#or to treat me like a joke I’m tired of my feelings ig being treated like they’re nothing

[whimsyprinx]

it kinda feels pointless to keep trying to talk to people when no matter how hard you try it feels like you’re attempts to start and hold a convo always fail, that you’re annoying the other person/people or that they think you’re a silly little joke

[sweet-drmzzz]

Ok fuck ableism

Idfc I don’t fucking care

I don’t fucking care if you think that certain disorders make someone a horrible person or not worth love. If you think that fuck you. That’s never correct. Ever. Even if you’ve been hurt by someone which that disorder. That doesn’t fucking excuse it. That doesn’t make everyone with that disorder a horrible fucking person and if you think that you know what you sound like? You sound like fucking homophobes and transphobes who call queer folks groomers bc they can’t stand the idea of someone being different from them. That’s what you fucking sound like.

Some of the fucking best people I know have “scary” disorders. Some of my closest fucking friends are systems. And guess what? They don’t go around fucking murdering people like media would like you to think. They’re fucking amazing. I know people who have hallucinations, npd, chronic pain and shit like that and guess what? They’re some of the most inspiring people I know, who I look up to. And guess what else? If anyone is fucking ableist to them I will fight tooth and fucking nail to make sure the ableist person regrets it, and the people I care about know they are worth it.

Also I’m talking more abt “scary disorders” but also let’s stop being ableist to people with physical disabilities too? Like dude I’m sorry someone has to deal with something they didn’t fucking choose ig /sarc. I’m sure they’re angrier about it than you are.

Invisible disabilities and mental illnesses and all that shit also deserves a spotlight. I started this rant bc I was angry abt ableism towards people with the “scary disorders” so I don’t have a rant planned for those (or for the physical disabilities tbh) but I feel like all of these people deserve a spotlight.

Nothing makes you unlovable. Nothing makes you not worth it. I promise you are wonderful the way you are. Whether it be mental or physical, invisible or obvious, or anything else I forgot to mention. I am so proud of you for making it this far. And I am so proud of you for continuing to make it. I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to live in a world that treats you like a cheap joke or a horror movie villain.

I’m sorry if this comes off as me being a “pick me” I’m just… I’m tired of hearing the same argument recycled to hurt different people. And I’m so fucking tired of seeing my friends hurt by that.

Yeah. That’s all ig.

[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

[commaclear]

This is mostly all predictions/building off the stuff I’ve seen so far, but I couldn’t contain the analysis. Ig it’s gonna be like that time I analyzed htid!schlatt without knowing shit about him other than tiny hints.

ANYWAYS. WOOOOO QUACKITY WOOOOOOOOOOO. I LOVE HIM HES SO PERFECT IF YOU IGNORE EVERY RED FLAG AND FATAL FLAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess to start, I’m low key a little disappointed in Quackity. But the type of disappointment where I shake my head but still can excuse his actions.

It was kind of a dick move for him to invite wilbur to a party and play nice guy until the man was drunk and not in his right mind. And then the way he just fucking kissed him???? Now to my knowledge he never explained to Wilbur how his relationship worked, so good fucking job on communicating, Quackity. And the way he sprung not only a whole ass ritual on this poor dude, but he also didn’t tell Wilbur exactly what was going to happen nor did he try to explain in the morning.

I feel like the communication issues stem from multiple things. One of the biggest ones is the fact that he has lacked a positive role model for a very long time, and even if he had one, it feels like she was a little bit more worried about her own declining health than a kid who had clearly proved he was responsible enough to take care of himself and help her with most things. Quackity was probably treated like an adult from a young age and due to that it’s a bit hard for him to even consider that he’s still learning.

He seems like the type of guy that when you confront him about poor communication he instantly snaps and says something like “are you saying I don’t know how to fucking talk about my problems? In the real world you don’t get to have problems, but you wouldn’t get that now would you? No, because everything is just so fucking perfect in your life!…..”

He also doesn’t do well when things don’t go according to plan. He wants what he wants and he’s tired of not getting that. And that’s a problem fueled by not only past things, but also stuff in the present.

Karl and Sapnap don’t appear to be the best listeners. They joke around a lot, even when Quackity is trying his hardest to get their attention. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him to communicate with them because it’s probably a lot harder for him than karl and sap. Not to say they don’t have issues, but their issues are definitely not the same.

It’s similar to the btp situation where Quackity had a really shitty/rough childhood except this is still Quackity’s shitty and rough childhood. And he’s doing that thing where he is leaning on his romantic partners for emotional support without explaining what’s going on which is just a recipe for disaster. At least this time he expressed that he wanted Wilbur instead of having an affair!

I just see Quackity crashing and burning in the near future. And with Wilbur being the person reading those incantations, who else is he gonna blame when something happens to his mom? And when sapnap and Karl get onto him for what I see being self destructive behaviors, he’ll probably just shrug them off, leading to what will be the karlnapity demise.

I also see Quackity having a distaste towards Wilbur because of how much more privileged and secure it seems his childhood was. Yeah Wilbur was forced to give it all up, but Quackity doesn’t exactly see that. In Quackity’s eyes, Wilbur was protected from all the horrors of the world, meanwhile Quackity was forced to face them all.

That will change eventually. But not for a while I bet. Quackity’s stubborn like that.

This is mostly just an unorganized jumble of thoughts about what’s to come in bite me for Quackity. I could be totally fucking wrong. Just the brain worms were eating away at me and I accidentally started spewing analysis without the anonymity. Not like I’m trying to hide who I am (it’s very obvious atp), but it just felt off brand.

- Quackity Analysis Anon

(Also schlatt was very very interesting in Ch 9, but I wanna know what dad schlatt anon thinks first 🥺🥺🥺🤭🤭🤭💚💚💚)

((COMMA BITE ME GOES SO FUCKJNG HARD. IM TRYING SO HARD TO CHOSE WHO TO ANALYZE NEXT. I THINK DREAM BUT I NEED A LITTLE BIT MORE OF HIS PERSPECTIVE FIRST. IF ITS NOT HIM ITLL PROBABLY BE ONE OF THE BENCH TRIO MEMBERS……. Or quackity. Always quackity.))

I find it very interesting how your first instinct is to try to sympathize here....... veerrrry interesting ;)

it's all going according to plan, I've got you hook line and sinker, you'll never see it coming

anyway, I'm very glad you're enjoying bite me <3

(*whisper* that's your cue dad schlatt anon)

((TY TY EVERYONE IS SO FUCKED UP IN THIS ONE, I'M LIVING FOR IT))

[gayregis]

Honestly if you just wanted to revisit your thoughts on Eternal Flame and its homiesexual text/subtext, I would be delighted. I love that short story and I love hearing your thoughts on the stories aodnsjsjabsjx

fghjkl i just think it was a story very centered on geralt and dandelion’s friendship and it did so in a manner which exceeded the sort of generally accepted norms of “friendship” and went into “being gay for your best friend”

i mean the story literally begins by them both being dumped by their girlfriends, but not too upset about their relationship drama because they have each other for company now. they plan to spend the day and night together, and throughout the story they have the general geralt and dandelion friendship interactions - trying to get some food and drink, joking around, dandelion being overly dramatic or preoccupied with sex and geralt being mopey and unamused. when things go wrong and there is conflict in the story, they of course still are spending the day together and thinking of a way to deal with the problem. overall, the story is a look into day-to-day life of when geralt and dandelion run into each other and hang out.

another thing of note is how dandelion hypes geralt up during when they meet tellico-in-biberveldt’s-form, calling him the terror of strigas and werewolves and all, which is a nice and awarding description for a man whose job it was to kill some shit in a sewer last chapter. of course, it’s dandelion (overdramatic and flowery with language), and they’re close friends, so of course he is going to describe geralt as thus, but it’s a reminder of how positively dandelion views geralt and how he both doesn’t see him as repugnant for being a witcher (as is the case with many geralt encounters) and isn’t ashamed to have a witcher as his best friend (as would be the case with many others, who treat witchers like bad omens), and also since it’s dandelion, it’s telling that he doesn’t let his own arrogance get in the way of lauding his friend with his proud titles and descriptions. although dandelion is self-loving, he is not so overwhelmingly so that he would ever refuse to acknowledge or downplay geralt’s presence.

another thing is how, when geralt, dandelion, and biberveldt are visited by chapelle and the men of the eternal fire, dandelion begs geralt to not start a fight with them because it will end in disaster, and geralt refuses to promise him that, and when chapelle speaks to him, he is internally very aggressive and alert, very displeased. of course, he is geralt, he doesn’t love authority and he dislikes the eternal flame for their persecution of nonhumans... but the aggression he feels towards chapelle reminds me of the aggression he felt towards toruviel in edge of the world when she broke dandelion’s lute, or in season of storms when dandelion has a knife to his throat, it’s only when dandelion is afraid or hurt that geralt really gets aggressive.

but the climax of the story is geralt literally being inable to enact violence towards tellico for the compounded reasons of “i value innocent life too much” and “the embodiment of this value of life is my best friend” ... 

the fact that geralt is pretty aggressive still towards tellico when he turns into him, but once tellico turns into dandelion geralt just... stops fighting and completely rules out any physical harm from the equation. he practically “gives up” the fight, it’s like tellico changing into dandelion was all geralt needed in order to be persuaded, because it’s the only form that he would listen to. after tellico switches forms to that of dandelion, geralt listens to him, and he also is not described as making any sudden movements, he doesn’t think as if he’s in a fight anymore, the narration is not that of a “fight scene” - something i recognize from when geralt is in a fight is that the prose switches to a certain point of view of his where his actions and options are narrated (e.g., in a grain of truth when he fights vereena, the sword of destiny where he fights the dryad scalpers). he instead hears tellico’s every word out, and “reluctantly nods,” and “says nothing.” he’s practically frozen compared to what he was prepared for just a moment ago when tellico took his form, when he threatened to carry him out of the city in a handcart.

and what makes it even more suggestive is that this wasn’t a random guess from tellico that “maybe if i take dandelion’s form he’ll lay off because they’re friends!” ... no, this was strategy that he came up with from literally taking geralt’s form and reading his mind - “i took over your thoughts, only briefly, but it was sufficient, do you know what i’m going to do now?” - tellico, after being in geralt’s form, immediately makes the decision to change forms into that of dandelion, because he knew geralt’s mind while he was in his form. that means that tellico read geralt’s thoughts only briefly but from this inside view of geralt’s mind, knowing what his greatest fears, loves, dreams, hopes, passions, regrets, etc. are... he thought it would save his life to change into dandelion, because he knew from geralt’s mind that geralt would listen to him in that form.

additionally, after this occurs, geralt... doesn’t tell dandelion in the falling action of the story. he had the chance to, when dandelion drew near, he might have smirked and said something like “don’t look too closely at his boots” (tellico-in-dandelion’s-form’s cordovan boots were sticking out of the carpet that geralt rolled him up in, so dandelion could have recognized them if he paid attention, since he seems to be so caring about his footwear as in the beginning chapter)... this raises the question why geralt wouldn’t tell him about what happened, why he wouldn’t communicate to dandelion about this, maybe warning him that tellico could change into him in an effort to evoke sympathy, or to break it to dandelion that his famous persona had been stolen for a little while. dandelion literally jokes and asks geralt why vespula was so surprised to see him, asking what was wrong with her (vespula was frightened because she smacked tellico-in-dandelion’s-form with the copper pan, but then saw dandelion coming down the road... double vision). geralt could have easily explained to him then, he had the perfect opportunity to say, “oh, dudu changed into your form and so vespula was scared for she saw two of you, [insert biting sarcastic comment here about how one dandelion is certainly enough, and how he would be scared seeing two of dandelion as well].” ... but geralt doesn’t tell him, and that makes me think that tellico taking dandelion’s form was a moment of emotional vulnerability for him, something that geralt doesn’t want to share or joke about, something that was uncomfortable for him. that makes me ask the question how geralt emotionally took that confrontation in the alleyway, what he felt about his own actions (or rather, inaction), and why he might be reluctant to share about that.

i think there is also this tension of the myth of the doppler being about the physical world, changes to a physical form, a form which is tangible and real. it’s not only that tellico evoked the image of dandelion, but that he was him - and the narration from geralt’s point of view seems to... lurk on a lot of not only physical characteristics that he noticed, but mannerisms and behavior that he knew instinctively as being those of dandelion. he describes his curly hair, his smile, his laugh ... the focus on physicality, body, face, and how one exists in the physical world, intimate details like those described just seem very out of place for someone who you’d only consider a best friend, a platonic relationship. one could argue that this is just standard narration for describing the changing of a form for a doppler, but the same style of narration was not given when dudu changed into biberveldt, or when he changed into geralt. additionally, things like smile, laugh, song, and style of flirting are very close and positive details, and other more “neutral” aspects like height and weight and clothes could have been described instead. this suggests that the most striking elements about dandelion to geralt are his curly hair, his insolent smile, his rippling laugh, his blue eyes, his song, and his flirting ... which are ... intimate to say the least

and of course the story ends with them going to a brothel! which continues these themes (two themes which dandelion always invites) of the comedic and the physical. what’s also striking to me is that at the very end of the story, dandelion asks geralt if he’s coming along or what, and geralt smiles to him and says he will join him with pleasure. geralt smiling is honestly a rare event (though it does happen, in dandelion’s character debut in the voice of reason he smiles at him), so i think it’s something to pay attention to. additionally, the line translated in the UK edition is “right, very satisfactory. geralt, are you coming?” and “i’ll come with pleasure,” which focuses on the words ‘satisfactory’ and ‘pleasure’ which are also words i wouldn’t relegate to being solely platonic.

additionally, this might be a bad take but i’m going to say it anyways because i’m gay so i can say what i want regarding lgbt themes ig: the ending of the story is that chapelle is actually a doppler who has taken chapelle’s form, since the real chapelle has died. tellico beseeches geralt, in dandelion’s form, to let him live and live amongst the people of novigrad, because he’s tired of being dehumanized and persecuted, and just wants to live in peace. there is a theme surrounding the dopplers as they are shapeshifters and chameleons, having to change who they are in order to blend in with the rest of society. again, this might be a bad take, but this kind of strikes me as an analogy for being lgbt, because when you are lgbt in a homo/transphobic society, you have to hide who you are and adapt your outward appearance into something that others will accept, and you are persecuted even though you are harmless and don’t mean to cause anyone trouble. of course, this could be a wider analogy about persecution and being marginalized in general (cultural assimilation, anyone?) and compring any marginalized people to nonhumans sucks (wouldn’t be the first or only time sapkowski went there, though), but ig as a gay person i found myself relating to the plight of the dopplers. the ending message of the story is also positive, something like there is hope and life in the world despite hatred (re: tellico’s ending to dandelion’s ballad) and the dopplers, the persecuted ones, are actually everywhere in society despite appearances that they’re not (not the best execution because you know figures of authority suck but whatever)

TLDR eternal flame is a little fruity to me because

geralt and dandelion want to be in each other’s company (as always)

geralt and dandelion’s relationship is again characterized by ability to be casual and comfortable in each other’s presence, working together through difficulty and conflict, and standing up for one another/being proud on the other’s behalf

tellico strategically takes dandelion’s form to evoke kindness and respect in geralt, and it works completely

geralt’s pov focuses on dandelion’s intimate physical and behavioral traits

geralt smiles and tells dandelion “i’ll come with pleasure”

vague lgbt themes about the dopplers

[sanjithesimp]

Sanji x Fem Reader.

warning: a little nsfw ig??

After traveling for 3 days the crew finally got to this beautiful island. They were all got excited because it looked so full of stores and restaurants.

You would finally be able to buy some new clothes, as you didn’t bring much and some of them were really old. Nami would be your partner, mostly because she had a great taste and also because she would make sure that you would get the best deals.

Everyone was already pairing with someone in order to go to the island, well..except your captain, Luffy never waited for anyone he just wanted to explore and eat.

Sanji appeared out of nowhere, and asked you if you would like to partner with him, trying to convince you with taking you to eat the most delicious food I’ve ever tried in your life.

Sanji and you were really good friends, you would always pair up whenever we landed on any island. But this time felt different, he was behaving so different…like if he was nervous about it.

You really wanted to go shopping with Nami, but you couldn’t say no to Sanji.

“Look, why don’t Nami, you and I go all together” You suggested.

His expression changed, almost looking disappointed, but he agreed.

After everyone having a partner to explore the island, the whole crew agreed to meet at the entrance in the afternoon.

Nami and you started looking at all the small stores, the clothes were so beautiful you wanted to buy everything. Sanji walked close to us but didn’t really talk, he was very quiet which was actually weird as he would always talk about all the things that he would buy for you, and all the delicious food he would prepare.

Something was wrong but you didn’t want to make a scene or make him feel uncomfortable.

“Hey, look at this dresses, we must try them on.” Nami pulled your arm and walked you into the little store.

“Ok, but what about Sanji?” You asked looking at him while he lit a cigarette and looked away.

“He’ll be fine, probably will find some weird fish and look at it for hours” You felt bad for leaving him there.

Nami and you tried a few dresses and bought them for a very cheap price, as you expected.

After that you kept looking at all the stores, bought a few more things, shirts, skirts, shoes, make up, some jewelry.

Finally you went to this small store were they sold lingerie, you had never owned any lingerie in my life, but you wanted to try something new. Nami helped you choose some sets.

“With this you will definitely leave everyone speechless” You blushed a little bit, and paid for the sets.

You had totally forgotten about Sanji, but when you got out he wasn’t there. You got worried, maybe something happened to him, he was in trouble.

“Where’s Sanji? Did you see where he went? Maybe he’s in trouble.”You asked Nami, she looked at me and laughed.

“Why are you so worried about him? He can take care of himself, don’t worry, plus maybe he is already in the entrance.” You headed back to the entrance, and there he was with a few bags with food.

He was distant, You could see he wasn’t being himself. So you tried to talk to him.

“Are you going to make me a pie with those apples that you bought?” He looked at you briefly and nodded.

Then went looking back at the street, smoking, staying quiet.

You tried again. “I can’t wait to show you what I bought, Nami really has great taste” You smiled and looked back at Nami.

“Well I don’t care” He spat and started walking towards the boat.

He had never treated you like that before, even when you got him into trouble. You were really hurt, but you couldn’t cry in front of them.

“Let him go, he’s just probably tired” Nami looked at you and gave you a little hug.

“He has never been mean to me, I don’t understand” A little tear left your right eye and rolled on your face.

After a few minutes, Ussop and Chopper appeared with a bunch of things they had bought for Ussop’s bombs and weapons.

Finally Zoro came back with Luffy.

“I had to look for this idiot in every restaurant in this island” Zoro gave Luffy a look, but he ignored it completely. Everyone else laughed.

Everyone started walking back to the ship.

Each one of you made our way into our rooms in order to rest for a little bit and keep all the things that you bought.

When you got to your room, a little box was placed in the bed with a little note that said Sorry, I’m an idiot. When you opened it, there was a little necklace with your initial on it, You immediately put it on.

You heard a light knock on my door, so you went there and opened the door.

It was Sanji with his cigarette as always, he stayed in the corner looking at you.

“Come in, I won’t bite” You said joking, trying to lighten the mood. “By the way thank you so much for the necklace, I love it” You said touching the initial made of diamonds. You have him a little hug.

He started saying how sorry he was for what he said earlier, and how he treated you.

“No, I’m sorry for leaving you, I know you wanted to be with me but I prioritized buying some clothes that I don’t even need” He smiled and sat on the corner of my bed.

“Weren’t you going to show me what you bought?” He said with a smile, while he lit another cigarette, he definitely looked so good while doing that, but I would never admit that out loud.

You took out all the clothes from the bag and left them on the bed.

You decided I would show him all the dresses first, then would continue with the skirts and some shirts that you bought.

After showing him everything, you started keeping everything on the drawers.

“What is this?” He asked me grabbing a small purple bag, it was the lingerie.

“Oh just something else I bought, but you probably don’t want to see it” You were a little embarrassed and blushed.

“Please, show me” You took out all the sets that you bought, they were all lace.

“Do you want to see me with one on” You didn’t know from where that came from, but you couldn’t take it back.

He suddenly got nervous and started looking at different points in the room but never at you.

You went to the little bathroom and changed into one of the sets. You chose the black one, as it was one of your favorite colors.

You looked at yourself on the mirror, you couldn’t recognize myself, it was as if you turned into someone else. But you felt powerful, as if you gained strength by just wearing it.

Sanji was looking at the floor when you came out of the bathroom his eyes focused on you. Suddenly making you blush. He was surprised, looking at you like you were a beautiful sculpture, or something else.

You covered yourself with your arms because you felt exposed.

He stood up, and walked towards you slowly. When he got close enough he took both of your arms and moved them away to uncover your body.

“You look beautiful, don’t cover yourself for me” Suddenly you felt the urge to kiss him and you actually did.

And it felt so good, his soft lips on yours, you could taste the tobacco from the cigarette, and for some reason you liked it.

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

So I felt inspired and finished another little story, I hope you like it guys. I think my writers block is over, but I still need to work on my writing.

Tell me in the comments what you think, what would you like to read next. I have some ideas but i'm always open for suggestions.

X

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 12 rewatch thoughts

- I would like to thank them for keeping in din’s harried yet triumphant ‘hAH!!’ when he gets the explosives to stick to gideon’s ship in the ‘hey remember when this happened last season’ section, that was a nice gesture from the showrunners to me personally, I assume

- this episode actually helped me find more enjoyment in the last one, because it’s such a nice reassurance that even though they’re pulling in more stuff from other star wars media this show won’t suddenly stop being its own thing and mando won’t suddenly stop being himself and it’s very comforting to me somehow haha

- the small hesitation before din calls out “do you... do you have the wire?” lol lol lol he’s completely aware of the bizarreness of what he’s doing here but hey being alive is already so damn weird etc. 

the softness of his voice the whole way through and the fact that he never, never blames the baby for not being able to do what shouldn’t really be asked of him in the first place, tho... ;____;  

- the tiny exasperated head tilt din does when he realizes the hatch isn’t going to extend all the way fdslkfhasdlashfs  

- din is looking down at the baby the entire time while greef talks to the mechanics ❤️❤️❤️

(the baby seems pretty drawn to/excited to see greef again and mando seems to notice which is extremely cute. he’s becoming really good at tuning in with the kid) 

he also greets cara baby first in much the same way as he does peli, like he knows what the main attraction here is lol, they do a very sweet bro nod at each other. god I wish gina carano wasn’t so terrible imagine if we could just have this BrOTP without hesitations :( 

I think greef is actually a bit worried to begin with after seeing the ship, he sort of takes din in intently before he huffs a little laugh and grabs his arm. it must be a bit stressful to be his friend and not be able to see his expression right away when you worry something might be seriously wrong haha

- people are finally treating the baby like you would a real baby and it’s such a blessing, everyone talking and cooing at him and baby babbling back

(I wonder if greef has children of his own? he does have an undeniable air of experienced grandpa about him in this episode, it’s adorable)  

- din does so much talking -- unprompted, even! -- these days, it truly is an embarrassment of riches 

- capital E Emotional about this shot with IG-11 right behind din and cara inviting him into the school in front of him. some past carried with us into the future shit going on here  

IG-11′s legacy’s still got our back y’all :’) I swear to god if gideon blows up nevarro at some point I’m going to lose it 

the ‘oh yeah?/that so?’ way din leans his head back after she says “wait until you see inside” is also amazing

- baby reaching out his hand like ‘can have?’ is so polite ;______; he takes after his father (including in the ‘fool me twice, I’ll fuck you up’ department haha. listen you get one chance to be cool about it and then no more mr nice mando/baby)

-

go ahead, kid, make a fuss about it. who are you going to tell, huh? who’s going to believe you? you gonna tell them you got bested by a baby? a magic baby? no? that’s right. I took your dignity as easily as I took your macarons, there’s nothing you can do to change it, and now you gotta live with that. sweet dreams.

(this is a joke. the baby is not evil. I hate that I even have to specify this but I’ve seen some stupid shit in the tags in my time you guys haha) 

- I can’t work out what anything on greef’s desk is supposed to be, but if that’s a computer it’s got to be older than even the razor crest lol

- friends: din yes?

mando: din no, only repairs

friends: din yes please?

mando: ... [sigh] din yes 

he truly has next to no defense against people he actually likes asking him for something huh lol. well a self care co-op mission clearly did him a world of good in this one at least it’s all fine

- “I’m starting to dehydrate, Boss” is an excellent line and delivered perfectly, I cackle every time (”You park your gills right there until I say otherwise” is a good runner up too) 

- it’s so nice to see the small moments of communication between them in this one after mando was so out of sync with the team in the last one (and tbf those guys didn’t even try to give him any pointers at all, they really left him to flounder through the whole thing if you watch it carefully haha)

- the mythrol’s jacket still looks so comfy, I want one

- aaaaah the way din says “I don’t like this” is just so... hnnngh it’s perfect, there’s a vulnerability and openness to it for a moment. greef glances over at him like he hasn’t heard him sound like this before too, which just sells it even more

u ok bro?

you know shit’s fucked up when din djarin expresses an emotion without even being forced to by circumstance (I think what I mean is that it’s actually really rare for him to state how he feels about something just to do it, usually his communication is more practically oriented, more along ‘I think this is the best cause of action because of a and b’ lines, or like when he tells omera he’s grateful it’s... more to inform her of it and make sure she knows than to express himself? but he’s starting to do it more with people he trusts now and it gets me in the heart? man I’m finding this hard to articulate let’s move on lol)

- I really, really wonder about pershing’s position in all of this. his plea for the child’s life did sound genuine -- he did try to guard him with his own noodly scientist body when he thought din was out to hurt him, remember -- but is that only because he knows he’s in deep shit himself without the blood the baby can give? is he maybe not quite cool with whatever gideon has him doing? (he does sound quite strained when he talks about the ‘body’ rejecting the transfusion and the ‘volunteer’ potentially suffering the same fate... hm.)

idk why I want there to be something redeemable in him so bad, maybe it’s just my weird yet enduring attachment to ladon radim in stargate atlantis messing with me they’re kind of similar in some ways (yeah don’t ask me I don’t know either sometimes the heart wants what it wants in ways reason can’t explain)

- tfw ur literally launching yourself across a pool of boiling lava because you’re Dad and your baby’s in danger T__________T he just does not stop running towards that kid for even a single second help

- there’s something so innocently pure and... old fashioned? about the scene with mythrol and greef screaming the entire time they drive off the cliff, it feels like something out of a movie from like three decades ago. that whole segment feels a bit like that, it’s just there to be fun and that’s okay sometimes

- every dog fight in every movie should have a baby nonchalantly snacking on a cookie in them, it elevates the experience immeasurably (he squishes his nose a little bit with the macaron when he misses his mouth at one point, which is more than anyone should be expected to bear honestly)

I love that even all fixed up again the razor crest groans and creaks like an old tired thing when din makes it flip to dive, he 100% did take out a bunch of ferraris in his stalwart morris minor of a spaceship and I treasure him     

- there’s so much life and emotion in din’s voice here I can’t!!!! I simply can’t!!!! imagine if we get to hear him openly laugh one day, would I even survive it??!!!!

 also the kid makes such pitch perfect ‘having my lil nose wiped and whining about it’ baby noises when din uses his cape to clean him up (din does turn the autopilot on before he turns around to deal with it, for those who, like me, worry about these things) 

- between carson showing up and the stuff the droid talks about in the lesson they’re doing quite a bit of outer rim vs. core worlds theme building in this one, I wonder if this is going to ramp up more or what

- god but gideon’s theme SLAPS tho 

he’s probably going to try to fuck up everything I love but you can’t fault him on the tunes he’s going to do it to 

[yeojaa]

in the night, ii.

read part one!  dedicated to my beloved wofe @periminkle​ because she loves assassin!kook and so do i.  i honestly dunno how many parts to this non-couple couple i’ll do but ... i cannot resist them.  oops.

pairing.  jjk x reader.  rating.  ... general?  tags.  soft romance in the form of:  pining, cuddling, playing chess like losers, using a hotel room for the lamest reasons.  maybe a very lil bit of angst if you squint at the right times.  it’s just them being...  them?  ig.  wc.  1.8k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ 💛

“You know, when you asked me to meet  you here, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

He can’t help but laugh, the sound teetering off his tongue into the tepid lake of espresso sitting in his cup.  You’re glaring down at the board, hand poised at your side.  You’re so focused - more so than when you’re stitching him up.  

He wonders, idly, whether that should worry him.  It won’t.

“You’re not having fun?”  He hums, the slyest smile passing over the rim of ceramic, a certain twinkle in his stare.  It’s possible he’s overtired - he hasn’t slept in what feels like ages - but there’s something awfully amusing about the sight of you, brow knit and mouth pursed into a grimace he seldom sees.  “Got something else in mind, Doc?”

You don’t humour him with a response, advancing your king to C7.  

“You sure about that one?”

“Yes.”  It snaps past your lips like cinnamon bubble gum.

Seeing you so riled up - not quite irritated but overly competitive - makes Jungkook snort, setting his cup down with a soft, drawn out sigh.

“Come here.”  It isn’t readily clear where he means but he leaves it up to you, watching you keenly. 

You’re having none of it. “Make your move.”

“Come here,”  he repeats, just that bit harder.  The edge doesn’t reach anywhere but his words;  his eyes are still a little tired, half-lidded and dreamy.  They pair nicely with the full of his cheek, how it ticks rounder and reveals a singular dimple.  Your weakness - or so he’d like to think. 

It’s with a surprising amount of dramatics that you remove yourself from the opposite seat, folding yourself into his lap with only a handful of movements.  He welcomes your weight, curling an exhausted arm around the shape of your waist. 

With your back to the arm rest, you settle with your head against his shoulder, nose cold against the column of his throat.  He can even feel the steel of your glasses, gold-rimmed and delicate. 

“Bored?”  The tone of his voice is lilting, teasing, dressed up with laughter.  It disappears into your crown of velvet, loosely braided and knotted behind your ear in your signature no-fuss fashion. 

“No.”  But it isn’t very believable because you certainly sound unenthused. 

He tries again, with fingers that flex into the soft, bare flesh of your thigh;  his other hand guides your chin, drawing your attention fully from the abandoned chess set.  “Want to order room service?”

It’s the least he can do, he figures.  Something to ease whatever mocking resentment seeps out of your skin - much like his had only hours earlier. 

Note to himself:  pick up some new clothes.  

“I want every dessert on the menu,”  you finally relent, with a terribly serious set of your jaw and intensity in your eyes.  

He snorts, again, squeezing the yielding softness of your hip in his broad palms. “I’ll call down and order.  You go take a shower or something.”  It’s not as dismissive as he means;  the blouse you’d worn over is stained red, the colour bleeding garishly over cream silk.  It even marks your skin now, caught beneath your nails and over your wrists. 

“What - it’s not a good look on me?”  

Your feigned affront is addictive, coaxing in a way he’s utterly defenceless against.  Still, Jungkook rolls his eyes - an exaggerated reveal of bright white sclera - and levels you with a look that might serve him better than the gun that rests on the coffee table.  “Don’t ask stupid questions, Doc.”

“But you do stupid things all the time.”  You’re not wrong and if there’s anyone worthy of calling him out in this same way, it’s you.  Doesn’t mean he takes it any more kindly, glowering at you so heavily he thinks you might be enjoying it. 

“Name one time,”  he retorts, fully on the defensive.  Even though he knows you’re right.  Even though he could list off just five things since last night. 

Getting ambushed in his own home

Cracking some not-so-poor guy’s skull on the corner of his Nakashima dining table 

Asking for you to make a home (or rather, hotel) call 

Asking for you at all

Asking you to stay 

He hopes you won’t catch onto the last three. 

“That time I told you to not overextend yourself after you cracked three ribs and you came back the next day complaining because you’d piledrived a guy through some scaffolding but, and I quote, ‘it wasn’t a big deal’?”  Okay, you have him there.  “Or the time I told you to take the pills in the left drawer and you took the ones from the right and ended up passed out on my floor for twelve hours?”  Another solid and mildly embarrassing example.  “Or—”

“Okay, okay.”  A single hand held aloft in the universal sign of stop;  the other remains comfortable around your waist, digits tracing figure eights over the porcelain skin beneath your top.  “I get it.”

You’re undeterred, pushing forward with abandon.  “Or inviting me to a hotel to not only stitch you back together but also play silly children’s games?”

“Hey - chess is fun!”  And so were Gin Rummy and Speed, the other two activities he’d foisted upon you post-sewing session. 

“You’re an idiot,”  you state, with a surprising amount of affection.  He doesn’t mind when it comes like this, dipped in honey and rolled in fairy floss. It satisfies his sugar craving, filling the spaces between his molars with cavities. 

“You still came,”  he challenges.  

“Just adding it to the dozens of favours you already owe me.”

He grins, roguish and far too handsome for his own good.  Even tired, with lurking shadows beneath his eyes, he’s unbelievably bright - like it’s radiating out of him.  It’s quite funny when he’s speckled in gore, blood tainting tanned skin and reminding you that he’s not all sunshine and rainbows. 

“How will I ever pay you back?”

You’re close - far too close, even sat in his lap.  Jungkook can see every freckle on your face, every lash that frames the prettiest stare he’s ever seen.  He has to remind himself he’s waiting for an answer;  it’s hard when all he wants to do is kiss you. 

He thinks you must want it too, by how the silence stretches on, catching the pair of you like a Chinese finger trap. 

“Doc?”  Barely a word, made in a whisper. 

Can you feel how his heart beats, trips and fails to right itself when you’re so close he can smell the coffee on your breath?  Is it your medical training that gives him away?  Or maybe just the fact that you’re attuned to everything about him because he’s, well, him?

Your big stupid idiot, for all intents and purposes. 

He wants to ask.  He wants to kiss you. He wants a hundred mundane things (like playing cards and eating sweet treats) only with you. 

You tear it all away with a pat to his head and a wicked smile.  “With all the dessert in the world.”

He scowls then, the expression wolfish and touched with agitation.  It presents in the narrowing of his stare, his sharply set jaw.  “Sounds like pretty lame payback to me.”  Can you hear the edge of petulance, how it colours syllables the faintest shade of goblin green?

“Got something else in mind, Jeon?”

Having his words thrown back at him only makes him laugh.  It reverberates out of his bare chest, filling the quiet of the luxury suite;  it bounces around just as you do, leaping to your feet with a grace he can’t mimic.  He’s mesmerised, as he always is, gaze trained on you - your loosened bun, the curves of your back, how you look in the jeans that look nearly painted on they fit you so well. 

“Grab a bath, Doc,”  he returns - less of a suggestion and more of a demand. 

“Better have those desserts once I’m out.”  A threat rather than a joke, though you’re far too unassuming with your old lady glasses and wide, expressive stare.  For your sake, Jungkook crosses a heart across his chest and nods solemnly, earning him a devastating grin that works far better than your intimidation. 

“Have I ever let you down?”

You’re already gone, a trail of your clothes left like breadcrumbs.  He still hears you.  “I mean - you did bring a knife fight to my door.”  

“We don’t talk about that!”  He calls back before the sound of running water takes over, distorting your laughter.  Neroli and cedar wood comes - your signature scent.  He can’t help the way he inhales deeply, satisfied, as he plucks the room phone from its holder.  It’s an addiction, a second nature action that he can’t help, whether you’re curled in his arms or tending to his broken, bleeding body. 

It’s dangerous, he knows.  

His old mentor would tell him don’t get involved, Jeon.  That living a life like this came with sacrifices.  Things he’d never really cared for - at first.  But now?  

He daydreamt about them more often than he should, in all the quiet moments in between.  They painted the prettiest pictures in his mind, wishful thinking in the form of everyday occurrences:  coffee in the morning, you in his (unstained) clothes, drives in the countryside, a bed shared at night. 

All because of you and your healing hands.  He’d never thought you’d be so good at your job, stitching him up inside and out.

It’d be better if he left, packed his ruined clothing and stopped appearing on your doorstep.  It’d keep you safe - and him, too.  Relationships meant weakness and in his line of work, weakness was something to be exploited, like an open wound with a thumb pressed into it.

Instead, he waits until the cart of desserts appears - lemon tarts and basque cheesecake and a dozen other things that scream diabetes! - and wheels it right into the bathroom, closer to you, because he always wants to be closer to you.  

“These don’t look like apples, Doc,”  he hums, settling himself on the back edge of the tub, careful not to dislodge the towel that’s folded beneath your neck.  The wet of your hair seeps into the material of his pants, sticking cloth to sinew and brawn. 

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away but a tray of desserts will keep me here forever.”

“You planning on living here?”  Quipped with an offering - a cocoa masterpiece of four layers, held gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.  

“Might as well milk it,”  you tease, accepting the bite with love in your eyes and a tongue that sweeps, just barely, over his suddenly electrified skin.  He knows what you’re doing just as well as you do;  it’s next to impossible not to lean into the desire, slide the digit home and press down into muscle until you’re drooling around it.

“Might as well,”  he echoes, those same fluttering pink hearts reflected in his stare.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ 

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

for those of you who wanted to read the like, 4k words/chapter and a half of the “maybe it’s just us” sequel (i titled it “the road from where we been to where we’re going” in case you were curious) i started two years ago and then abandoned, here you go. i did not edit it, so what you see is what you get (not that that’s any different from anything else i’ve ever written in my life ig): 

Chapter 1

You are You

Carol

“I can't change her, she's doing the thing,” Daryl said anxiously over the sound of high-pitched infant cries.

“What thing?” asked Carol. Her body was spent; she couldn't remember the last time she was this tired. She was sore, stitched, and her insides were trying to remember how to take care of one instead of two. From over in the corner, Daryl had their daughter on her back on a desk that was functioning as a makeshift changing table, and from the sounds of it, neither of them were doing that well.

“That flailin’ thing with her arms. She thinks she's fallin’. Shh, shh, baby, it's okay, I ain't gonna drop you, please don't cry.” His voice was so tense and scared, and Carol felt guilty for smiling, thankful his back was to her.

“She's fine, Daryl, why do you think she thinks she's falling?”

“'Cause it's true,” Daryl insisted. “Glenn—there you go, lil’ one, we got that on you, now lemme just figure out all these damn snaps—Glenn told me about it. It's some reflex babies have. When they flail their arms like this it means they think they're fallin’. Sarah even said so, so I know it ain't bullshit—goddamn, why is this thing so hard to snap? Baby, if you stopped kickin’ your legs so much, we'd be done already.”

“You aren't allowed to spend time alone with Glenn anymore,” Carol said, as Daryl finished torturing their child (or was she torturing him?). She took Rose from him and tucked her into the crook of her arm.

Carol hadn't really processed it yet. This baby that had been inside her for the past nine months had been out in the world with them for hours now, and she wasn't convinced it was real.

From the moment she peed on that stick and it glared positive, to as recently as 24 hours ago, Carol hadn't allowed herself to believe that this could possibly end well. She was too old, she figured, too stressed, too downright unlucky. When Daryl told her he wanted to keep the baby, she'd almost been angry; she'd hoped he'd make the hard decision so she wouldn't have to, and when he didn't, she found she couldn't either. How could she look him in the face and say, 'I want to get rid of it,’ when he had so much faith in their ability to do this?

And now they had a baby. In Carol's arms, Rose whimpered, sticking her thumb in her mouth and suckling. 

She looked nothing like Sophia. If Carol had a baby picture of Sophia—which, of course, she didn't—and held it up to Rose, she bet no one in a million years would have ever guessed they were sisters. Everything of Carol's that Sophia had, Rose had the opposite. Sophia had had Carol's eyes; Rose had Daryl's. Sophia had had Ed's nose; Rose had hers. There was nothing familiar about looking at Rose, as Carol had both feared and hoped. She had wondered if meeting her new child would be like seeing a ghost, and she almost wished for it, if only because she wanted to see Sophia again.

But Rose wasn't Sophia, and she made sure to demonstrate that clearly. Sophia had been meek and quiet, even as an infant, but Rose was not remotely shy about letting them know when she was displeased.

Like right now, for example, as her tiny whimpers around her thumb turned into full-blown wails. Daryl tensed beside them on the bed.

“What's wrong?” he asked. He had asked that about every new noise Rose had made since birth. He was so much a new parent that Carol would have found it endearing if she weren't so tired.

Rose had tricked them. Just as exhausted as Carol, she had spent her first few hours on the planet in a deep sleep, lulling them into a sense of calm, even granting Carol a bit of a nap, but the second she woke up, she was ready to make demands.

“She's hungry,” Carol said. She'd attempted to get Rose to nurse earlier, but the baby had trouble latching, and was too tired to try that hard, and she was paying for it now, clearly having woken up with an empty belly. Carol maneuvered herself so she could offer her breast to Rose. She moved Rose's hand out of the way, and tried to get her to seek out Carol on her own, but instead she just cried and brought her thumb back to her mouth.

“You can't eat and suck your thumb at the same time,” Carol said, trying not to get frustrated. 

When Sophia was born, she had rested on Carol's chest, skin-to-skin, and had latched perfectly on her own within the hour, and it had been a precious bonding moment—a precious bonding moment that Rose was adamantly refusing to have, despite her obvious hunger.

“C'mon kid, this ain't a five star restaurant, you don't get to be choosey,” Daryl said, rubbing Rose's back. Rose screamed bloody murder in response.

“It's right there, if you'd stop crying long enough to see it,” Carol said, trying and failing to not think about how Sophia had snuggled in close to her and had let Carol stroke her hand while she nursed. She had needed her mother right away, so why was Rose fighting her?

After several more minutes of this, Carol was getting overwhelmed. She thrust Rose at Daryl, who took her instinctively, and said, “Take her, please just take her, I need a minute.” She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

“Hey, you okay?” Daryl asked, adjusting Rose in his arms so that he could lean over and put a hand on Carol's shoulder. 

“Fine, I'm just tired and wish she'd eat,” Carol said, not uncovering her eyes.

“It's just new to her, she'll get the hang of it,” Daryl insisted. Carol dropped her hands and, looking at him helplessly, said,

“It was never hard with Sophia,” and maybe it was months worth of worry coming to a head, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was hormones and frustration, or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to pretend like this wasn't bringing all her grief back to surface, but Carol burst into tears; genuine tears, big, wet, and rolling down her face, and poor Daryl, bless him, was caught between his daughter and his girlfriend, as they both sobbed inconsolably.

“Shit,” Carol heard Daryl mutter. He pulled her to him, and she let him. He wrapped an arm around her tight, and allowed her to bury her face in his shoulder and bawl. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Carol said over and over, voice muffled. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing to Daryl for breaking down, or to Rose for being so shithouse at mothering already.

Daryl was muttering words of encouragement to her, while also trying to shush the fussing baby. Through her tears, Carol heard the door to the Warden's office open and close.

“Everything okay in here?” came Sarah's voice. What a stupid question, thought Carol. Yeah, we're peachy; the baby and I are just sobbing for fun! Ridiculous.

“We're fine,” said Daryl, as Carol tried to get control of herself, taking in deep breaths, but not lifting her head. “Lil’ one is havin’ trouble eating, and Carol's a bit... overwhelmed.”

“Do you need help getting her to latch?” Sarah asked.

“I know how to breastfeed, she just won't do it,” Carol snapped into Daryl's shoulder, harsher than she intended.

“Alright,” Sarah said calmly. “Do you want me to take Rose for a minute to give you a chance to breathe?”

“No,” Daryl said, sounding as harsh as Carol had. She wasn't surprised—he had caught the baby when she was born, and had hardly put her down since. Carol could tell he was reluctant to give her up even when he was passing Rose to her. His protectiveness had gone into overdrive the moment he and Rose met.

“Well,” Sarah said, sounding uncertain. “You know where to find me if you need me. Your friends keep asking for updates, by the way. I'll try and keep them away for a while longer.”

Daryl grunted something in response, and Carol clung to him, hiccuping, but not as hysterical. She waited until Sarah's footsteps went towards the door and she left the room before lifting her head up to look at Daryl.

“Hey,” he said quietly, looking at her with concern. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

Not especially. What she wanted was to feed her daughter and then sleep for fourteen hours.

“Gotta deal with the baby,” she said.

“She ain't goin’ nowhere,” Daryl said, shifting so he could bounce Rose gently. She continued to cry, and Carol's body physically reacted to the sound, desperately aching to feed her. Carol shook her head.

“I'm just tired and got frustrated,” Carol said dismissively.

“Nah, it's more than that,” Daryl countered. “That was the first time you've said her name.”

Carol's lower lip trembled dangerously. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Of course Daryl would see right through her like glass. 

“I feel so guilty,” she said, wincing at the crack in her watery voice. “I told myself I'd treat her like her own person, and already I'm making comparisons. No wonder she doesn't want me. But I don't know how to stop thinking about Sophia.” She let out a singular sob, and Daryl reached out and wiped a tear from her face 

“Thinkin’ ‘bout Sophia don’t mean you don't love Rose,” he told her gently. “You miss your little girl, and you're exhausted, and it's bringin’ it all back up. Anyone would lose their shit over it, so don't go feelin’ guilty.”

Carol swallowed hard. “I don't get to lose my shit, I have to be her mother.”

“You lose your shit when you need to. I'm here to pick up the slack.”

“Yeah, well, you gonna breastfeed her, too?” It came out more irritable than joking, but Daryl smiled anyway.

“Nah,” he said. “Imma help you do it, though.” He handed Rose over. Carol was reluctant, not wanting to fail again, but Daryl was calm, and it made her calmer. She lowered the collar of her gown and presented her breast to her screaming daughter once more.

“That damn thumb. Just do that here and you'd be golden,” Carol mumbled.

“You're all tense,” Daryl said. “She don't know nothin’ about what you've lost, and she don't feel any resentment, but she can tell her momma's freaking out and it's freaking her out.”

“Since when are you a lactation consultant?”

“I dunno what that means.”

“When did you become an expert on getting babies to nurse?”

“I ain't an expert in anything havin’ to do with babies, but when you tense up, so does she. Look—her shoulders are all drawn up to her neck. She wasn't doin’ that when she was cryin’ earlier. You're her momma and she can feel it when you're unhappy, so we gotta get you calmer.”

An odd mix of affection and envy washed over Carol. Daryl observed and knew the people he loved so intrinsically that he was already picking up mannerisms on a person who hadn't been alive even a full day yet. Meanwhile, Carol couldn't even get her to do the one thing Rose needed her exclusively for.

“How?” Carol asked.

“Hum somethin’,” Daryl said with certainty. Carol furrowed her brow.

“Why?”

“You said all the time that whenever there was music she'd go batshit in there. Maybe she likes music.”

“Why don't you hum something then?”

“I don't do music. 'Sides, you're the one she needs right now.”

This was stupid, Carol decided, and Rose seemed to agree, yelling at her, absolutely red in the face. Carol sighed, and hummed the first thing that came to mind. After a few lines, Daryl huffed a breath of puzzled laughter.

“Is that Horse with No Name?” he asked. “Some lullaby.”

“It was on the CD you were playing on that old stereo when you were out skinning those rabbits the other day,” Carol said defensively. “It's been stuck in my head for ages.”

“Don't let me stop you.”

“Now I'm embarrassed.”

“Nah, don't be, look,” he nodded down at Rose. “She's calmin’ down. I mean, she's still pissed as all get out, but she's settling down. 'Sides, I like that song.”

“The others are gonna think we're torturing her.”

“Tell 'em it was me.”

“Tell them you were the one making her cry, or that you were the one crying?”

Daryl snorted. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

Carol smiled a little, feeling lighter. She leaned back against Daryl and continued to hum. Rose's screams fell to cries which fell to whimpers. She opened her big, blue eyes and sought out the sound of the music.

“Oh!” Carol startled a minute later, when Rose finally found her breast and latched on. She turned to Daryl in awe. “How'd you know that would work?”

Daryl shrugged.

“I know her,” he said simply. “You do, too, you just got other shit to deal with that makes it harder. Don't you worry, though, I still don't know half the shit I should. You'll be helpin’ me next.”

“That's how it's supposed to be, I think,” Carol said quietly, the room suddenly unfamiliar without the ringing of Rose’s cries. “A partnership. I never had that before.” She ran a hand over the top of Rose's soft head, which was covered in thin, red hair. Now that she accepted it, the baby was now eating like she was famished, and Carol couldn't help but laugh.

“You think she's gonna be this stubborn forever?” Daryl asked.

“You're the one who knows her, you tell me.”

“Nah,” Daryl said, grinning. “She won't be this stubborn. Being part me and part you? She's only gonna get worse.”

*

Daryl was finally asleep. Carol was beginning to think he was going to try and just stay up forever, for fear of missing a single moment of Rose's life, and frankly, if anyone could pull that off, it'd be him, but alas, it seemed his body finally got the better of him. He was curled on his side, breathing lightly though his mouth, one hand touching Carol's thigh, as though, even in sleep, he had to make sure she and Rose were within reach. She'd have to address that eventually, before his protectiveness got smothering, but for now she appreciated it. It felt nice to be so deeply loved.

Unlike her father, Rose was not asleep, but she wasn't fussing, either. She was alert in Carol's arms, taking it all in. Carol watched her, trying to see the things Daryl saw. Mostly, she just thought about how difficult it was gonna be to wean her from thumb sucking, since Rose seemed to have some magnetic attachment to the damn thing.

It hurt more than she wanted to admit, having Rose and not having Sophia, and as much as Daryl tried to tell her otherwise, she felt crushing guilt, because Rose didn't deserve to live in the shadow of a ghost. Carol loved this new little girl so much. She was bright-eyed and beautiful, and Carol could see the subtle hints of Daryl in her facial expressions already, and that was both heartwarming and hilarious, to see a newborn look so grumpy.

But Sophia refused to leave Carol alone—she lingered, haunting her with memories of what she'd been and what she could have become. 

Carol knew Sophia hadn't been built for this world, and she was confident Rose could survive it, because this was her world; it was the only thing she would know. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though. If anything, it only made the cuts go deeper still.

“I'm gonna tell you my biggest secret right now so we start this relationship out with all the cards on the table, okay?” Carol whispered to Rose. Rose's eyes darted towards her, and watched as though she were truly paying attention. Carol said, “I'm a little broken, and I'm gonna make mistakes. 

“You had a sister, and a part of me is always gonna be buried with her, but the rest of my heart is all yours. I don't want you to ever think I love you less, or wish you were her, because I don't, and I won't. I want you for exactly the person you are. But sweetheart, I'm gonna hurt sometimes, and I won't always be able to be the mother I want to be, but in those moments, you can't ever think it's because of you. You're the one who's always going to bring me back. You and your father, you're everything.

“I've made bad choices—far too many—but you are not one of them, Rose. You were a hard decision I will never regret. You are wanted, you are loved, and most importantly, you are you, and don't ever think I would change that for the world.”

Carol held a finger to Rose's free hand, and a tiny fist wrapped around it. They locked eyes, blue on blue, and Carol finally saw her new daughter for the very first time.

***

Chapter 2

Want For Nothing

Daryl

Cooing. There was so much cooing. Everybody was fucking cooing, and they were passing Rose back and forth like a football, and Daryl was going to lose his mind.

“Relax,” Carol said in his ear. He scowled. By the time dawn came, the two of them could no longer delay the inevitable—their family was demanding to meet the newest addition. Which, sure, fine, whatever, but did that mean they all had to hold her? Daryl's arms felt unbearably empty as he watched Glenn with suspicion while he rocked Rose to-and-fro.

“She's got your grouchy face look down pat,” Glenn said. “Good to know your newborn daughter is just as impressed by me as you are.”

That made Daryl feel a little better.

“I think she looks like Carol,” Maggie said, taking Rose from Glenn and cradling her. “In the nose and mouth, at least. Those are definitely Daryl's eyes.”

“I can't believe she's a ginger,” Beth giggled, peering over her sister's shoulder.

“How are you feeling, Carol?” asked Michonne.

“Exhausted,” she said with a tired smile. “But happy.”

“Sarah said the birth went perfectly; didn't need me at all,” Hershel said.

“All things considered, it couldn't have gone better,” Carol agreed. “But don't ask me about it until I've had a bit of time to repress the memory of the pain.”

“I didn't make it to five centimeters before I was screaming for drugs, I’m impressed,” said Michonne.

“How's it feel to be a dad, Daryl?” Rick asked.

It was the best thing he'd ever been, and he'd really like to have his daughter back so he could get back to parenting, thank you very much.

“‘S good,” he mumbled.

“Don’t let him fool you. He held a piss in for two hours because he didn't want to leave her. Did you know he was the one who caught her? I'm sure he's about to have an aneurysm from you all holding her, but is too polite to say,” Carol said, smiling sweetly at him.

“Ain't too polite. You told me I wasn't allowed to yell at nobody for touching her.”

“I was trying to keep that fact between us.”

“Mm.”

“Should we give her back now?” asked Maggie, grinning.

“Yes,” said Daryl.

“No, you haven't all had a chance yet. Michonne? Carl?”

“We ain't letting Carl hold her, he's just a kid.”

“Daryl,” Carol said flatly. “He holds Judith all the time.”

“I feel sorry for anything, walker or otherwise, that tries to threaten this kid,” Glenn said, running a hand over Rose's soft head. “Daryl is so possessive he'd rip them so many new assholes until there was nothing left.”

He was not wrong.

Daryl blew a thin breath of air through tight lips as Rose was handed over to Carl. It was a testament to how much he loved Carol that he hadn't already leapt up from the bed and stolen his child back.

“If looks could kill, you'd be obliterated right now,” Glenn told Carl. Carl glanced up at Daryl and blanched. Daryl, not realizing quite how murderous he must look, tried to rearrange his face into something in the neighborhood of encouraging. More than likely he just looked pained, but that was the best they were gonna get.

“Do you think Rose and Judith will get along?” asked Carl. He held his index finger out and Rose wrapped her entire tiny hand around it. Daryl's lip twitched up, just the tiniest bit, in spite of himself.

“They gotta, or it's gonna be real exhausting for them to live together,” he said. 

“I bet they'll be best friends,” Michonne said. 

“You and Glenn should have a baby,” Beth said to Maggie with a shit-eating grin. “Then they'd all be close together in age.”

“Maybe,” Maggie said, glancing at her father, who appeared a little conflicted, but didn't object.

“Judith and Rose would probably team up and pick on our kid,” Glenn said. That actually made Daryl snort. Glenn glared at him. Daryl just shrugged.

“Okay, let me see her before Mr. Grouchy over there banishes us,” said Michonne, taking her turn. She smiled a sad sort of smile at Rose. It was the same smile Daryl had seen both her and Carol make at Asskicker. It was a smile that read of bittersweetness; of love and loss at the same time. 

Daryl had been a parent for roughly a day, give or take, and already he couldn't fathom the idea of losing that baby. He'd known Carol had hurt when Sophia died, and he could hear the pain in Michonne's voice whenever she mentioned her lost child, but he never really understood how deep that suffering must go. Just the mere thought of losing Rose gutted him—how did these two women get up every day with holes that big?

Rose began to wriggle around in Michonne's arms, and started to fuss a little, which Daryl was quickly learning was her way of warning them she was about to get mad. Despite who her parents were, that kid had no qualms about letting everyone know how she was feeling, loudly and with gusto.

“Sounds like she's telling us it's time to let her be with mom and dad,” Michonne said over Rose's cautionary whimpers. She handed her over to Daryl, who felt instant relief as soon as Rose was in his arms again.

“She's hungry,” Carol said apologetically. “She had trouble eating there at the beginning, but now that she's got the hang of it she acts like she's famished.”

“We'll give you some privacy, then,” said Rick, ushering everyone towards the door.

“We'll probably go back to our cell later tonight. We've just been too tired to bother,” Carol explained.

“We understand,” Maggie told her.

“Congrats, you guys,” said Glenn.

They all said their goodbyes, with Carol saying them back, but Daryl was distracted. Rose was staring up at him with a pouty lower lip, and in that instant the literal only thing he wanted was to make her happy again.

“You gotta feed her so she stops looking at me like that,” Daryl said to Carol before the door to the office had even been fully closed.

“Like what?” Carol asked, reaching out to take the baby, and pulling out her breast in a way that already seemed habitual.

“Sad.”

“She's not sad, she's just hungry,” Carol said with a light laugh, propping Rose up on a nursing pillow Daryl had gotten back on that run to the birth center.

“She cries about it, though.”

“Daryl. Babies cry about everything. It's how they communicate.”

He knew that, of course, but he didn't like it. If it were up to him, Rose would never want for anything. He wanted to anticipate her every need so she never felt uncomfortable or scared or sad. He wanted her to be happy.

What a horrifying thought.

Daryl anticipated his role as a parent to be about providing—providing food, shelter, safety—but he never once entertained the idea that it would be up to him to provide his daughter with happiness.

“I don't know how to make her happy when everything except you and her is bullshit,” he said. Carol frowned at him.

“Daryl, I told you she's fine, she just needs—”

“I don't mean right now,” Daryl interrupted. “I mean for the rest of her life, how do I give her what she deserves? Even if the world weren't the way it is, I ain't never been happy. Not before her; before you.”

Poor Carol, thought Daryl, having to deal with him running his mouth over abstract fears so soon after walking barefoot through the fires of Hell to bring an entire human being to life. To her credit, she spared him of exasperation. As always, she showered him with kindness he didn't feel entitled to. She said,

“No one is happy all the time. If they were, then happiness would have no meaning. There are going to be times when you're going to have to do the worst thing you can imagine.”

“What's that?” Daryl asked, anxiety mounting.

“Sometimes, you're going to have to let her be unhappy.” 

[aster-aspera]

Oleander

Prompt was given to me by @skylarstarlight so blame her for all the angst

Relationship: Logince

Warnings: Major character death, injury, blood, betrayal, angst, technically unsympathetic roman ig? Im going to put that warning here in any case, unhappy ending

If you enjoyed please reblog <3

Roman watched Logan from the back of the tent, admiring the sharp slant of his shoulders, the way his long, curly hair cascaded down his shoulders and unveiled the soft brown skin at the back of his neck. He’d been at it for hours, poring over maps with that concentrated furrow grifted into his face, occasionally bringing up a hand to brush some stray locks out of his face, before he turned all his attention back to the mess of papers on the large hardwood table. 

Roman was technically here to stop him from working, to drag him away from staring at how badly they were losing for just a few minutes and get him to eat some dinner. And those plans were definitely still on Roman’s to-do list, but for just a moment, he let himself stare at the other. They didn’t often get quiet moments in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded them. An advisor always flurrying around Roman, a commander pestering Logan about battle plans or food supplies. Roman wanted to save this little bubble of silence for as long as it could last.

“Are you going to continue to stand there growing mushrooms or are you going to speak?” Logan piped up with a soft chuckle, apparently tired of being stared at. 

“My apologies love, I was just admiring your beauty.”

Logan gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure you have better things to do than simply watch me.”

“Nope,” Roman said brightly, wrapping his arms around Logan enthusiastically and tucking his chin over his shoulder. “Never a wrong time for that.”

Logan sighed but begrudgingly gave into the hold, placing his hands over Roman’s where they were tightly wrapped around his stomach. 

“You should eat,” Roman murmured softly as he swayed them both from side to side. Logan hummed noncommittally. “I have work,” he deflected.

“And you’re of no use to us if you pass out from hunger.”

Logan buried his head in Roman’s shoulder. “It’s not like anyone thinks I’m useful either way,” he mumbled.

Roman looked up at Logan, dislodging his head from his shoulder. “Hey now,” he said firmly, “No one thinks that. You’re really smart and you’ve helped us so much.” 

Logan didn't meet his eyes. “We should eat,” he said shortly, “I need to finish organising these supply runs.”

Roman chewed his lip uncertainly as Logan pulled away from him and headed out the tent towards the campfire, the embers dancing up to the sky in dizzying spirals. 

~

Roman paced from one side of the tent to the other, periodically pushing open the flap to gaze out at the midnight quiet camp. An occasional guard strolled passed, bowing to him before he waved them off impatiently. He huffed and flopped down on the bed, watching the faint luminance of the moon filter through the thick tent fabric. 

He jerked up at the rustling of the tent flap and relief brightened his mood as he saw Logan make his way in. The relief was quickly doused with ice cold dread at the way Logan looked, hair a ragged mess, circles under his eyes so dark they could rival Virgil, bruises and scrapes littering his long limbs. 

“Where the hell were you?” Roman burst out, concern and worry and bittersweet relief forming a toxic mixture in the back of his throat. 

Logan’s expression shuttered close and he drew his arms around himself defensively. “Leading your army, that’s what I was doing,” he hissed out.

“No you weren’t! You disobeyed orders again, you put yourself and our soldiers in danger.”

Logan looked past Roman, his expression blank and unreadable. “Of course, and the people we tried to help, what about them?”

Roman sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. “I know Lo, I know it sucks, but people are always going to get hurt. And you can’t just run out there and pretend you know better than everyone else.”

“Do you think,” Logan murmured softly, eyes still glued to where a patch of crass crept in under the walls of the tent, “that maybe we’re not the ones in the right here?” 

Roman stiffened. “I’m trying to protect my kingdom. Don’t you dare try and tell me that's wrong.”

Logan finally looked back at him, those deep, night dark eyes staring into him. “How many people have been killed in your meaningless quest of stubborness and glory, how many more people are going to lose their homes and their children? That’s your kingdom, not those spoiled nobles in their pretty palaces.”

“And what do you suggest I do then?” Roman hissed back venomously, “Just let those invaders in? So that they can lock us up in cells or behead us? Is that really what you want?”

“Maybe it is,” Logan whispered, mournful eyes boring into Roman’s. He turned on his heels and walked out the tent, coat flaring behind him, hair spilling past his shoulders like the pitch black river of Styx.

It was the last time they were together in their shared tent. An abrupt end to the cold nights they spent curled up so tight together they could barely breathe. An abrupt ending to the lazy mornings when Logan would card a hand through Roman’s hair as he read, and Roman would sleep as long as he possibly could. An abrupt end to Logan pressing kisses all over Roman’s body and telling him he was beautiful. 

Roman tried not to stare at his slender hands as they pointed out places on maps. Tried not to quail under that sharp, piercing gaze as it swept over him, barely giving him a second glance before he snapped out an order that ended up ignored. They had all noticed Logan wasn’t in good graces with the prince anymore and it seemed all they had been waiting for to right out shun and scorn him.

Every day, Roman could see the lines in Logan’s shoulder tense more, his face harden and the curious gleam to his eyes dull. 

Roman turned away every time, too much of a coward to face him.

And one day, he didn’t see him at all. Not at the meetings, not anywhere in the camp. He asked around, trying not to appear as worried as he was and the others just shrugged, refusing to meet his eye.

His bed was stripped bare from the tent he had been sharing with others, all his possessions presumably packed away and taken with him. 

Roman tried not to show his worries. Logan was a grown man after all, and he had made his position here perfectly clear. He could handle himself. 

But it didn’t stop Roman from missing his eyes and his careful touch and soothing voice. He wished things had gone differently, but he knew that one fight was merely the match that lit the fuse already soaked in kerosine. Merely the spark to set off the feelings Logan had been hiding away for so long. 

And after seeing how the others treated him, Roman couldn’t really fault him for it.

Roman slipped out of the camp, as the heavy monsoon rains gentled into a soft drizzle, the warmth of the afternoon turning the night foggy. Logan’s letter sat tucked in his pocket, held near to his heart, which was beating in a mixture of hope and apprehension. It had been four months, four months since Logan had stormed out of their tent, leaving Roman with an empty bed and an empty heart. He walked silently through the forest, the occasional leaf crunching underfoot as around him the canopy rustled from the rain it caught. He followed the familiar path from memory alone, a soft smile curling his lips as he remembered sneaking out at midnight to go watch the stars with Logan. 

He stepped into that familiar clearing, looking up at the sky in hopes he would spot some of the stars Logan had pointed out for him, but all he saw were the thick grey clouds. His eyes drifted down and he saw Logan, standing in the middle of the clearing, one single lantern casting a circle of light around him, his hair misted with rain. He brushed his glasses dry with the sleeves of his coat and placed them back on his nose. 

Roman walked up to him, unsure why Logan had asked him to come here and scared of what he would say. Logan watched him come, face blank and expressionless.

“Roman,” he greeted, and where once his name had sounded warm and fond on those lips, it now sounded cool and cordial.

“Logan,” Roman replied, and he couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, the hope that this would be an apology, that everything could go back to the way it had been.

“I’m here with an offer,” Logan said, his words formal and serious, so unlike the nicknames and jokes they used to share. “The people are tired of the war. It has only brought them pain and loss. I ask you to end it, give in now and you shall not be harmed. You and your court shall be safe and more capable rulers shall take over the kingdom.”

Roman’s heart froze at those words, uttered so matter of fact. As if the years of his life, the effort and pain he had put into winning this war and keeping his kingdom safe meant nothing. As if he was the one in the wrong here.

He had come here to hear Logan’s apology. He had expected him to admit how much he missed him and that he was wrong and then he would have taken Logan into his arms and everything could have been right again. 

But no, here he stood, resolute, so self assured and infuriating. 

A breeze blew past and the lapels of Logan’s coat lifted, revealing the crest proudly emblazoned on the flags of their enemies, the crest that Roman had been taught to hate. Fury filled him at the sight.

“You’re with them,” he growled, grabbing the coat and displaying the crest for all the world to see. The forest around them didn’t seem impressed. 

“I’m on the side with the least blood on their hands,” Logan said calmly, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “Which you have never been.”

Roman shook his head. “You’re working with the enemy. I trusted you!” His fist tightened on the thick wool fabric.

“Roman please,” Logan said softly, emotion filtering into his voice for the first time, “You’ve been taught by everyone around you that this is what you have to do, that this is your birthright, but they’re wrong. You can choose your own destiny.”

He drew himself up to his full height, looming over Roman. “Take the offer and we can leave this kingdom together. We can build our own life.”

Roman shook his head. “No,” he choked out as tears welled up in his eyes, “No! you’re just… You’re trying to trick me. You never loved me or you wouldn’t do this.”

“Roman,” Logan said gently, cloying sympathy in his voice and Roman could only feel that burning, corrosive rage in his gut, his mouth tasted sour and he could barely see through his anger. Logan gasped suddenly and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widening in shock and betrayal.

Roman let go of his coat and looked down, his mind registering the ornate handle of a familiar knife, and blood pooling on the navy vest. He looked up, mouth opening and closing mutely, as if Logan could explain. As if he could tell him why there was a knife in Logan’s gut. Why was it his knife. Plunged in so deep only the hilt still showed.

“No,” Roman whispered as Logan sank to the ground, a high keen tearing itself from his lips.  

He breathed in raggedly, hands curling on the forest floor, dirt staining those slender hands. He looked up at Roman, eyes pleading, scared. 

“Please,” he choked and Roman backed away as he reached out a hand to him, reaching for anything that could save him. Blood pooled around his body, the heavy wool of his coat darkening almost imperceptibly as the leaves around him turned red. “Roman,” he rasped and Roman had never heard Logan sound afraid like that.

He kneeled down, dirt muddying his pants and reached out to take Logan’s hand. He pulled away at how cold his skin was. 

“You betrayed me,” he whispered and Logan only continued breathing those ragged, gasping breaths, eyes staring into the middle distance. “It’s not my fault,” he said, because it couldn’t be. Logan was wrong. Logan had betrayed him.

But then why did it hurt so much?

“You never loved me!” Roman burst out. “Come on, just say something! Don’t just lie there!” He yelled because Logan was never this quiet. He always had something smart and stuck up to say. 

“Say something,” Roman pleaded and Logan shuddered, eyes glazed over as they stared up at the sky. 

Roman looked up, to a sky as dark and cloudy as Logan’s eyes. A sky that once was filled with stars and was now flat and empty.

“Logan?” he whispered softly, reaching out to take his hand. Logan didn’t react, he just stared up at that empty sky and Roman felt an ache spread in his chest as he curled his fingers around Logan’s palm, brushing off the dirt.

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 15

post directory

em: viola teas i am like. incapable of sleeping in

em: i woke up 10:30 on the dot and i thought. what the fuck

em: 10:30 is especially offensive bc it means the mcdonald’s breakfast is done

obsetress: brain immediately said viola up and about doing all the chores vacuuming with no sympathy for her constantly sleeping in snoring girlfriend dani clayton

obsetress: but nah i'm sorry for you that sucks

em: inspiring deranged viola behaviour is

em: the greatest gift of all

obsetress: god so true when u think about it

obsetress: not that viola vacuums, she def has cleaners but

obsetress: actually no

obsetress: she has cleaners but she's prob not satisfied and gets out her expensive vacuum she has no idea how to use and is clattering n making such a fuss

obsetress: and poor dani

em: she’s up and about rearranging things, she’s causing a ruckus,

obsetress: dani's like "you have just as bad insomnia as me and you're just... getting up? that early?"

obsetress: viola shrugs "i don't need that much sleep"

obsetress: "you do, though"

obsetress: she shrugs and disappears into the kitchen

obsetress: insomniac gf and insomniac gf

em: insomnia gfs

em: viola runs on like

em: supernatural element carrying over: viola is a little too good at running on no sleep and no one knows if she ages

obsetress: YEAH

em: i love a sorta, grounded real life show w like one or two unexplained ambiguously supernatural things that no one blinks at

obsetress: i was gonna be like

obsetress: i wonder what dani and viola do when theyre up not sleeping at night and then i was like

obsetress: Well,

obsetress: no they do that but they also do the most random borderline unhinged shit like

obsetress: dani tries new baking recipes and they sit on the countertop in their pjs or underwear or nothing and eat scones at three am

em: go for night drives

em: night drives aren’t even unhinged but they’re nice

em: but they don’t listen to music they listen to fucken podcasts

obsetress: that fuckin lorde song

[em note: it's supercut]

obsetress: they go to the roof and dani lays her head in viola's lap and stares at the stars while viola reads to her in french

obsetress: ugh i put it on oh god why did i put it on

[em note: it's still supercut]

obsetress: in my head.........

obsetress: i do everything right............

obsetress: when you call............

obsetress: i'll forgive and not fight.............

obsetress: ours are the moments.........i play in the dark OH MY GOD VI'S INSOMNIA AFTER DANI LEAVES AND SHES ALONE

em: ur a MONSTER

obsetress: i need to lay on the floor and put this song on repeat

obsetress: anyway um

obsetress: another thought from when i was thinking about the vacuum like

obsetress: viola has a degree of learned helplessness that all rich people have but she's not an idiot like the rest of them yknow and i think like

obsetress: she had to do a lot when she and perdita were kids!

obsetress: after her mom died

em: hannah......

obsetress: and then after her dad died before she married arthur and like

obsetress: then being a single mom (viola lloyd single mom i'm drooling) even w all the help she can afford

obsetress: she has a chip on her shoulder and Does Things For Herself but also just

obsetress: sometimes it happens! there's never enough time and never enough help!

obsetress: and she loves isabel so much like

obsetress: viola making isabel her lunches

obsetress: oh god

em: making her little lunches at like 2am bc it’s been a busy day and she’s tired and she’s sore and she’s sad but the one thing viola will never skip is like

em: making sure isabel gets her lunches

em: hey what is wrong with us

obsetress: GOD YEAH

obsetress: EXACTLY

obsetress: HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS THINKING ABOUT HER MAKING THEM AT TWO AM UGH

obsetress: anyway um yeah viola making isabel her lunches at two am

obsetress: i know that i wrote jamie leaving flora notes on her napkins but like

[em note: read 'and she taught me a lesson alright']

obsetress: i just think it's something a mom who really loves her kid and wants them to feel safe and okay would do so i want to say vi does it for isabel too!!! and what of it they're different universes it's fine

em: ur just building the hannah obsetress cinematic universe

em: building up some Themes and Motifs

obsetress: themes motifs and symbols

obsetress: anyway viola packing isabels lunches she writes little notes and puts on lipstick n kisses them

obsetress: so isabel can get a kiss from her mom

em: im going to kill u w my bare hands

obsetress: cut to vi in the bathroom wiping it off later à la jennifer check

em: im GONNA

obsetress: sometimes when vi has to go out of town for business or w/e she leaves a stack of napkins with arthur to put in isabel's lunch so she can still get a kiss from her mom even when she's gone

em: thats so extra??

em: its so viola

obsetress: exactly

obsetress: she definitely has a fear of isabel favoring arthur over her (abandonment issues etc etc)

obsetress: gestures at canon

—-

em: dani 'its casual' taylor

obsetress: leave the typo

obsetress: dont you dare change it

em: i need u to know that i DO fuck but

em: hgfngjkyhGJBJKFHD FUCK

em: ruined my own joke

obsetress: in the most spectacular way

em: dani 'i need you to know i DO fuck but im accepting offers' clayton

obsetress: she takes care to drop that like

obsetress: it's just casual SHE'S not anything serious. i'm not dating HER or anything

obsetress: jamie's like dani i know you're gay you literally stare at my lips every time i talk

em: dani getting off the phone and dramatically rolling her eyes like 'ex girlfriends, am i right? whats up with these women i-' and jamies like love i get it

obsetress: jamie raising her eyebrows "how many ex girlfriends do you have"

obsetress: dani's like "well, just the one, but"

em: but i COULD have more. if i wanted to. bc i am looking to date more women

em: jamies like ok cool

obsetress: jamie, a little too casually: oh? any, uh. prospects?

em: danis like (patented nervous dani lip bite) maybe but

em: jamies like drat

em: jamies like darn

em: and then she gets home and shes like

em: wait

obsetress: jamie calling dani back "when you said maybe"

obsetress: and dani immediately is like yEAH?

em: jamies like do you think you could ever be interested in me and danis like umm. yeah.

em: jamie hangs up like ok cool

em: long beat

obsetress: oh my GOD

em: REDIALS

---

obsetress: ok last thing i was gonna say

obsetress: i meant to say this earlier and got distracted a hundred times over

obsetress: but um imagine dani helping isabel with her english homework

obsetress: vi helping isabel with her math homework

em: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

em: SOFT

obsetress: well,

em: oh no

obsetress: isabel needing help w her english homework post dani and vi's trying to help and vi's smart n all but

em: get HELP

---

em: dani 'hooking up w my ex is actually a v girlboss of me' is SO funny to me

em: when they get together danis like, oh but havent we all- and jamies like nooo i have very good boundaries

em: except for the perdi vi psychosexual power play ig

obsetress: moment of weakness

obsetress: who wouldn't want to hook up w their hot boss

—

obsetress: when dani goes up to london whatever weekend like friday night to get her closure dinner with vi

obsetress: boom haircut and therapy reveal

em: 3 day bender u say

obsetress: all of a sudden it's sunday night and

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: they spend

obsetress: all fucking weekend

obsetress: in vi's bed

em: sighs dreamily

obsetress: dani playing with her hair

obsetress: "this is nice"

obsetress: "i'm gonna miss your bun though"

obsetress: vi's brain is short circuiting at "i'm gonna miss"

em: later danis like look. jamie. what would you have done? and jamie chokes on her beer and splutters 'not fuck my ex for 3 days straight?!'

obsetress: dani "well you've never fucked v–– oh wait"

obsetress: "you really can't blame me, jamie, you KNOW" jamie: (grumbles)its different... dani: well i mean i guess, technically, you didnt,

obsetress: unrelated in some bad fight at the end vi is like "you can't go isabel needs a–– you're like her–––" and dani's like "a what? say it" and viola's too stubborn and proud and hurt to say it

em: just perpetually bouncing back to the worlds angstiest break up

obsetress: i don't know WHY

obsetress: as someone who HATES ANGST

obsetress: i am so DRAWN to these two

em: its ummmm weirdly cathartic??

em: the whole exes au is based on a joke about them being friends and exes. we are v firm in like. viola and dani reconcile!

em: idk i love a catharsis moment! i love it when a character claws their way to happiness. or even begrudgingly goes to therapy

em: viola can go through a little hell as a treat

obsetress: turns out the only one who could fix her in the end

obsetress: was the one who said it's not my job to fix you

em: dani transformative power of (platonic) love

obsetress: "Platonic"

[ditch-witches]

Too Nice (George MacKay Smut)

PART ONE

requested: yes/no (this is the second part of the previous one, thought I'd mix up the titles a smidge)

pairing: stepbro!George MacKay x reader

warnings: smuT (not as unholy as the last part though,,,), kinda more angsty ig

word count: 4,384

a/n: :)))))))))) WHat's GoiN oN GuYS

You rang the doorbell at your father and stepmother's house, stepping back to stand beside your new boyfriend, Ben. He smiled at you, shifting the dish in his hands to throw an arm around your shoulders. He was too nice for you. You didn't deserve him. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as your breath came out in clouds. That's when the door popped open, revealing your very excited stepmother in an ugly Christmas sweater she was probably wearing just to make your dad happy. She called over her shoulder that you were home before folding you in her arms tightly and swinging you back and forth. She peppered you with a million questions about your drive and if you were hungry as she welcomed you into the house, taking your coat from you.

"And who is this handsome young man?" Her mouth hung open in excitement as she wrapped her arms around Ben and you smirked slightly as he hugged her back, still balancing the bowl in one hand.

In reality, you hadn't wanted to bring Ben home to meet your family for Christmas but he had insisted on bringing you to his the weekend before. His giddy smile made you feel almost sick. "This is my boyfriend, Ben," you answered, greeting your father finally before he shook hands with Ben as your stepmother took his dish. You looked around the entryway and into the living room, noticing how much the house had changed all because of a formality. You really hadn't been home since the wedding, maybe it was for the best. George came around the corner of the kitchen and leaned against the threshold, crossing his arms. You bit your lip as your eyes locked on his, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as his sights raked up and down your body. "Heya, Georgie," you quipped, feeling more attentive to a man than you had in a long time.

He smiled and walked over to you. "Merry Christmas," he muttered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you against his hard chest. You inhaled quietly, wrapping your body around his waist and basking in his scent as your memories of the rehearsal dinner night flooded your mind. You felt secure in his arms. "You're late," he sighed, his warm breath cascading over your neck before he pulled away. You felt colder and more unstable than you did standing on the front step outside. "Ben, huh?" He whispered mockingly, making you giggle softly and nudge him away from you.

"Georgie is such a cute nickname! Why didn't I think of that?" An unknown voice broke the two of you apart. A girl a year or so older than you joined at his side, placing an arm across George's back. He wet his lips, eyes on your reaction to her. She smiled at you brightly, her light eyes crinkling slightly as she beamed at you. "You're the famous stepsister then?" She asked, sticking her free hand out to you.

Your mouth opened slightly in a grin, taking her hand and flashing a look to George. "Famous, huh?" You jeered and he rolled his eyes silently, more interacting with you than her. "It's nice to meet you..." you trailed off.

"Oh! I'm Dani. George's girlfriend," she stated, proudly looking up at him as he crossed his arms. The pang of jealousy deep in your chest was rather alarming for you as his blue eyes remained searching your face. "I'm still kind of new to this whole thing though," she leaned towards you in a dramatic way, "maybe you can give me some tips to getting to his secrets," she joked, sending you a wink.

You looked back at George almost in disbelief. She was so nice. What was she doing with George? "Uh, I'm pretty sure the dog is the only one that knows his true feelings," you threw back with a subtle grin and George smirked at your joke. The expression made your mind flash to being across the room from him during the dinner, begging with your eyes for him to close the distance. The memory of his deep voice in your ear as his lips pressed against your sensitive skin made goosebumps climb up your back. Ben finally joined the group, dealing out a round of handshakes as you introduced him.

George chewed on his bottom lip, one of his hands slipping into his jean pocket. You wanted to touch his dark green sweater again. It was like you felt the phantom irritation of beard burn against your chin again as his eyes drifted from whatever Ben and Dani were talking about to you. "George, do you mind if I steal your girlfriend for a bit, darling?" George's mother piped up from across the room with a large album in her hands and your dad eagerly beside her, motioning for Ben to sit by him. The two of you furrowed your brows as they cracked open the family vaults to the newest members in the room.

"We'll be in the kitchen," George answered, nudging your elbow so you followed him towards the sweet-smelling room. The door swung shut and George pulled an apron over his head. "Ben seems nice," he stated flatly, tying the strings around his waist and tending to whatever had been boiling on the stove.

"Where's the booze?" You grumbled, digging into the cabinet for Scotch. George smiled at you as you offered him a glass. He made sure to brush his fingers against yours as he took the liquor from you and you leaned against the counter beside him. "To Dani," you toasted, a deadpan look on your face to match his tired reaction.

He held his glass up, clicking it against yours softly. "To Ben." His tone matched yours before you both took a sip. You eyed him, looking soft and cozy from the warmth of the stove. The domestic side of him you were seeing now was almost uncharacteristic of him, only adding to your fantasies. He looked up at you from his task momentarily. "You're doing it again," he almost whispered as a smile crept across his face.

You furrowed your brows. "Doing what?" You answered defensively.

He stood up straighter, a smug expression draped over his face as he looked down at you. He reached around you for a sprig of rosemary, his body brushing against yours sending electricity to the ends of all your nerves. His lips were almost against your cheek as his breath fanned over your face and neck. "Looking at me like I'm something to eat," he uttered darkly, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he moved back into his spot, the taste of his thumb on your tongue as he triggered your memories with his actions. "I like your lipstick, darling," he quipped darkly, the use of one of his pet names making you want to melt into him. You would sell your soul to taste him again.

You exhaled slowly, brushing your hair out of your face, attempting to clear your mind of his obsession with your lips and mouth, making sure to let him know what he was doing to you. "I can't help it. You look just like a rotisserie chicken," you bantered, making him snort slightly. He acted like he hadn't laughed in a while, a wash of bliss falling over his cheeks.

"I will put you over my knee if you say that again, don't test me," he cracked and you snickered. He brought his thumb up to lick some stray sauce from the pad of his finger, his eyes drifting to yours and your lips. You chewed the inside of your cheek. "Dirty girl," he whispered, turning back to the pot with a sly smirk on his face.

"You threaten to take Dani over your knee, too?" You quizzed, tilting your head sarcastically.

He shook his head, sighing and shifting his weight. "She's not into that." Your eyebrows perked up at his response. "It's strictly missionary with her and telling her she looks pretty all the time." You thought about what a stark difference your time with George was compared to what Dani expected of him. Then you thought about an experience like that would be like with him. You couldn't help yourself.

"Well, I like that sometimes. It's treating your partner as a person," you almost joked. You took a sip of your liquor, some kind of lightness grew within you at hearing that George was also dissatisfied with his sex life. "Sometimes just feeling cared for is nice," you added, the weight of your words making your eyes drop to the floor, his gaze on you. Your cheeks almost flushed at the thought of George making love to you, what it would be like for him to worship your lips with more passion than you figured was possible.

He cleared his throat. "What about Ben?" He asked, taking a sip of his own drink. You could feel your face heating slightly from the alcohol and the warmth of the house. Maybe it was your body reacting to how needy you were for George. You now realized that the two of you were close enough that you could loop one of your fingers through a belt loop of his if you wanted to.

"He's a nice guy," you defended, shrugging slightly and biting your lip. "What do you think?"

George's sly attitude returned, an almost prideful look in his eye. "I don't know what he's like in the bedroom, love." You couldn't help but giggle, breaking some of the tension. "If I were to guess, I'd say he holds the door open for you and asks if you're okay every few seconds."

You pushed his side, the both of you laughing. "If you mean, he's a very suitable gentleman that's ready to marry the first girl that gives him a blowjob, then yes. You're right," you muttered under your breath making him chuckle again.

"What a man," he jested.

"Maybe if you suck his dick, he'll hold doors open for you too?" You mocked like you had given him an amazing idea and he shook his head, following your sarcasm.

"Gosh, I might have to try that." Your giggles were cut short as the kitchen door slammed open, making the two of you move apart a bit. Dani and Ben walked in, questioning smiles on their faces. Dani walked forward, wrapping her arms around George from behind and pressing her cheek to the middle of his shoulder blades. You took another drink, eyeing George as he seemed to stiffen in her arms.

"What are you kids laughing about in here?" She asked. Ben took the glass from you, taking a sip of your drink and wincing slightly while George bit back a smirk.

You swallowed. "We were just talking about our friend, Alejandro," you lied and George sent a wink in your direction. The night drew on, you and George finding each other's company more enjoyable for some reason. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest each time Dani would kiss his cheek or lay a loving touch on his arm. It was growing more and more evident that you were using Ben as a substitute for George, the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realized he deserved so much more than you.

You laid in bed that night looking up at your ceiling as Ben snored in your ear, his sweaty arm flung over your body. George's room was across the hall from yours, so you figured you would have heard if anything was happening between him and Dani. But in reality, it was none of your business, nor did it matter. Your door popped open softly and you propped yourself up on your elbows slowly to see who was intruding. George peaked in, gesturing behind him, and you furrowed your brows, making him roll his eyes as if to tell you not to ask any questions. You looked at the snoring pile in bed beside you and slipped out of bed, pulling a jacket over your nightgown as you followed him down the hall and stairs, sneaking out the front door. George drove the two of you to a small spot overlooking a distant town as you uncorked the wine bottle he grabbed on your way out.

You leaned back against his soft seats, taking a swig from the bottle and passing it to him. He balanced the bottle on his knee, looking through the windshield. "I don't think I mind missionary when the person I'm with isn't forcing me to love them," he threw into the air, taking another drink.

You turned to look at him. "Do you feel like Dani's forcing you to love her?" You tucked one of your ankles under your leg.

He shrugged. "I feel like she's expecting too much out of me already." His accent was deep and calming. You furrowed your brows, attempting to get him to continue. "My mum used to tell me," he paused, wetting his lips and smiling slightly, passing you the bottle, "When you love someone it's not this much of a strain. I thought it was bullshit and then I realized how hard it was to meet Dani's expectations. I don't feel like I'm myself."

You weren't really sure what to say. Your hand moved to open for him, offering the only support you could think of. A look flashed behind his eyes at your gesture, something soft and almost vulnerable. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. "Why do you stay with her then?"

He brought your tangle of hands into his lap, his other hand tracing the bones on the back of your hand with his fingers. "She's too nice. Every time I go to break it off, she tries to fix it."

"Ben's bad in bed," you blurted out, George's head snapped up to look at you, a smile creeping across his lips. "And, I don't know, he's kind of disgusting if that makes you feel any better." You took a swig again. "But he's also way too nice. He's going to make some girl very happy someday, but he's wasting his time on me."

George snorted lightheartedly, making you giggle. "Damn, we sure know how to pick 'em, love," The two of you turned to each other again, your faces a bit closer than before. One of George's hands reached towards you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before grazing his fingers along your jaw softly. Your whole body leaned into his touch, feeling as if he was one of the necessities to sustain life and you were deprived. The way he could command your emotions and senses like it was nothing astonished you. You were almost aching for him as the smell of his freshly cleaned hair and the wine invaded your consciousness.

He drew you forward, hesitating slightly before closing the space between you for the first time since the eve of the wedding, your lips buzzing as they pressed against his. You wished you could bottle his taste to keep for a rainy day. He hummed into your kiss, almost as if he could feel the need as well. The hand that was still intertwined with his, slipped from his grasp to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers diving into his soft hair. He barely pulled away from you, only to dig his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "George," you hummed.

He sighed in pleasure, his warm breath against your ear. "Tell me what you want," he moaned softly.

"I want you," you almost begged, your breathing making your words come out unevenly. His cheek barely brushed against yours as he moved to look at you, his thumb almost playing with your lips again. He smirked at you softly before slipping out of his car, you following suit as you put the seats down in the back and quickly climbed back in with him. He pulled you into his lap, shrugging his jacket off before his lips met yours again. Your hips moved against his slightly as his fingers knotted in your hair, deepening your kiss roughly. You moaned, the sound vibrating against his tongue. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth before his large hands snaked up your body, slipping beneath your jacket to pull it off, his lips and teeth finding your newly exposed skin as you raked your nails down his chest.

He groaned, his hands traveling up your legs underneath your nightgown, gripping your thighs and ass, urging you to ride him harder. You leaned off of him slightly, pulling your nightgown over your head, your eyes locking on his as he inhaled sharply, growing harder by the minute. He brought you close to him again, his lips pressing against your chest as his coarse hands ran up your back. He moved to lay you back, sitting on his knees to tug his shirt off, making you moan as he dipped back over you. He slunk down to press his lips against your stomach, moving slowly up your body to bury his face in your hair, grinding his hips against yours. "Degrade me, or I swear to God I'll fall in love with you," you whined and he chuckled darkly. It was the first time you had admitted how dangerous this was for you, but your high was too blinding for you to stop him. Having him pressed against you again felt too right.

"Okay," he almost whispered, pressing a lasting kiss against your lips before pushing himself off of you. His fingers went to the string of his pajama pants, lazily undoing the knot as his eyes burned into you. Before he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him naked completely, he tugged your underwear off, almost aggressively. "Such a slut." His hand snaked up your thigh before he shrugged out his pants and boxers, spitting into his hand and stroking himself. You groaned at the sight before he pulled your legs towards him, teasing his member against your entrance. "Look at you begging for me like you've never been fucked properly." Your eyes burned into him and his smirk returned before abruptly slamming into you, making you yelp. He leaned over you, slowly retracting before pushing into you with the same amount of force, making you moan. "Ben must not be fucking punishing you enough, stray," he growled, snapping his hips against yours a few times. His bit into your shoulder and your fingers dug into his upper arms as he moved faster, your mind blurring. "I fucking hate Ben," he groaned, pulling one of your legs up against his side to reach where you needed him most.

"Harder," you begged and a devilish grin broke out on his face.

He gripped the edge of the seat beside your head, driving himself into you deeper. His hand then moved to rest against your neck again, making excitement rush through your veins before he applied pressure. "What was that? You want me to fuck you?" It was like he was in his natural state as confidence oozed from him, his hand gripping your neck. Your edging climax was in reach for the first time in too long. He released your neck only for his lips to replace where his fingers were. He hovered close enough that he was resting on his forearms. He drove himself deep enough into you that your toes curled and you felt as if something had shifted between the two of you. Your arms moved to wrap around his torso, pressing your lips against his shoulder as he moved. The two of you tangled around each other, wanting to eliminate the space, tension, facades. He slowed his pace momentarily, moving to look you in the eye, his expression almost the exact opposite of his usual sadistically pleased one. He leaned down to you, your lips meeting with more passion than anyone had ever kissed you with before. Your mind knew only him.

"Fuck," you gasped, as he broke away from you, quickening he speed. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. You felt wanted in his arms now, his lips against your neck and one of his hands moving to grasp at your own above your head. Each of his thrusts brought you so much bliss you almost didn't want to finish yet.

George looked at you again, kissing your jaw briefly, his brows furrowed as if he was focused on not getting off right away as well. "Whatever you say in the next few seconds, I won't hold against you," he stated as if he wanted you to spill your guts to him.

You pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him hungrily again. "You too," you almost gasped. And then his eyes said it all, the mockery and teasing leaving the air completely. You reached your free hand up to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. "Tell me," you almost begged.

"I love you," he slipped. You felt yourself clench around him and he moaned.

"I love you," you uttered, a truer statement had never left your lips previous to this. He kissed you again, determined to get you to finish. And you did, feeling like months of tension were finally released from your body. He finished as well, and you urged him to ride out his pleasure still, not wanting his body to leave yours. Ever being further from him than you were right now would be hell for you, you decided. As he pulled out of you and slumped into the space beside you, you moved beneath his arm. He grabbed your hand and held it lazily to rest on his chest, holding onto you more like he was feeling the same about letting you go. "I thought you didn't like missionary." You were the first to break the comfortable silence.

He sighed. "You're different." You turned to wrap your arm around him and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat steadying.

"I was serious when I told you to degrade me, George," you murmured, never wanting this solace to end.

He chuckled slightly, leaning to press a kiss to your head. "I couldn't help it..." he almost whispered.

You brought his hand towards you, returning his kiss. "I can see why Dani's into it."

"It's never like that with Dani." His other hand moved into your hair, resting on the back of your neck with his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "It's never been like that, ever."

The drive home was almost therapeutic as the two of you talked over the radio, rolling the windows down to let the freezing air into the car. You felt lighter than you had in months and George looked at ease and content as he pressed his lips to the back of your hand every so often. Reality was far from the high the two of you were drifting through until you got back into the driveway, attempting to slink back into the house quietly.

As you finally made it into the dark corridor, the living room light flipped on. George's mother crossed her arms at the two of you, making George giggle. "Kitchen, now," she hissed through gritted teeth and your moods faltered. Your tired father nursed a mug of coffee in an attempt to keep his head up as you took a seat beside George at the kitchen table, drawing your jacket tighter around you. George's mother paced behind your father's chair and your heart raced. You had never actually been in trouble with her. "So, where were you?" She asked, her voice just above a whisper. George opened his mouth to respond but was shut down with a raise of her hand. "You know what, never mind. We know where the two of you were."

You were taken aback, but George remained cool and unaffected. "What do you mean-"

She cut him off again. "What the fuck is going through your heads? Are you crazy?" You felt faint. "This," she gestured between the two of you, "ends now."

"What are you talking about?" George nipped.

"Don't play dumb, George!" Her whispering grew a bit louder. "You think we're stupid? You think we didn't notice the two of you at the rehearsal dinner? And now to catch you sneaking around at this ungodly hour."

George leaned his elbows on the table. "You're crazy, you know that? There's nothing going on-"

His mother gave him a stern look and pointed at you. The two men in the room turned to look at you and you furrowed your brows. "Explain that." Your dad shook his head taking a sip of the black liquid sloshing around in his mug. Your fingers moved to touch where she was pointing on your neck and you almost hissed as your mind clicked into place.

"It's from Ben," you lied, your heart racing and stomach churning.

"It's not from Ben," she stated. "That wasn't on your neck when you got here and he fell asleep during the party and then was back asleep after that. You can hear him snore throughout the house."

George groaned. "It's just a hickey-"

"Listen to me. It's never just a hickey. You have two very nice people sleeping upstairs that don't share parents. Pull yourselves together." You winced as she stormed out of the room.

"We don't share parents," George reasoned. Your cheeks flushed and you figured you would faint.

You found it suddenly hard not to cry as you held back tears, feeling like an elementary schooler getting in trouble by their favorite teacher for the first time. "Just make it right, whatever that entails," your father stated, his voice raspy as he stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I fucking hate Ben, though," he added as if to give you a nudge. As the door closed once more leaving the two of you alone, you exhaled finally. George silently held his hand out towards you and you took his gesture, lacing your fingers together once again.

[billyboymiki]

5 Works Tag Game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I got tagged by @tippenfunkaport and @caramelaire for this tag game!!

I’m not one to compliment myself on anything honestly. Recently I remember thinking about how I barely drew anything this year. There was a part of my brain nagging at me to check how much I had drawn last year. So, I uh did. Turns out I drew basically nothing?! I triple checked this in fact. My DeviantART, Tumblr AND my camera roll. Nothing . . . I drew 5 very basic pinback button designs and that was it. I couldn’t believe it; but, it made be feel so much better about what I did this year. Basically my whole instagram is all artwork from this year, since I am actually really new to IG. I got super close to 40 works this year!

Now onto the works! They are in order of when I drew them 😊

Glimmer Inspired Patterns

I wanted to teach myself how to make patterns on Clip Studio so bad! I watched a couple of YT tutorials, and I can’t even remember why I decided to make She-ra ones specifically; I’m glad I did though! The Glimmer one means so much to me. Just looking at makes me so happy! The fact that so many people have now called it ‘aesthetically pleasing’ makes me feel as though I actually created a work that others could relate to. That was enough praise for me; to create something for myself that everyone else loved as well 💖

Glimbow Cuddle

This was my first real She-ra artwork. When I saw there was a Glimbow Week again I knew I had to join this one. I don’t know if anyone knows this; but, drawings take me forever to make. I used to be strictly a traditional artist and still prefer to draw rough drafts on paper. I couldn’t decide if I wanted them on Glimmer’s window seat or in Bow’s dads’ library. I was afraid of doing backgrounds; so, both sounded absolutely terrifying. I decided to go for the fireplace even if it meant fancy lighting on top of the background aspect. I think I actually spent more time on the lighting that’s hitting Bow than on anything else in this picture. It was worth it though. I studied how the show did backgrounds and lighting for a while. I tried so many different attempts at how I wanted it to look and ultimately went with this one! I love it so much 🥺

Bow’s list with doodles

Ah, yes the drawings I did for Tippen’s birthday!! I knew I wanted to draw a scene from ‘Tuna Cans’, but I was worried to try something like this. You see, I’m somebody that likes to stay in a comfort zone and only uploaded fully rendered perfect artworks. This year was the first time that I let the ‘fun’ aspect overrule my perfectionism. I’m so happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone for this, because I love Chibi styles so much. I can’t even explain the absolute joy I had drawing these. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, so it was just me laughing at myself for being an absolute goofball. The end result and everyone’s reactions were more than I could have ever expected. I’ve decided I’m going to revive this style soon as well so please look forwards to it!!

Space Suit Squad

Okay, so I cheated a little with this one! I couldn’t just pick ONE of the squad. Honestly though, I drew these with the thought of making them into prints in the back of my mind. I taught myself how to draw a space background and I’m really proud of it! So much in fact that the one in the final pictures is the first and last one I ended up doing! If I had to pick my favorites I think I’d have to pick Glimmer, Bow and then Catra. I LOVE the way I draw Catra I don’t know why? Maybe the eyebrows I’m not sure 🤔 It took me a while to decide on expressions and poses; although, I figured these were the ones because I could look at them and go ‘yep that’s them.’

Winter Glimbow

This one took me soooo long; I actually had to tell myself that I should put my pen down because it was done and I should stop touching it!!! I was sketching pictures in my sketchbook to make more patterns for my Redbubble account, and of course I’m like 100% Glimbow brainrot. My brain went, oooo you know what would be cute? If this skate was actually Bow’s and not just generic. So, I ended up sketching Glimmer’s as well. The heart that their skates make is like the cherry on the top for me, it had to be done! I’m not sure I did the background justice on this one? It doesn’t matter to me though because the concept was worth the effort. It was snowing here and I needed this picture like I needed air, even if it wasn’t even December at the time I posted it 🤣 I liked this one so much that I have similar ideas for the other seasons sketched out as well 👀

I’m sorry that I ramble so often. I’m like this quiet person; yet, it’s hard for me to get out everything I want to say? I’m horrible at it actually my brain runs at a hundred miles a minute and I’m not good with words most of the time. This turned out as more of a thought process than my actual feelings on each one I suppose. SO, in conclusion. I drew A LOT, I stepped out of my comfort zone, taught myself digital art and patterns. I let myself come to terms with the fact that not every piece of art has to be ‘perfect’. I drew at least 5 FULL backgrounds and I never used to draw them! I’ve also always been one for simple shading and lighting, and I do think there’s a time for that type of style, while other times sometimes a more difficult one might be appropriate. I’m glad that I did both because now I know I can do both, and they each give a characteristic that I adore 🥰 Thank you to everyone that has followed me through this journey, or just anyone who read my rambling! I have an honorable mention under the cut and some originals for anyone that made it this far! 💖

I’m not going to tag anyone; but, if you want to do this PLEASE do it. It was so great to reflect on what I did this year, it really surprised me and I think what you have done will surprise you as well! It’s been a rough year, and in the end we have been here supporting each other and that’s one of the most rewarding parts of being in a fandom! 💜

Glimmer screencap redraw

Another picture where I really tested myself on drawing a background! I love it even if it killed my hand!! The background definitely took the longest on this one too. My sister literally said ‘Wait, you did the background? I thought you just drew her?!’ And that was the only validation I needed!! I ended up thinning out Glimmer’s outline so she matched the background better. If you use the vectors on Clip please use this feature! You can do the opposite as well, it’s super useful!

Oh hi! Remember when I said I couldn’t decide between the two locations? Truth is, I also couldn’t decide if I was going to make it traditional or digital. I ended up getting really mad at the traditional version unfortunately. I haven’t gotten the hang of traditional backgrounds. In the end, I should have also done it in Copic and not cheap pencil crayons 😫

Just some space friends! There is something so rewarding about traditional art. Yes, I can see the mistakes and the proportions are most likely off; yet, it doesn’t bother me? I wanted to also show these bonus drawings because nobody is perfect and I thought some of you might like to see some of my process. Being able to hold it in my hands is something I will never tire of, in a way it’s super rewarding. I keep all my art actually and sometimes I like the rough drafts more than the finished work 👀 Outlining artwork can actually ruin the charm every so often 😔 I do really love the final versions of these though!

Annnnnd the last bonus!! As you can tell the final version stayed pretty true to my sketches! I almost went with a more realistic look and made the symbols ‘stitched’ onto the skates. In the end it felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the drawing unless I wanted to add extra details to the clothing as well. The wings on Glimmer’s skates turned into ‘Shwings’ PLEASE tell me other people know what that is? I had a pair a few years ago and misplaced them. I was doing the rough draft and it popped into brain and I treated it as a joke at first, until I gave it a proper chance XD In the end I fell in love with it!!!

[kashimos-hajime]

viper | s.r.

summary: you would laugh at the irony — bucky is the one telling you the love of your life is gone — if you didn’t feel like this.

WARNINGS: angst, swearing, they kiss n stuff so ig its cute sometimes, civil war discourse, guns, unstable reader, also TREAT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS RIGHT or ill come beat you with a BAT lmk if i missed anything pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!enhanced!Reader word count: 12.5k

a/n: written for hann over @sunmoonandbucky​!! and i’m so sorry this is late! this is a stand-alone kinda prequel that occurs in the same universe as come undone so sorry yall steve is still an asshole and this ain’t up to snuff but i was having trouble keeping it a reasonable length (like maybe less than 15k???) my prompt was “i bet they have a sex dungeon” but i reworded it just a tiny bit. gif not mine

It begins with “Maybe I can get Thor to come down,” and “Only if you call your blondie first.” (You add you could pretend to put a gun on Jane and he’d instantly come down in a blaze of white and rainbow light — Jane retorts with the fact that Steve Rogers bought a bouquet of roses on your first date a week after you began being her shadow and writes you hand-written letters every second week. The instant you call, he’ll come running)

It begins with a friendly competition between Thor and Steve, who are not even present, but love the women there just as much (Thor would say he loves Jane more than Steve loves you because everything’s a competition on Asgard — Steve would say he loves you in some poem he wrote on the flight over with pink cheeks and a shy smile)

It begins with jokes and smiles, “I bet there’s a sex dungeon,” and laughter. (Jane comments that the abandoned warehouse is full of cobwebs and the readings are off the charts — you tell Darcy under your breath that that’s something you hear everyday and it’ll take more than that to interest you)

It ends just the opposite.

It ends with Jane Foster pulling your smoking body from the ashes of an abandoned warehouse. (Her hands nearly burn as they grab at bits of melting leather — your veins glow beneath your paling skin in bright, unearthly red)

It ends with a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Steve Rogers being pulled out of Washington, D.C. (Darcy makes the call because Jane doesn’t want them involved — they’ll end up doing what’s best for them rather than the best for you)

You end.

And something else begins.

.

It’s 2010.

You’re assigned to shadow Tony Stark alongside the Black Widow. You’re fresh-faced and chirpy, someone who whistles when they make coffee in the morning, the type of girl who’ll dance like no one’s watching and belt out the lyrics to her favourite song. Someone who believes that the insurmountable can be an anthill if you only look at it with a new point of view.

You wear combat boots and three thigh holsters and knives to work, but you love wearing makeup and sundresses and taking walks on the beach at sunset.

Essentially, if the Black Widow is the night, you are the day. 

Essentially, if you ask Natalia Romanova her opinion of you, then you’d get that you’re annoying as fuck, but if she catches anyone looking at you the wrong way, there’s no doubt they won’t live to see another day. That is, if she gets to them before you do.

Because before the sunshine girl Natalia affectionately calls a pain in her ass, you are the Viper. 

And vipers never strike twice.

.

It’s 2002.

Budapest is cold at this time of the year, but you’re only here because you owe Yelena a favour and if you don’t pay it back, she is going to kill you.

Whether that is a figure of speech or not, TBD.

Anyway, you figure you’re going to die anyway when your tires are shot out as you speed across the Liberty Bridge. It’s your last night in Budapest after killing whoever you’re meant to kill, and although it’s spring, it’s still fucking cold.

So, there you are, appropriately panicking internally because you do not want to plunge into ice cold water. You’re already shifting gears as you try to gain control of your car and you hear cars beep at you, but it’s two in the morning and you’re exhausted and you think maybe you can pull it off. Then another tire blows.

You fail miserably.

Swerving off the road, you let out a short yell before you’re sinking into the Danube, and the night air weaves underneath your tac suit before the freezing cold of December currents slams into you. You cut yourself free with the knife strapped beneath your dashboard as another wave of river water laps at your waist. Sucking in a huge breath, you fight back the freezing cold and reach up to your sunglasses department.

“Yelena, I’m going to kill you,” you mutter between your shivering as you grab the automatic center punch and press it against the glass. The glass shatters near instantly and you take a deep breath, climbing out through the window as your car sinks deeper into the river. The water nips at your cheeks and you fight off the urge to gasp at how bracing it is. Pushing yourself to the surface, you suck in a gaping breath and glance for the closest shore before swimming as hard as you can. An odd sensation of something burning you from the inside out fills your arms and legs as you paddle to shore, and you drag yourself onto dry land, wet dripping, squeezing out with every press of your body against the ground.

“Fuck.” Wiping off the water from your cheek, you roll onto your back and suck in a cold breath that is somehow warmer than you are. Closing your eyes, you let the breath shudder in your lungs as you try to pull yourself together. A list of names runs through your head as you push yourself up on aching limbs. You cross off a name one by one of those who’d want to kill you and instead rub your arms, trying to get some warmth back into you. You’re quite sure a mighty bruise is gonna bloom along your arms and ribs in a few days as an arrow lands at your feet.

“Stop.”

A voice, American, male, makes you turn around and you know immediately it is the one who shot out your tires.

“What do you want?” You look up to see him, a blur of dark violet and black as he propels himself down and lands a distance away. His bow folds back into a compact black rod that fits on his back, and he lets go of the rope as another figure appears at the top of the bridge. A flame of red hair and a black suit that looks a lot like yours drops to the ground and you gasp, lips barely parting and this time, it’s not from the cold.

“My name is Clint Barton, I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” The man smiles. Your eyes drag warily back to him, a hand on the pistol strapped to your back, along the line of your waist. The woman with red hair steps off the rope, shaking her head when the water laps at her feet. Pebbles crack beneath her feet and your breath rattles as your eyes dart back to her. “You’re who they call the Viper, right?”

“Yes,” you murmur, hand still on the gun. 

“Well, me and my partner here were tasked to kill you, but we’re thinking of making a different call.”

“We’ve been tracking you for a while now.” Her voice. The smirk you can barely see and the way she tosses the hair out of her face. Even the way she walks is the same

“Natalia?” Your voice bursts from your throat and you feel breathless at the sound of her name. The woman with red hair looks up jerkingly and your eyes widen as you soak in her face. She hasn’t aged a day, and you almost want to cry. “Tali, it’s me.” Her body goes limp, her arms swinging by her sides as you let go of the gun at your waist. Taking a tentative step forward, you press your lips together in a desperate attempt to smile. “Nat? Natalia?”

“No…”

“It’s me.” Your eyes burn now and you take another few steps, your knees weak and shaking. “I thought you were dead. They… they told me you were dead.”

“Well, clearly I’m not.”

“Fucking funny, Talia,” you spit, unable to help the tears clogging your throat as Natalia Romanova takes a step towards you. “It’s… it’s fucking… it’s really fucking funny.” You let out a sharp, chilling breath just as she opens her arms, and you glare at her, half-hoping she melts into a puddle at your feet.

“Come here,” she whispers and then you are flinging yourself into the Black Widow’s arms. Melting in her warm, dry embrace, you bury your face in her neck. You wrap your arms as tight as you can around her and squeeze, eyes closing shut. “Oh, god, Vipe,” she breathes out, and then she murmurs a Russian prayer of thanks you haven’t heard since you were five. Joining her, you can feel the smile beginning to pull at your lips at the familiarity of a sister’s hug.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Clint says, “but it’s a moment, so I guess I’ll let it slide.”

.

It’s 2012.

And there is a god on the loose.

“Can I just say that I hate this? For the record, that is,” you chime in helpfully, and Tony rolls his eyes at you through the screen as he fixes his mask and you sigh, stuffing another one of Peter’s pair of pajama bottoms into a duffel bag you’ve brought with you. “I don’t think we need to move Peter out of New York when Loki’s going for Stark Tower.”

“Just make sure Parker’s good. I don’t like the thought of us losing as much as the next person, but if we do lose, you know it’d be good if I didn’t get another Parker killed.” Tony’s voice echoes and you press your lips together in half a smile, wry and tired. 

“What happened at StarkExpo two years ago wasn’t your fault,” you say, but he merely shakes his head as you rifle through the closet for day clothes. The moment Peter is back from school, you’re taking both Peter and May to Tony’s place in Malibu for the weekend. “Ben Parker did what he thought was best.”

“Hammer drones killed him and they were going for anyone with the mask, Vipe.” Tony sounds exhausted, and you pause, glancing over your shoulder at your phone propped up on a stack of Peter’s textbooks. Sighing, you momentarily abandon your task of packing Peter’s bags and instead head to grab your phone. “If it weren’t for you, Peter would be dead, or worse—”

“You’re the one who saved him, Tony,” you murmur, sitting on the bed. You know he’s spiralling despite how put together he is externally, and you wish you could be there. You wish you could just reach over and hug him. But you can’t. Not yet. “I just made sure he stayed safe.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“I know.” You pull a strand of hair away from your face. “Tony, please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Cannot be guaranteed, Little Miss.” Rolling your eyes at the nickname as playfully as you can, your small smile tugs at your cheeks. Tony barely has the goggles on his face, holding them by one hand as the blowtorch sparks in every direction and you lean on your knees, just watching him at work. It’s always been something so intriguing to you, watching Tony make a suit, but now, it just makes you tired and sad.

“Then, at least put on your goggles,” you whisper, and it is at this volume that Tony finally looks at you. He blinks, squints at you with those dark, wet eyes and absorbs your sagging frown, the bags pulling underneath your eyes. “Tony.”

“Yeah. I will.” He sets down the blowtorch to pull the strap over his head before glancing up. “I’ve gotta go, Little Miss. I’ll see you on the return trip.”

“Bye, Tony.” You smile and he manages one of his own forced grins before you end the call and let your hands drop, leaning heavily on your knees as your head hangs low. The weight of the situation has always been on your shoulders, but for the first time, you feel like you have something to lose now. And it isn’t just Tony.

Coulson wasn’t the only one who ‘watched Captain America as he slept.’

You know everything there is to know about him, but you wish you knew Steve Rogers half as well you knew his alter ego.

So, when Steve Rogers asks you out on a date the old-fashioned way in the middle of the airport, you want to say yes. There are a ton of reporters around, snapping pictures of Captain America in his domestic life, and you’re tanned from your weekend in Malibu. Peter is clinging onto the luggage cart even though you’ve told him not to. May’s gone to the bathroom, and your eleven year old companion interrupts Steve’s no-doubt-memorized speech on how much he likes you with coughs he refuses to acknowledge collectively as a symptom of a cold.

“You always come with the extra set of arms and legs?” Steve asks when you don’t respond right away. He jokes to ease the tension, and you grin, just glad to see him in one piece. Unexpectedly, Steve smiles back and you feel your heart beat faster. You think you might just be a little in love with that smile as May comes back.

“Uhm, no. Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t think Peter wants to go on a date with us,” you quip and he chuckles. “I’m being reassigned in London, so maybe I could put a rain check?”

“Of course. I’m going to Washington, too, uh, since Fury said he has some work for me there.”

“Perfect.” You smile and he brushes hair away from your face, a bit shyly. A delighted pink flush swells in his cheeks as he turns, walking to the cart. He begins to push and you blink as he sets off in the direction of the exit. A protest builds up in your throat — you can push your own luggage — but Steve is already off with Peter clinging onto his back, and you’re left with May.

“He’s good with kids,” she hums and you agree. “You two would have cute kids.”

“I just said yes to a date,” you admonish, much to her amusement. “May!”

“I’m just saying!” She throws her hands up in the air, walking after Steve and Peter who are being chased by reporters, and you let out a frustrated groan. You’re sure your boys are already playing a game of Tag with the paps chasing after them.

Wait.

Your boys.

Oh, you’re fucked.

You fall head over heels in love without a second look back.

.

It’s 2013.

After New York, Steve was reassigned to Washington as the newest S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and you to Jane Foster on Phil Coulson’s secret, special command. He owes Thor a favour.

So, you shadow Jane Foster as her bodyguard of sorts and you don’t say from who but you have enough charisma to lay down some heavy hints.

After all, Phil’s supposed to be dead. But he isn’t.

And the moment you touch the black cube, some part of you knows you’re supposed to be dead, too.

But you aren’t.

When you wake up — and you’re surprised you wake up —  you can taste the blood pooling in your head that feels like it’s splitting open and the drying tears on your cheeks. The sky is too bright and it’s pitch white, red and blue spiralling at the edges of your vision as a high-pitched siren rings between your ears. A violent push forces you into a sitting position and a scream tears itself through your throat as you cough, hot smoke spilling out of your mouth.

It curls in your lap, black as sin and silky between your thighs as a hand lands on your back, warm, heavy and familiar. 

“Doll? Hey—” You jerk away, the mind-splitting agony causing another round of tears to burn at your eyes. The hand wraps around you and a hot rush surges down your fingers as something snaps. “Hey, it’s just me.” Your hands plant themselves against the pavement, the roughness grating against your skin as lips brush against your ear.

“S-Steve?”

“That’s right, baby girl. Just me.” You blink, face twisting as the pain begins to melt away. It flows down your spine, nests at the base of your skull as the hand runs up and down your back. “Hey, you got yourself into some trouble, huh?” You raise a trembling hand to your face as you pry your eyes open and you let out a choked sob at the blood running down your wrists. 

“Steve, I’m… what happened?” Your words slur and echoes in your skull as you screw your eyes shut again. “Everything… hurts.”

“I know, doll, I know. Just hold on for a moment, okay? You’ve been out for thirty hours. S.H.I.E.L.D. set up a perimeter, but it’s…” He lets out a breath in a whistle and your eyes flutter open. 

“Where’s… Jane? Is she okay?” As your eyes begin to adjust, you try not to let your tears overflow. You run a hand over your face. Blood smears over your cheeks and Steve hushes you quietly, taking gentle hold of your hands. “What?”

“You’re bleeding. Just… let me take care of you, okay? Let me take care of you.” His words whisper over your skin and you turn towards him, raising your chin just enough to catch a glimpse of his sapphire eyes. The moment his gaze meets yours, it’s like a shock runs through your system. You’re all at once aware of how cold you are and you shake your head slowly, turning to examine your surroundings.

A white tent has been set up around you, and it’s where you lay now, on wet pavement beneath the ceiling you know now is not a white sky. The police sirens swirl along the walls, flash through the tarp flaps, and you feel something tug at your arm. 

“Don’t pull on your IV,” Steve murmurs, and you blink, dazed. Looking down at your elbow, you spot the IV that runs up to the stand and frown at how many marks there are there along your skin, as if some amateur did it. “They asked me to keep you hydrated, but I did a pretty bad job.”

“Where is everyone?” you ask, turning to look at Steve again. He looks exhausted, plum half moons staining beneath his eyes, his blond hair barely shining in the darkness of the tent. The whole tent is drowned in shadows and you feel him rub at your hands with a rag. Glancing down, you watch him tug at your fingers, slowly coaxing the red off your hands. 

“No one could touch you. Every time someone tried, it was like something lashed out. Whatever you touched inhabits you. Like that movie you made me watch when I came over to visit last Christmas.” 

A chuckle builds up in your throat and you let it spill, a smile tugging into your cheeks as you sniff. 

“Alien. It was the Chestbursters,” you whisper and he laughs against your cheek as he runs his hand through your hair. 

“Right. Well, it was sort of like that,” he continues and you nod, burying your face into his shirt and you breathe in the smell of sweat and blood as he wraps an arm around your waist. “But you’re safe now.”

“Steve—” The words catch in your throat. It feels like layers of you have been peeled away and you can taste whatever it is that squirms beneath your skin as you fling your arms around him. Holding onto him as tight as you can, you bury your face into his neck and let out a shuddering sigh— “Thank you.” 

“You’ll have leave, and be reassigned to a facility back in New York. Tony will love to have you back,” he says and you pull back. Quirking an eyebrow, you try to make yourself look as attractive as you can — as the sunshine girl Steve knows and maybe even loves, but you find yourself failing at how gross you feel. Like there’s something inside your body, sharing you, taking over. You feel like vomit. Not like vomiting.

Like stomach acid and day old corn, beef, potato salad, stale water and foul air.

And it makes you want to cry at how uncomfortable you are in your own skin.

“Christmas is just around the corner,” you say weakly and Steve chuckles as you poke his cheek. Wetness meets your fingertip and you blink, for the first time noticing the tears streaming down his face. His cheeks blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, he looks like hell took him and spat him out.

“You scared the life outta me, doll,” he murmurs when you plant your clean hand against his cheek. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Didn’t mean to, Stevie,” you mumble and he sighs, almost like he’s exasperated and grateful and half-in-love before he pulls you tight towards him again. Steve’s lips press into the juncture of your neck and shoulder before he hugs you tighter and you let out a wheeze. You raise your hand, the other clean one still flat against the ridges of his back, and marvel at the way the siren lights play with the dark blood streaking across your skin.

And as you focus on the warmth flowing through your body, swirling in your stomach and ebbing down your arms, red sparks at your fingertips.

“Everything used to be normal,” you whisper, closing your fist tight. Crescent moons imprint on your skin as you close your eyes. Steve’s arms tighten around you and you let out shuddering cry. “What happened to me?”

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” He pulls you back by the shoulders, makes sure you meet his eyes because they are sure as stone. They anchor you and you cup his face, feel his heat. He feels so real.

You nod. The sirens stop and you can hear people walking, murmuring to each other, words you can hear that they might as well have screamed in your ear. Freak accident, crazy, broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats, hand tilting your chin up as he half-smiles. “We’ll figure it out, and I love you, and I promise you I will fix this, okay?” Your eyes widen and you suck in a helpless breath as his smile shrinks. “What is it? Are you hurt?” He looks down at your body, still sopping wet and freezing, but you can barely feel the numbness tingling at your feet. Heat shoots through your veins as you fling yourself at Steve again, wrapping arms around him. 

“You love me?” 

And he laughs, laughs and laughs against you until all you know is the sound of him in your ears and the feel of his heart against your chest. “Of course I do.” He turns your face so he can kiss you and you smile into his kiss, a wet smile that he doesn’t care about because any smile of yours is… priceless. 

“I love you, too,” you utter and he smiles against your mouth, eyes closing. “I love you so much.”

“That’s perfect, ‘cause I plan on staying around for a while.”

You roll his words in your head before smiling to yourself. Melting into his arms, you press your ear against his chest as red wisps curl coyly around your fingers and you look into your lap, stained with the black you’d coughed up and the slick of blood. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you whisper above the sirens. You can barely hear yourself think, but Steve merely holds your head to him, supports you in ways you cannot.

“Anytime.”

.

It’s 2014.

You pace the length of the glass, pulling at the electrodes connected to your head while Thor, Steve, and Jane all yell at you through the intercom to stop. It’s been twenty four hours and you haven’t slept in any of them. Instead, you refreshed yourself on French, Croatian, and Finnish.

Instead, you’ve recreated your room to look like scenic Sweden in the middle of summer and you’re strolling through the streets of Stockholm.

It’s a neat little trick, that.

“Look, if this Malekith wants to come get me,” you say, planting your hands on your hips as a bird flits past your head, “he can come get me. Can I at least get a breath of fresh, non-filtered air? It tastes stale.”

“Sorry, doll, but no.” Steve’s voice filters through the speakers in the room and you let out a frustrated groan, your fist flaring up as you throw him a glare. Or at least where you think he might be standing. The illusion burns away by red flames and you face the mirror and pale white walls you can see in the reflection. Your boring test chamber. Prison. “I know, it’s New Year’s, but—”

“Steve, save it. It is New Year’s, and Tony and I were supposed to go to Peter’s party because I promised him.”

You haven’t seen Peter in months. You wonder how he is, and you think it would be enough to hear voicemails, but instead it isn’t. Your phone is flooded with voicemails from him, voicemails you’ve saved and listen when it gets hard to sleep, and you want to show him the newest thing you’ve learned in your detention. The hopeful smile he’d have… the one full of wonder and his eyes…

Thinking of him just makes you miss that boy more, and you want to scream at the top of your lungs, but then Steve would tell you to be quiet and that Malekith can hear you, and whatever it is — the Aether — will flare up and you’re just so sick of sleeping in a glass cell like a test subject. 

Whatever.

“I’m sorry. I have no idea how to make this easier for you, but you just gotta look on the bright side.”

Not whatever.

If anything, you’re so sick of false promises. You’ll be out once we’ve run some tests, you’ll be okay, whatever’s inside you isn’t hostile and Viper, Viper, Viper, someone wants to come in and do another round of blood tests, maybe your chemistry has changed and— 

You want to snap.

“You’re right! I’ve only been here ever since you guys found me passed out in London. I can’t leave, I have fucking powers I can’t understand and apparently I can make anything I want become reality.” Whirling around, you spot the croissant you haven’t touched from breakfast yesterday and grab it as a surge of energy flows up to your palm. Immediately it flickers in your hand like some hologram, distorting until a croissant no longer rests in your palm, but a rich red apple. You show it to the three watching you, show them the fruit of your labour. “See that? I’m doing great controlling this thing, huh.”

“Doll, stop. Power spikes might tip off Malekith on your location and—”

“You know it’s real,” you comment, cutting off Steve coldly. Biting into the apple, flavour bursts on your parched tongue and you swallow down the fruit before you toss it in the air. Letting it land in your hand like a baseball, you look down at it. “Or, I think it is. It tastes real, and at this point, any type of reality feels better than this, y’know?”

“My lady, you must control your temper.”

“Thor’s right.” Jane’s soft voice makes you pause and you rip your gaze away from the bitten apple in your palm to the mirror. You can only stare at yourself, at how much you look like some insane asylum patient. The electrodes, the issued white jumpsuit in a white room with a white bed and everything burning white or silver, the ankle tag in case you walk out of your cell, because everyone knows you can.

After all, if you can literally turn water into wine when you want to, what else can you do?

“Thor’s right,” you repeat dully, a terrible smile etching itself into your face. “Yeah, he’s right. ‘Cause I’m crazy, right? And some dark elf is trying to kill me, but I should stay the sunshine girl, right?” If your every word was corrosive, you know the glass would have melted. Would’ve been fitting, and for half a moment you are tempted to burn the whole building down.

The searing heat singing in your arm balls at your wrist and you glance down to see bright red smoke spiralling down to the floor, kissing at the apple you have dug fingernails into and juice leaks down between your fingers. You let out a heavy breath when the heat is blown away, cool conditioned air puffing against your bare skin. At how everything is regulated, even the temperature, what you eat, your calories, your oxygen levels, everything tiny little thing you don’t know about.

A knot in your chest twists harder and you want to throw a bed across the wall or shoot something, or just go for a round of sparring but instead you settle for throwing the apple hard enough it splatters on impact. Bits of fruit go everywhere and you watch the juice track down your reflection as apple seeds clatter around you. You didn’t try to break glass, but you think you can hear something crack as you close your eyes.

“We could give you a few hours,” Jane says, apprehensive for a potential galactic war, maybe, worried about your sanity and her safety, definitely, “right?”

“Malekith will take any chance he has to reach the Aether. There is no time for whims of the one,” Thor says.

“Doll, I’m sorry—”

“No, shut up! I miss kissing you, Steve, okay? I’m horny! And I’m supposed to be normal, you know? As normal as I can get!” You fling your arms out to the side and you spin around from the bed where you have a tray of food that was pushed in the flap in the door resting atop your blankets. You slam a hand against the glass, red smoke running along the surface. Your breath comes out ragged and you look at your own reflection, eyes wide and your shoulders heaving. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Natalia’s pain in her ass, and I’m supposed to wake up in the morning next to you and bring Tony his coffee or tell him to sleep because Pepper’s out of town or help Peter with his homework. 

“I’m supposed to be there for him,” you whisper, eyes closing as a burning in the corners of your eyes track down your skin. Pressing your forehead against the mirror, you swallow down the lump in your throat. “I’m… I’m supposed to be figuring out whatever the hell they did to me with you, Steve, not… not alone. Not as some lab rat for S.H.I.E.L.D. to poke and prod.” Your hand runs flat along the cold surface and you look up at your own reflection, at the mess your hair is, at the paleness in your face and how gaunt you look. At the red that seems to flow through your veins instead of blue and how utterly witch-like you look. “I’ve had enough of that in the Red Room, and I thought I switched sides for a reason.”

“I’m right here, okay?” Steve murmurs through the speakers and you sniff, trying to imagine him on the other side of the glass. His blue eyes staring back at you — eyes you have not seen in months. His blond hair swept off to the side and maybe he’s wearing a white tee-shirt and that dark jacket you bought him as a parting gift when he got reassigned to Washington. “I swear, we’re going to get this son of a bitch, but for now, you’re just a walking dart board, and I know they won’t miss. I miss you so much, but I can’t lose you.”

“Steve.” You slide down onto the ground and it’s almost as if you can feel his heat. If you close your eyes tight enough, maybe you can imagine him just on the other side of glass you’re not too afraid to break. “I miss you, too.”

“We’ve had quite a courtship,” he teases and you chuckle, pressing your cheek against the mirror. “Long distance, then London, isolation, and hell, I promise I’ll take you wherever you want as soon as this is done. I’ll take one of Tony’s jets and we’ll go, fix this, find someone who can fix you. Marry you, if that’s what you want.” Red smoke flares brightly at your fingertips and you shove them beneath your thighs, snuffing it out.

Some part of you wants to feel grateful.

Another part of you wishes he told you there’s nothing to fix instead. Wishes Steve can just accept that this is who you are now, as you have.

“A wedding sounds nice. Like a jailbreak party,” you whisper and he laughs, crackling over the comms. “But I need a ring first.”

“Give me a few hours.”

When dinner rolls around, the door beeps and swings open to reveal Steve Rogers in sweatpants, one of his hoodies he bought in some Brooklyn corner store, and dinner.

You smile and invite him down to your cot where a TV hung on the wall plays Aliens.

“What do you say to a movie night?” He pulls the hoodie over your head. Tucking hair away from your face, he kisses you sweetly. He tastes like sugar and heat, and you plant your hands flat against his cheeks. 

The hoodie smells ripe of him and you dig your nose into the collar, inhaling deeply before looking up at him. “It’s sweet but how’d you convince Coulson to allow you in here?” The blond doesn’t respond except for another few quick pecks and you pull away from his seeking lips with a scandalized gasp. “He doesn’t know?”

“Would it kill you if I said no?” he mumbles and you laugh into his next kiss as he sets down the tray of food on the floor and plucks something off it. He slides off the bed, sinking to one knee before you and you rake hair away from your face, the elated smile freezing on your face as he cracks open a velvet box. “‘Cause it would kill me if you did.”

“Steve?” His name stutters in your throat as you stare at the diamond ring way above your pay grade. You have a sneaking suspicion that Tony had something to do with it but it sparkles, glimmers in the artificial light. “Steve, I was joking—”

“I wasn’t.” In sweats and a grey hoodie, Steve has never looked more like a god. The white light plays in his hair, turning it silver-gold and his eyes are alight with pure hope that you nearly melt as you sit on the edge of your bed, just… speechless. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Sickness and in health. So… what do you say?”

“Yes, but also, we can’t get married here,” you warn and he laughs, leaning over to kiss you as he picks the ring out from between the cushion of velvet. Sliding it onto your finger, he pushes you over against the bed and wraps an arm around your waist. Draping himself over you, he kisses your chin, your lips, down your neck and you giggle, outstretching your arm as the red mist curls around the ring, curious to what this new thing is.  

“Doesn’t have to be now, ‘s long as I got my yes,” he mumbles and you close your eyes. All of a sudden, the walls in your prison have pushed themselves out by three inches. Letting your hand fall back, you run your fingers through his hair. “And what was that again? You said you were horny or was that my imagination?”

“Rogers,” you warn, but you can’t help the way he chases away the weights sitting on your chest as he brushes kisses up and down your neck. “C’mon, they’re watching.”

“Oh, no, they’re not.” His fingers poke teasingly into your sides and you let out a squeak as he chuckles, lips meeting yours again. “Forgot how ticklish you are, doll.”

“Steven Grant Rogers—”

“Shhh,” 

“But dinner—”

“Can you forget about the stupid dinner? I’m trying to take your clothes off.” You wiggle beneath his body, hair splaying beneath your head and he growls, nipping lightly at your jaw just as his phone vibrates and he jerks back. Bracketed between his legs, you prop yourself up on your elbows and frown, the joy slipping away like oil. Weights crush down on your shoulders as Steve’s eyebrows knit together and you reach up to cup his cheek just as your vision flickers.

Like a faulty TV, it breaks with red and you blink at how Steve’s face seems to fizzle as your fingers meet his cheek. His blue eyes meet yours immediately, drowning away the red and you let out a sharp breath.

“Steve?” Your voice catches and he flinches back, stung. “Steve, what happened?”

“Something in Washington,” he whispers and he stumbles off the bed as you sit up. The heat of him leaves a chill on your body and you stand up. He texts furiously on his phone and you walk after him as he gets the door to open. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Can I help?” You reach for his arm and you can’t help yourself from wondering what on Earth is this important. You know Tony’s in town and Natasha can handle Washington. Hell, S.H.I.E.L.D. is based in Washington and whatever it is, surely— “Captain America doesn’t need to go, does he?”

“Look, I have to go.” He shakes off your hand and hurt slams into you like a truck at how he doesn’t so much as spare you a glance before he pockets his phone. “I’m sorry,” he says and you think he almost means it by the way his blue eyes widen inconsolably. “I’ll be back.”

“Steve!” He pushes you back deeper into the room just as everything flickers red and you let out a gasp as something digs into your brain. “Steve, wait!” Your hands clutch at your skull as you fall to your knees and you squeeze your eyes shut. The pain blisters, pulsing like a heartbeat inside your spine before it drains away as quick as it came, and you let out a shaking breath.

When you open your eyes, you see everything outlined in blood red, their edges flickering like TV static. The ring on your finger burns cold and you rip it off, flinging it into the glass.

It cracks, shatters your reflection, and you turn away so you do not see your own tears fall.

.

It’s 2015.

You breathe new air for the first time in ages and your lungs spasm in your chest as you feel the sun on your face. With your bags packed and ready, you stand at the entrance of the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound and wait.

Sokovia was two months ago and you have some new teammates to meet, apparently.

“Steve said he’d come pick me up, right?” you ask the agent standing next to you. He’s swiping on some datapad but turns to look at you with a smile. “A hundred percent?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Cool.” You twist the ring around your finger and pretend not to notice the imaginary ants you have crawling on your boot. It’s not like you’ve told Steve. You know he’s been busy with whatever made him run out on you the first time and you know he said he might be a little bit late picking you up, but you didn’t think Captain America believed in being tardy. Not really.

A part of you wants to be angry that he’s a hero, and another part of you wants to just go home on your own.

Thirty minutes roll by.

“Do you have any cars I could borrow?” you ask. Sighing, you don’t wait for an answer and pick up your bags. “I’ll just drive back on my own. New York isn’t too far from here.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The man smiles and you half-smile before you fish out your phone. “I’ll have someone bring one around to the lot.”

“Thank you for waiting with me,” you call and he merely nods before heading back in. A disappointed pang hits at your stomach as you walk over to the lot, and you try not to let it bite at your heels until you’re bleeding.

You’re sure your heart already is.

You drive back to the Avengers facility where Tony’s working with Bruce on something and the welcome you deserve resides in Tony’s arms. Nearly two years since you’ve seen him and some very exhausted part of you jumps at the sight of him. Even if he’s visited, you know nothing will ever compare to seeing the exhausted eyebags beneath his eyes.

“Welcome back, Little Miss!” he cheers and you grin, holding onto his neck tight. “Welcome back to society.” You nestle your head against him, holding on for a second more before pulling back. 

“Hey, Bruce,” you whisper, turning to hug him quickly and he smiles like how you think your dad might’ve when you came back after an unruly tussle when you pull back. Or maybe that was the Red Room and how the madame would smile when you beat every opponent in your class. Parts of Bruce’s face stretch too wide, and his eyes narrow when you blink, and you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks or he really looks like a stone-cold killer behind warm brown eyes.

You don’t even want to think about it.

“Cap didn’t pick you up?” Tony asks and your gaze darts to him warily. His face flickers red and for a moment, there’s two of Tony in your field of view before it’s gone. “You okay?”

“Yeah. A lot’s happened, y’know?” you say with a slight smile and he smiles, then, too, sad and bittersweet. “Uhm, can you show me to my room, Tony?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He claps and the lab lights turn on systematically, revealing more than what’s illuminated on the table Bruce turns back to. “Bruce, if you could work on the… the thingy.” He doesn’t stop to hear the answer, guiding you out of the lab. 

“So…” You descend down the steps, your sneakers slapping against the tile as you pull yourself together. Red wisps, barely there and faint as steam, play at your fingers as you try to come up with a reason Steve just… disappeared. You’re getting good at that, making up excuses. “Steve didn’t pick me up, and I was wondering if you knew where he was?”

“Steve didn’t come?” Tony’s eyes land on you and you press your lips together as you shake your head. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you turn to look at your friend. “I—”

“It’s fine. Two years — basically — of solitary confinement and he just… doesn’t come to see me out. It must’ve been important.” You shrug then, and Tony frowns. “It’s okay, Tony. I love him, like not-crazy love him but close enough, and I know it had to be something important because we’re getting married, y’know?”

“Yeah, congratulations to the happy couple,” he says but it’s half-hearted. “You give Cap too much credit,” he adds under his breath and you frown, blinking as you look at the floor. Stomach the soil, seeds of doubt are planted deep in your gut as you run Tony’s words through your head. “He didn’t even text you?”

“Maybe it was a mission.”

“And he didn’t take Wilson?” Tony shoots back, and you look up jerkingly, eyes flashing to the man beside you as you stop at the lounge. He walks around to flop down on the couch and you nearly cringe at the crumbs littering the glass coffee table. Tony leans back, kicks up his feet, and slaps the space beside him.

“I still have to meet Wilson,” you mutter, crossing your arms across your chest and walking onto the carpet. Sitting down, you nearly sink into the cushion and let out a yelp. “Shit, this is comfortable.”

“Haven’t had luxury in a while?”

“I was in a detention facility, so no,” you retort and you lean in towards Tony’s heat. “I’m just gonna wait and maybe it’ll be okay, y’know?”

“Right.” Tony claps again before resting an arm along the back of the couch. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you show Vipe where her room is?”

“Right away, boss.” You sit up, tucking your feet beneath you just as the elevator dings. Looking towards the sound, you watch as the doors open and your mouth drops open as a blond and a redhead step out. “Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers have returned.”

“From where, exactly?” Tony calls out and Steve immediately whips around to the sound of his voice. Natalia is basically sleepwalking as she rubs at her eyes and you stand, grabbing an empty cup from the coffee table. Red smoke fills up white porcelain as it fills with warm tea and you rush over to her, offering her the drink. 

“Hey, Tali,” you whisper as Natalia looks up sharply, blue eyes wide and sober. A face-splitting grin on her face, she knocks the white mug to the ground, hot tea spilling everywhere. It shatters, a sharp cacophony, and white shards go everywhere, hot tea splashing against your shoes.

“You’re out!” Her arms wrap around you tight and you let out a wheeze when she lifts you up but the smile dies as you meet Steve’s gaze. He looks stricken at the sight of you, but the corner of your mouth quirks up as your sister puts you back down. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s okay. I drove myself back,” you whisper and you cup her face, relishing in the warmth of her smile before a yawn on her part breaks the moment and you grin. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Promise,” she agrees and she heads up the stairs before you turn to Steve. Tony jogs past you, climbing the stairs after Natalia and you turn to watch them go before looking into his stricken face.

“Where were you?” you ask quietly, trying not to sound hurt. But you feel hollow, and everything is red when you’re not with Steve. “I really missed you these past few weeks.”

“Sorry. It got really busy with the new assignment,” Steve says with a shrug and you nod, pressing your lips into a smile as you open up your arms. “It’s really good to see you.” He walks into your embrace and you melt into his hold. “God, I’ve missed you.” His lips press against your hairline and you close your eyes.

“I love you,” you murmur and you tilt your chin up to look at him. His blue eyes are dark, tired, and he’s barely able to keep them open as you card your fingers through his hair. Just looking at him makes you feel so empty and whole at the same time that you know it has to be real. To feel such a paradox, such an oxymoron that you can’t even describe it, it must be real. “I love you, so it’s okay and you can tell me why you didn’t pick me up.”

“I needa tell you about Bucky,” he says and you thumb his cheek, feeling the soft swollen bags beneath his eye. He takes your wrist carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyes meeting yours beneath the hood of his brow.

“Tomorrow,” you say and he sighs against your palm. You step closer, your other arm wrapping around his waist as you tilt your head. “Whatever it is you need to tell me can wait. For now, shower and get some sleep.” The blue of his gaze lightens and he leans down to press a gentle kiss against your mouth. Breathing him in, you nearly sob at how soft his lips are, the smell of him so overwhelming — the smell of sea salt and smoke — that you feel your sinuses sting.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and you pull back with a nod. As he goes, you let your hand drop with a shattered sigh. Turning to watch him ascend the steps, you feel something inside you ache.

He looks as hollow as you feel.

.

It’s 2016.

“Couldn’t they put this as a PDF or something,” you murmur, trying to get a hold of the thick-as-fuck Accords. Words spin in your head as you flip over another page and Steve, with his arm around your shoulders, ignores you to argue with Tony. You sneak an arm around his waist, running it up and down his side as you scan the next few lines. “Save the trees.”

“I really don’t think that’s the U.N.’s priority right now,” Natalia comments from across the way and you sigh, setting it down in your lap. You can’t help the weird feeling in your stomach as wisps of red weave between your fingers. They seem to want to drag your hand back to the Accords and keep reading, but your head spins. 

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose,” Steve exclaims and you look up warily. Tony’s eyes meet yours for a moment before you turn your gaze back to the Sokovia Accords. “What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go?” You unweave your arm from around Steve’s waist and stand, tossing the Accords onto the glass table between them. Wanda and Vision, sitting on a bench, reach for it. “What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“Steve, I really think you need to read this,” you begin and razor sharp azure meets your eyes. “Look, if this doesn’t happen now, on our terms, they’re going to do this to us. That’s not going to be fun for any of us.”

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda begins, and you whirl around to face the girl. She holds the Accords, too large for her slim frame and her eyes glow as red as your veins do. 

“We would protect you.”

“Look, Vision, that’s sweet, okay, but it’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“There are weapons of mass destruction in this room,” Tony continues, “and the government’s not going to allow a couple of nukes to walk in downtown New York. Ross had a point. Do we even know where Thor and Bruce are?”

“No.”

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Natalia sounds certain, and you turn to her, surprised as she breaks like static. Blinking, you see color other than red once again and try not to let it show on your face. Other than the fact that going from red-vision to full-colour still makes you surprised, you hadn’t expected her to pick a side so soon. You cross your arms as you sit down next to Steve once more. His arm falls around your shoulders as you tug at the skirt of your sundress. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off—”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“What?” You look sharply at your sister who shrugs helplessly. Shaking her head, she looks at Wilson with a fierce stare.

“I’m just… I’m just reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

Something vibrates against your leg and Steve’s arm slides from your shoulders. You turn to look at it, distracted as Steve grabs it and you slide your arm along his shoulder as he reads whatever message he was sent. Running your thumb over the curve of his shoulder, you rest your head on his shoulder just as he gets up. Your arm falls flat and you catch yourself just barely.

“I have to go.” Steve’s voice cuts clear across the tension and you watch the man leave, throat knotted. You feel something inside you twist and your eyebrows furrow as you try to come up with some reason, some way you can follow.

“I’m going to, uh, go see what that’s about.” You clear your throat, getting up to follow after him and you hear his footsteps echo as he descends the steps before stopping at the landing. “Steve?” He leans against the banister and bows his head with a heavy sigh, and you come up to him with gentle hands. “Steve, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve, is it Bucky?” You lean in beside him, trying to get a read on his state as he pockets his phone and you sigh softly, trying to figure out what to say. “Is it the Accords? Because you seem pretty adamant on not signing.”

“And you are?” 

“I could’ve been the person who killed the Wakandans.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Someone did.” As soon as the words leave your lips, Steve’s head twists towards you, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks whole in your eyes, not a flickering edge in sight and you sigh at how much relief it brings you. “I’m not saying Wanda meant to do it on purpose, but she’s a kid and kids need supervision.”

“She had it.” Steve crosses his arms tight across his chest, and you turn to him, planting a hand on the rail and another on your hip.

“Did she? Because I read the report, Steve.” You throw up your hand, turning back to lean against the rail again as you try not to let your anger simmer. Your brow furrowed, your chest begins to tighten. “Rumlow said Bucky and suddenly, nothing else mattered, did it?” 

“Doll—”

“And… it feels…” You trail off, and you have no idea why. You think you’re softening the blow for him, but maybe you’re softening the blow for yourself.

“What?” Steve’s voice, sharp as daggers, sinks into you and you drag your gaze towards him. He looks shocked, pale as a sheet with rosy lips barely parted as you let out a soft exhale. 

“It feels true.” You shake your head before meeting his eyes. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What does is that I’m going to sign. Because we may not be kids, but we are dangerous and we need oversight.” Fingers reaching for his, you’re stung when he pulls his hand away. Clenching your jaw, you try to keep your voice hushed.  “Steve, I don’t want to fight.” 

“We can barely agree on when to get married, doll.” When he looks at you, it’s almost as if he stares right through you. “I don’t see how we can’t fight when we can barely make the small things work.”

“This isn’t some small decision! This isn’t choosing a winter wedding or a summer wedding, or whether the napkins should be folded in a Sydney Opera House or a lotus. This is whether or not we allow ourselves to get arrested or we play our cards right.”

“I’m not trusting a panel who won’t care about the people we’re supposed to be protecting.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s happened before.”

“Okay, but this isn’t S.H.I.E.L.D.” Your voice sharpens and you bite your tongue. “This is something we can give input to. What do you think they’re going to do when we disagree? Restrain us?”

“It isn’t that simple! Just because you see everything black and white doesn’t mean I have to. We can’t just choose to give over our rights and be okay with it.”

“You’re the one who’s seeing things black and white! Because this is a fucking grey area and we are drowning in it. This is… It’s not easy to just hand over the keys to people who don’t know us but we need this.” You struggle to find the words. “Steve, open your eyes and just… just understand that I want us to stay together. And if you do this, it’s almost as if you don’t care.”

“I’m standing up for what I believe in. I thought you could respect that,” he whispers harshly and you hold back a groan in frustration. Planting a hand on your hip, you look at him with narrowed eyes.

“And you don’t believe in family? In staying together? Because we can make changes. I promise, and you can still search for Bucky, I just—” Your breath hitches in your throat and Steve looks at you, eyebrows quirked. “Bucky.”

“What about him?”

“It’s Bucky. It’s always Bucky,” you whisper so quietly under your breath you don’t know if you even said it. “Natalia told me that—” You turn to look at the top of the stairs desperately. You can’t begin to describe how much you want to run up the stairs, down the hall and never look back. But you’re an optimist.

You always have been.

“Told you what?”

“That I’d never be your first choice.” The words come out bold and burning, and you can feel the ash it has left in your gums as you clench your jaw. You can still hear your sister’s voice echoing in your skull, whispered in confidence the day after one of Steve’s secret missions when he was looking for Bucky. Specifically, the mission that caused him to miss your birthday. You can still taste the bitterness, the tears that pressed bruises into your throat. “And I think he’s part of the reason why you won’t sign the Accords. Because you’re afraid they’ll issue sanctions if you go on your secret, unauthorized missions.”

Steve sighs, and his eyebrows knit together as you wrap your arms around yourself. You stare at him, wait for him to deny it, but you know he won’t. Because you’re in love with a man who supposedly loves you, but clearly doesn’t love you enough.

“Ever since Bucky came back into your life, it’s all you ever think about,” you continue, leaning against the banister once more. You cross your legs at the ankles, and turn to look at him. Your eyes immediately soak in the shadows that play across his face, the way the pale blue light of the sunroof has cast him a god of wind and sea. “And even though I’m talking to you… you’re not even here.”

Steve’s gaze darts to yours and you hold it, searching for someone who you haven’t seen in years. 

“I love you,” he insists and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can breathe in his scent. He smells cool and clean, like sleep, and you want to go back to yesterday, last week, last year. You want to go back to when you were too afraid to break a bubble that you lived in, when the Accords didn’t exist. “I’m in love with you, but I’m so damn sorry.” His whispered words push into your mouth as you kiss him chastely, a barely-there kiss that makes your heart mend and break. His forehead knocks into yours and you hold him there for a moment, just watching the tiny little twitches of his face. Burning him into your head.

“It’s okay,” you say, hand stroking over his face and into his hair. His eyes half-mast, he just watches you as red runs beneath your palm, through your veins. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and it just makes you all the more aware of the hole he has carved in the shape of pieces he took from you. He won’t even touch you. “I can’t compete with what you and Bucky have.” 

“I don’t want you to. You’re the only one I want—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you murmur and he closes his eyes pulling away to stare at his feet. He grips the handrail and you stare into your palms, red playing against your flesh. The silence is thick and you swallow, trying to think of something to say — anything. Your chest is smashed to ashes and an ache spreads in your lungs as you close your eyes, hot tears sliding over your cheeks. “Steve—”

“I’ve got to go,” he mumbles and you’re not quite sure if the salt on your lips is yours or his as he presses a quick farewell kiss to your mouth and pulls away. He wipes at his face with a sleeve, and you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand as he turns away to hide his red-rimmed eyes and sniffing you can still hear. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, you always do,” you murmur and you watch him go as he bows his head, sleeve to his face. Sucking in a cold breath, you lean against the banister and tilt your head back. Closing your eyes, you try to ignore the migraine digging into your skull.

But you can’t. It only grows when you sign, and with the deadline to bring in Steve Rogers, and nearly tears you apart as you fly to Germany.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks as you walk to your position in the airport. He looks good in his new suit Tony had designed and you smile tiredly as he fidgets with the mask. You ruffle his hair, leaning over to kiss his forehead before trying to reinforce your weak smile.

“Yeah, I am. Watch yourself out there, okay?” you add and he nods as he opens up his mask. “If May finds out Tony smuggled you into Germany, my ass is going to pay for it.” He half-laughs, and you nudge him towards his hiding spot. “Go kick some ass.”

And you do, and he does, and you think maybe team Iron Man might make it work bringing in a rogue Captain America without J-SOC.

That is, until the giant.

“Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they’d like to disclose? I’m open to suggestion.” Tony’s voice echoes in your ear, adding to the headache balling up between your eyes as you throw yourself at Clint. The man catches you by the rod of his bow as you wind yourself around his waist and flip him over.

“Would it kill you if I said I have untapped energy potential?” you ask into your comms and Clint sends you a confused look as you roll your eyes through the pain. Everything is hazy red and red mist spills from your hand as you stop Clint from swinging at you with a baton.

“No, I like that idea.”

“Tony, it’s not a good idea.”

“It was a joke, Stark,” you growl, flinging Clint away. The rod of his bow skids a few feet away and you scramble towards it, snapping it open with a sling. As you pull the string taut, an arrow forms between your fingers and you let it fly, following after Hawkeye with a barrage of arrows and keeping him busy running. “I’m trying not to kill anyone today.”

“Understood, Madame Secretary,” Tony teases and you squint an eye, letting another arrow fly just as Clint jumps onto the walkway leg. It nearly tags him in the ankle and you draw the string once more, black metal materializing between your fingers just as someone tackles into you. You’re slammed into the ground with a hard groan, your head snapping back into concrete. You hear something crack and you groan as Sam Wilson’s voice rattles in your ears. 

“I got her, Steve. It’s a go from me.” 

Steve… you repeat in your head, dazed. Turning over, you watch as Sam takes off after a jet and you try to get up. When you blink, your world is covered in red film, breaking like faulty holograms and you let out a sharp breath, trying to rub it out. The roar of the jet echoes in your heart, weaves into your chest as you reach out a hand. Red energy curls against your palm, soothing a nefarious drilling digging deep into your brain. Steve is getting away, and I can’t stop him. No, no, no— 

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together — to know Steve’s the one who put a target on your back. Blood shoves its way up your mouth as the ball of pure agony in your head explodes. 

“They’re getting away.”

“Get up, Viper! Come on, get up! You can stop them!”

You can’t get up. You can barely see as you plant your hands against the ground. Blood slick against your palms, you roll onto your stomach as you try to push yourself up. Shockwaves shake your bones and you let out a painful groan when your head tips you over. Landing on your side, you feel something warm dribble down your chin.

“Vision, I got a bandit on my six.” 

“What’s happening?” Peter’s innocent question makes you turn blindly towards him and you reach out just as strong arms hoist you onto your knees and you try to open your eyes only for white light to seep into your irises. “What’s happening? Are you okay? Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?”

“Vision! You copy? Target his thrusters, turn him into a glider.”

“Pete.” His name is thick in your mouth as you pat blindly and you come into contact with his face as you cough, black dotting the edges of your vision and you let out a groan when the blood pooling in your chest sloshes against your lungs. “It hurts. Shit, it hurts, Pete, it hurts so bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Oh, god, what do I do? Is there some way I can make it better?”

“Pete, you gotta go. You needa go, you needa go.” You can feel his arms holding you up as your hands trace down his cheeks and onto his neck, streaking blood all over his skin. You can barely see him but you know that he is smiling through his tears, tears that run over your knuckles and you think, brave boy. A brave boy who shouldn’t be here. “Pete, go.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone! You’re hurt, and I don’t know what to do. What do I do? Where does it hurt?”

“Rhodey!”

“Everywhere! Fuck, my head, Pete, you need to just… go. It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop,” you whimper as a ripple of agony travels across your skull. Jerking back, you rake your hands through your hair, trying to keep your eyes open through the tears. Everything is blinding white and red as you catch a glimpse of Peter’s face, brown eyes wide and tears dripping down his face as a double of him flashes before your eyes. A jackhammer digs into the center of your mind and you let out a scream, a pulse thundering through your body as you flare scarlet red.

“Tony, I’m flying dead stick.”

“No—”

“Leave me alone.” The words slip out of your mouth, incoherent, barely audible as voices begin to echo in your head. You half-recognize some of them, and others you barely know as frost sinks into your limbs, paralyzing you. Your whole body rigid, you fall to your elbows and knees as Peter’s hands hover around you. You can feel his warmth, every single molecule of his being, the racing of his heart and the soft whomsh of his blood. His breathing echoes in his ear, and you can hear his fingers twitching, the blink of his eye, the thickness in his throat, the roar of the quinjet and the sound of a body whistling through the air, falling faster and faster, too fast, and two men desperate to catch him—  

You can barely hear your own thoughts and your breaths come in sharp, painful gasps as you try to sort through the storm in your head — your thoughts from whatever it is that lives inside you, or changed you, or whatever it did because you can hear voices in languages you don’t understand and everything turns red, static and breaking apart as your reality crumbles to pieces around you.

“Let me help—”

“Leave me alone!” Pushing him away blindly, a surge of heat sinks its teeth down into your bones as everything inside you breaks. You pitch forward, bones snapping as voices echo in your head, and the ground splits beneath your hands.

“RHODES!”

.

It’s 2023.

You wear a black sweater because Pepper said it’d look nice and the heels Tony bought for you after the Civil War that’ve been gathering dust in the apparent five years you’ve been gone.

A part of you wants to toss the heels into the lake when the service is down, and you want to see if you can siphon what is left of the energy you have to bring Tony back to life. But you can’t. So you don’t try. You sit at the edge of the lake as the water laps at your feet, and you send gentle wisps of red over the soft waves as they lap at your feet. Tony’s last message echoes in your head, and you can picture him so clearly. And Natalia too, her last words to you— 

“Don’t go—”

The wisps take shape, mere figures of shadows of Tony and you and Natalia, memories playing like puppets on strings, jagged and sharp and all too wrong.

“Hey.” 

The figures vanish, sink into the water, and you flinch at the sound of his voice. Putting on a smile, you turn around and he stands there, hands shoved in his suit pocket, face pale and swollen around the eyes. Wiping at your own tears, you stand up and clear your throat.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Natasha’s service is tomorrow, so I was thinking we should all get some rest,” he says and you nod, turning back to the lake. He steps up to the shore beside you and you try your best not to look at him, no matter how much you want to. Your ring seems to cut off the blood to your finger as he breathes in quietly. “How are you?”

“I’m alive,” you reply softly. “Guess that’s what matters.”

“Doll—”

“Don’t call me that. Just…” You turn to him and stare into his glossy blue eyes, eyes that you haven’t seen in so, so long. Your heart nearly snaps in two as his lower lip trembles and you throw your arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly you can barely breathe. “I missed you so much, Steve. Oh, god, I miss you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, and then suddenly his arms are around you, squeezing the life you’ve just gotten back out of you and you run your fingers through his gelled hair. “Germany, I— I never meant for that to happen.” Cold water douses whatever warmth you feel and you pull back, face pulled back in a terrible mask of an empty smile. “I never meant to leave you in the middle of one of your breaks.”

“Steve, that was apparently seven years ago and… it was for Bucky. You’d do anything for him. Do anything for anyone from your past, apparently,” you whisper and he tries to smile, but even he can now see how finished you are. How you’ve given up, and you wonder if that can scare him any more than it scares you. “And it’s sweet, and admirable, and that kind of loyalty is rare. I wish someone was like that with me, but… it’s just… you were always the only one who could stop me and in Germany… in Germany you were the reason it happened.” His arms fall away and you step back, clearing your throat. “But it’s in the past, now.”

“Doll—”

“Steve, fighting Thanos was the fucking scariest thing of my life, and I wanted to kill him so badly I tore open what Stephen Strange thinks is a multidimensional tear. Because I lost control, and I didn’t want to come back.” You can still recall the feeling — like free falling and knowing the clouds will catch you — as you just let go of everything holding you up. Of falling into the darkness and just barely snagging the last of the light so you can pull yourself out again if you wanted to.

And you didn’t want to until it was over.

Until Tony was dead.

“Everything from the past doesn’t matter, because I have more important things to fix,” you continue blithely. Steve barely has time to open his mouth before you lean up to kiss his lips. “I love you, Steve.” 

“I need to tell you something—”

“I’m not in the mood to talk, Steve. My best friends are dead, and it’s permanent. I’m not so lucky as you.” You force a smile onto your face and run a hand up and down his arm in farewell. “I’ll see you at the cabin.”

You don’t.

It is Bucky who tells you the man is gone.

You would laugh at the irony — Bucky is the one telling you the love of your life is gone — if you didn’t feel like this. Like your world is ending and like you’re not good enough and like the ring on your finger was just a cheap way to keep you around. 

Instead you thank him, and go to Natasha’s funeral. Because that’s what you do.

You look to the future. You are the sunshine girl after all. The Viper who can shed her skin and move on.

The Viper who is searching for someone. Who doesn’t know yet, but someone who doesn’t want to fix her, because she is not-fine-but-accepting of the way she is now. Who isn’t searching for someone else, someone from their past, someone you aren’t and can never be.

And you find him, weeks after the Battle, in one of New York’s finest bars.

Because if Steve Rogers is a loyal golden retriever, then Quentin Beck is the snake in the garden.

[fallenrepublick]

here goes nothing. I'm 5,4, have brownish hair that ends just below my shoulders, I'm kind of thicc, a little chubby, brown eyes, and I'm into writing and the human body. I like to read and sometimes look up different bones in the body, bc that's what I'm interested in ig. I dont trust people off the bat, but I'm not gonna be a total bitch to them, and usually if the person isnt an asshole on the first day we meet, I usually like them. However, I am a introvert and I definitely dont like to be in crowded places. I can take any joke, it doesnt matter to me. I might think on it, but I wont say anything about it. I dont like getting emotional in front of people, even if they're close, it doesnt feel right for me. I get angry easily, but it takes a lot for me to actually start to get violent, like I'll hold it in until I'm too tired to. For some strange reason people are scared of me right off the bat...? Someone told me it was because of my demeanor and how I'm apathetic but idk. Anyway I'm a cluster fuck of emotions and anger who just wants to be loved.

As much of a broken record as I’m starting to sound like, I can also see you with Feral.

He’s the one that really isn’t difficult to love, and he finds it easy to care for others as well, which is why he’s easy to connect with. He isn’t looking to push you at all, his only real desire being that you’re happy as frequently as possible, and he isn’t great around crowds to begin with, either. When it comes down to it, his ideal date is something quiet, either a night in, or an activity that allows the two of you to be alone.

He isn’t scared of you, pretty much ever. I mean, have you met his brothers? There isn’t much that shocks him anymore. Hell, the first day you met, he remarked on how friendly and great to be around you are, surprising as that may be. And he gets it if you’re not as showy about your emotions as he is. Maybe someday you’ll get to the point where it comes easier, at least just around him, but for now, he picks up on the little clues you give about your feelings, even if you don’t know you do them. It certainly doesn’t translate to apathy for him, though. He knows how deeply you feel, and a lack of surface-level reactions doesn’t drive him away like it might others. He knows it’s more complicated than that.

He’s sort of touchy and loves contact, so you may get treated to little hugs and cuddles here and there that you don’t ask for, but willingly accept. But he never fails to make you feel loved.

[ofkenneths]

OKAY so i actually have some info on my dumbfuck boy ken, so i’m way more prepared for this intro in comparison to the absolute serving of dust i gave y’all with winona... yikes. anyways ! once again feel free to lms for plots or w/e cos im open to anything and everything ~

ken’s pinterest: here !

content warnings: alcoholism, death, headassery

holy crap, is that THOMAS DOHERTY over there ? nevermind, it must be KENNETH FRASER, that COMMENTARY & COMEDY youtuber. isn’t it crazy that they’re TWENTY-FIVE and already have 3m subscribers? i heard that they’re known to be DETACHED, but also pretty MAGNETIC, just like a typical SCORPIO. ( lazy smiles hidden behind the glint of a silver flask, outlandish stories that you’re never sure are true or not & the longest day of the year )

OK so ! a little disclaimer first: i don’t know SHIT about scotland / scottish accents beyond what i’ve seen in outlander ok ! i really just be faking it til i make it so ! @ me if u want ~

moving on.. im gonna go off my previous setup and start with his personality cos lbr that’s what y’all really care abt ~ he’s a little shit ! a gd moron ! really goes out of his way to be obnoxious & charming UGH id like to strangle him.. think joey tribbiani mixed with cody ko… but with a horrendously unintelligible scottish accent (: he really be like that All The Time smh

not the smartest ?? your boy actually graduated from harvard with honors and yet ?? yeah he’s a little dumb but it’s chill cos he’s p much got .. no sense of embarrassment ? cannot recall a single moment of his life when he felt embarrassed or regretted doing/saying something so .. catch him making self-depreciating jokes on the daily. on the flip side tho .. if someone was gonna like constantly get on him abt it he might 100% get in his feelings and uhhh when he do.. that’s when fists start flying ? most cos he’s always on his way to a blackout binge ;)

on top of that he also has .. little to no sense of self-preservation .. will p much do absolutely anything even if it’s detrimental to his physical, mental or emotional health ! love that for him ! Makes Bad Choices, essentially ( makes rash & not-thought-out choices ). never says no to a dare, p much always dtf cos lbr his libido is .. out of control and i hate him ??? & ALWAYS willing to break a rule or twelve

& now for the fun part … he’s a functioning alcoholic ! Big Time ! at his happiest when intoxicated and will p much always have alcohol on him somehow ? he’s usually got a flask plus a buzz throughout the day sighs so smh ! honest to god he probably can’t remember the last time he was completely sober so uhhh that’s fun ig ?? the big thing is that it’s been going on for so long that his tolerance is so high he keeps needing more and more to stay buzzed .. so it’ll likely eventually … start to cause some real problems ……. would be wild if his subscribers found out *wink wink*

a phat hypocrite tho ! love it ! will literally get annoyed with people who lie and play games when thats .. all he do .. god he’s actually the spawn of the devil i want him dead

SHEW OK onto a little background ! grew up in edinburgh ( obvs, sighs ) with his parents who were both school teachers so his upbringing was p modest ?? p normal ??? honestly .. his life was super normal til he was twelve & his parents died in a hit & run when they were crossing the street :/ from then he had to live with his uncle who was … uhhh.. a Garbage Human Being lmao ! Basic rich businessman on his bullshit .. thinking he’s the absolute god of gods reincarnate.. manipulating women .. talking down to ken .. treating everyone like he was better than them .. yeah, just a general piece of shit tbh. definitely not happy to have a preteen suddenly in his charge so ken was like .. Fine ? i’ll do whatever the fuck i want then ? & basically … did everything he knew he shouldnt have done lol

the only thing he really stayed on top of was his grades in school cos it was his best chance of getting the absolute fuck away from his uncle for good and doing it without having to rely on the bastard’s money/connections blah blah whatever so even as he was acting like a fuckin’ fool, he was getting straight a’s & p much being on a first name basis with all his teachers BJOVN we love duality

it was all fun and reckless until he had a real brush with death when he was seventeen. he was fooling around with his buddies, drunk right off his ass, acting like a piece of shit & making a complete ass of himself when he found himself underneath the motorcycle he was driving so.. he ended up spending a good amount of time in the hospital & came out of it with a nasty scar through his left brow & three shattered fingers that wouldn’t ever heal properly ( he’s left handed but had to relearn how to write and do everything with his right hand after it all ).

after that he decided to get the hell out of dodge ( .. scotland ) and move to the states & honestly thank the lord he got accepted into harvard cos otherwise he’d have had to choose between cambridge and oxford, neither far enough away from his uncle & his past as he wanted to be so ((: my mans lucky ig !

in college he got rly close with the guys in his dorm + rushed a fraternity ( a BUSINESS one, not a fun one so he was not up in there partying and hazing poor, unsuspecting scholarship kids ) & that’s when he rly started to feel content with his life ?? all it took was a move to a foreign country and the power of brotherhood *rock n roll emoji* and yk.. booze !

anyways ~ he started his channel in college as a way to let out the absolute dumbass in himself in a constructive way that didn’t involve getting into fights or doing hard drugs lol it started out as a sort of vlog channel until he got tired of carrying a camera around all day and it just kinda naturally progressed into a commentary & comedy channel as he found sitting in front of a camera and talking absolute nonsense about other nonsense was kinda like his calling, even if he has to write a transcript for subtitles cos everyone complains abt not being able to understand him.. it’s fine don’t worry about it

he’s uhh p much having the time of his life, tho he uhh Does miss home something fierce ( but no worries he just drowns all that shit out with some aged whisky lol ! ) & lowkey wishes he didnt have to continuously drink himself into a stupor to get thru the day but here we are ;)

anyways im super tired of this intro lmao so just mssg me if u want any specific details ONFIJC & i dont have any specific wanted connections ? cos being unprepared is My Brand, so i’m down to brainstorm w/ everyone who wants a crack at my mans kenny ~