peter a look. A look that he’s received multiple times from May, the look a parent gives when they’re trying to figure out if their child is lying. It’s the squinting eyes and the frown, with the one corner of the mouth turned up.

“I’m sure you can take the day off.” Pepper’s tone has an air of finality to it. “We’ll get May here tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve last seen you guys.”

Peter shrugged, feeling tired and defeated. Fighting Pepper is a battle Peter doesn’t ever want to take up. Sometimes you just need to accept your losses. This is one of those times.

“Can I use your phone to call in then? I’m supposed to work at noon.” 

Peter held onto his head with both of his hands, already coming up with an excuse to why he can’t come in.

“Didn’t you just finish your shift? Why would you work at noon.” Happy snorted, clearly not believing Peter having a job.

“It’s called working a double. My shifts are 12pm-2am. Now could I please call in?”

“I’ll call for you honey, where do you work?” 

Ah, shit. This wasn’t a turn that Peter was expecting. He didn’t think that he would have to tell Pepper where he’d work. 

“Death & Company.”

“Excuse you?”

“I work at Death & Company. That speakeasy styled bar where we all wear bowties and suspenders. It’s pretty rich people stuff, I’m sure you heard of it Pepper.”

“Peter, impossible. You’re sixteen, they wouldn’t hire a minor.”

“Except the fact that my ID say’s I’m 21. I just happen to be the type of guy that they like to hire. Also the tips are really good.”

“You can’t work there. I won’t allow it. I’m sure May and Tony would agree with me.”

Peter groaned, dropping his head onto the table. He didn’t want to do this. He was tired and missed having privacy and he was doing something good. Sure, maybe he got the job for selfish reasons. And maybe he’d stay a little later most shifts and have a drink or two with his coworkers. It’s not like it’s illegal anymore. Might as well reap the benefits of being a legal adult while still 16. 

“May actually knows where I work and is grateful that I’m helping out while not in school. Four months ago it would have been a problem, or I guess five years ago, but now we need the extra cash. Besides, you don’t own me, I’m not your child, I’m technically a legal adult and therefore can work at a bar. The last time either May or I have spoken to you was right after the snap, and the last time I talked to Tony was during the battle.  You didn’t give us anyway to contact you, and the only reason I’m here is because Happy brought me here even though I asked to be dropped at home. You can’t just decide to show up in my life now and tell me what I can and can’t do. You haven’t been here and you don’t get to choose to be here for me now.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry that we’ve ignored you, but there’s been a lot going on, we’ve just got Tony back home and he’s able to do things again, and there’s Morgan and the company too. It’s been a lot.”

Peter felt tears in his eyes. He didn’t like doing this. He didn’t want to, but he might still be a little drunk. It’s been exhausting and he hasn’t gotten to talk about it with anyone, and now Pepper is here and it’s convenient.

“We’ve been threatened with homelessness multiple times, we’ve been robbed twice, our roof has caved in, we have one phone where we buy minutes when we need it, we don’t have hot water, our appliances barely work, May is working two jobs that don’t pay anywhere’s near as much as her old one and I’m working as well and sometimes we have to choose which utilities are more important to us. May had to talk a week off of work last month because she got the flu, knocked her down pretty good. I wanted her to go to the hospital because her fever hit 105 degrees, we couldn’t really afford it before everything either, but it would have been doable. Now she didn’t want to be brought to the hospital because it’d be cheaper for her to die and wouldn’t lead to me being homeless. We had our electricity and water shut down for a little while because of that.” Peter took in a big breath, trying to reign in his frustration, trying not to take it out on Pepper. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot these last few months, years even, but so have I. It isn’t your fault, but you’ve also not been there, so please don’t try to force yourself into a situation you will never understand. I need my job. May needs me to have my job. This isn’t about what you or Tony want, it isn’t about what you do and don’t like. It’s about what May and I need. And that happens to be me working at a bar for the unforeseeable future.”

The two sat in silence, and Happy backed his way out of the kitchen. It was clear that Pepper was processing Peter’s words. It was a lot. He couldn’t blame her for that. Or for her not being there. It happens. Life gets in the way.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Peter. I’ll call them for you. Just the one day, and then you can go back to work if you’d like. For now why don’t you go to bed sleep a little bit. Then you can see Tony and meet Morgan.”

‘Meet Morgan.’ Because Peter hasn’t done that yet. Because Peter hasn’t been important enough to meet her before. Or important enough to see Tony. Maybe Peter just isn’t important. He’s an intern. Just an intern. Always will be an intern.

“Sure, tha-that’s fine.”

“Okay, you can take the first bedroom on the left. On this floor.”

Peter nodded with a mumbled thanks, moving out of his spot and to guest bedroom. When he entered the room it was obvious it was made for visitors. There wasn’t anything personal in there. Queen size bed, white comforter, white pillows with a colourful quilt. A tall dresser and desk, an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. 

It was too much. Way too much. It’s probably a memory foam mattress. He doesn’t deserve this. He wanted privacy, not to abandon May in a time of need. Peter just wanted his room back, not to be sicced on Pepper or Tony when they’re also in a time of need. All he needed was his creaky twin size mattress on his nearly okay bed frame, in his dingy bedroom that totally didn’t have mold or mice. All he needed was to be able to go to his own bedroom at night and be alone, not in this knock-off hotel room. 

May deserved it. Not him. May deserved better than him. Better than what she got. 

“I need another drink.” Peter groaned, closing the door behind him and through the room. He opened the window, throwing himself and his bag outside. 

The fresh air coming off the lake helped calm Peter’s nerves. The sun rose in colours of pink and orange and red. There were still stars in the sky and the moon too. 

Peter found himself being drawn to the docks. He sat down at the edge, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. The bottle was still mostly full, so he took a swig hoping for it to solve any problems. Of course it didn’t. It never could, why would it start now? Just because Peter was seated on the Stark’s dock, using up valuable resources, money and space didn’t mean that anything would be solved. It just meant that the sinking feeling in his stomach grew heavier and heavier. 

He should be at home. Dreading work, but grateful for the extra money. He should be in his shared bedroom with May. He should be doing more. May should be the one swept off her feet and given a day off. Why should he have anything good? Why should he be sitting here, privileged, when others are struggling much worse than he is.

He takes another swig.

It doesn’t burn anymore. Not like it used to. 

“You know, Whiskey was the first drink I ever had. Mind you, I was six years old and told I needed to drink it to show how grown up I was. I’m sure there’s a different reason as to why you’re drinking.”

Tony’s voice shock’s Peter’s system. There’s electric currents and his vision whites out for a second, he nearly drops his bottle. Peter can’t stop himself to turn around, finding Tony standing there, keeping himself up with a cane, his right arm a prosthesis, and healing burns up his face. Tony has a sad smile on his face as he carefully maneuvers himself to sit down next to Peter.

“I know that look.” Peter says carefully. “It’s not your fault.”

“Peter, you’re drinking.” Tony huffs, pulling the bottle from Peter’s hand.

“Don’t put this on yourself. It’s not like I drink all the time. Only after my shift sometimes. I’m legal, technically, and it’s not hurting anyone. Controlled environment with other adults. The whiskey was a gift from the owners because I bring in the most customers.”

Peter laughed, it was a heartbroken, self-deprecating laugh. The tips of his ears were red, and Tony noticed how Peter’s eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. Tony was surprised to see that Peter was also skinnier, his cheekbones and jaw more prominent, his collarbone popping more and his spine visible through the sweater. 

“So then why?” Tony asked, testing the waters a little bit. 

This was the first conversation he was having with Peter after five years. Their first conversation and it isn’t one of happiness. Tony finally gets to talk to his kid and he’s scarred he’ll push Peter into closing off. 

Peter considers his answer. “Well I’d rather be dead and I can’t do that to May because that’s selfish of me. And I don’t have any privacy and we can hardly pay any bills. I don’t even know if Ned or MJ were snapped or finishing college. It’s been five years and I don’t really fit anymore. I just feel so selfish for wanting my own bedroom.”

Tony felt like an asshole. Of course Peter would be struggling with adjusting to a new world. He should of reached out sooner, though Tony wasn’t very lucid these last few months, finally weened completely off the pain medication this week. 

“Can I hug you, kid?” 

Peter nods, sobbing once he’s held in Tony’s arms. Tony rubs Peter’s back hoping to bring any comfort to the kid. Being alive for the last five years has been hard, trying to mourn the loss of half the world, move on from what once was, and then try and reverse everything to bring back Peter.

“Ned and MJ were both snapped as well. It was one of the first things I checked when I made it back. And I don’t know how much it helps but I literally invented time travel to bring you back, not for the greater good, but because I’m a selfish man who wanted my kid back. I know that there is no excuse for why I’ve not been there since you came back but I’m here for you now and whenever you need me in the future. I’ll put my number and Pepper’s and Happy’s and Rhodey’s number into your phone so you can call any of us whenever you need.”

Carding his fingers through Peter’s hair helped soothe Tony and he hoped it would also soothe Peter. Having a crying boy in his arms made him more like a failure than he already thought himself to be.

“I don’t have my own phone. May and I share, and we hardly ever have enough minutes. I wouldn’t deserve it anyways.”

“No, no, Kid you deserve it so much more than anyone else, and you deserve everything good. You’ll have a phone by the end of the day, with so many minutes you wouldn’t know what to do with any of it. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you, but I need you to promise that you’ll only drink on special occasions or parties and not when your sad, or angry, or upset in anyway.”

Peter sobbed, his whole body shaking in Tony’s arms, he tries nodding, though the way that his body is shaking it made it hard to decipher, but Tony knew, he always knew.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be like normal. It didn’t really click that it’s been five years, but then it really was, and May and I don’t have anything and I went to space and died then came back to life and was thrown into a war. I can’t even sleep anymore, especially not in the dark. I don’t know why I thought things would be the same. Everyone moved on, the world moved on. There’s no room for me anymore.” 

“Okay, okay, Underoo’s. It’s okay, I know it’s hard and what you’re feeling I’m sure a billion others are feeling too, and that doesn’t make you any less deserving of your feelings. We’re going to find a place for you in this new world. We’re going to help you the best we can. You’re my kid too, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you, but we’ll do this together, however you want to. You get to call the shots here. You have a room here for as long as you want it and forever after that, we’ll get you and May set up wherever needed. I love you, Pete.”

For the first time in a while Peter feels like things will be okay. He’s here with Tony and the world isn’t ending, and he has a room and someone who can tell him that it’s okay. He’s not happy, but he’ll get there.

[monarchymatt]

Wow Tumblr it’s been a Year huh!

Well hello Tumblr I reinstall the app after a year of just not giving a fuck I guess haha. Much has changed my old friend clearly my favorite app in high school is now a second hand blog to look back on to see how depressed I was back in the day or what the fuck my tiny smooth brain ass was thinking back then.

Anyway Tumblr you wanna know how I've been. I’m great, thanks for asking I'm happy with my job and happy with my partner who I will be together with for a year with next month. Wow, yeah what happened to depresso Matt that complained that nobody wanted him. Well I guess my answer was under my nose for a long time. I guess as soon I stopped looking I found the answer.

 I’m also out of school! Your probably thinking “Oh Matt that’s great did you graduate!” Yeah NO! I tried to finish yet the advisors at my school fucked me with No Vaseline and made me take classes I didn’t need. So when I found out instead of having credit hours like a second semester Junior I had the credits of a beginning Sophomore. Yeah big oof, so I said fuck it for me to catch up would take to much plus I work full-time to pay the bills. 

Which means I'm moving back home. Home yes where I'm missed by many! Yeah what I mean by many I mean as in my family, especially my nephews lmao. Non of my friends back home has hit me up in years which in fairness I haven’t messaged them either. I mean life after school is exactly how I imagine it to be in a weird way many different lives moving all in different directions. Friends getting married and having kids, some going to jail, and some still living with their parents. I’m not one to judge the path people have taken but all I can see is that I'm proud to have chosen mine.

Yeah adulting is not all that’s it’s cracked up to be. I’m 21 now 22 will be here before you know it had my birthday on a Monday and because of the virus that has attack the world in a century defining pandemic known as COVID I just went to the liquor store after work and had a six pack and a cigar while sitting on my balcony. Yeah I know big baller move right there. 

Well that’s enough of me rambling to you old friend, I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay, actually scratch that I'm not okay, I'm fan-fucking-tastic I have to give all the credit to my partner she’s has been my best friend for about three years now and she understands me and I understand her. We both are happy with our lives right now expect she is very excited to move to the city and get out of the bum fuck no were we are currently located at. I can’t say I blame her, I miss home, yet I'm scared of the reaction from people I knew and myself of being their many times when I visit family I feel a sense of dread, I don’t know if it’s from my past or if it’s because I don’t know my future. Yet I'm not afraid anymore my future is bright as long as I believe in myself. Well anyway good talk old friend I guess I'll see you next year.

-Thanks for listening as always old friend.

To: Tumblr

From: Matt

[lazarustrashpit]

Hey if you want to be an artist, I want to be artist but on the side since I am worried about the financial situation and I have to get a career and stay in school that’s what my parents say do you think I can become an artist still or? Or how do you manage? I’m not sure o becoming an artist since I’m not that good at digital, colors but I would like to be but in a more financially stable future.

Hi anon,

They don’t call us starving artists for no reason.

I’m not sure I’m the best person suited to answer this, as this is something I personally struggle with in becoming a full-time illustrator. However, I’m going to give you as honest of an answer as I can based on my own experiences. Please note, that I do not speak on the behalf of other artists. 

I’ve been a graphic designer for over 10 years, and an art director for a production company for half of that. What you see me doing on social media is something out of pure hobby. Fan art doesn’t pay my bills.

Short answer: Yes, it’s possible to become a full time artist and be financially stable. Is it easy? DEFINITELY NOT. Like with literally anything, it takes a lot of work and dedication to be successful. I’ve had the pleasure of conversing and working with several different types of artists. We’ve all struggled and continue to struggle, but the pay off is incredibly rewarding, if you can get your foot in the right door... but you gotta find the right door to begin with. What kind of artist are you interested in becoming? 

Artist is a vary vague term. There’s so many different career paths for each specialty. Comics: Pencilers, inkers, colorists, letterers; Concept artists: props, vehicles, costumes, backgrounds, fauna, aliens, buildings; Animation: 3d modeling, flash animation, compositing, rigging, storyboards, 2d hand drawn animation, 3d computer animation, stop motion animation. There’s a lot of positions out there. Saying you want to be an artist is like saying I want to be a doctor. Okay, but what type? Podiatrist? Veterinarian? Neurologist? Pediatrician? Psychiatrist?

Long scary answer below the cut.

Disclaimer: I’m not speaking on behalf of other artists, just my own opinion from my own experiences. Also, I am in no way trying to discourage you because a lot of what is written below is negative. The last thing I’d want is to deprive the world of another artist, but I also don’t want to provide some sort of false hope.

Being a full time artist is not easy. It’s extremely competitive regardless of what industry you want to dive into. It’s a lot of work and sleepless nights overcoming deadlines, your own self-esteem, and the biggest hurdle of all, finances.

Choosing any career is a big deal. As stated above, you have to do your research to really understand what you’re going to get yourself into. What’s the job market like for where you currently live? If there are not enough opportunities, are you willing to move for work? Yes, a lot of jobs can be done remotely, but if we’re talking about being financially stable, your best bet is to get yourself in with a studio full-time or on a long contract project. Freelance artistry is difficult—you set and negotiate your own rates for projects, and you’re responsible for marketing yourself to keep getting jobs, not to mention you are more susceptible to getting scammed and taken advantage of. And with social media being a driving force for a lot of marketing, you’re constantly fighting with the algorithm to get your work seen. Not to mention, there’s a lot of pressure because you get paid per project and if you can’t land a project, then you’re not getting paid. Whereas if you can work for a studio, the work is brought to you on a consistent basis, provided you can keep up with the demands and perform to the task at hand. A lot of the work may be repetitive and time sensitive, but it will be steady. Working for a studio/business gets you benefits like retirement options, health benefits, vacation/sick pay, tuition reimbursement, etc. 

There’s also the other side of being a freelance artist that no one ever really talks about. Everyone thinks that we spend every day just pumping out art, which is somewhat true, but we don’t often talk about the missing the endless emails with clients, the constant marketing, searching on artstation, fiverr, etc for gigs, querying literary agents, changing your portfolio(this is another thing I can talk about for days so hit me up in DMS if you want to discuss) constantly to reflect your very best work, keeping up on all your social media platforms to engage your audience, honestly, finding an audience in general is another conversation, dealing with carpel tunnel and other muscle related injuries... it goes on and on.

I moved 3000 miles across the United States from my hometown to California for better work opportunities. Are you prepared to work another job(s) to make ends meet? I worked in retail and a handful of odd jobs for several years before I fell into an actual full-time art job. 

Ultimately, it really depends on how passionate you are about this, and how much you’re willing to struggle to get to do what you want. For me, I fall into a very depressive state if I can’t flex my creative muscles for even one day. I worked as an event coordinator for several years, and was never worried about money. However, despite being financially well-off, I was so incredibly miserable every single day because I just didn’t have the energy to draw when I got home. It was nearly impossible for me to get out of bed every morning. Then, I landed a job as a graphic designer, I made less, but I was so much happier, but it still wasn’t enough. I would work a full day and still come home and draw something after having dinner, even though I had already spent 8 hours being creative beforehand. It’s literally something I just need to do to be happy. It helps me relax and de-stress. So, what I’m saying is, if you’re not passionate about it, don’t make it your main focus. Why open a restaurant if you’re not ready to wake up at 3 am to bake bread or go to the fish market for fresh ingredients? 

In the end, I’d rather be dirt poor and drawing, than be wealthy and miserable. But that’s not for everyone. It really, really, really, just depends on who you are.

A lot of artists have day jobs and do art on the side for supplemental income. If you have the drive to keep that up, because it will be taxing on your physical and mental health (please take proper breaks), then please pursue it. I would NEVER want to discourage anyone from pursuing art as a career or hobby. I just want to be real about the struggle. The beautiful thing about art is that it’s never too late to fall into. It just takes time and dedication to the craft. I’ve spoken with dozens of animators that didn’t fall into it until they were in their 30s and now work full-time for Disney. Anything is possible if you have the talent and the drive for improvement. 

Again, I’m not speaking on any other artists’ behalf. I’m sure we all have differing opinions and experiences on the topic. Feel free to DM me if you want to talk about this further. As you can see, I can ramble about this for days, so I’m just gonna shut up now lol

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together: Chapter 21

"You know, I was really looking forward to eating some homemade German cooking." Feliciano said. They were currently sitting in a small restaurant not far away from the house. Although Feliciano invited his grandpa to join, he stayed at the house to work through some papers, leaving Ludwig and Feliciano to enjoy stuffing themselves with food alone. "Like you making me something."

Ludwig looked at Feliciano from behind the menu he held. "I am not a good cook. That was always Gilbert's job. I only bake."

"Speaking of, where does Gilbert work? He never showed me."

"Here."

Feliciano blinked in confusion. "Here as in right here? As in this restaurant?"

"Yes. He is this restaurant's chef."

"That's amazing!"

"He is good at his job, but I am not sure if he likes it or not."

"What do you mean?"

"He gets into fights with other cooks easily."

"Oh... But it's nothing bad, right?"

"Nothing physical at least." Ludwig wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by the waiter. Feliciano stared at Ludwig, puzzled as he tried to make sense of what Ludwig was saying. He really should polish his German.

"I ordered us a Gilbert's special." Ludwig read right through Feliciano.

"I'm that obvious?" Feliciano asked, shocked but laughing.

"In a way."

They talked some more until their food arrived, a large piece of meat covered in gravy with side potatoes and sausages. Feliciano looked at Ludwig, unsure of what to name this dish. "What is this, Ludwig?"

"We call this The Gilbert's Special. It is actually Rinderroulade-," he pointed with his fork at the meat-,"with mashed potatoes and Knockwurst. It isn't a single dish, but more of a combination of dishes."

"It looks too delicious." Feliciano said before cutting up a large piece from the meat and stuffing himself with it. Ludwig watched him with amusement. "Wait, is this beef?"

"It is. Do you not like it?" Ludwig asked, cutting up his own piece.

"I love it. I haven't had proper beef like this in years."

"What do you mean by proper?"

"Not straight out of a package." Feliciano was struggling to speak and eat at the same time, devouring the meat in a matter of seconds, like it was going to grow legs and run away from his plate. "We used to eat proper meat back in Tuscany."

"Tuscany? Aren't you from Venice?" Ludwig asked, puzzled.

"I am, but my grandparents from my dad's side are from Florence. I haven't been there since Romeo was small."

"I see." Ludwig answered, continuing to eat his meal.

Feliciano and Ludwig shared a few small words here and there as they ate, mostly preferring to stay in each other's silence. They were, of course, unaware of Gilbert who was sneaking glances at them from the kitchen and giggling.

"I'm so full... Ludwig, can we cancel everything for today?" Feliciano asked when he was finished, sprawled on the chair like a shirt worn once.

"Only if you plan on exercising double the usual amount tomorrow." Ludwig answered, faint smirk visible on his face.

Feliciano's eyes widened before he stood up, too sudden for his brain as he had to sit down immediately from the dizziness. Ludwig offered him a glass of water. "I was joking, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I am. This happens sometimes." Feliciano laughed awkwardly, massaging the back and sides of his head until the pain passed. When it did, he stood up again, slowly this time. "Should we split the bill?"

"No, I will pay."

"Oh absolutely not. I won't have you paying for my meal as well. No!"

"Feliciano, you are a guest at my house. I can pay our food."

"Over my dead body will you be the only one paying!"

As they argued, they failed to notice Gilbert approaching them, trying his hardest not to laugh at the exchange. Only when he coughed to get their attention did they notice him. "Children, it's all on me and already paid. Now get out." He said before walking back to the kitchen, allowing neither of them to protest.

"So it isn't okay if I offer to pay, but if Gilbert does, it is alright?" Ludwig asked as they walked out.

"Well, he didn't let me argue with him. I'll pay him back when we get home." Feliciano answered.

"I doubt he will accept it."

"I'll make him accept it. I can be very convincing when I want to be."

"I would like to see you try."

Feliciano suddenly got serious as he stared Ludwig right in his blue eyes. He noted Ludwig's eyes looked the best when it was cloudy outside, bringing the bright blue sky in the dark moments.

Normally, Ludwig would start to grow anxious about being stared at so hard by someone. But this wasn't just 'someone', this is Feliciano. He didn't know why but the way Feliciano's irises would soften and expand when he looked at him, eased Ludwig's mind. He could look at Feliciano all day.

"I'm gay." Feliciano finally spoke, dead serious look on his face.

Ludwig blinked in confusion. That came out of nowhere. "What?" He asked.

"I'm gay." Feliciano repeated himself.

It didn't shock Ludwig any less, but... "That was a bit sudden, but I respect you. Thank you for telling me." He managed out. Ludwig really did respect Feliciano, even if his assumption of Feliciano's sexuality was incorrect. As long as they are friends, Ludwig could care less who Feliciano loved.

That's what he was telling himself at least, but deep down, he did care. They were already separated enough by their countries, Ludwig didn't need another person waltzing into Feliciano's life and stealing him away. Even if he knew Feliciano would make time for him when time itself was scarce.

Feliciano smirked at him, turning his head away so Ludwig could be left longing for his calming eyes. "See, you believed me?" He said.

What?

"I don't understand." Ludwig raised his hand as if he was asking the teacher to explain something.

"I told you I'm very convincing. I'm not actually gay, Ludwig."

Ludwig was once again left confused. What just happened?

"Well, I don't have anything against gay people and I don't think dating men would be too bad. Maybe it would in Italy, but my brother is more of an expert on that field. I don't think it matters what's between your legs or what you identify as, as long as you love each other-" Feliciano rambled on, Ludwig half listening, half tuning out.

"So you said you were gay just to prove your point to me? Is that correct?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano stopped his rambling, nodding. "Yeah."

Ludwig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Feliciano, I am not all too familiar with LGBT+ issues and jokes, but that was a bad one. Coming out to someone and then saying you were kidding is making fun of their struggles."

Feliciano paused, his brain remembering what happened during that dinner a couple of months ago with their grandpa. In his attempts to prove something to Ludwig, he hurt his own brother, without either of them even knowing it. "Oh." Was all he could manage.

They walked to the park in silence, Feliciano still thinking about what Ludwig said. When they sat in front of a pond to watch ducks, he finally spoke. "Thank you."

"Hm?" Ludwig questioned.

"If you hadn't told me it was bad, I would have probably continued to use that as a joke. You aren't exactly taught this in Italy, where being gay is an insult on its own."

"I can't speak for them, I just know that coming out is very important to them. For that reason, I believe, we should all respect it."

"I never understood it really well. I would just read Tumblr posts about it, but the ones I found were always vague for me."

"From what I know, it is having a secret you can barely tell yourself and sharing it with your family or the world."

"Like being sad when you're smiling and everyone thinks you're happy and you should be happy, but you aren't?"

"That sounds... close." Now Ludwig was worried about Feliciano.

"I've been there." Now Ludwig was very worried about Feliciano.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano smiled. "Yeah. I learned something new today. Learning new things makes me happy."

Ludwig sighed in relief, turning his eyes back to the ducks in front of them.

"And being here, in Germany, with you. It makes me so happy, I could fly."

Ludwig smiled. It made sense for Feliciano to say something like that.

The two of them sat in front of the pond for what felt like hours, talking and commenting ducks. Feliciano occasionally mentioned pigeons to get a laugh out of Ludwig, who never forgot how his drunk brother screamed he was a pigeon for days after the conversation with Feliciano. When they were ready to go home, Feliciano felt something soft rub at the side of his leg. Turning around, he noticed a black cat nuzzling up to him. It was dark, but Feliciano could still see those beautiful, piercing blue eyes staring at him. He let his hand move on its own as he pet the cat, who moved its head into Feliciano's hand. It was a perfect fit and Feliciano was instantly in love.

But it was time to go, so he couldn't pet it longer. And it broke Feliciano's heart really bad. He bid the cat farewell and left with Ludwig. But the cat had other plans, following both of them home. Feliciano wasn't the only one who was in love.

"Ludwig, look at it!" Feliciano squeeled when they arrived home and the cat was right behind them.

"It seems to really like you, Feliciano." Ludwig smiled.

"Ah, I wish I could keep you." Feliciano pet the cat once again, motioning for Ludwig to join in. It didn't seem to like Ludwig as much as Feliciano, but it gladly accepted pets.

"If my dogs get along with it, maybe it could stay here. It looks like a mouser cat, we could use one here."

"There's a lot of mice?"

"They sometimes run around and my dogs are scared of them. Gilbert wanted to suggest we get a snake, but they are scared of them too."

"I'm scared of snakes too, I completely understand." Feliciano shivered at the thought. "Can you go get the doggies so we can see if they like it?"

"You are that intent on keeping this cat? Alright, I will be back soon." Ludwig said, standing up and unlocking the door to the house. Immediately, three dogs raced out of the house and almost tackled Ludwig down. He gave each of them their hello kisses and some dog treats he keeps in his pocket, just in case there is a cute dog outside.

Feliciano picked the cat up, it was really obedient as long as Feliciano kept petting it, and walked to the mess of fur and Ludwig. "Hello!" He greeted the dogs, who went to licking his free hand as a greeting. "We brought a friend with us. Please get along well, pretty please."

The dogs sniffed around the cat as Feliciano placed it down. Neither the cat nor the dogs seemed to mind each other that much, to dogs, it was a new playmate and to the cat, it was a new family. Feliciano was overjoyed and, seeing him like that, Ludwig was too.

"All of you need a bath, though." Feliciano commented as he went to pet Aster, before Berlitz protested and jumped into Feliciano's lap for hugs and pets.

To Ludwig's surprise, the cat, it was actually deep gray and male, was much easier to wash than his dogs. Even Feliciano, who was washing Berlitz and Blackie, seemed surprised by that. His cats would rather die than be touched by water and shampoo, this one was very calm and serious. It reminded Feliciano of Ludwig. "Germouser." He said.

"Hm?" Ludwig asked, rinsing the cat out.

"You said he was a mouser cat. And seeing he's from Germany, his name will be Germouser." Feliciano explained. "Do you like it?" He asked the cat.

The cat meowed at him and Feliciano all but melted right then and there.

By the time Gilbert arrived home from work, the six of them were cuddling on the couch, watching some movies on the TV. Berlitz and Germouser were glued to Feliciano while Ludwig took Blackie and Aster to himself. Gilbert was about to protest having a cat in the house, but the look of happiness on Feliciano's face silenced him. "Just don't let it eat Gilbird." Was all he said before going to his room and passing out.

"Berlitz doesn't usually like new people." Ludwig said at one point.

"Really? He's very cuddly with me." Feliciano asked, petting the sleeping dog's head.

"Yes, he is very shy. Before he came to us, he was in an abusive household and it took him 5 months to warm up to us. And he was still a puppy back then."

Feliciano felt his heart break at the poor dog's past, hoping that whoever abused this lovely dog got what they deserved. "You poor baby. How dare anyone do that to you?"

"Apparently, she got a life sentence in jail. Not only did she abuse animals but she also killed her ex husband for talking to the cashier lady, I believe. It was in newspaper a couple of years ago."

"I hate women like that. If you're certain he loves you, if you married him because you know he loves you, then acting jealous like that is just irrational."

"It is all in the past now, but Berlitz is still recovering. I am glad he gets along with you so well."

Feliciano smiled, his previous anger at the unknown abuser woman now gone. "This is the first time in a while. I'm not much of a dog person."

Ludwig's face fell, but not enough for Feliciano to notice. "You aren't?"

"I was in the past, but not so much since then."

"I see." It still wasn't enough to cheer Ludwig up.

"I had this dog, well, he was actually my grandma's dog and she would bring him when she came for a visit." Feliciano looked at the TV and, for the first time, Ludwig saw distance in his eyes. "I have so many good memories of him. He was a friend unlike any other, better than anyone ever was to me."

Feliciano looked back at Ludwig, but the distance never went away. It was only clouded by glossy glass. Feliciano looked ready to cry. "You kinda remind me of him. The way you follow me into my dumb ideas, even if you know they are going to fail. And you stay."

Feliciano swallowed whatever saliva he had in this mouth and turned his head away. "He was like that and we played all the time, but then... then..." At this point, Feliciano couldn't choke back the tears. He hadn't thought about his friend in years, even if he was always in his heart, and telling Ludwig about him opened up old wounds.

He felt Ludwig wrap his arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer into a hug. "I got you, Feliciano. You don't have to tell me the rest."

Feliciano cried into Ludwig's shoulder for a couple of minutes, telling him how his grandma wrote to him how his dog got eaten by a wolf, even if that was probably untrue. Ludwig said nothing the entire time, knowing how hard it is to lose such a precious friend. It probably hurt Feliciano enough for him to distance himself from dogs. Ludwig understood it all.

"What was his name?" Ludwig simply asked.

"Tsuki." Feliciano managed through tears and sobs.

"Like the Moon." Ludwig said.

"What?"

"Tsuki is a Japanese word for Moon."

Feliciano laughed. How ironic. "I don't know what species he was but he was white and had large black dots on his body. There was one that went from his ear to his eye so I guess he kind of looked like the Moon."

"He sounds adorable, I wish I could see him."

"I have a framed picture at home with us. For my 4th birthday, my grandma brought him and me and Lovi dressed him up in Romeo's clothes. He looked so cute and funny." It seemed like Feliciano stopped crying.

"You have to show it to me when you get home."

"I will. I'll show you all of the pictures with us, but I have to warn you, I was a really cute kid. So don't go falling in love with me because that would be illegal."

Ludwig laughed and Feliciano joined in, waking up the dogs who moved to their beds and the sofa to sleep, taking their new friend along as well. "We should go to bed as well. Tomorrow, I won't be back until 8 p.m." Ludwig said.

"Oh." Feliciano's face fell. "Right, you have work."

"Yes, but we can have fun after that. Just promise me you won't skip your training tomorrow."

"I'll sleep the day off until your return, Captain." Feliciano saluted to Ludwig, with his left hand.

"I will let Gilbert know then." Ludwig said. "And you salute with your right." Feliciano quickly corrected himself.

"Can I at least sleep with you tonight?"

Ludwig was about to decline, knowing he probably won't get enough sleep for the day ahead of him if Feliciano 'slept' next to him, but seeing how Feliciano just finished crying, he couldn't refuse. Feliciano probably needed it too. "Alright."

"Yes!" Feliciano leaned in to kiss Ludwig's cheek, a thing Ludwig would have to get used to. "Thank you! Let's go then."

They turned off all the lights and the TV and, unlike the previous nights when he would sneak in to sleep with Ludwig, Feliciano didn't go to the guest room at all. Instead, he made himself comfortable next to Ludwig, even if it was a single bed and not his double sized one. "Ludwig?" He called.

Of course Ludwig would get less sleep that night. "Hm?"

"I'm really glad I met you." Feliciano said, smiling before he turned around so his back faced Ludwig.

Ludwig felt his cheeks warm up, still not believing that the two of them actually met and are lying in bed together like this. He wrapped his arm around Feliciano's waist to properly tuck him in. Nights in Germany were cold and Feliciano probably isn't used to that. That's what he told himself to justify his action. Turning around so their backs faced each other, Ludwig whispered. "Me too, Feliciano." And just like that, the two of them drifted into the world of dreams.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 116

Chapter Summary - Danielle arrives home with Mac to an empty house, but it is not long before her two pups meet.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sighed, the day had been long, but Mac rubbing his muzzle against her as she sat in the trailer made her feel better. She checked her phone and smiled. She brought up Tom’s number and pressed call.

‘Hello, Ms Hughes, how are you this evening?’ His voice all but purred at her.

‘Very well,’ Her tone was warm and playful. ‘But I fear I have a confession to make.’

‘I am listening.’

‘I have someone with his head on my lap at the moment.’

‘And we only apart with a fortnight, Darling, why must you hurt me so?’

‘Yes, but in all fairness, he has had my love for the past few years and has returned it longer than you have.’

‘I feel like I should be challenging him to a duel.’ Tom chuckled.

‘He would win.’

‘He cannot hold a gun, or a sword for that matter, he has no thumbs. I think.’

‘Dewclaws are their versions of thumbs.’

‘I read before that people remove them.’

‘Yes, no licensed vet in Ireland or Britain will do it though, they can be struck off for it if it is not needed.’ She explained. ‘How is our little boy?’

‘He is great. Did you get my picture?’

‘I did. Did he cry in the car?’

‘A little. Though I did something bold.’

‘Tell me.’

I may have left him sleep with Poppy at night.’

‘I can’t blame you.’

‘It’s not that bad, is it?’

‘More for Poppy than Bobby.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, he is fully vaccinated as of tomorrow, meaning that he can then be around Mac, but she will have no one, but going down to one before losing all her littermates is not life ending. Your mum will pamper her.’

‘She already is doing that. Do you like the name?’

‘I do actually, Bobby suits him.’ She smiled. In the end, she had given the duty of puppy naming to Tom, seeing how much time and effort he put into his names. She watched as he went Googling multiple sites in hopes of getting the best possible one, looking at the picture of the puppy on his phone over and over as he thought of the names. Seeing what it meant to him, Danielle assigned puppy naming duties to Tom, with the right to veto if needed. Tom acted as though she had bestowed some immense honour on him and took it very seriously.

‘I cannot believe you had everything readied before you left.’ Tom chuckled, recalling how there was nothing left to chance with Danielle’s planning. ‘The training pads were the best investment ever.’

‘I can well imagine. Have you done what I told you to do?’

‘He is good, not there yet though.’

‘They learn, with consistency, he will catch on quick.’

‘He is getting there.’

‘Good, with Big Brother Mac, he will thrive even more. I cannot wait to see them together.’

‘I cannot wait to see you.’ Tom smiled.

‘Do you miss me?’

‘Terribly. Do you miss me?’

‘From time to time.’ Tom growled. ‘I do, so much, but mostly because we are forced apart to be safe and not because of work. It will be worth it when we and our boys are going for walks on the beach.’

‘We won’t be doing this too often.’ Tom agreed, ‘Bar everytime we add a puppy.’

‘And become dog hoarders.’ Danielle laughed.

‘Wait and see, it will be one of those crap tv specials yet.’ Tom joked.

‘I cannot wait to see you again.’

‘Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. How was work?’

‘Good, tiring. Mac loved it on set. There were seagulls, so you know him.’

‘He was only protecting you.’ Tom laughed.

‘And he did a great job, no thanks to me, I went within a few feet of one and he nearly lost his life.’

‘I told him to look out for you, he promised he would.’

‘I love you.’

‘How could you not?’ Tom joked, causing her to laugh. ‘I love you too, my beautiful Elle. I better go here, someone is....yep.’

‘Go, bye. Don’t scold him.’ Danielle called out before the line went dead.

*

‘Now, be nice.’ Danielle warned as she turned the key in the ignition and took it out. ‘Bobby is small and young, so he is scared.’ Mac sat up, seemingly knowing he was home again. She got out of the car and went around to the boot, opening it before undoing his harness. ‘We will have to sort something for him too actually, two hoops I suppose. I guess my car is officially the doggie car now.’ She rambled as Mac relieved himself against Tom’s car.

Collecting her suitcase and her laptop case, Danielle closed up the car and walked up the steps. She made sure to get in first, dropping her belongings in the hallway before letting Mac in. After a few moments, it was obvious there was no one there. Wondering where they could be, Danielle watched as Mac inspected the new smells that infested his domain with keen interest. She put her dirty laundry in the back kitchen then brought her case upstairs, all the time Mac trying to establish what was afoot. As he continued to investigate this new revelation, Danielle got everything else out of the car and looked at the locked gate that protected their home, wondering where Tom and Bobby had gone.

With the car cleared, she tidied everything away and let Mac out into the garden, only for him to continue his thorough assessment there. He looked at her more than once with an appearance that could only ever be accused of being concern. ‘I told you about this. You’ll get to meet him soon, I think.’ Mac gave a grunt in return.

It was another hour before Mac’s ears went up and he ran to the front of the house to see what was going on, telling Danielle that Tom and Bobby were returning. When she heard the key in the door, she walked out to the hallway and brought Mac into the kitchen before closing the door, meeting Tom in the hall. ‘Hi.’

‘What are you doing home early?’ Tom asked, his eyes wide as though shocked.

‘I said I would be back at lunchtime.’ She frowned.

‘No, you said dinner time.’

‘Tom, I sent you a text that clearly says lunchtime.’ She took out her phone and got up the message. ‘Yeah, “Okay, we will be home in time for lunch”.’ She held it up for him to see.

‘I didn’t read it right.’

‘Apparently not.’ She smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter, we are home now. Hello.’ She leant forward and kissed him.

‘But we weren’t here.’ Tom looked at her sheepishly. ‘I wanted us all to be here.’

‘Tom, it’s fine, it’s given Mac a chance to realise there is someone new here, he is very intrigued.’

‘How come you are ignoring him, how can you?’ Tom looked down where Bobby was currently jumping up all over Danielle’s legs.

‘I have to ignore him until he stops and gives me the behaviour I want from him, then I reward his behaviour with attention.’ She explained.

‘But he is being adorable.’

‘I know, but I want him to be adorable and good and the only way to get that is to be like this now, as much as I want to cuddle my little boy.’ Danielle shrugged with a small smile. Tom gave her a small look that made her frown again. ‘What’s up?’

‘I just feel like I messed up.’

‘Tom, please stop, you are being silly.’

‘So you are in no way upset that I was not here when you came home?’ He challenged.

Danielle was about to answer when Bobby, upset at the lack of attention, sat down to consider how to get her to pay him some. By doing that, he unknowingly did as he was wanted to do and Danielle smiled at him. ‘Good boy, hello.’ She knelt down and began to scratch under his ear. ‘You are far more cute that when I last saw you, are you being a good boy?’ The puppy, ecstatic with the attention, began to lick her hand. ‘I have a new friend for you, he is all nosey about meeting you, you are going to have so much fun together.’ she promised. ‘Did he get microchipped?’

‘Yes, and the vet nurse or receptionist or probably both, whatever she was, she said to look into insurance.’

‘Yeah, I need the microchip number to add him to the policy Mac is on, microchipping means a lower premium.’

‘So what is “pet insurance” exactly?’

‘Same as health insurance for us, if they get an issue and the vet needs to look into it, we can get them every sort of procedure done for little or nothing.’ She smiled. ‘Mac has never needed his, but it is something I think they should have regardless.’

‘Yeah, how will we sort that?’

‘Sort what?’

‘Well, you have Mac on it, so it is being charged to you.’

‘Tom, we are not going to start to half the bills.’

‘Why not, surely that is the best thing to do, we both pay them together?’

‘You want to do it that way?’ Tom’s face told her he thought it was the best idea. ‘Okay, sure, we can discuss it later at dinner.’ She looked at Bobby, who was sniffing at the kitchen door with his ears up, on the other side, there were responding sniffs. ‘Ready?’

‘How will we do this?’

‘I will go in and pull Mac back, you carry Bobby in and I will keep hold of Mac as you place him on the floor, we let Bobby make the first move. When he comes over, we wait for ears up and a tail wag from Mac and for Bobby to not look like he is about to pee himself, then I let go of Mac and we supervise introductions.’ She instructed.

‘If Mac does not like him?’

‘He will, he loves other dogs, but if, in the off chance that he goes insane here, I grab him and when I say get Bobby, you get him, not before.’ She ordered. Tom nodded and watched as she slipped into the room, him holding Bobby back as she did, the puppy’s ears perked as he whined at her for leaving them. ‘Hey, we talked about this, remember. Come over here to me and we’ll wait for him to come in, be nice.’ There was a moment of silence. ‘Okay Tom, come in.’

Tom lifted Bobby and walked into the room. When he got in, Mac seemed focused on Tom for a moment, wagging his tail happily at him before realising what was in his arms. Mac strained to get forward, his tail wagging already and his ears up as he sniffed the air in front of him to get as much of Bobby’s scent in as possible. Bobby, for his part, seemed as interested and was wriggling in Tom’s arms to get closer the other dog. Danielle gave the nod and Tom placed Bobby gently on the ground, as soon as he did, the puppy bounded the older dog, who shrank down as though attempting to not look as formidable to the pup. The sniffs only took a few moments before Bobby pawed Mac’s nose and the older dog playfully opened his mouth. Danielle let go of him and he immediately went forward, his two forelimbs on the ground with his behind in the air, urging the puppy to play.

‘Well, that went as expected.’ Danielle smiled, looking at them. ‘I knew they would get on. And you thought they would argue.’ She leant against Tom as she watched the dogs get to know one another. Tom continued to watch them as he put his arm around her, saying nothing.’Is something the matter Tom, you’re not acting like you.’

‘I am just wondering how I did not remember you were coming home this afternoon.’

‘Is that really bothering you that much?’

‘I had everything planned.’

‘Ooh, sounds fun.’ She smiled.

‘I was going to have dinner ready and everything and I feel like I fucked it up.’

‘You did not, please stop. You know I hate seeing you annoyed about something like this, it was a simple mistake.’ She pleaded. ‘Where did you two go for yourselves?’

‘Well, we went for a very short walk, since he is just fully vaccinated and he is less than pleased with his lead and harness.’

‘Mac will have him too occupied with fun to notice it from now on, wait and see. It cannot have been too short a walk, we are home for nearly two hours.’

‘I bumped into someone and we went for coffee.’

‘Ah, that makes more sense.’ Danielle nodded. ‘Anyone interesting?’

‘Lolita.’

‘From Hamlet, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very nice, how is she?’

‘Good, she is working on a slightly larger scale production soon.’

‘That’s good.’ Danielle gave a small smile and nod, she did not seem overly enthused.

‘Are you alright, you seem somewhat….off?’

‘Tired, worn out.’

‘Much paperwork?’

‘So much bloody paperwork, I did most of it while waiting to get the all-clear to come home, but there was a shit tonne of it.’ She leant into him. ‘I want nothing more than us and a few nights of quiet and maybe a few movies and to tidy it up before sending it.’

‘And plenty of dog walks.’

‘You are speaking my language.’ She moaned as she leant into him more. ‘Damn you smell good.’

‘Do I?’

‘Mmhmm. I saw the pictures by the way, of you and Bobby, you look so cute together.’

‘You’d swear I was caught out with another woman the way some of the photographers acted.’

‘But it is you, who is sexy and incredible looking, with an adorable puppy, have you any idea how that will look online for you?’ She laughed. ‘I can only imagine your fans, they are probably balls of baby talking mush right now. Can’t say I blame them, puppy looks good on you.’

‘You make me sound like Cruella DeVil.’

‘“Cruella DeVil, Cruella DeVil, if she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will,” except maybe Thomas Sharpe, or the High Rise, actually yeah, maybe the High Rise, less dog eating here hopefully. You play a lot of villains.’

‘Laing is not a villain.’

‘High Rise is interesting, they are all villains in their own way. Laing not as much as others, no rape or needless fighting, but he was never one to nail his colours to the mast. A survivor, an adaptor, but still, willing to ignore the plight of others.’

‘Well, as the Jag campaign stated, we Brits make the best villains.’ He grinned.

‘Ye usually are the villains anyway.’ She retorted.

‘Really, Ireland versus England jokes.’

‘Hey, you invaded us, don’t be getting uppity when we make jokes about it.’ Danielle nudged him slightly. The dogs seemed to get over the formal introductions and were trotting around the room together. ‘Uh-oh.’ Danielle walked forward and scooped up Bobby. ‘Outside Mister.’

‘He wasn’t doing anything.’

‘He was sniffing, that is a boy choosing a peeing spot.’ She placed him on the ground and waited. Bobby got sidetracked by smelling the place, since Mac had scented it since his return home, but within five minutes, he began to pee. ‘Good boy, oh he is the best man.’ Danielle gave him attention as soon as he finished, Bobby adoring every moment of it, trying to lick her face as she bent down to pet him.

‘You cleaned up.’ Tom noted when he looked around. ‘I was going to…’

‘I got it sorted, I did not want Mac trailing it in the house.’ She smiled. ‘Ready little man?’ Bobby trundled over to Tom, his ears flopping comically. ‘I love him so much already.’

‘He is adorable.’ Tom agreed. When they walked in, Mac seemed to realise he had not given Tom a proper hello and ran over to him, wagging his tail excitedly. ‘Well hello, I missed you too. Did you look after our girl when you were away, did you have fun?’ Mac grumbled back at him. ‘We need to have a good jog tomorrow, just you and me.’

Bobby looked on curiously before Danielle sat on the floor, causing the puppy to rush over to her for attention. After Mac felt that he and Tom caught up, Tom looked to Danielle, who was looking at her legs where Bobby had decided to fall asleep. ‘I don’t want to wake him.’

‘You have to get up.’ Tom reminded her.

Mac trotted over before mimicking the puppy and used her as a pillow. ‘Well, now I’m fucked. I am not getting up for the afternoon.’ Danielle laughed.

‘You did that to yourself really.’

‘I am surprisingly okay with it.’

[omoi-no-hoka]

Would you say studying Japanese as a major at University is mandatory to find a good job in Japan? I am currently studying International Economic Communication (M.A.) and studying Japanese by myself. Already been in Japan but just for volunteer work and some internships. Do you have any experience with job seekers in Japan who didn't study Japanese but something else and who were successful?

Thank you for your ask! This is a great question. 

The answer depends entirely on what sort of job you want to have in Japan. 

Short Answer: 

If you intend to work in a Japanese-heavy setting or in a job that requires specific language skills such as translation, YES, you must study Japanese beforehand.

If you intend to work in an English-heavy setting, probably not.

Long Answer:

For those who want to teach English in Japan

Speaking from my own experience, I double-majored in Japanese and English. My Japanese levels still weren’t proficient enough for me to work in a predominantly Japanese setting when I moved here though, so I worked at an Eikaiwa (English conversation school) for 3 years while studying Japanese at night. I passed the N1 after two years of studying, and then did additional studying every day for the next year after that. And now I’m a Japanese-English translator. 

The vast majority of foreigners living in Japan do not study Japanese before coming here. They get jobs at Eikaiwas, where the classrooms are often English-only and their coworkers speak English, so Japanese isn’t a necessity. Most of these workplaces understand that your life outside of work will be impacted by your lack of Japanese (unable to read bills and notices, not sure how to do things at the city hall, going to the doctor, etc.), and you will likely have at least one person at work that will assist you. If you’re really lucky, you’ll nab a kind Japanese boyfriend/girlfriend that will help you too lol. 

The other good thing about most Eikaiwa is that they tend not to have overtime and the teaching itself isn’t very mentally draining. Most of the time they’ll have a curriculum already drawn up for you and you just kinda follow the blueprint. So this means that you should have time and energy to study Japanese on your own. 

So if your dream is to teach English in an Eikaiwa, no, you don’t need to study Japanese. Quite a few of my coworkers showed up with absolutely zero knowledge of Japanese other than “domo arigato mister roboto” lol. 

Now, if it is your intention to become an English teacher in a private high school, junior high, or elementary school, YES, you MUST be fluent in Japanese. Though I will be very frank with you, these jobs are exceptionally rare and due to visa sponsorship issues, private schools will be much more likely to hire a Japanese person over you if you do not have Japanese citizenship or a spousal visa. Also, Japanese teachers arguably have it rougher than their American counterparts in terms of overtime and workload. Again, arguably. 

I can dive deeper into the topic of teaching in Japan and the Japanese education system if people are interested, but for now I’ll leave it at that. 

For those who want to do something other than teaching

Having been born in America, I have grown up communicating with people whose native language wasn’t the same as mine, who were still learning English, or who didn’t know it at all. It is easy for me to sympathize and empathize with foreigners who have moved to a new country, because I have interacted with them for forever, and I became one lol.

But Japan is an extremely homogeneous country. As of the end of 2018, foreign residents in Japan accounted for a measly 2.0% of the population. TWO. TWO PERCENT. That’s an INCREASE from the year before. And I’m guessing that most of them are where the action is, around Tokyo and Osaka. 

This means that the average Japanese person (and by extension, the average Japanese workplace, city/government establishments, post office, etc.) doesn’t understand what it’s like to live in a country without speaking the language, and they do not cater to you as Americans do. This isn’t to say that the average Japanese person is callous; they simply haven’t had to consider these things.

Just a couple examples of things I experienced that I found unbelievable as an American:

The Hokkaido Immigration Bureau staff speak only Japanese. Forms are only in Japanese, with English in tiny print beside it. You better hope you can speak Japanese or you can bring someone who can speak it when you go there. FOR IMMIGRATION. FOR THINGS SPECIFICALLY FOREIGNER-RELATED. Hokkaido is rural, so I hope Tokyo is different?

Don’t even get me started on the hoops I had to jump through when I moved here. Couldn’t rent an apartment until I had a bank account. Couldn’t open a bank account until I had a phone. Couldn’t get a phone until I had a bank account. And around and around we go. The system wasn’t designed with people starting fresh in this country in mind, and it really, REALLY shows.

So, if you intend to work in a workplace full of Japanese people, where you are a decided minority, you need to have a good handle on the language not only for your 9-5, but also to navigate your life outside of work. I’m lucky that all of my coworkers are nice and they’ll give me a hand if I ask for it, but a lot of times they can’t anticipate what I will need assistance with and what I can handle on my own. 

“Good lord, I get it. I need to learn Nihongo. But do I need to major in Japanese in order to succeed in my work life and private life?”

Not generally, no.

Again, this really depends on the field you want to go into and the level of linguistic accuracy your job requires. I work for a software company. My translations do not affect the safety/well-being of anyone like they would if I were translating something in, say, the fields of medicine or law. My company was just psyched that I was reasonably fluent in Japanese, and a Japanese major/JLPT N1 was not required. 

If your desired field is highly technical, you will likely be asked to prove your Japanese proficiency with an N2 or N1, as well as a practical test during your interview, both verbal and written. Again, having majored in Japanese will please your potential employers, but isn’t strictly necessary. The emphasis isn’t on your diploma, but on what you can actually do. 

An employer will be much more likely to ask for a JLPT N2 or N1 certificate instead of a degree in Japanese. So even if you don’t major in Japanese, I do recommend that you strive to attain at least N2. 

“Okay, so if I don’t study Japanese in uni, how can I get proficient enough in Japanese?”

I have two ideas for you.

Get an easy job like teaching at an Eikaiwa and teach yourself/pay for private night lessons.

Graduate from uni, come to Japan, and attend a Japanese language school for 6 months to a year before seeking employment.

Option 1, as I detailed above, is not impossible. But self-study requires a lot of discipline and progress is slower than classes. And private lessons can get very expensive very quickly. 

My good friend whom I got hired on as a translator for another project within my company is from the UK and studied a science field completely different from what his current job entails. He took path number 2. He studied at a language school for 6 months or a year, worked at an Eikaiwa for 5 years, and his Japanese proficiency is comparable to mine. 

The Japanese language school can be a bit expensive, but there is nothing better than learning the language in the country and you will be amazed by the speed with which you gain proficiency. 

If you choose not to major in Japanese and if you have the funds, I recommend enrolling in a Japanese language school. If you don’t have the funds, at least minor in Japanese and then bust your butt.

Summary

I feel like I really rambled a lot here, but there is no clear-cut answer. The low down is: 

Unless you are going for a very specific language-related job, most employers don’t care if you’ve majored in Japanese. They’re just happy if you can speak and read it well.

If Japanese is important to your job, you may be asked to provide a JLPT N2 or N1 certificate so I do recommend you obtain one.

Spending 6 months to a year in a language school in Japan is a great way to become fluent in a short amount of time without majoring in the language. 

[toycarousel]

Not Alone (Reigen x Ghost Script)

This one was fun! Below the readmore is a script I wrote for a fan-voice audio I made of Reigen Arataka from ‘Mob Psycho 100.’ The audio can be found here! Both are essentially safe for work, aside from kissing/makeouts with a ghost.

Summary: Tired of spending the night alone in his apartment with his unhappy thoughts, Reigen goes for a walk.  On his way, he spontaneously decides to visit a beautiful, yet abandoned park -- one that was supposedly exorcised...

Warnings: None for the script (the audio has one mild jump scare, though!) 

Not Alone:

Seated at a well-worn desk, holed up in his apartment, Reigen Arataka sighs wearily and shuffles through stacks of neglected papers.  They’ve been collecting dust for too long, and he knows they can’t be further ignored -- the curt and threatening phone call he’d received earlier was enough confirmation of that.

Reigen: (Shuffling through papers) Taxes… rebate slips… bills… returns… AGH! Invoices from 2014…!

Reigen: (Groans and slams the papers down) I can’t take this anymore! Adulthood was a bad idea.

Reigen: (Glances outside the nearby window) But… I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, huh? Had lots of bad ideas.  Guess I’m not really one to talk, then.  Still… (looking back at the papers momentarily -- )

Reigen: -- Still… the worst paper trails I’ve ever left behind have been the legal ones.

He considers this statement for a moment, additionally realizing how much he’s been talking to himself lately.

Reigen: Okay, that’s enough introspection for one night -- and enough pencil pushing.  This whole psychic gig is supposed to be exciting.  (Sighs again) Maybe if I get some air.  Get out of this stuffy… empty… apartment.  (Clears his throat, not wanting to go too far down that path) Yeah, a change of scenery is all I need tonight.

Reigen grabs his coat off the floor and leaves his apartment, attentively locking the door behind him.  As smooth a talker as he could be, he’d experienced some run-ins with his neighbours, and isn’t currently in the mood to turn on the charm.  Not tonight.  Instead, he clicks his tongue -- that silver tongue, ole’ reliable -- and briskly trots down the rickety stairway, away from the complex, and down a dimly-lit street he knows well.

Reigen: Huh… nice weather tonight.  (Cringes).  Shit, when did my internal monologue get so boring? Is that another symptom of being in my late twenties? Screw that.  I’m out here for a change of scenery, and I’m going to find one.

Reigen: (Turns his head surreptitiously) Where was that weird, hidden park we exorcised the other day? (Pauses) Well… the one that Mob exorcised...

His sentence -- attached to yet another thought he doesn’t want to dwell upon -- is left lingering as he spots a copse of spindly, twisting trees hiding a small stone gate.

Reigen: Right! There it is… that’s definitely the right gate… but… wasn’t the park way further than this? It’s a lot closer to my apartment than I remember.

Reigen: (Shakes his head) Well, whatever.  It’s late, I’m fried.  This is the place.

He steps through the little bundle of trees, carefully hopping over some displaced stones.  His footsteps crunch upon the tiny, bright red maple leaves that have been steadily falling throughout October.  An abrupt chill arrests Reigen as he fully crosses the boundary and surveys the empty park.

Reigen: Great… I’ve got it all to myself.  Yep, all alone here.  (Another pause, then a smug smile) Exactly what I’d hoped for, uh-huh! No one to bother me… no one at all.

Reigen: (Wanders toward the only bench in the park, and sits) The maples always look nice this time of year…

Reigen: (Frowns) I wonder what Mob and his friends are up to? Movie night? Is that what he told me? Yeah… that was it.

Reigen: (Looking around) He did a good job on this place.  Barely took him any time at all, and then off he went.  Must’ve been a low-level spirit.

At this, the wind dies down, and a whisper seems to echo through the trees, very, very gently.  Reigen’s eyes widen for only a moment before he waves a dismissive hand.

Reigen: The wind makes weird noises through these trees, but that’s all that it was -- just wind.  Mob exorcised this park, there’s no way anything would be left behind.  I have to stop being so jumpy.  It wouldn’t be good for my reputation.

The whispering sound abruptly returns, this time louder, seemingly closer.  Now, Reigen does jump.  With an undignified yelp, he leaps away from the bench, standing shakily.

Reigen: Alright, whoever’s around, you might as well show yourself! I realize that I can be intimidating, as the world’s greatest psychic, but I’ll be happy to give you an autograph if you come on out from behind those trees…

He stands bravely, adopting his best “grownup face”, half-expecting the false bravado to pay off, as it has many times before.  But, lurking in the other half of his mind is the suspicion that this isn’t a situation charisma alone can solve.  It’s the latter that’s proven, as Reigen is swiftly pulled from his feet by a gust of armed wind, and dragged across the brightly gleaming, snapping leaves.

Reigen: (Panting from shock) Shit, shit, shit! (Dazedly) Where’s my… mobile…?

He strains to move, but is pinned by an unseen weight.  Though his breath was knocked from his chest during the fall, when he’s flipped onto his back, in the middle of the park, the motion is surprisingly deft, and tender.

Reigen: I can feel you sitting on my chest! I… I know you’re here!

Reigen: (His breaths slowly calming) O-okay… while it’s true that I’m a grand psychic and all, I have to admit that you’ve got me stumped.  And pinned.  So… I guess I might as well tell you -- and this is pretty embarrassing for me, never happens, I swear -- I… I actually can’t see you.

Reigen: (Pauses, listening to the softer sighs of the wind) So who… are y --

But his question is abruptly stopped by the sensation of a cold and desperate kiss.  The air seems to shimmer.  Reigen, shocked, allows the kiss, even deepens it, while his brain scrambles for some wild idea -- some scheme -- to escape.  But then… the kiss is actually nice.  And it’s not so cold now.  The weight on his chest shifts, allowing him to breathe more freely, and Reigen finds himself abandoning his usual cache of schemes, at least for this brief moment in his life -- and fully, truly returns the kiss.

Reigen: (Parting from the kiss slowly, in time with the unseen presence) Well…

Reigen: (Staring at the still-shimmering air above him) I… wasn’t expecting that.  Congratulations, Spirit.  You almost had me speechless for a moment there!

Reigen quickly notes that he somehow feels more at ease than earlier this evening.  His thoughts are interrupted though, as a low moan slips out of him when the presence suddenly presses their unseen lips against Reigen’s neck and collarbone, gently trailing kisses upward, toward his face.

Reigen: (Breathing heavily again) Your kisses feel like they’re burning my skin, but they’re also cold… it’s so… soothing… I’ve never --

Again, his rambling words are swallowed by another deep kiss -- shared with a ghost.  Reigen can viscerally feel what he assumes is a tongue, curiously exploring his mouth between parted lips, and though this is so vastly unfamiliar to him, he marvels that it’s not unfamiliar for the reasons it should be.  He simply hasn’t been kissed this way in a long time.  Reigen reaches upward, as if to touch the air above, and for a moment, he feels something like skin, silky, freezing.  Then the feeling disappears under his fingers, becoming just another night-glimmer.  The weight is still on top of him.

Reigen: (Reluctantly parting, drawing his hands slowly back) It feels like you have to go.  I just want you to know -- if you want me to come back, I will.

The wind stirs, sighing.  And Reigen understands the loneliness in it.

Reigen: I know I asked earlier, but before you go… please, please tell me who you are.  A name, anything.

He waits in silence for a moment.  Then, those cold, unseen lips lower, now beside his ears; able to whisper in both at once.

Reigen: … Oh.

And, somehow, he has his answer.

[greyscaleproject]

Hello!

Okay not poetry or an essay or anything today - this will just be some thoughts about my life currently if anyone cares and is reading this. 

(Stay tuned it gets less dumb, although a little Hallmark-y after I ramble about my life.)

On the 15th (of May, 2018) I moved out of my freshman dorm and into my first apartment. This was a stressful experience, as it would not all fit in the car in one trip, Boston traffic, and needing to get to work later in the day. However, I made it, got to work and everything. The next morning was my last final, and I woke up half an hour before it was supposed to start, I threw on shoes and ran to get on the T, ended up getting to my exam half an hour after it started, but I wrote four pages in the hour I had remaining and finished on time, feeling good about what I wrote. 

My room was a complete mess when I left to catch the bus back home, and I finally got back to my apartment last night at about 8pm. I spent most of the night unpacking belongings and putting clothes away and cleaning. After I finished with the stuff I needed to organize in my room I took some photos (including the above) because my room looked pretty, and I was excited. I went to bed at 1am, which is the earliest I’ve actually chosen to sleep in months at this point. 

This morning I put away all my other non-refrigerated food, finished cleaning, and decorated. My room is now adorable with plants and flowers and so nice and sunny, although the kitchen is on the inside of the building and has no windows, so its hot and dark in there. 

So, now for less of a dumb journal entry: It’s incredible being 19 years old and having my own apartment, having my own job, paying all my own bills, and actually being completely independent. I am legitimately running my own life at this point; my parents have no control over me anymore. 

It’s so freeing realizing this deeply, rather than just strictly rationally. I am on my own. For most 19 year olds, this would probably be a terrifying realization. Most 19 year olds have not gone through what I have in my life, and are probably, especially in our current political and economic state, clinging to their safety net and welcoming moving back home for the summer. 

So much has happened to me even this school year that my current position is an absolute blessing, and I am so so grateful for where I am. Ten months ago I was somewhat timid, anxiety-ridden, barely stable enough to be out of a psych ward, and had no clue what I wanted for my future. I didn’t even know what major I wanted to be in (although I really should have - there was really only ever one option for me because I’ve loved printmaking since high school). Now I am outgoing - although still mostly introverted - healthy, happy, planning ahead, unashamedly myself, and self-sufficient enough to be able to live on my own.

Considering where I was at the beginning of my senior year of high school, when I didn’t think I would make it out alive to graduate and had no hope for my future, I am now a very different person. At my core, I am essentially still me: same values and morals, same inner personality, same sarcasm, same empathy. BUT: I am no longer afraid. I am not afraid of the future, and I am not afraid of myself. I am not afraid to wear what I want where I want. I am not afraid to speak my mind. I have realized my attractiveness and now own it. I used to scare people in high school to a certain extent (including myself), and people respected me because I was smart, but not because I fit into their circle. Now people actually legitimately think I am cool and interesting, and I am valuable for more than just my good grades (especially because most of my classes are pass/fail and not letter grades) and people in my major above me tell me I am creating good work, which makes me all warm inside. I still haven’t quite found a group of my kind of people yet to be friends with at school, and my few friends are from work, but as my section in my major is pretty small, I’m sure I’ll find my group when we all officially begin our major classes.

Long story short, when people say “It gets better,” it’s not just some catch phrase neurotypical people say to make themselves feel better. It really really truly does get better. I am always going to struggle with bipolar and anxiety and I will be on medications for the rest of my life, but this doesn’t mean I can take ownership of my life and live it in exactly the way that I want to to fulfill my happiness. I do not need to live my life for others for it to be valuable. Yes, of course, I will face struggles - I’ve been doing this all year - but it doesn’t mean the struggles won’t be worth it in the end and that I should give up right now.

The future is still very uncertain for me, as, like I said, I really am on my own. So far, my only plans are to complete college and officially move to Mass if I am able to take the room one of my coworkers is offering my in the apartment she and her friends have. The trick really is baby steps. If you don’t know what you’re doing, it can be scary, but take it a step at a time until the road ahead seems clearer. Sometimes, you will just be thrown into situations, and yes, it will be scary and maybe even traumatic for a while, but you will get through this, and you will come out on the other side, ready to take on anything.

Have courage, do you, and always be kind and have empathy. You never know what someone else is dealing with. Just know that you are not and never will be alone in your experiences, and that it will get better.

Shoot me a message if you ever want/need to talk - I’ll try and be on the internet more now that I’m not in school.

xoxo, Emma

[pepperstrawberry]

Dark thoughts and what not...

Okay, I’m going to put this under the cut because it’s kinda heavy thoughts, but I wanted to kinda warn you all in advance.

I usually prefer to be upbeat and spread good vibes... but sometimes you just gotta be real and do some thought venting.

Just to give you a heads up, I spent like an hour+ typing up this mess... and it is truly a messy ramble of words and feelings.

When I say ‘vent’ I mean “VENT’, I don’t know if there is structure to this, I didn’t even reread it. I just felt like I had to just... say stuff. get it out.

I’ve been holding it in a bit, cause I feel like it can easily be turned into a manipulative thing, but I like to just be honest.

And don’t worry, after I get something to drink and finish some art, I’ll be fine. Just... like I said. 

RAMBLES. K? you have been warned.

So... I really need to try and look into getting some counselling. A big part of loosing my job was depression... but even now I wonder how much of it is a ‘situational-you-should-be-able-to-suck-it-up’ type of thing, and how much of it is deeper, possibly chemical issues.

It’s one of those type of things where you see the symptoms on a thing and you are like ‘well, I match a lot of those... but not all, and how much am I actually sure that I’m assessing things correctly?’ sorta thing. All I know for sure is that it was a slowly downward spiral for a long time.. and in some ways it still is, if I am honest.

It’s rare, but sometimes I have even had those days where I just didn’t feel -anything-. Like, I rarely disassociate, but this one day in particular, I think maybe just before getting the new job, during my short vacation... Which I think was almost a year ago, I just felt ... nothing.

But most times I feel. I feel a lot. Even without being trans or knowing I was truly a woman the entire time, even as a ‘boy’ I was in touch with my feelings. I think part of that was due to all the counselling I had when I was a child. When I was really young, like around 2nd grade ish especially, things kinda piled up emotionally, and I got moved from regular school to a special school called ‘Children’s day treatment center’. It was up on this hill that sorta kinda ‘cuts’ through the city I live in. It’s right near this neat bird center and a hospital that I think is called ‘Sutter’ now..

Anyhoo, by sixth grade or so, I was able to start going back to regular school, though I stated at that program as an after school thing, eventually moving to another, more high school level oriented place when I moved up to 9th grade called ‘New Directions’. I even stayed at that place a few months after graduating. I remember because it wasn’t until my second job I left it, realizing that I was too old and there was no reason to stay... Like they never sent me away or said I was too old, but really, working an adult schedule around a program intended for kids wasn’t healthy at the time.... I also remember because of my first time eating soba was as a part of my ‘leaving party’, They let me choose a restaurant of my choice, and being the silly anime fan I was, I chose this place called Sakura, a japanese restaurant (that turned out not to be, but put on the facade) and I had the left over soba at lunch at my job, which was Toys R Us back in 2000.

... sorry, crap that doesn’t matter... point is, was in counselling for a long time, and I think that has been what has helped me and hindered me the most. I understand and explore my feelings more then the average american it seems. Doesn’t make me special, we all really should be, especially cis men and amab folk. Folk like us are pushed into being angry and bottling things up, and no crying and crap like that.

I’m rather thankful for the environment I was allowed to grow up in... But like I said, it’s a curse, cause I also end up second guessing myself a lot.

Thing is, with how I feel sometimes, and how I see the world when I look beyond my little sketches and what not...they aren’t pretty or healthy feelings. There have in fact been times where I felt like... well, yes, ending it all.

But no time was more specific and strongly felt then the one time in high school were I was literally contemplating just tossing myself over the railing inside the main building. There were these long rams that went back and forth on either side, which made the top a full story drop straight to concrete. Just a good solid straight drop, point my head down and...

And yet...

In that same moment, I realized how pointless it was to kill yourself. What a waste it would be. Now part of it was my religious outlook a the time (belonged to a ‘four square’ Presbyterian/evangelical church that was just down the street from my home). But if I’m honest, I never felt that was the whole story. It felt hollow to say ‘well, it’s cause God had a plan for me’.

Don’t get me wrong, maybe there is a god in heaven, maybe there is a heaven. I don’t know, and I certainly know just enough to know that the debate is -not- a cut and dry thing... But at the time, I did believe. I just always felt like my reasoning was hallow for not jumping at the time.

But I think, just now, before starting this, I might have put together the other part of the equation.

I got an ask this morning thanking me for being me, and pointing out that I came to them in their nightmares helped out. It was a really inspiring and humbling ask that I ended up tagging a ramble onto at the time ^_^;

But it made me think...

I am an entertainer. I love crafting, enjoying, experiencing, telling stories. Characters interacting, the big sweeping, emotional moments. Awesome animations, colors, sounds, things that are literally designed to tug at your heart strings.

Things that can inspire, that can be cathartic, things that can just be fun. Things that let us vicariously experience a taste of being someone not us, of being somewhere magical, or even a taste of a potential future and maybe ideas of how to aim toward it or avoid it.

It’s why I love magic. The lore now a days has all the these things. It’s why I still poke at my fanfics even today. It’s why I am so passionate about character design...

Literally the reason I live... I think... maybe because of the mirage we call imagination.

But I don’t see that in a negative light. It’s what, I think, keeps me from that dark abyss. Even now, I’m still scared of the future. of both failing and even succeeding... Like I”m at once better then I think, but don’t think I am good enough to deserve the great things that have already come my way.

I’m not totally sure my point here, or where I’m going with this... Just some random thoughts about a specific thing that has effected my life to one level or another.

I really don’t want to put pressure on anyone either... Like I don’t want to guilt trip folks in to doing stuff for me. If you want to do a thing for me, please, do it out of the kindness of your heart, not out of pity for a story.

But saying such, I really, really REALLY want to thank you all for having bared with me in my occasional dark moments like this. I don’t even know how much of this ramble is really how I feel, or just how I think I feel right now in my life and in reality, i’m just wrong... but I do know that even if my assessment is wrong, there is something in what I’ve figured out that is true. Something about stories keep me going, something about being able to share my art keeps me going... and it can cause me to get frustrated with myself when I don’t get as much done in a day because of music, or interaction with folks, or reading a story, or just not balancing my time between art pieces.

I know that in some ways, I am more frightened then I have ever been, more scared of my limits, more afraid of not utilizing my resources, of that shadow of uncaring that lurks inside me that is kept at bay just long enough due to my one true joy in life:

Sharing feelings. Literally, metaphorically, the real experiences and the fictional.

I know the difference between reality and fantasy, and I’m glad for it.

... and again, I have no clue where I’m going with this, this is just a late night spew of thought and feeling... part of me hopes that no one reads this, part of me hopes everyone reads this.... and takes something good from it.

Sure, I’m sitting here crying... But it’s from remembered pains as much as current fears, maybe more. It’s partly because I kinda view my own life like a narrative.. and so I see my story in an almost external fashion... But then that is also why I’m so critical of myself. Why I feel like I could do better, why I should be better. How much have I actually done job hunting in the last month? Not nearly as much as I should.... and yet, part of that was because of depression, part of that was because of exhaustion.

I feel terrible, like a child, in that it’s hard to even go outside. It’s hard to motivate and bother most of these days. Literally the most active I have been in the last month and a half was when I was creating.

I WANT this to succeed, not just the commissions, they are to tide me over.... but actually making stories and comics and stuff that people want to buy from me. not to get rich, but to be able to pay my bills enough to have fun and stay creative...

and... yet, even in that, I still haven’t gotten enough done. here I am, typing up this word vomit, just releasing all over the screen words that mean something to me I guess, but I have no clue if they will mean anything to others.

...

I guess the bottom line in of this is: I’m scared. I’m scared of my own self not doing what I should, what I can, what I need. And that fear puts me right at that precipice. Right at that dark place. The idea of the end has come several times over the last month in a half if I’m absolutely honest.

I mean, my situation is preventable. Just go out, get a damn job, work some garbage hours and pay my damn bills right? But I felt empty. Shitty, worthless.

If I’m absolutely honest, I can’t go back, and if I could have my way, I won’t.

But then it comes back to how much can I actually get done in time... And those fears come back, and here I am at the darkness again.

And the one thing that keeps me...

The one thing that doesn’t let me even go past looking down.

Is that it would be a rather garbage ending for the character of Anita Barton. She should have a better ending.

is it pathetic that such an unreal, maybe even dehumanizing aspect as ‘third character’-izing myself would be the thing that keeps me from the edge?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone’s love is wonderful too... but that is a part of the story. You wouldn’t know me if I didn’t have my minis traipsing about on Tumblr. More of you wouldn’t know my name if it weren't for the work I have put into the commissions I have actually done so far.

You all are a part of my story. I’m not much of a protagonist in my own narrative, but I am thankful for my entire supporting cast of followers, friends, mutuals, and family.

...

I’m sorry, again for the dark post... maybe it’s been building or something.... but I just felt like I needed to vent.

I hope... if you do get this far, that maybe something about this inspires you to action too. There is a lot of fear these days. Garbage fires in the form of events and people that we just wish weren’t apart of our narrative... but I think... little by little, we can make it.

I want my story to have a happy ending.

this, all of this is the reason why minis never smile. I may not understand or know everyone’s darkness, but I know that we all come to that point... and many of us put on a happy face... but it hurts, because everyone expects you to be happy.

But I know that sorrow can be a friend, that a low point in the story can be not just a test or a learning moment, but just simply cathartic to let the tears flow alone with the character.

Like I said earlier today ‘misery loves company’ isn’t a negative saying.

I’m still rambling... I’m sorry.

I’m going to go ahead and post this, with a trigger warning about suicide.

AND FOR THE RECORD

I’m not going to kill myself or anything like that. This ramble was just to vent. Maybe to help keep myself that much further back. I feel like I should go back and clean this up, but this is one of those late night posts that I know I have to post, but that I don’t really want anyone to see, if that makes any sense. LIke... I want you guys to know what’s up... but I don’t want to make you feel like you have to be worried about me or something.

I want my fictional stories to tug at your heart strings, not my irl rambles.

But you either release, or you bottle up... so this is me purging some tears and feeling into the internet ether.

[yetanotheremptypage]

Lucky (Girl Meets World)

AO3 || FF

Riley grows up in academia, learns how to be quiet by sitting in libraries while term papers are written and rewritten, how to read by quizzing her parents with flashcards, and how to love in the too-small apartment she doesn’t remember by the time she’s five.

The first few months of Riley’s life are a balancing act. Senior year means theses, and grad school applications, and job hunts, and circling apartment ads in every newspaper they can find. Topanga and Cory fight, trying to figure out who has to give up what to make this work. Eric, as annoying as he is sometimes, is a great babysitter, never fails to make Riley laugh, and is the only reason they haven’t all killed each other yet. For Cory’s birthday, the Matthews parents send them a fat check that rests, uncashed, on their kitchen table for weeks, then Riley gets a stomach bug and can’t keep anything down, spends a night in the ER with an IV hooked up to her, and that check-- and the Easter one, and half of the Mother’s Day one-- goes to hospital bills. By the time the Father’s Day one rolls around, Topanga has a summer job as a law clerk and Cory’s waiting tables when not in his Teach For America training. Their apartment is a shoebox and they can’t turn on the AC too often, but Riley, the sweetheart she is, doesn’t even seem to realize anything is off about their current living arrangement.

Cory and Topanga have a plan. She goes to law school full-time. Cory is doing Teach For America during the day and chipping away at his master’s at night. Riley is passed around between them and Eric and daycare and the nice old man upstairs. They’re constantly exhausted, barely have time to do more than kiss as they trade off who’s holding Riley, but neither of them would give up their life, their little girl, for the world.

Most of the time, the plan works.

The first time it doesn’t, Topanga almost cries. Almost. Cory has parent-teacher conferences all night, daycare is closed, Eric has somehow gotten mono, the old man upstairs is out of town since his daughter had just had a baby, and she has a paper due in two days and needs to spend time at the library. She lays the landline back down in the cradle and sighs, running a hand through her hair, then makes her decision.

Riley’s first time in a library is at ten months old, dressed in a Jack-o-lantern onesie and wrapped in a thick purple blanket. She sits calmly in her carseat, chewing on a ring of plastic keys and batting the collection of things attached to the handle. Being a college library in the middle of midterms, the baby is a perfect distraction, and random people keep coming up to Topanga and asking if they can play with her baby. She agrees, because it makes Riley smile to have people play peek-a-boo with her. One boy is in the creative writing MFA program and reads her part of the story he’s working on, asks her questions she can’t answer but rather coos to and he interprets how he wants. A girl majoring in German speaks to her in only German so she can get some practice in, and Riley stares at her in confusion. Another girl, this one in pre-med, names every bone in Riley’s body, pointing each one out, and Riley squirms, laughing every time the girl finds one of her ticklish spots.

In four hours, Topanga has written two and a half new pages, bookmarked six more sources, and gotten the numbers of twelve new babysitters.

After three years, Topanga graduates magna cum laude from law school.

It is a perfect day.

Riley wears a yellow dress the little girl describes as “fluffy�� and shiny white ballet flats. She skips around the hall the graduation is being held in while Cory, unsuccessfully, tries to calm her down. Topanga laughs from her place in line and Cory grins his goofy little grin at her.

The next week, Topanga begins her true job, not just an internship, at Elliott Brown. By the end of the summer, she’s already been promoted.

Once Topanga’s started at Elliott Brown, Cory quits Teach for America. He has just a few classes left for his master’s, and is able to be a full-time student for a semester to get it all done. He goes back to working part-time at the café six blocks from their apartment. Day care is expensive, after all.

Just before finals, Cory goes to a job fair and is introduced to the principal of John Quincy Adams Middle School, who is looking for a new history teacher for the upcoming school year.

This man is none other than Jonathan Turner.

He calls Shawn that night and the two catch up. It’s been awhile since Shawn’s come around, and they spend the night talking like a young, lovesick high school couple. Shawn tells Cory about Los Angeles, and Houston, and Chicago, and Atlanta. Cory tells Shawn about Topanga, and school, and work, and Riley, always Riley. Shawn always seems to clam up when told about his unofficial niece, nods and says, “That’s great, Cor,” with little to no emotion behind it. He’s so wrapped up in his daughter that he almost doesn’t notice.

...Almost.

The summer after Cory graduates, they move into a new apartment. It was a graduation present from her and their parents, and technically Riley pitched in what she could find in the couch cushions ($3.27). It is big, and spacious, and within weeks, it becomes clear that Riley is not going to remember their shoebox. It’s almost upsetting, really. That’s the apartment she spent the majority of her life in, with all of her secondhand furniture. One of the few signs is that she still piles herself up in blankets and sweatshirts once it gets cold outside, like she expects the heat to not be on.

Topanga takes the morning off so she can take Riley to her first day of kindergarten. Cory had already said goodbye to her before he left for JQAMS that morning, and there had been lots of tears-- on his part. Topanga thinks she’s going to be stronger.

She thinks.

“You’re going to love kindergarten so much, Riley,” she whispers, straightening her little girl’s pigtails. The mother just behind Riley’s shoulder is glaring at her, clearly aware that this mother is at least ten years younger than her, and so she does her best to focus just on her little girl’s big smile. She doesn’t want to focus on anything else.

“Daddy says it’s like preschool,” Riley says sagely, and Topanga laughs and nods. “But with homework.” She wrinkles her nose at that. She’s been around homework her whole life, after all, and Cory’s procrastination sessions are legendary in their household. A bell rings and Topanga straightens up, taking her daughter’s hand.

On her way back, wiping away tears, she practically runs into…

“Stuart?”

“Topanga!”

As she walks away, she can’t resist texting Cory, You’ll never believe who I just saw.

Five blocks over, Cory’s phone buzzes loudly in the middle of reading his class syllabus and he jumps.

“Sorry, that’s probably my wife- my daughter starts kindergarten today-”

“Wait, Mr. M, how old are you?” a boy in the back of the class asks loudly. One of his friends slaps his arm. “It’s a fair question! Look at him; he looks fresh out of college!”

“I’m actually twenty-six, Mister… Lawrence. Ha, that’s my wife’s maiden name. Got any cousins named Topanga?” he teases, rambles, really. A girl in the front of the classroom shoots her hand up. “Yes, Ms… Quinby.”

“If you’re twenty-six, and your daughter is presumably five, that means she was born when you were twenty-one, when you were likely still in college. Isn’t that a little young to become a parent?”

He flounders.

Cory opens the door to Riley’s room to call her for dinner and finds two girls in it.

He’s not embarrassed to admit he screeches a little bit.

“Who are you?”

“Daddy, this is Maya Penelope Hart and she’s my best friend!” Riley announces. He smiles, though it feels a little more like a wince.

“Maya, don’t you need to be getting home? It’ll be dark soon.”

“It’s okay. My parents probably won’t notice I’m gone.” That strikes a chord with him, and he asks for her phone number. She frowns, but then rambles it off, and Topanga graciously calls it. The woman on the other end, Katy, thanks them profusely, tells them she had been worried sick. Tells them she is about to leave for her shift at the Nighthawk, but that her husband would let them in.

Cory takes Maya home, and Riley insists on tagging along. Their apartment is far enough away to be in another school district, the same one his Teach for America gig was in, though he was with high schoolers, not elementary schoolers. He knocks on the apartment door, but there’s no response. Maya is about to knock on the neighbor’s door when someone calls her name and an older woman rushes in, pulling Maya close. Her grandmother, live in, basically a nanny. She opens the door, and while Riley doesn’t seem to notice anything-- Thank God for that he can’t help but think-- he does. It might as well be the apartment he and Topanga lived in after their graduation from college. Gammy-- she hasn’t offered her name and he hasn’t gotten the chance to ask it, but that’s what Maya called her-- only seems about his parents’ age, so Katy and her husband-- was it Kevin?-- must be somewhere around his age. He almost laughs. He and Topanga never expected to meet other parents with first graders but still in their twenties, and now they know two.

“What would you think about having another baby?”

Cory’s head snaps up from the paper he’s grading to look at his wife. Her computer is open and her hands are on the keys, but she’s looking at him.

“What?”

“Riley mentioned wanting to be a big sister when I was tucking her in. And-”

“Now you’re thinking about it,” he says and she nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear nervously. Now he thinks about it. They’re settled now, with well-paying jobs, an apartment certainly big enough for four people, and a daughter with the biggest heart in the world.

He loves being a dad. Topanga is a brilliant mom.

“So?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Just four months later, he’s buying a pregnancy test on his way home from work, and it’s positive.

Riley had been excited to be a big sister, but when the day finally arrived, it was like she’d clammed up. When he comes to relieve Mrs. Svorski sixteen hours after leaving his little girl, she is curled up in a ball on the couch, crying.

“Riley!” he cries, rushing over to her and pulling her close in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you and Mommy left! Like Maya’s daddy!” That sentence makes his blood run cold. Was that why Katy had been avoiding his calls?

“What happened to Maya’s daddy, sweetheart?” he asks instead, running his hand through her hair.

“He went for a walk last week and hasn’t come back. Maya doesn’t know where he is,” she manages to say around hiccups. Cory clutches Riley closer.

“I’m not leaving you or your brother, that I promise you, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles out.

Over the next few years, he watches his two girls-- because, he’s decided, Maya is his now. He knows about Kermit from Katy, knows how they lived their life and he knows that things are going to be different. He watches Maya slowly crumble, watches the walls go up as Katy spends more and more time at the Nighthawk and at auditions. Isla-- Kermit’s mother, Gammy Hart-- does her best, but it’s not the same. She, after all, is working weird, long hours so she can watch Maya. Cory watches, and it breaks his heart that he and Topanga can’t do more.

Instead, he sets an extra place setting at the table, and comforts Riley when Maya’s problems make her cry and ask why Maya is so sad while she herself is so happy. He can’t answer that one for her, which breaks his heart. After all, he and Topanga had been in the same situation as Kermit and Katy back when they had found out about Riley, but somehow, they had made it out. They had gotten to a great place in their lives, with their two kids and their great jobs and amazing apartment.

Of course, Riley doesn’t remember life before this apartment, and because of that, doesn’t realize just exactly how lucky she is. And that breaks his heart more than anything, because it will be years before she ever understands.

Riley starts John Quincy Adams Middle School at age ten. She no longer wears hair bows or pigtails, but still wears her Mary Janes from time to time. She’s almost as tall as her mother, just as awkward as her father, and her bright pink braces decorate every single one of her many, many smiles. Maya is by her side every step of the way, their arms threaded together. He knows the next few years are going to be difficult for them, that things are going to pit them against each other and bring them even closer, but he also knows that things between them won’t be this close forever. He, after all, barely speaks with Shawn anymore. Jack only recently accepted his friend request on Facebook, Rachel rarely talks to anyone that isn’t Eric, and no one’s heard from Angela since she and Shawn went their separate ways.

In the staff room all day, he is practically showered with compliments for his daughter, how well-behaved she is, and some wise soul has mentioned how close Riley and Maya are, so she gets the same treatment. He’s a proud father, so he can’t help but believe it.

By the time they’ve reached his seventh grade history class, though, he knows they’re not quite as sugar and spice as they’ve been presented, and setting off the sprinklers with a sparkler while inciting a homework rebellion cements this.

In the blink of an eye, his daughter is a high school graduate with an acceptance letter to New York University framed on her wall. She had fallen in love with it early in her sophomore year, but had spent every second since then telling whoever would listen that she wouldn’t get in, had even set up her list with “dream school” NYU and “realistic number one” Syracuse, but then she did. Maya, of course, had done the exact same with the Pratt Institute, but now she was in. Farkle’s ED acceptance to Princeton hadn’t been a surprise. Lucas was headed back to Texas, Zay to California, and Smackle to Princeton, just like the two of them had vowed years ago.

It’s weird for him that his daughter is going to college but not moving out. Then again, with the astronomical tuition of NYU, he doesn’t want her to ever live in campus housing.

As he watches from the stage with all the other teachers while the graduates toss up their caps, he catches Topanga’s eye from the audience. Auggie is beside her on one side, his hair swaying everywhere as he jumps up and down. Shawn and Katy are standing on her other side, their arms wrapped around each other. She smiles widely back at him, tears pooling in her eyes, and he flashes back to that heart-stopping moment he found the What To Expect When You’re Expecting book on their old and ratty banged up coffee table eighteen years ago. He had been so terrified, yet somehow, despite everything, Riley is perfect. She leans over to pick her cap off the floor, and once she’s back up, Lucas and Maya have their arms wrapped around her, and all six of them are in a big group hug at the edge of the stage. Tears are rolling down his face, but he smiles. Yeah, he and Topanga are pretty lucky.