#rather than trying to build a world up from scratch

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

I'm feeling that inadequate imposter syndrome again.

[gibbearish]

dont starve is kicking my ass btw

[icewindandboringhorror]

Other Misc. Rambling Thoughts on the topic:

(~ !!!!!!!!! if you're just reblogging this post for the Poll section, please reblog the original post without this addition* lol. ~)

(*not that there's anything super personal or weird about the addition, just that it's meant to be kind of casual Side Commentary, not really part of the Main Point Of The Poll, so it would feel kind of weird for it to be emphasized by being included in reblogs unless the reblogs were explicitly about the side commentary, etc..... if that makes sense.. ANYWAY!)

It's neat to read the written descriptions that people are mentioning in the tags, since it's almost like I can see or conceptualize the idea as well, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING it.

Like for example: I can imagine a vase, it's a muted mint green and slightly translucent, elaborate golden birds sprawled down the side in streaks of thin rough watery paint, the base material shimmers gently in the light, there's a small chip where it's cracked on the handle, etc, etc. .. But as I'm thinking about this I see literally nothing.

It seems like perhaps some people can visualize an object first, and THEN describe what they see. But I sort of work backwards. I am building the object in my mind, I can never see it, but it's a collection of concepts. Rather than visualizing all details as a whole at once, I am adding each detail one by one, building onto the IDEA of the thing.

The vase doesn't have a crack on the handle because I just automatically visualized a vase with a crack. It was more that I cognitively understand the concept of a vase, what they tend to be made out of, how they tend to look and feel, the properties they have. So based purely on that knowledge, I can imagine "a chip is something that a vase could have, it would look this way and behave this way" - more like... I'm constructing a bullet point Fact List about the object rather than seeing it.

So if you tell me to imagine an object, I can, in a way, imagine that object in great detail, but it's just.. I'm not SEEING those details, more just knowing it's qualities in a purely conceptual way. Sometimes in the tags when people are like "yeah I can see the skin of the apple, texture, little dots on the surface" it's like… I can imagine that too, I can know it's there, but just with no visual attached.

I guess rather than SEEING something and going ''ah. I know what this looks like because I have seen it''. I more just skip that visual step entirely and go ''I know what this looks like, I just randomly have a list of information about the concept in my mind.'' etc. Maybe similar to how sometimes in dreams, even though a house may look completely different and be in an entirely fake 'dreamlike' environment, you just somehow KNOW intuitively that it's meant to be your childhood home or something. Even when it looks nothing like it in reality. There's a built-in base knowledge of the properties or information of some things within a dreaming mind, etc.

--

This also makes me wonder about like.. how storytelling and myth is so important to cultures all across time. Or how this could tie also into concepts of religion.. etc. etc. If so many people really can kind of conjure these vivid images in their mind, then maybe that's part of why certain things are so meaningful to them? Like a "religious experience" being something you can actually really SEE/feel/lingering with you in your head, rather than just abstract words on a page, detached purely theoretical ideas, etc... hmmm

.

Plus also just for average emotional stuff too, even outside of broader cultural conceptual attachments..

Like, I don't think there's a direct 1 to 1 link (obviously not all people with mental illnesses that significantly reduce their emotional or expressive capacity also MUST have aphantasia or vice versa), but it's interesting as someone who DOES also have a much more lessened emotional range/pretty flat affect/etc. etc. to think like.. Maybe I WOULD be more emotional, in a way, if I could have these vivid experiences..?

Perhaps memories would hold deeper significance if they could really stay with me vividly. Or storytelling would evoke more of a deep emotional reaction to me if I could really picture and feel the things that are going on. If things were more TANGIBLE in my brain, rather than always merely conceptual highly abstracted ideas.

Kind of like, it's probably easier to get over the death of a pet or something, if after not seeing them for an hour you already don't remember what they looked like (beyond just a vague fact list of traits), and you have no vivid memories or mental reminders of them (beyond just factual information stores). COGNTIVIELY you can appreciate the idea of their absence, of course, you still miss them, but there's just no remaining visceral sensory ties. A very "out of sight, out of mind" sort of thing in terms of attachments, memories, emotions, etc. Maybe certain things are easier to "get over", when you're not having constant mental sensory reminders that occasionally rekindle your feelings about the event or etc.??

(like for example, maybe someone could remain angry about an argument longer if they could vividly replay it in their head over and over again. VS just like.. 'Yes I can factually recall the fact I had an argument, and I do have knowledge stored about what precisely was said, but any sort of sensory data such as sights/smells/feelings, etc. from the actual moment of the event are long gone and can never be conjured again in my mind." etc.)

Which again, I think lessened emotional permanence and image permanence in the mind are NOT inherently linked, can all be caused by different things for different people. And, since I can't visualize anything in my head, maybe I'm misunderstanding how it happens and the effect it may have on stuff like remembering things you miss or replaying arguments, etc. etc. But it's still a little interesting to think about, if they could influence each other to some degree.... :0c --

Lastly, It's also weird because I'm actually pretty good at estimating distance and spaces? I can quickly assemble furniture without an instruction manual, pretty easily have a concept of how much space a chair may take up in a room, how two mechanical parts might fit together - BUT, I am literally not actually visualizing anything. I cannot see 3D objects in my mind at ALL. It's like.. just based on the pure List Of Facts About Things Which I Have Observed.. I can intuitively go "oh this works like this/this is this size" just because.. I know it's that size. I don't have to see anything to know..?

But then on the other hand, I'm terrible at directions without a map (I guess because a 3d outdoor environment has WAY more complexity than like.. "Will this square fit into another square?"etc. lol ).

BUT, I also draw/sculpt/etc. entirely without references, and seem to do mostly okay at that..? Like.. I can't even remember the last time I actually used a reference or looked at anything whilst drawing. It's all muscle memory, and me just adjusting as I go until something "looks right" on paper, I never have a set image in my head (or external reference) before hand.. Hrmm....

AND.. I used to say that I had a photographic memory when I was younger, which I know NOW is not true (I always thought it was just an expression, not that people could literally see things in a photographic way). But what I was describing is, I do often associate information with imagery, just... without imagery....

Like "Oh, I know that I took my medicine earlier today because I have a distinct memory, a snapshot of a moment in time, of me rattling the pill bottle in my hands as I looked up at a stop sign while in the back seat of a car". When I say this, I can't ACTUALLY see/feel/hear a pill bottle, or vividly picture a stop sign, but it's more just a factual recall, of. Even though I don't see these things, I know they happened, the information of them happening (me hearing a sound and also looking at a stop sign at the same time) has been stored in my brain as a memory, a collection of linked facts. --

As for other senses, I cannot taste or feel anything in my head AT ALL.. wild that some people mention that. I mean, again, I can have a purely factual recall as if reading a textbook, knowing the information of 'X item typically has X texture, therefore I can imagine what it may be like to feel it' or 'X usually has this taste' etc. - but I can never actually experience those senses in any capacity in my mind alone. I would say audio is my strongest mental sense (maybe a 2.5 or 3 (if it were translated onto the above scale where 1 is most vivid and 5 is nothing)), then visual (4.5 at most, usually 5), and then taste and smell and such are just complete 5, absolutely nothing, I didn't even know people could experience taste or feeling just in their mind alone.. lol...

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[faebaex]

Accidentally Courting an Eel Ⅰ

author note: oooops I was supposed to post this days ago but then it somehow ended up being almost 5k words?? And this is only part 1?? Sorry sorry, I hope you enjoy it! A lot of chaos here, the only one who shows any kind of sense is Ruggie, we love you king! also many character cameos as well! i hope i did them justice

warnings: Cursing, violence, reader is quite a feisty and angry person tbh

characters: Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Your world had been turned upside down when you had returned from summer break. Intent to start your second year, you instead went to your first day of the semester only to find out that your mage school was closing and being absorbed by another school. In a whirlwind, you found yourself in the prestigious Night Raven College opening ceremony, being placed in a dormitory posthaste (you found yourself sorted into Heartslabyul, your new housewarden seemed absolutely unhinged) and then expected to continue in as normal. You had no idea why your academy closed, or why such a prestigious college was so willing to absorb an indie mage academy with a small student cohort and an obscure reputation, and those questions were never answered. Life just kind of… Went on.

Whilst the arrival of new students at the start of a new academic year wasn’t strange, it was entirely unusual to receive sophomore and senior students with the incoming batch of freshmen, so there was a lot of excitement that followed the first couple of weeks that you and the rest of your previous cohort had at Night Raven College. Lots of eyes on you, sizing you up and trying to get an idea of what you were worth… And for you, that meant a few fights.

You were known in your previous academy as being quite fiery, not hesitating to throw hands if you needed to, despite being on the shorter side compared to your peers. You were a scrapper, and a dirty one at that, more than willing to bite, scratch and pull hair if it meant that you could get the upper hand. It had gotten to the point that you began wearing shorts underneath your skirt, so that you had more freedom of movement if you needed to kick someone where the sun didn’t shine. You had the most spats with the Savanaclaw dorm, growing sick of being shoulder bumped and generally harassed by the predominantly beastman dorm. After the first couple of fights and during your next, you’d found yourself thrown over the shoulder of the Savanaclaw housewarden, Kingscholar, and extracted from the situation. You received a rather stern lecture on how you needed to stop getting into fights with his boys (which you gave him a few choice words right back) but after that, you seemed to find yourself getting bothered a lot less by the Savanaclaw students. And to be honest, a lecture from Kingscholar was miles more bearable than a lecture from housewarden Rosehearts. There were only so many apology essays you could write, after all.

After a few weeks, the novelty of having new students wore off and you were able to carry on with your school life without much issue. Sure, you got into a few fights here and there occasionally, but nothing too major, enough for you to skate under the detection of housewarden Rosehearts. After all, nothing was worse than sitting through a Rosehearts lecture. Weeks blended into months, and soon you were far into your first semester, and had rather gotten used to life at Night Raven College. You’d even managed to build some sort of rapport with your housewarden, who was less on your back now that your constant fighting had calmed down.

You found yourself sighing as you made your way to the potions lab, leafing through your notes on the way. Professor Crewel had set up and assignment and paired everyone off and to be honest, the assignment had been a complete nightmare. Together, you and your partner were supposed to brew an energy boosting potion, but you had to figure out the ingredients and brewing method with only a few hints and clues along the way. Crewel refused to give further instruction apart from surveying the ingredients selected by students, to ensure no dangerous mishaps could occur, stating with a slap of his whip that the whole point of the assignment was for students to study the potion and ingredients available to them to create the potion. Unfortunately for you, your partner for this assignment didn’t have the best grade in potionology, and considering that this assignment was graded, anything short of a good pass would have housewarden Rosehearts chasing you around the dorm demanding an explanation. Thankfully, you seemed close to finishing the assignment, the ginger root you required as your last ingredient finally having finished distilling. You were on your way to the potion lab after classes now to meet with your partner to finish brewing the potion and finally be free of the assignment that had been weighing around your neck for the last few weeks.

Or so you thought.

When you entered the lab, your lab partner was waiting there as expected, but you knew at first glance that something was up. The closer you got to him, the paler you noticed his face was, and you couldn’t help raising your brow as you stopped beside him. “What’s up?” You queried, placing your notes on the desk and putting down your bag by your chair. A few other students were milling around the potions lab, trying to finish their own assignments, one of them being Ruggie, a Savanaclaw student you usually saw running around after Kingscholar. He looked rather sheepish, his ears twitching as he stared hard at his own assignment. Your eyes fell back to your lab partner, who still looked like he would rather sink through the floor than be in the lab at that moment. “Well? Are you ready to finish the assignment? The ginger root should have distilled now so all we need to do is brew—”

“Um… About the ginger root…” Your lab partner began in a small voice, and you could see sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, “I think we are going to have to distil it again…” You blinked and stared blankly at your lab partner, as if he had suddenly grown an extra limb. “Distil it again? It took us 2 days to distil the first vial! What happened to the one we distilled?” You asked, frustration clear in your tone and mounting fast. If your lab partner wanted to sink through the floor before, now he wanted the ground to just open and swallow him whole. His eyes darted around nervously and he leaned forwards, closing the gap between you so he could whisper to you, “someone… Took it.”

You stared incredulously at him, “do you know who?” Your partner nodded; his eyes glued to the floor. “Then just take it back!” You hissed, at a loss at why your lab partner didn’t just retrieve your ginger root and resolve the situation, but his eyes shot up at your words and he looked terrified at the suggestion. “N-no way!” He stuttered, his face somehow becoming paler, “look, lets just wait a few days. I’ll distil another vial, I’ll do all the work—”

“Who took it?” You demanded flatly.

“Just forget about it, we still have time—”

“Who. Took. It.” You repeated sharply, your eyes narrowing into a glare on your lab partner. He swallowed thickly, and he discreetly nodded his head in the direction of the culprit. Your eyes left your lab partner and settled on the culprit, and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Look,” your lab partner started, moving to put a hand on your arm, “Just leave it, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea—”

“Wait here.”

You brushed off your lab partner’s hand as you began walking over to the culprit, who had his back to you as he leafed through the ingredients in the potionology inventory. He was tall, towering over you even when you weren’t that close to him yet, with teal coloured hair and roughly put together uniform. You could spy what you assumed to be your vial of ginger root tucked into the crook of his hand as he thumbed through the rest of the jars and bottles on the shelf, clearly looking for ingredients to complete his own assignment. And apparently, he had decided that your ginger root was his for the taking.

“Oi. Give back my ginger root.” You demanded, glaring at the back of the culprit’s head.

“Ahh~? Get lost, guppy. I’m workin’ here.” The culprit drawled back, not even bothering to look back at you as he continued to flip through ingredients, not a care in the world.

“Yeah? Well, you’ll be working on your ass if you don’t give me back my ginger root.” You retorted, folding your arms across your chest as you continued to glare. That seemed to get his attention, as he turned around to face you. His eyes seemed to light up when he caught sight of you, a wild grin spreading across his lips, showcasing his freakishly sharp teeth. Yikes.

“Ahaa~ You’re real tiny, little guppy. Hey, why don’t you come get your ginger root back?” He challenged, a glint in his eyes that immediately told you that this guy was going to mess with you. You tried to reach for the vial, but he quickly snatched it away, dangling it high in the air over your head with a spiteful grin. “Ah, ah, ah guppy, you’ll have to try harder than that. C’mon, jump for it.”

You clicked your tongue, feeling your blood boiling at his attitude. You stood on the tips of your toes, and even then, you were barely closer to his face. “None of us will have ginger root when I shove that vial so far down your throat no one will have to hear your annoying voice again.” You hissed at him lowly, your lips twisted up in an annoyed snarl. All amusement and mocking sank out of his face as his own face darkened, his pupils shrinking as he now began to glare at you. “You got alotta nerve, guppy. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

The two of you glared at each other, and he leaned forward with menacing intent, “Maybe I should do you a favour and squeeze some sense into ya.” He said, all previous drawl lost from his tone as he threatened you now. You scoffed, having had more than enough of this guy. You quickly reached forward and yanked that stupid black lock of hair that hung down his face, catching him by surprise and using that opportunity to push him back, making him collide into the ingredients shelf, the jars and vials rattling precariously from the impact. You tried to reach for vial of ginger root, that now also balanced dangerously in his hand, but before you could reach it, his arms suddenly locked around your middle, lifting you off the ground and squeezing. You felt your ribs begin to protest as he crushed you, and you hissed in pain, your legs kicking violently at whatever you could in an attempt to get free. You could vaguely hear the sound of smashing glass, but you couldn’t focus on that. Now when he was staring down at you, a smug smile spreading across his lips as he watched you struggle. It made you seethe. You twisted and kicked, and somehow managed to free your left arm. Striking before he could restrain you again, you took your chance and seized hold of his earring and yanked. You heard him grunt as the earring came away in your hand, but it still wasn’t enough for him to let you go, so you turned your head and sank your teeth into his arm. He froze when you did that, his hands slackening enough that you slipped out of his grasp altogether, your feet hitting the floor quicker than you expected, almost making you fall backwards. You steadied yourself, readying a follow up attack when he was still stunned frozen after you bit him, only to feel yourself yanked backwards at the waist and thrown over someone’s shoulder, moving at such a nimble speed that the ginger root stealing culprit was soon leaving your sight as you were whisked out of the potions lab.

“Put me down!” You seethed, trying to lean up in your captor’s grasp, your hand pressing into their shoulder. “Ruggie?! What do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!” Ruggie ignored your complaints, running through the corridor with surprising ease despite you being on his shoulder, zipping through winding corridors like this wasn’t his first time.

“No can do. If Leona found out you’d been fighting again and I was there and didn’t do anything, he’d have my tail.” Ruggie grumbled, his ears going flat at the thought, “and with Floyd Leech of all people! I mean this respectfully but, Y/N are you nuts? You gotta have a death wish.” Ruggie continued to spout off about how you had not perception of threat or danger, just throwing your hands left, right and centre without any care for who you were dealing with. You scrunched up your face, a lecture from Ruggie not on your bingo card for the year, that’s for sure.

“Who is Floyd Leech?” You grumbled sourly, starting to feel a little dizzy from a combination of the blood rushing to your head and how quickly Ruggie sped through the corridors. Ruggie shook his head, glancing up at you incredulously. “Floyd Leech is the guy you just rammed into the potions inventory, and probably in every student in this school’s top 10 guys not to mess with ranking. High up too, I imagine.” Ruggie commented dryly, his speed slowing to a slow jog as he seemed to near to the destination you had in mind. “Crewel is going to kill you by the way, if Floyd doesn’t first. You absolutely totalled his potionology inventory for that lab.”

You groaned at that, the consequences of your actions starting to rear their ugly head. Either way, housewarden Rosehearts would have your head, if there was anything left of it after Crewel was done with you. You didn’t get a chance to wallow, as Ruggie slowed to a stop and gently lowered you off of his shoulder. You looked around, only to notice you were standing outside of the infirmary. “Why did you bring me here? I’m fine.” You questioned, only for Ruggie to give you another stunned look, his tail flickering anxiously behind him.

“What? Y/N… Uh… Your legs are kinda…” Ruggie trailed off and you looked down, your eyes widening as you saw an array of cuts down your bare legs, dripping blood down to your socks. “Oh… Oops.” You muttered, looking a little sheepish. Ruggie scratched behind his ear, looking slightly awkward himself. “Yeah… You should probably get those checked out…”

You sighed as you turned to the infirmary door, a small grimace on your lips. “Thanks, Ruggie… Feel free to tell housewarden Kingscholar that you saved the day.” That seemed to brighten the mood a little bit, Ruggie’s characteristic smile starting to come back to his face. “You bet I will, shishishi…” With that, he scurried off, leaving you to enter the infirmary alone. As you were about to push the door open, you noticed the something in your hand, opening it to reveal a teal earring clutched in your fist. You sighed again, having completely forgotten in the heat of the moment that you’d torn that out of Floyd’s ear. Not knowing how to deal with it, you slid it into your skirt pocket and entered the infirmary.

You sighed as you trudged back to your dorm room, rubbing your head with a tired expression. You’d barely finished having the cuts on your legs checked for glass and cleaned when Professor Crewel had come marching into the infirmary to tear you a new one. You swear your ears were still ringing from the crack of his whip, knowing you’d be hearing it in your nightmares for the next couple of days at the least. You’d been instructed to attend the potionology lab after classes tomorrow to clean up the mess you’d made, and for whatever other punishment Crewel deemed necessary for however many days he deemed. You fully expected to get chewed out by Crewel even more tomorrow when you attended your detention, but that was something to dread tomorrow.

You’d survived your encounter with Floyd Leech largely unharmed, luckily the cuts on your legs not having any glass stuck in them and shallow enough that they’d likely heal in a couple of days, easily bandaged up to keep them clean. Your ribs, however, were bruised and hurt like a bitch, but again, it could have been worse. Surprisingly, another thing that could be worse was the reaction from Housewarden Riddle once you had gotten back to the dorm. He was waiting for you by the doors to be dorm, and you expected to lose your head immediately. Instead, you sat through a two-and-a-half-hour lecture about how unacceptable your behaviour was and how he expected you to apologise to Crewel sincerely posthaste, as well as demanding you write a 2000 word apology essay. But oddly enough, Riddle seemed more irked that it was Floyd Leech that you had gotten into a fight with, warning you to keep clear of him if you valued your education.

Floyd Leech this, Floyd leech that. All everyone talked about was Floyd damn Leech, like he was some sort of terror on campus. Although you had to admit, if he managed to even rile Riddle up to that extent, maybe there was something about him.

Either way, you didn’t really care. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off an hour ago, and you were beyond exhausted. You pushed open the door to your dorm room and flopped face down onto your bed, ready to pass out into oblivion, only to feel a stabbing pain in your thigh. You groaned dramatically and rolled onto your back, patting at the bed to try and find the source of your irritation. Finding nothing, you patted at your thigh, slipping your hand into your pocket and feeling something jingle. With a quizzical hum, you pulled out a set of teal jewels, squinting at it in confusion, before it finally clicked.

Floyd Leech’s earring.

You held it up to the light, watching the light shine off of the three jewels that dangled from the simple golden stud. It was quite pretty, actually. As you continue to gaze at the earring as it dangled between your fingers, you noticed that the chain that attached the teal jewels to the stud were slightly damaged. You sat up, bringing the earring closer to your face to inspect it. Huh, it must have gotten damaged when you had pulled it out of Floyd’s ear… You turned the earring around in your hand, giving it another look over whilst you mulled over what you should do. Standing, you made your way to your desk, turning on the desk lamp and laying the earring carefully on the desk, you got to work…

“I don’t want to see a single shard of glass on that floor. Do you understand, pup?”

“Yes sir.” You muttered dejectedly, beginning to sweep up the mounds of glass that littered the battered potions inventory. You had to admit, you and Floyd had done a number on it, the floor chaotic with smashed glass and spilt ingredients, plant leaves mushed together from being trodden underfoot and staining the tiles of the lab. You sighed quietly under your breath, knowing that it was going to take a long time to clean all of this up.

As you cleaned, your eyes kept flickering to the door. You weren’t the only one who was supposed to be cleaning up this mess. Floyd was supposed to be here too. However, he had yet to turn up, so the lion’s share of the work was currently left to you. Crewel sat at his desk, grading alchemy papers whilst keeping an eye on your progress, probably to heckle you if your progress slowed. Your ribs still throbbed dully, protesting every time you bent at the waist to retrieve a particularly hefty chunk of glass, Crewel peering over at you occasionally to make sure you didn’t cut yourself any more than you already were. You could only hope you could get this done quickly so you could leave.

After what felt like hours, you had finally cleaned all the glass and ingredients off the floor, the process taking longer than you anticipated after Crewel insisted that you disposed of the spoiled ingredients properly, and then scolding you for yipping and giving you an impromptu lecture on correct ingredient disposal methods. You were about to pull of your gloves when Crewel once again appeared in front of you, a large cardboard box in his arms that he placed on a nearby desk.

“You’re not finished yet, pup. I expect you to arrange the new ingredients onto the shelves in proper order.” Crewel instructed, and you felt yourself grimace before you could stop yourself.

“Do I have to? Can’t Floyd do it? I cleaned up the entire floor!” You complained, deciding to push your luck anyway. Crewel looked around the room, an eyebrow raised before his eyes fell back on you.

“Do you see Leech anywhere?” Crewel said, and you could tell by his tone that you’d already lost. Why did he have to be so sassy?!

“… No.” You mumbled, cringing as you heard the thwapping of Crewel’s whip against his gloved palm.

“Exactly, now get to work. You can go once I approve the finished inventory.” Crewel ordered, making his way back to his desk whilst you rummaged through the cardboard box of fresh ingredients, a hard done by pout on your face. “Yes sir…”

“Good girl.”

Your entire body felt stiff the next morning, your joints cracking as you stretched with a groan. Floyd had never turned up in the end, leaving you to clean up the entire inventory and restock it, which was no easy task with Crewel’s finicky tastes. It took numerous attempts and lectures on the importance of ingredient storage before Crewel was finally happy enough to grant you freedom, only to miserably crush your spirit by informing you that he expected you to attend to the regrowth of replacement ingredients in the botanical garden for the next 3 days. Lucky you.

The only saving grace was that your initial sentence in the botanical garden had been reduced as a result of Floyd not turning up at all when you were supposed to clean the potionology lab. By the sound of it, Crewel was going to be ensuring that he served his detention in the botanical garden.

You found yourself slightly irritated that Floyd hadn’t turned up to your joint detention. Not only because it meant you had to spend hours cleaning up a mess that arguably wasn’t entirely your fault, but also because you had planned to give him back his earring. You had stayed up late into the night fixing the earring, fairly satisfied with yourself for making it look as good as new. You planned to hunt him down today to give it back to him, no matter what, if only because walking around with it in your pocket made you feel like it was going to inevitably get broken again.

Your fight with Floyd had spread around campus like wildfire, and you had people you didn’t even know commenting on how hardcore you were for going up against Floyd Leech without batting an eyelid. You’d also heard that since the fight, Floyd had been in a foul mood, and it was fifty fifty between students complimenting you and blaming you for being the unfortunate victim of Floyd’s new vile mood.

Either way, Floyd’s mood was not enough to deter you from finding him to return his earring. However, you couldn’t find him in the morning on the way to classes, and you didn’t see him at lunch either. You were wondering if you were going to have to go all the way to the Octavinelle dorm after classes, not really looking forward to that thought and beginning to think about whether this was all really worth it. Maybe you should just flag down a random Octavinelle student and give them the earring and just hope it made its way back to Floyd.

As you were pondering as you walked to your club, you saw a flash of teal at the end of the corridor, looking up quickly to see the retreating figures of a light grey-haired student along with two taller, teal haired students, one with a pretty unmistakable slouch with his hands in his pockets. A-ha!

“Oi! Floyd Leech!” You called, starting to break out into a light jog in case he didn’t stop and turn around. Luck was somewhat on your side, as all three of the students stopped and turned their attention to you, and you vaguely recognised one as the housewarden for Octavinelle. He was currently eyeing you up, meanwhile the teal haired student who wasn’t Floyd was giving you a smile that, whilst coming off polite at face value, reeked of mocking. You ignored them both, slowing to a stop in front of Floyd and boy, the other students were right. He looked like he was in a terrible mood, his eyes narrowed on you like he was about to start another fight.

“What do you want, guppy? I’m busy.” He drawled; his eyebrows furrowed as he frowned down at you. You scoffed at that, shooting your own frown back at him reproachfully. “I was really busy yesterday when someone didn’t turn up to their detention and I had to clean and rearrange the entire potionology inventory by myself.” You shot back at him, narrowing your eyes at him and watching him just stare back at you disinterestedly.

“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Here.” You fished into your pocket carefully and brought out the teal earring, dangling it carefully between your fingers. If you weren’t so distracted trying to get the earring out of your skirt pocket as gently as possible, you would have seen the flicker of surprise that went across Jade’s expression, or how Azul pushed up his glasses in an attempt to mask his own surprise. “I didn’t realise I still had it on me when I left the potions lab, to be honest. It got a little damaged during the fight, but I managed to fix it so good I bet you can’t even notice!” You weren’t even aware of the proud little beam that was on your face as you spoke of your repair job, or how all three of them stared at you in a veiled mix of surprise, confusion, and awe.

You held the earring out to Floyd for him to take, which he did, all previous traces of irritation washed from his face now as he held his earring in his palm. A silence had fell between you and considering that the situation was already awkward enough as it is, you decided to excuse yourself. “Well, that was all I wanted. I’ll be leaving.” You didn’t wait for any of them to respond, and none of them did as you walked past them and continued on your way to your club activities.

So happy you were to finally have that interaction over with and not have to worry about re-damaging the delicate earring that had made its home in your pocket over the last couple of days, you didn’t notice how Floyd Leech stared wistfully at your retreating back, said earring cradled carefully in his bare palm…

[the-winter-spider]

Waiting Room | 1/3

Word count: 3.8k

Paring: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Angsttttt, Depression, illusions/mention of su!cide

A/N: Been in my drafts for awhile.

———-

The mission had seemed straightforward: extract a compromised agent from a heavily guarded facility on the outskirts of Istanbul. But as you and Bucky made your way through the corridors, taking down guards with silent precision, you realised the intel had been disastrously wrong. Reinforcements flooded the building, and it turned into a fight for survival.

The moment you’d heard Bucky’s sharp intake of breath from behind, your heart dropped. You whipped around to see him on one knee, clutching his side where blood was steadily seeping between his fingers. He pressed his back against the wall, teeth grit as he tried to catch his breath.

“Bucky!” you shouted, rushing to his side as gunfire echoed through the narrow hallway.

“I’m fine doll,” he grunted, glancing up at you with that familiar, stubborn resolve. “Just… a scratch.”

You knew him well enough to recognize that was a lie. Without hesitation, you placed your hand over his, applying pressure to the wound. The sight of blood—his blood—sent a pang of terror through you. You were supposed to be unstoppable together, a seamless unit. Seeing him hurt made the world tilt.

“I’ll cover you,” you whispered, already scanning for a way out, any sign of an escape route. “We’re getting out of here.”

He shook his head, wincing as he moved. “No, you go. I’ll… hold them off.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you,” you shot back, determination burning in your gaze. The sound of boots grew louder as the enemy drew closer.

In a split-second decision, you took out a smoke grenade, pulling the pin and rolling it down the corridor. It burst with a thick, blinding cloud, filling the air as you hoisted Bucky’s arm over your shoulder. Despite his protests, you started guiding him back the way you came, slipping through doorways and side corridors.

“You don’t get to do this,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he leaned against you, his breath labored. “Not for me.”

“Then stop bleeding all over me and maybe I won’t have to,” you replied, though your voice cracked slightly.

When the smoke finally began to clear, you spotted an exit up ahead. But the relief was short-lived. A team of heavily armed guards stood between you and freedom. You hesitated, assessing your options, and that’s when you felt Bucky shift.

His grip tightened around your shoulder. “Let me go,” he said, his tone pleading. “Please, sweetheart. Just get yourself out of here.”

You shook your head, eyes wide with a mix of terror and defiance. “Not without you! Not without you..”

For a moment, Bucky saw something in your gaze that terrified him even more than the prospect of dying. You weren’t just ready to protect him—you were prepared to give up your own life if it meant getting him out. And the thought alone made his chest tighten.

The guards began advancing, weapons drawn, and you moved on instinct, stepping in front of Bucky, ready to fight to the end if you had to. But suddenly, a backup team—Sam and Natasha—burst through the far door, taking down the guards in seconds. You and Bucky watched as they cleared the way, and with your support, Bucky managed to stumble toward the exit, his eyes never leaving you.

The ride back to the compound was silent. You sat beside him, trying to keep pressure on his wound, your hands shaking. The mission was over, but the memory of that moment—of you standing between him and danger, ready to sacrifice yourself—lingered, sharp and raw.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s injury healed. But that image of you haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the determination on your face, that reckless willingness to throw yourself in harm’s way for his sake. And he realized with a growing sense of dread that it wasn’t the first time. You’d done it before, in smaller ways, in countless missions where you’d chosen to watch his back rather than your own.

He’d trained himself to be a soldier, to take risks, to put his life on the line. But the thought of losing you—it was like a weight pressing down on his chest, suffocating him.

He found himself pacing his room, mind spinning with questions he didn’t want to answer. The closer the two of you became, the more vulnerable you both seemed to be. The love he felt for you had grown into something he didn’t recognize—something that bordered on dependency, an attachment so deep that he could feel it chipping away at his own instincts, making him hesitate, making him weak. And he hated himself for it.

The choice became clearer with each passing night as he lay awake, wrestling with his fears. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you—he did, more than he’d ever thought he was capable of. But the love that once felt like strength now felt like a weakness, a danger that neither of you could afford.

The morning he finally approached you, his face was grim, his eyes shadowed with an unreadable heaviness. He took your hands, holding them between his own as he steeled himself for what he was about to do.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low, controlled, though his fingers trembled slightly. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Confusion flashed across your face. “What… what are you talking about?”

“I can’t watch you throw yourself in front of me again.” His voice broke, and he looked down, unable to meet your gaze. “It’s not fair to either of us. You… deserve a life without worrying if I’m going to make it back. And I…” He swallowed, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to continue. “I can’t be the reason you risk yours.”

You felt the world fall out from under you, his words slicing through you like a knife. “Bucky, no. I… I knew what I was doing. I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe. You’re worth it to me.”

He shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, a haunted look in his eyes. “But that’s the problem. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for me. And I can’t be the reason you lose yourself.” He took a step back, his hands slipping from yours. “I’m sorry, but… this is for the better…Its for the better”

With that, he turned and left, each step pulling him further from the life he’d imagined with you, and from the love that had once felt like a lifeline but now felt like an anchor, dragging you both into a darkness he couldn’t bear to face.

Bucky told himself it was for the best. He told himself that he was setting you free, that it was better for both of you. But every time he saw your empty room or caught a glimpse of you in the hall, his heart twisted painfully, his resolve crumbling bit by bit.

And as he lay awake night after night, haunted by the memory of you standing in that corridor, ready to give everything for him, he knew that he might have saved your life—but he’d lost a part of himself in the process.’

——

You were suffocating without him. Every inch of the compound was stained with memories of Bucky. His laughter echoing down the halls, the way he’d catch your eye in meetings, or how his gaze lingered just a second longer than necessary when he thought no one was watching. You’d spent over two years by his side, building something real, something you’d thought was unbreakable.

But now, you were the broken one.

It had all fallen apart in a blur. After that last mission, where you’d nearly thrown yourself into danger to save him, he’d turned distant. Cold. The warmth in his voice, the love in his eyes, it had all faded. You could still hear his last words, ringing hollowly in your ears: “It’s for the better.”

Yet every day since then, you’d felt anything but better. You’d started slipping up in missions, reckless and numb, throwing yourself into harm’s way just to feel something. Anything. The culmination of it all was when Steve finally called you into his office and told you he was benching you.

The door to Steve’s office felt heavier than usual as you pushed it open. Your footsteps sounded louder than you’d meant them to as you approached his desk, each one like a reminder of everything you were losing.

Steve looked up, setting his papers aside, his face shifting to that familiar, concerned expression he’d been giving you a lot lately. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

“Take a seat,” he said gently, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You sat down, heart thudding in your chest, hands nervously wringing in your lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence grew, filling every corner of the room with unspoken words until Steve finally cleared his throat.

You heard him say your name, voice cautious before continuing, “you know why I called you in here?”

You nodded. You’d been reckless, cold, and numb on recent missions—everyone had seen it. After Bucky had ended things, claiming it was for the best, you’d felt yourself spiralling. Each mission had turned into a chance to feel something, anything, even if it meant stepping into danger. And deep down you hoped every mission would be your last.

Steve sighed, leaning forward. “I’m benching you, for now. Just until…well, until you’re back to yourself.”

You felt the words hit you, but they were strangely muted, like hearing someone yell from underwater. Your gaze dropped, feeling the weight of his decision settle in.

The silence stretched as you swallowed hard, and then, barely above a whisper, you admitted, “I’m not sure if I want to be here anymore, Steve.”

The statement lingered in the air, sharp and final, and for a second, Steve went utterly still. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, every nerve on edge as he asked, “What do you mean by ‘here,’ exactly?”

A pause. You forced yourself to smile, the expression brittle. “The tower, Steve. Just the tower.”

He exhaled, and for the first time in weeks, you saw him relax, a hint of relief in his eyes. “If you want to move out for a bit, that’s fine. Your room will always be here for you if you need it.”

You nodded, standing up to leave, feeling the need to get out of the room before the words you hadn’t said clawed their way out. Your hand hovered on the door handle, lingering a moment before you turned back to him, hesitant.

“How’s…how’s Bucky?”

Steve hesitated, an uncertain smile crossing his face as he replied, “He’s good. He’s doing good.”

You nodded again, your heart splintering. “Good. That’s…good.” And with that, you slipped out, leaving Steve alone, his gaze lingering on the empty doorway. Feeling a sharp twist in your chest. It wasn’t fair that he got to be okay while you were falling apart.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice Bucky as you walked past him in the hallway, his eyes flickering to you with a gaze so heavy, it could have shattered glass. He opened his mouth, almost reaching for you, but then thought better of it, watching you walk away without so much as a second glance.

When you turned the corner, he sighed, shoulders slumping, and pushed open Steve’s office door.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, glancing up from his paperwork.

“What was she doing in here?” Bucky’s voice was low, cautious, as if he already knew the answer and dreaded hearing it.

Steve straightened, a shadow crossing his face. “That’s…classified, Buck.”

Bucky raised a brow, holding his gaze, and after a tense beat, Steve exhaled and handed him a file. “She’s been benched,” he said simply. “Her last missions have been…reckless. Almost dangerous.”

Bucky’s expression hardened as he read through the reports, his jaw tightening with each line. Finally, he looked up, his voice low. “So…she’s not okay.”

“No, she’s not,” Steve replied quietly, a hint of reproach in his tone. “And I know it has something to do with what’s going on between you two.”

Bucky clenched his fists, feeling a fresh surge of guilt.

Just then, Friday’s voice filled the room. “Dinner is ready in the dining room.”

Bucky nodded, slipping out of the office and making his way downstairs with Steve. But when they reached the dining room, you were nowhere to be found. The others waited for a while, plates going untouched as they exchanged worried glances.

Dinner that night was supposed to be casual. Tony insisted on mandatory team meals at least once a week, believing it helped keep morale up, even though he’d usually roll his eyes at the idea of forced bonding. Everyone settled around the table, talking and laughing, but Bucky sat silently, his fork moving aimlessly through his food. Despite the banter, there was a noticeable absence. You weren’t there.

Tony glanced around, frowning. “Where’s my favourite agent?” He raised an eyebrow at Steve, expecting him to answer.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “She… she might not make it tonight.”

Sam snorted. “She better. Isn’t this a ‘mandatory’ dinner?”

Tony finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Friday, tell her dinner is mandatory.”

There was a pause before Friday responded. “She is no longer on the premises. She left approximately one hour ago.”

Tony straightened, his expression darkening. “Left? Where did she go?”

“I am not aware of her destination, sir,” Friday answered. “However, she appeared to be…distraught.”

Bucky went pale, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. Natasha glanced over at him, her brow furrowed in concern. They all looked to Bucky, who sat motionless, a storm of guilt swirling behind his eyes. Natasha pulled out her phone “Ill try calling her” everyone paused the anticipation killing Bucky, she quickly pulled the phone away from her ear “It went straight to a disconnected line.”

Everyone fell silent. Bucky tensed, barely concealing the flash of worry in his eyes. Natasha gave him a sympathetic glance, as if she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Distraught? When was someone going to clue me in here?” He looked pointedly at Steve, frustration simmering. “I’ve noticed things have been off lately. And now she’s suddenly ‘distraught’ and bailing on dinners?”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair, a heaviness settling over him. “I had to bench her.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to him.

“Good,” Sam muttered darkly, breaking the silence. “You should’ve done it sooner.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, though his eyes bore into Sam.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Why? She’s one of the best agents we’ve got.”

Steve glanced at Sam, who gave him a nod to continue. “She’s been… reckless. The last few missions with her, she’s taken unnecessary risks.”

Sam jumped in, expression serious. “I was with her two days ago on an OP, and she was like a robot, just charging through everything. She didn’t have her usual sense of self-preservation. She was throwing herself into the line of fire without a second thought.”

Natasha looked thoughtful, watching Bucky out of the corner of her eye. “She’s not herself,” she added softly, her tone laced with concern. “Ever since… things changed, she’s been acting differently. I’ve noticed it, too.”

Tony crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “So, Bucky, is there anything you want to add here? I’ve noticed you two haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately.”

Bucky’s face was stoic, but his hands were clenched under the table. He didn’t respond, but Steve’s gaze softened slightly, reading the guilt and turmoil on his friend’s face.

Bucky’s hand shot up to his face, running his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His mind replayed the last look you’d given him, the way your eyes had pleaded for something he couldn’t give, or maybe couldn’t admit. He felt Natasha’s gaze on him and didn’t dare meet it.

Sam, softening, looked at Steve. “She’s hurting. We all know that. But right now, she’s a liability out there. I don’t want to see her get hurt just because…”

He trailed off, his words lingering in the air.

Tony exhaled, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. “This is why I wanted everyone to sign a no-dating clause for the team. We can’t afford for personal feelings to get in the way of the mission.”

The tension in the room felt like a held breath. No one was truly eating anymore, and the silence weighed heavy.

Tony suddenly broke the silence. “Alright, no one is leaving this table until we’re all sure she’s okay. FRIDAY, double-check her location. I don’t like this.”

FRIDAY’s response was immediate, but it was laced with a cautious tone. “Her last location was just outside the perimeter.”

Tony’s jaw tightened, and he stood abruptly. “If she’s distressed and now completely off the grid…” He didn’t need to finish his thought. The entire team exchanged looks, the situation shifting from uncomfortable to urgent.

Bucky was the first one out of his seat, the chair scraping against the floor as he shot up, already moving toward the hallway. Natasha, Sam, and Steve quickly followed. Tony and Bruce exchanged worried glances before they, too, rose to join the others.

They all made a beeline toward your room, urgency propelling them faster down the hall. Bucky reached your door first, pausing only a split second before turning the handle. Surprisingly, it was unlocked, as though you’d left it open for one last goodbye.

The room was eerily tidy, with your personal items still on the shelves, your clothes folded neatly, and your bed made. But it was the note on the pillow that caught Bucky’s eye. He moved toward it slowly, his heart pounding, as he reached for the single slip of paper.

He turned it over, his eyes skimming over the four words written in your unmistakable handwriting: It’s for the better.

His gaze lingered on the faint smudges on the page—tiny, dried droplets where you’d obviously shed a tear or two while writing it. The finality of the note hit him like a punch to the chest.

Natasha, standing just behind him, took a breath as she read over his shoulder. “What… what does this even mean?” she asked quietly.

Steve entered the room, glancing at the note with concern before meeting Bucky’s haunted expression. “She told me… when I benched her, she said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be ‘here’ anymore.” His voice wavered, a rare crack in his composed facade. “I asked if she meant the tower, and she said yes. I thought that’s all she meant, but now…”

“And you just let her leave!?” Bucky’s voice was raw, anger and fear mixing as he stared at Steve. Ready to lunge at his best friend.

Sam, trying to keep the peace, grabbed Bucky by the shoulders. “Calm down, Buck. She wouldn’t just… she wouldn’t do anything drastic. Right?” He looked around, seeking confirmation, but all he found were worried faces.

Natasha’s voice was low, a hint of worry lacing her words as she exchanged a glance with Steve. “She’s been struggling. We all know that. And this breakup hasn’t exactly been easy on her.”

Bucky’s face was a mask of torment. He wanted to believe you wouldn’t go that far—that you would have told him if you’d reached your breaking point. But seeing the note, the tear-stained words… it sent a sharp pang of guilt through him. He had been the one to push you away, believing it was for the best, yet now everything seemed to be crumbling because of it.

Tony, standing at the doorway, looked graver than usual. “FRIDAY, pull up every piece of CCTV footage we have of her movements from today.”

The AI responded, “I’ve compiled the footage, sir. Displaying it now.”

They hurried down to the lab where the footage played on the large screen. Clips flashed by—there you were, walking briskly through the compound halls, a distant, empty look on your face. You paused at the exit, hesitated, then stepped out into the night.

There were no other signs of where you went.

Natasha’s voice broke the silence. “She left. No phone, no tracker. Just… gone.”

Panic surged through Bucky. “She can’t be gone. She wouldn’t just vanish like that.” His mind raced, replaying all the moments that led up to this—the mission where you’d almost sacrificed yourself for him, the bitter breakup, and the distance he’d tried to put between you both. Each moment seemed to press heavier on him, leaving a crushing weight in his chest.

Tony glanced at him, face hardened with unspoken accusation. “What the hell did you do, Barnes? We’ve all noticed things between you two, but this?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to push down the overwhelming guilt. “I thought I was protecting her. I thought pushing her away would be better for both of us.”

Natasha’s voice softened, though her eyes held a pointed sadness. “Did you really think breaking her heart would keep her safe?”

Sam chimed in, recalling the last mission he’d been on with you. “When I say she was reckless, Buck, I mean it. She was out there like she didn’t care what happened to her. This isn’t the girl we know. Whatever you thought you were doing to ‘protect’ her—it’s only making her worse.”

Bucky clenched his fists, feeling the weight of everyone’s words. Just then, FRIDAY’s voice cut through the tension, delivering a final, chilling update: “There has been no further trace of her movements in the past hour.”

As the silence settled in, everyone exchanged anxious looks. Bucky felt the dread settling deep in his bones. You had vanished, left with nothing but a note and the heartbreak he’d pushed onto you.

And now, he feared, it might be too late to undo the damage he’d done.

Bucky stared at the screens, watching you vanish into the night. A haunting silence settled over the team as they realized you’d slipped through their, his grasp, into the shadows. But did you didn’t really slip away… he pushed you away.

Days passed. Then weeks. They searched, called every contact they could think of, and scoured every corner of the city. But you were gone, leaving nothing behind except questions and the hollow ache of your absence.

Bucky found himself drifting back to that last mission, haunted by the image of you diving into danger for him. He’d thought leaving you was for the best, sparing you from a life bound to the risk of losing him.

But he was wrong.

He’d lost you anyway, and now, he was left to wonder if you’d ever come back. The words from your note echoed in his mind every night, the same ones he said to you only weeks before: It’s for the better.

But god how could it ever be.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

It's Been a Long, Long Time -Oneshot

Word count: 2928

Five years.  How could it have already and only been five years at the same time?  Y/N sighed heavily when she realized the date, a fresh wave of tears building up in her eyes.  Five years since her world shattered as she knew it.  Five years since her best friend, lover, and most important person in her life had disappeared.  The snap heard across the universe that had taken her love, her Bucky, and turned him to dust.  The day Steve came and told her what happened she had blacked out, her mind unable to comprehend losing him.  They had already been pulled apart because of the Sokovia Accords debacle, resulting in him hiding and being treated in Wakanda where she was only allowed to visit every once in a while to not arouse suspicion.  Now he was gone.  Forever.

Steve and the other Avengers still remaining tried to visit her, but it was too painful to see them and be reminded of Bucky and the past.  She threw herself into her work and hobbies, trying to distract herself from the pain and the overwhelming grief that not just she but everyone around the world was experiencing.  That was what made it even worse, in hindsight, was that everyone was experiencing the same thing, so the dead look in her eyes was mirrored by not just her own reflection, but by hundreds and thousands of other faces passing by.  Everything seemed duller, darker, and at this point she was just surviving rather than living.  

Steve tried reaching out to her again recently, leaving a message on her phone saying something about there being a different solution or strategy to try.  Y/N had deleted it, unwilling to hear anything about hope.  Hope was nothing more than a lie, a trick of the mind to mend broken hearts and delude oneself.  Her hope died five years ago.  A few days later as she was cleaning up after dinner there was a knock on her door.  She frowned, looking at the time and then at the door again.  She wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was close to 8 p.m.  The knock came again, more insistent this time, and she sighed as she put down the dishes and wiped her hands before walking over.  She opened the door and froze.

“Babydoll,” the man said.

No.  Oh god, it was happening.  Her mind had finally cracked.  It looked like Bucky.  Sounded like Bucky.  But there was no way.  Bucky was dead.  Bucky was gone.

“Y/N,” he said, looking hesitant and worried.  “It’s me.  I’m here.  Steve and the others found a way to bring us all back–”

“No,” she breathed, her head shaking.  Her head felt fuzzy, but she refused to let the darkness take over.  “You’re not him.  Why would you do this?  Do you like tricking people?  Hurting them while they’re grieving?  What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Y/N,” he stepped toward her.  “It’s really me.”

“No!” she yelled, and tried to shut the door.  He quickly stepped in before she could close it on him and she backed away.  “Stay away from me!  You’re not real!  This isn’t real!”

“Baby please,” he said, slowly walking toward her with his hands up.  “I’m so sorry.  I can’t believe it’s been five years and you were left here while I was gone.  Thanos–”

She suddenly barrelled forward and pushed him, making him stumble back against the front door.  “Get out!” she screamed.  “You’re not Bucky!  He died five years ago!  How dare you come here and torture me like this! GET OUT!”

His lips tightened, then he rushed toward her and hugged her.  Y/N fought against him, pushing, scratching, kicking and wrestling.  He let her tire herself out as he guided her toward the kitchen, then wrestled with her until he could pick her up and sit her on the counter.  “Y/N, babydoll, I know this is hard, but you gotta believe me,” he begged, the metal hand feeling very real as he used it to hold her hands behind herself at her wrists, his flesh hand cupping the side of her face and trying to get her to sit still.  He stood between her legs to stop her from kicking him, but she kept squirming to get out of his hold.  “Stop, babydoll, you’ll hurt yourself.  Please…Y/N!”

She sobbed, shutting her eyes tight as she thumped her head against the cabinet behind her.  Whoever this man was, he was a great actor, copying the same Bucky mannerisms and pet names that she dreamed of.  His flesh hand moved to the back of her neck, gripping her tightly and pulling her forward until he kissed her.  Y/N froze again, the shock and disbelief making her breath stutter as he continued to kiss her slowly, gently, like he was taking his time, like he couldn’t quite believe that he got to be here with her at this moment.  He kissed her like Bucky would, like only Bucky could, the way his perfect lips would move against hers.  Her mind and body were at war with each other, not quite fully believing that this could be happening.  But Steve had said something about a plan, a possibility…

He pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose before tracing his lips back down over her cupid’s bow to her lips and kissing them one more time.  Y/N’s eyes shot open at that.  It was a funny little ritual that Bucky always did right before he finished kissing her.  He pulled back slightly, his brow upturned and his gaze hopeful as she stared at him.  The same bright, big blue eyes, his perfect nose, the ever present crease between his eyebrows, the beard that covered his sharp jaw.  His metal hand released her wrists now that she wasn’t fighting him, and he reached it up to cradle the other side of her face, his metal thumb caressing across her cheekbone like Bucky used to.

Her heart felt like it was jumping out of her chest as it opened itself to believe.  She slowly reached one of her hands up, her fingers shaking as she traced her pointer finger over his lips, up his nose, around his eyebrow, then she moved his hair and looked at his right ear.  Her finger felt over the shell of his ear, and she gasped silently at feeling the extra curve in his right ear that he didn’t have on his left.  It…it couldn’t be.  She had lost him, and was still grieving him.  How could this be happening?

“The night before you left to come back to the States, days before the snap, we were on that hill by my hut in Wakanda, laying in the grass and looking at the stars,” he whispered earnestly.  “You yelled at the goats because they wouldn’t shut up.”  Y/N’s eyes were flickering back and forth between his eyes, the smallest smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she remembered that night.  How could he know about that?  “There was a shooting star, remember?  And I asked you to marry me.  And instead of saying yes, you pushed me and called me a little shit because of my bad timing.”  Her eyes widened even more, and she let out what sounded like a whimper, her eyes filling with tears all over again.  “It’s me, Y/N.  It’s really me.  I’m here.  I’m back.  Everyone is back.  We won.  And I’m never leaving your side again.  I’m so sorry, babydoll.  I’m so sorry you were left here by yourself.  Please believe me.”

Y/N’s hands cupped his face, holding him still and staring at him for another minute.  His hands moved to grasp her wrists, leaning his forehead against hers and staring back at her, his expression begging her to see and accept.  Her mind finally caught up with her, and the smallest flicker of recognition and belief made her feel like her brain was resetting.  “Bucky?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he nodded, a soft smile lighting up his face.  “I’m here, babydoll.  This is real.  I’m real.  It’s me.”

Something inside her felt like it was crumbling, like the last line of defense in her mind fell.  She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight against her.  “Bucky,” she cried, her fingers gripping him too tight, like she was afraid he would disappear again at any moment.  “Bucky, Bucky Bucky Bucky…”

She could feel him crying against her, his shoulders slightly shaking as he held her, his hands caressing up and down her back, then down to her legs where he had her hook her ankles behind his back before he picked her up and walked toward her bedroom.  Once inside he approached her bed and lay down on it with her, keeping her tucked against him as they faced each other and hugged, cried, and kissed each other over and over again.  He was here.  This was happening.  Her love and hope had returned.  

Y/N couldn’t stop crying, five years worth of grief combined with a few more years of yearning and missing him before that while they were separated all culminated into this moment of relief and healing.  She kissed him everywhere she could reach, refusing to let go of him.  “I’ve missed you so much.  I’m so afraid, Bucky, I can’t tell what’s real, what if you disappear again?  What if this is all in my head?  What if I’m actually going crazy–”

“You’re not crazy,” he reassured her, kissing her just as much as she was kissing him.  “This is real, I promise.  I swear, just listen outside.”  She looked at him then slightly turned her head toward the window.  There was a muffled noise of screams and crying, as well as joyous cheers.  “That’s the sound of people coming home.  It’s gonna be a mess for a while, I’m sure.  But it’s real, it’s happening.  The second I could after the fight was over I was on the jet back to you.”  He suddenly looked wary, narrowing his eyes but looking resigned.  “Speaking of which, I totally understand if you, um, moved on, while I was gone.  I don’t expect you to have–”

“I didn’t,” Y/N said.  He looked at her incredulously, a mix of surprise and pride on his face.  “I couldn’t.  You’re the love of my life, Buck, so when you died, I died.”  His face crumpled at that, and he bit his lip trying to control his emotions.  “You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

Bucky leaned into her at the pet name, smiling through the new tears falling down his face.  “You’re it for me,” he whispered.  His hands slid down her body as he repositioned himself to climb and hover over her, shoving his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at her throat.  “I know it’s been a lot longer for you than for me, but can I please make love to you, babydoll?  Let me prove it’s real.  Let me make up for all the love you’ve missed that you deserve.”

A thrill shot through Y/N’s spine at his words.  She hadn’t dared to ever think or dream of having sex again after losing Bucky, so getting to have him again after all this time was making her ache from the inside out.  “Please,” she begged.

He moaned and moved his head back up to kiss her deeply.  He took his time, feeling over her and letting her feel him.  Even as he took off each layer of her clothing he admired her, and when he took his off he let her look, touch and kiss each part of him since it was all new again.  Bucky kissed every inch of her skin, his hands kneading her plushy flesh and lavishing on her most private and sensitive parts.  

He ate her out slowly, making out with her pussy.  Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, and he let her control his movements, nipping at her inner thighs and then using his fingers to help her cum once, then again, then again, licking and swallowing everything she could give him and watching her intently every time she came, his deep groan vibrating into her pussy as his hips rutted against the bed.

Y/N made him lay down and settled herself between his legs, reaching for his cock and then stroking it.  “Holy fuck I missed you,” he said, his moan morphing into a whimper as she took him in her mouth.  “Such a pretty mouth, taking my cock so well.  Look at you, babydoll.  Did you miss my cock?”

She whimpered and nodded as best as she could, taking him as far down her throat as possible before pulling back up and popping off of him.  “You have no idea,” she whispered before sucking him back in.  He was at her mercy as she loved on his cock for a few more minutes, then after a mind-melting, sloppy swirl of her tongue around the head of his cock he pulled her off of him.  

“I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said, leaning forward and pushing her back onto the bed.  “I need to be inside you.  Can I, babydoll?  Please?”

“Yes,” she nodded frantically.  “Please fuck me.”

He chuckled.  “I’ll fuck you later.  Right now I’m gonna make love to you, okay?”  

“Even better,” Y/N breathed.  

Bucky hovered over her again, aligning his hips with hers then gazing at her as he entered her at an agonizingly slow pace.  Y/N shivered at the feeling of being filled by him again, her eyes rolling back in her head when he was fully sheathed inside her.  His forehead rested against hers as he breathed heavily.  “Babydoll…oh baby,” he huffed.  “So perfect.”  Her pussy fluttered around him, making him shiver with her.  “Don’t, mmh, don’t move,” he grunted.  “So close already, huh?  You’re gonna make me finish too fast.”

“Didn’t mean to,” Y/N groaned.  “It’s just been so long.  You feel so good, sweetheart.  Always feel so perfect.”  She wrapped her arms around his back, keeping him flush against her body.  He hugged her back, his hips starting to roll into her.  Since he had made her cum multiple times she was already on the edge, and his gentle touches and kisses, his hot breaths in her ear and her hair, and being completely enveloped by him was making it harder for her not to tip over that edge again.

She didn’t realize she was crying again until he started kissing and licking at her tears.  “Don’t cry babydoll.  We’re together again, everything is gonna be fine.  Wherever I go, you go, okay?”  Y/N nodded, sniffling as her nails scratched down his back.  “I’m never letting you out of my sight.  We will never be apart again, as much as we can manage it, right?”  She nodded again, nuzzling his cheek with her nose, not trusting her voice with how emotional she was becoming.  “I love you.  I love you Y/N.  I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you–”

“I love you,” she said, kissing him deeply again.  “I love you Bucky.”  His hips moved faster, and she cried harder.  “Don’t ever leave me.”

“Never,” he said.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered.  “Oh god!”

Bucky’s flesh hand slipped between them and he flicked her clit fast, kissing her passionately.  Y/N finally fell over the edge, screaming his name into his mouth as she came.  As she shook under him, Bucky stiffened above her and groaned as he came deep inside her, rutting and fucking is cum as deep as he could.  They panted against each other for a while, Bucky nipping and kissing at her neck.  He pulled away, cupping her cheek with his metal hand and kissing over her eyelids.

“Look at me, babydoll,” he murmured.

Y/N shook her head.  “I can’t.  What if I open my eyes and you disappear like every other time?”

He made a wounded sound and kissed her deeply again before leaning back.  “Open your eyes, Y/N.”  She slowly peeked through her lashes, opening her eyes hesitantly then inhaling sharply at seeing him above her.  “I’m still here,” he said quietly, smiling.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears returned again and she hiccuped.  “I’m gonna be crying a lot for a while,” she said, making him laugh.

“No judgment here, babydoll,” he said, pulling his cock slowly out of her before rolling to his side and cuddling her close.  “We’re just gonna stay right here until I can convince you this is really happening.”  He smoothed some of her hair back and traced a finger over her face.  “I’m sorry–”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” she said, grabbing his hand and kissing it.  “You and everybody else who fought were doing the right thing, it just didn’t work out the first time.  We both knew going into this that it was dangerous, that the possibility of losing each other was very real.  I guess when it happened I just…didn’t know how to accept it,” she paused, sniffling quickly.  “I’m just grateful that we get another chance.”

Bucky smiled, his eyes tearing up again.  “Me, too,” he said, leaning forward so his forehead was against hers again.  “I love you, Y/N.”

Her smile beamed at him, gazing into his eyes.  “I love you, sweetheart.”

[hurtghul]

The Bird and the Cat !!

―― Damian Wayne x Thief!Reader. 674 words. Part two here.

Damian hates this with every ounce of his being, and he has every reason to hate it. It's not for nothing that he puts on Robin's cape and takes to the streets following his father like a tail dog, hoping to catch the attention of criminals and kick their butts. He does it because it is a duty that he chose and to which he was guided. That's why he made fun of the love relationship between Bruce and Selina, for Damian, it is a hypocritical issue, his father, the hero, dating a thief. How funny.

And now he feels like the hypocrite.

You had just robbed some important men, a suitcase full of money. Damian was doing his daily patrol, when he saw you—he didn't have to blink twice to know it was you―he had already been alert to your activity, knowing that you would appear; because he wants you to do it.

He attacked you as you jumped from building to building, you wouldn't have even noticed his presence until he gave you that strong kick that sent you off your path. He had decided the right moment to attack you as you jumped onto a roof.

The young Robin landed a few meters away from you, he looked at the suitcase that was next to you. He approached with slow steps, and kicked the suitcase away of your grip.

“You lost a life, cat.” Robin sentences, his voice almost a whisper. His hands clench into fists as he looks at you, brow furrowed, watching as you rub your neck from the pain of the fall he caused you.

“Shut up, little bird.” You growled, trying to grab the briefcase containing your robbery target. Damian stepped on the object, narrowing his eyes at you.

“If you have courage, take it,” Damian said, and pulled the R-shaped shuriken from his belt. “Just look how much I care, cat.” He joked calmly, face Stoic with a tone of defiance in his voice, trying to provoke your reaction and show his superiority of the moment. You're just a thief, not a fighter. Damian knows this because he has analyzed you—he is very interested in you.

His green eyes stared at you, a slight smile forming on his face. He liked when you get angry whenever he interrupts your heists, when he stops you from accomplishing your crimes, and you have to fight him. But that's when something never fits: he never gave you up to the police.

You tried to attack him with a punch―or a scratch rather―but you failed horribly. Robin saw your movements and stopped your blow with his hand, looking at you coldly.

Neither of them moved a muscle, frozen at the moment between duty and crime, feeling the pressure course through his veins. His hand moved slowly, holding your wrist.

Why couldn't I arrest you? It was the question Damian couldn't answer, and he wished no one would ask it. He was even doing his best to keep Father from knowing about his failures.

Then, to your surprise, he let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides. He uttered no words, no sounds, no clicks. He didn't even attack you, as if he was absorbed in another world.

Then you understood, he was letting you escape. You didn't waste the opportunity, although you seemed confused by it.

“Damn cats…” Damian muttered, breathing deeply, his heart beating faster than ever. He watched as you grabbed the suitcase and run away quickly.

Damian felt a rush of adrenaline that filled his entire body. It had been a long time since he had experienced someone who made him feel like this, and now the person who did it turn out to be a thief.

He is experiencing the same thing as his father, a game of cat and mouse. He chases you, defeats you, and pushes you to your limits, as if all he was looking for was your reaction—your attention. The Robin is just like his father, but that irritates him, because he is confused and doesn't know how to react…

Maybe yes, maybe you stole his heart.

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant" p2

people seemed to like the first post so have a little more :)

might put it on ao3 later or something

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

The language barrier is a problem, Ulchtar finally decides once they touch down, and his new friend seems to agree.

He’d hit a snag in trying to describe where to go when he realized the Giant had been asleep for longer than English had existed as a language. Thankfully, gestures seemed to be more-or-less universal, so he was able to get across the idea of where to go eventually. They’re currently nestled in a cave somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains. It’s a remote place, especially after the alien attacks in the area a few years back. But he knows that this isn’t a permanent solution.

They need to learn to communicate before the inability to do so gets them both killed.

Which is why they’re now taking turns scratching out a massive diagram on the cave floor with sticks…Well, a stick and a small tree. They’d been trading words back and forth for a good two hours now. As best as he could tell, the Giant’s language was actually quite simple—consisting mainly of nouns, verbs, descriptors, and modifiers to those two things. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it was versatile enough.

They’d started with things that were easily drawn-out or mimed: things like “person,” “me,” “you.” There was sort of a pronoun system, and the Giant…seemed to be a “he,” or an equivalent. Then they’d tried to build from there—he’d figured out some of the verbs, and how to phrase things as a question, and from there the two of them had hit it off. Now he was trying to get the guy up to speed, because everything would be a whole lot easier if they knew what was going on.

“So…[me-category-] human.” He points to the crude little figure of a human he’s drawn, and the Giant nods along.

How to explain the war…? “Humans [-planet-creation-positive-] Earth.” He points to the rough map of the world they’ve drawn out, then to the Giant’s rather detailed drawing of a kaiju. “[Planet-creation-negative-] Earth.”

They lean down a little closer to the drawing. “Quintesson,” he says with what sounds like outright distaste. Ulchtar’s a little taken aback by that.

“[Question.] Quintesson [-them. Name?]”

“[Name-positive.] Quintessons [negative-negative-negative.]” They confirm. Okay, triple negatives, so this guy hated the damned things just as much as anyone else. Maybe it wasn’t just Earth under siege…?

“Quintessons [motion-inside] Earth…[creation-negative] humans.” He’s painfully aware of his limited vocabulary, hoping it’s enough to get the point across. The Giant seems to pick up on the intent, tensing up just a little.

He continues. “Humans…[Eyes-positive-you. Humans-creation-negative, desire-negative.] So... [negative-brain-do-positive-you. Creations-do-similar.]” We found you. We didn’t want to die. We studied you. Tried to make things like you.

The Giant whirls towards him at that, picking him up to hold him at eye level. The grip is just tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel like a threat. “[You…complete-negative-me?]”

Ulchtar waves his hands in front of his face frantically, mortified. Oh, he’s really fucked up this time. He didn’t realize the Giant remembered getting taken apart like that. “[M-me-do-negative! Complete-positive-repeat!]” He sputtered. I put you back together!

It wasn’t technically a lie. He hadn’t exactly done it out of the kindness of his heart, but it wasn’t a lie.

The glare softens just a bit, the grip relaxing. He's not in immediate risk of death anymore.

They keep talking for a few hours, until it gets too dark to really see what he's doing anymore.

He hmms, trying to think of the right words…

“Uh…” He points up at the sliver of sky above them. “[Sky. Light-negative. Me-vision-negative.]”

“[…Recharge-you? Eyes-positive-me.]” He was offering to keep watch while Ulchtar slept, he mentally translated.

He nodded, fumbling mentally to figure out how to respond to that. “[…Gratitude-positive.]”

Then, another thought occurred to him. “[You. Name. Question?]”

The Giant paused for a second at that, wings drooping just a little bit. “[…name-knowledge-negative. Memory-negative-negative.]”

…oh.

Ulchtar can’t help but feel a little bad for asking now. He tries to shift the topic a bit, pointing to himself. “[Me. Name.] Ulchtar.”

That gets a tilt of the head. “[You. Name. Sound-similar…Star-sound-positive-positive-pitch-positive?]” In this language, the name and the phrase do sound kind of alike, actually. He laughs at that.  

“Star…scream? [Desire-name. Name-sound-positive-positive-positive.]” He adds three positives for emphasis, because it does sound way more badass than “Ulchtar.”

The ground shakes just slightly, and he realizes the Giant is laughing.

Don't get too attached, he reminds himself. They could betray you any second. He's just as dangerous as these Quintessons if he wants to be.

“Oh, knock it off…” He curls up on a relatively comfy-looking patch of cave moss, bundling himself up in some extra clothes in lieu of anything warmer. The cave’s warmer than outside, but still a bit chilly even with the ambient heat from the Giant’s engines heating it up.

It doesn’t stop him from eventually slipping into sleep.

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

The mech with no name shifts his weight just a little, trying to get comfortable in his hiding spot among the mountains. It’s not much—just a little nook in the rocks where it’s tough to spot him—but it’s better than being out in the open, as badly as he wants to stretch out his wings and fly again.

He doesn’t want to put the human—Starscream—Ulchtar—in danger.

Ulchtar’s the only companion he has in this world right now, after all.

So he’s probably going to stick with him for a bit—in no small part because he really doesn’t know where else he’d go. Most of his memory is long since corrupted, throwing him all kinds of errors whenever he tries to think back to before.

He knows, in broad strokes, what he is. He knows he’s a mechanical lifeform. He knows he’s a shapeshifter of some sort. He knows he can fly, and is probably designed to explore space. He knows what the parts inside of him are—what a spark is and that he needs to drink energon to survive. He knows the Quintessons want him dead.

But he doesn’t know who he is. His name. Where he came from. What his own species is called…

Does he have a species?

This whole world was filled with organic life, and nothing else—it was clear that the other machines he’d seen in that laboratory weren’t alive, but rather artificial constructs. They resembled him, but only superficially. He can’t feel their sparks, let alone any sort of EM field—something even the organics of this world have, albeit very faint ones.

Which leaves him with a very frightening question.

Am I alone?

His internal clock is telling him he’s been on this planet for six million years, trapped in stasis.

Surely someone must’ve looked for him, right? One of his kind, maybe? Surely six million years would’ve been long enough for a search party to find him.

If nobody had ever come looking for him, then…then either there was nobody left to send, or he’d mattered so little that nobody had ever bothered to remember him.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: being alone, or being nobody.

Something wet drips onto his face.

Terrible time for rain, he thinks to himself.

But when he looks up, there’s not a cloud in the sky.

How odd…

He brushes it away, trying not to think about the question hanging over his head.

The night after that is largely uneventful, up until he notices a strange blue-green light on the horizon.

He pokes his head through the entrance. Was dawn supposed to come this early? Was it usually that color?

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

When he’s exhausted, Ulchtar is a pretty heavy sleeper.

That said, the fact that the Giant doesn’t wake him up when he moves away is still damned impressive. No, he only wakes up when it starts getting cold again. Still groggy, it takes him a few seconds to realize his vanished from his spot—something that makes him snap awake instantly in a panic.

He looked up towards the surface. Had he been abandoned? Was the Giant going back to—

Oh.

He sees his companion’s winged silhouette just beyond the mouth of the cave, illuminated in blue and green and violet.

He’s staring at something.

Ulchtar creeps closer, and quickly understands why. There’s an aurora snaking across the sky in full force above the mountains, and the Giant watches in wonder.

His wings twitch when Ulchtar draws near, as if sensing him somehow. “Starscream [recharge-positive?]” He asks. It seems like the nickname is sticking.

“[Recharge-positive],” he agrees. It’s another half-truth; he was sleeping fine until he got cold.

The Giant points up at the aurora, looking very confused. “[Occurrence. Name. Question?]”

“Aurora borealis.”

“[Common-positive? Threat-positive? Question?]”

“[Common-negative. Threat-negative.]” Ulchtar assures him.

He seems to relax a bit at that. “[Eye-similar…sky-heat-positive-light-positive.]”

“Yeah, kinda…” He really does not have the vocabulary to explain how the hell an aurora works. "The sky set itself on fire" is as good an explanation as any.

They nod along. “[Vision…positive-positive-positive.]”

That’s a lot of words to say “it’s pretty,” Ulchtar thinks to himself with a little smile, but jolts when his friend’s wings suddenly flatten against his back, an expression of…something like recognition on his face.

“[Name. Me. Memory-negative-now-positive. Sky-heat-positive-light-positive!]” He puts his hands together and looks to Ulchtar almost expectantly, as if he wants him to try translating this name too.

"...Skyfire," he decides after a few seconds.

The look "Skyfire" gives him at that...He's trying his best not to get attached, to do his best impression of a chessmaster moving his pawns around, but by God, if push came to shove he would kill for that smile.

[darlingdekarios]

look upon me.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 7,381 content: Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot x f!reader, pre and post-incident Jonathan / Spot, reader is described as being shorter than the Spot but everyone is, established relationship, fluff, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [hair pulling, biting, scratching, orgasm control], hurt/comfort, brief obsessive/possessive behavior, this was not edited because I'm lazy

of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on Jonathan's mind like a bad conscience.

"Stop looking at me like that."

You hadn't changed your gaze to look at him, still locked-in on the meticulously organized papers in front of you as you scanned for the patterns and knowledge you needed. From across the table he was slumped forward, his chin resting on his hands as he did exactly that - look at you. It was so often that he needed to do little more than that to pass the time.

"Like what, baby?"

You couldn't help but smile at the false innocence in his voice. He knew what he was doing, he didn't care.

"Like you're just waiting for me to stop," you replied, eyes still locked on the scratches of ink beneath you. "I'm doing important stuff here."

"I'm trying to do important stuff to you."

The kind of embarrassing laugh that was accompanied by a snort left you, your head shaking slightly as you continued your steadfast refusal not to look at him, unwilling to have your concentration broken completely.

"Jonny, seriously," you were trying your best to sound serious and stern, but the smile on your face didn't quite match it. "I'm trying to make sure no one blows up in this deathtrap you're building at work, and your notes are nonsense."

"My notes are perfectly -"

"In the middle of this sentence you just wrote 'banana'," you pointed out, sliding the paper in question across the table and pointing to the word. "Do you know why you did that?"

"Because I needed them from the store."

You laughed again, the sound he was convinced was the most beautiful in the world, your eyes finally raising to return his gaze. When you made eye contact with him it sucked a deep breath from him - he was always struck by you, even after years of knowing you. He'd accepted long ago it would be this way until he died.

You looked annoyed, yet at the same time so profoundly in love he couldn't believe you were looking at him. You laughed again and he took your distraction as his cue to reach across the table, one of his hands laying atop yours gently.

"You're absurd," you stated, punctuating your words with a nod. Your hand flipped beneath his, threading your fingers together as your thumb brushed over his knuckles - the ones you could reach, anyway. "You either make complete sense or you don't make any at all. Black or white."

Sometimes you talked about him like another subject you wanted to figure out. If it meant you'd stay around until you did so, he was content to continue coming up with ways to puzzle you.

"But you chose me, Atom," he replied, reminding you of something that needed no reminder. Your cheeks burned under his special name for you, eyes locking on his as any annoyance left your body. He knew exactly how to melt away any negativity from you.

"Why do you call me that?" you questioned, head tilting slightly to the side in an adorable fashion that always made him love you just a bit more than he had a moment ago. So many things you did caused the reaction from him, and he was happy to continue to add to the list. "Anytime I ask you just smile. I want to know."

Something in the look in your eye and a feeling that now was when he should give you the answer you wanted had the words spilling out of his mouth. Compared to how long you'd waited it was rather unceremonious, but so many things between the two of you had always been as such. Neither of you were incredibly concerned with things being made into a big deal, and now was no different.

You already knew how much he loved you.

"Atoms make up everything," he explained, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he spoke. "You're my everything."

Your eyes softened further as you took in his words, your heart tightening just as his hand had around yours. With a smile you shook your head again, using your other hand to mark your place on the page you'd abandoned.

"How am I supposed to keep reading through this when you say things like that?"

"I could've been the next Shakespeare if I didn't love science so much."

"Did you even take theatre at any point? Or creative writing?"

"No, I took anatomy instead," that cheekiness was returning to his tone, the need heavy in his tone. You raised an eyebrow at his words, already expecting something along the lines of what would come next. "Wanna see what I learned?"

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a grin that you loved more than anything in the world spreading across his face as he leaned forward in his seat, waiting for permission to come closer, waiting for you to give in. You couldn't help it when you looked deep into his eyes, seeing how badly he needed you…you had to give him something.

As you nodded he immediately grabbed your chair to move it closer, only for you to reach out and grab the table, clicking your tongue against your teeth.

"Well, I still have to finish reading, don't I?"

"But…"

"Aw, don't pout, Doctor," you cooed, turning your head and leaning to kiss his cheek softly. "I'm sure you can find a way to prove how hard you studied while I finish up."

Yeah, he could.

The security deposit the two of you had put on this apartment was forgotten as he yanked his chair across the wooden floor, settling it right next to yours. As he got comfortable you began your work again, the switch of your own activated - when it was time to focus, you could always be relied upon to do so.

Even when one of his large hands slid across your chest, cupping one of your breasts tenderly. The first touch from him was always cautious and respectful, waiting for you to say a single word of disagreement. You nodded, eyes briefly flickering to his before you focused back in one your task.

Thankful for the oversized v-neck sweater you'd worn today he slid a hand into the soft fabric, mentally thanking you for having removed your bra already when you got home. The soft flesh of your breast felt perfect in his hand as he massaged it tenderly before his attention quickly turned.

His thumb brushed over your nipple gently before circling the sensitive bud, his eyes still focused on your face and searching for any sort of reaction. Even when he pinched not a single sound left you, your face unchanging as you read his words.

And while he wanted to let you focus, he couldn't stand to not hear you at least moan for him.

He abandoned his hold on your breast to hike the knee length skirt you were wearing up around your waist, gently pushing your panties to the side - still somewhat waiting for you to stop him. You didn't, convinced you could outlast him in this little game the two of you were now playing, but honestly not really caring if you lost.

You almost lost completely when he leaned down, his tongue circling your nipple as his index finger circled your clit. You slipped - it was understandable - and a soft moan filled the room, your eyes momentarily falling closed as he sucked your nipple gently before looking back up into your face.

"Well finally," he dragged the final letter out as he pushed his middle finger into you, running his tongue over the same nipple again. "You're so wet already."

"I like reading your work," you confessed in a broken voice, allowing yourself a brief moment to forget your focus. You felt his mouth fall open in shock and the groan that he let out at your words.

"Oh."

He kept his mouth busy, as he often liked to do when you were alone together in various ways, but where he chose to focus his attention on proving his anatomy skills was with his hand. As he pumped his longest finger into you he stroked your walls lovingly, pushing against the spongy spot behind your clit carefully and with the perfect amount of pressure each time.

When he pushed his index finger inside you as well, with ease considering how wet you were now and with a downright pornographic sound he couldn't help but moan as he suckled on your breast.

You were trying to focus still - a remarkable feat, mind you, considering how good his fingers felt pumping into you at this speed and with this amount of care - but one of your hands came up to hold the back of his head, fingers pulling at the messy strands of his hair.

"Jonny…"

Your moan immediately had his attention, his mouth abandoning you so he could flash you a cheeky grin, his cheeks deep red in color and pupils blown wide as he took in your face again.

"Oh, now you want attention?"

You blew a deep breath out of your nose, giving his hair a gentle tug as you met a pump of his fingers with a grind of your hips.

"I only have one more page to make sense of…"

"But…"

"You can wait five minutes…"

"I can't," he whined, his voice ridiculous in this tone but earnest - he really couldn't wait for you much longer before he got excessively needy, but you loved pushing him to the edge sometimes. "I swear to…whatever the hell scientists swear to I can't, my tongue needs to be in you now or I swear…"

You pushed his head upward to claim his lips in a heavy kiss, a heavy groan from him falling against your mouth as you licked across his bottom lip before whispering lightly.

"If you're a good boy and let me finish I'll let you cum in me tonight."

If he wasn't so excited about the promise you'd made he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched moan that he allowed to rip through his chest, instead he could only sit spellbound as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip lightly, pulling back slightly before pulling away entirely. You licked your lips slowly, eyes holding his gaze for a moment before you continued.

"But only if you let me finish, Jonny," you warned, turning your attention back to the documents on the table and releasing your hold on his hair. "D'you think you can manage that?"

"Yes," he promised with a huff, rolling his eyes at the fact he had to wait…he understood your fears about his job but at the moment would insist there were other things that deserved attention. He tentatively pumped his fingers back into you, not even risking a glance at your face now. "But…to clarify, I still want my head between your thighs first."

"Jonny," you warned again, flashing him one last serious look with your eyes, though a light smile played on your lips. He removed his fingers from you with another huff, lifting his hand to wrap his lips around them with an appreciative groan.

Aware of your attention on him again and your mouth falling open he grinned as he released his fingers with a pop, shrugging his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Sorry," it was the fakest use of the word he'd ever used, you were aware of that. "Just speaking my truth."

But he was capable - hell, he had a PhD, he could be patient if he really needed to be…no matter how badly he didn't want to be. No matter how hard his dick was throbbing against the black sweatpants he had chosen to wear around the apartment.

He waited until you started putting the papers back in a neat stack, instead choosing to stand quickly, grabbing you by the waist and leaning down to claim your lips in a hungry, somewhat messy kiss. Thankful you returned his kiss and chose calculated movements to encourage it into something more precise, he focused on turning the two of you until the backs of your thighs were hitting the edge of the table.

"Now," he whined out in a heavy breath. "Need you now. Please, now."

He was begging against your lips as he worked the zipper and button open on your skirt, pushing both it and your panties to the ground and kicking the fabric out of the way in hopeful anticipation. You could feel his hard cock pressed between the two of you and knew he had done the best he could in waiting, but that didn't affect how you loved to tease him still.

"You're ravenous tonight," you pointed out in what could be described as little more than a purr, nipping at his bottom lip again to pull another moan from his chest. He returned the favor before he stood straight - well, straight for him - encouraging you to lay back against the table.

"I'm about to show you how much."

He found his own seat in the chair you had been in and leaned forward as his hands slid to grasp your knees, encouraging your legs apart and baring your dripping sex to him. One of his hands trailed upward and he watched in awe as his fingers glided up and down her soaked folds, back and forth, spreading the slick he had already earned.

He continued this motion, adding in gentle rubs to your clit, as he kissed up your inner thigh, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin against his lips as you moaned at the familiar scratch of his beard.

"Jonny…please…"

"Oh, now who's needy?"

But he didn't tease like you, he wasn't able when it came to you, and it wasn't like he could wait any longer. Before you could blink again he had leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue as he ran the thick muscle through them, well intent on tasting every inch of you again like it was the first time.

"Oh, you're indescribable," he grumbled against you after he'd flicked his tongue against your clit, glowing as your fingers found their way into his hair again, holding him close. Any complaints you'd ever made about his smart mouth were always forgotten when his tongue was worshipping you.

"Feels so good, Jonny," you moaned breathlessly, pulling his hair to encourage him back to what he had been begging for.

With a deep groan he continued, alternating between sucking on your clit and running his tongue between your folds, filling the apartment with lewd sounds as he slurped at your soaked pussy, ensuring every inch received his attention. He began to fuck his tongue into you, his nose pushing against your clit as he devoured you exactly how you wanted.

And that's how he got his first reward, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you came around him, your vision clouded as your orgasm rushed through you. As you moaned his name and your shaking thighs came closer around his head he didn't stop, instead continuing to lick at your sex like he was already setting out to pull another from you.

Your whines and whimpers of overstimulation filled the room, pulling at his hair as you fought to catch your breath and wiggle. He took the silent instruction and removed his mouth from your core, instead kissing along the thigh that hadn't received any earlier. He couldn't resist in full, though, his index finger slipping through your folds and into your still quivering sex.

"So wet," he cooed, just before he sucked a purple hickey to the inside of your thigh. "My dick's gonna slip right in."

"Please," you whined again, fully aware that now the tables had turned and you were the desperate one. You knew what Jonathan fucked like on nights where he was feeling like this and you were eager to feel him stretch you again, but through your orgasm's lingering haze you weren't sure how constructed of a sentence you could muster.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," you could hear the smile in his voice and against your skin as he continued to kiss wherever he could reach, his lips now pressing to the hips he loved to grab so much. "Beg a little more for me?"

To be clear, he was asking - not telling.

"Jonathan," you whined, releasing your hold on his hair to instead reach for his shoulders, hoping to encourage him to finish his climb back up your body. You weren't thinking clearly, it was obvious - you may have thought the two of you were in bed but you weren't, and there was no way this old wooden table would support what he was about to do to you. "Please. Oh fuck please just…please. I need you."

"What d'you need?"

Okay, so maybe he could tease a little…he so rarely felt like he had any power in this world and these moments where he had you, the most beautiful woman in the world, at his fingertips were irresistible.

"Want you to fuck me," you whined, heart bursting as he finally gave into you and reached to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His finger was lazily pumping into you still, holding you on the brink of overstimulation - he truly did know exactly what to do to your body.

"You want me to fuck you?" he questioned, a falsely puzzled tone behind his voice. "Or you need me to fuck you?"

"Semantics."

"Say it."

His voice snapped slightly lower, just enough in the way it did when he was trying to communicate his seriousness - something he honestly rarely did with you. He would never yell at you, but that didn't mean he couldn't let you know the gravity behind his words in other ways. He needed you to say it - exactly it, and to accentuate his point, he removed his finger from you altogether.

"I need you to fuck me, Jonny," you begged against his lips, turning slightly to press lazy kisses to the corner of his mouth until you reached lower, kissing his neck in the spot you knew would melt away this dark streak.

He stood up immediately, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor and kicking them to join your skirt, fisting his cock and rubbing it through your folds to gather the mixture of cum and his spit that lingered between them.

"Don't tease," you whined again, eyes meeting his in a hope to convey your desperation. His other hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across the bone before it trailed to your bottom lip, repeating the gentle motion as he quietly shushed you.

He started slipping his painfully hard, leaking cock inch by inch into you, trying to take his time and savor the feeling of each push, but by the time he had sheathed his cock fully in you there was something already unmistakably unhinged about his movements, his hand that had been between your thighs grasping your hip tight.

"Fuck…fuck…" he groaned as he tried to force himself to still for a moment, instead finding he couldn't help but pull completely out and thrust back in roughly, his fingers holding you hard enough to bruise - which honestly, you hadn't been aware he was strong enough to do so until now, and this was far from the first time the two of you had fucked.

"Jonny, o-oh my…"

"Fuck," he groaned out as he continued to thrust into you desperately, his movements hard and a little sloppy as he tried to find a pace he liked. When he finally settled on one he leaned forward to kiss you again, pounding into you with your bodies pressed so close together you could hear obscene sound of his balls slapping against you. "You're so perfect. You're so so so perfect."

You kissed him until you were breathless, repeated moans covering his lips as he continued with the perfect pace to match how feral he felt for you now - quick and hard, almost bruising, desperate to coax you toward another orgasm and earn his own.

You dragged your nails down his back - you might had even drawn a couple of specks of blood with how rough you accidentally slipped into - kissing back down to his mouth as you fought for a desperate breath through moans and mewls. You made a mark of your own on his neck, a spot he would wear with pride for the days it would last on his skin.

"I want you to cum again for me," he managed out between heavy breaths, one of his hands sliding to hold the back of your head gently. "Before….before I…"

"Before you fill me up," you finished for him, your tone breathy and lascivious before you ran your tongue over the hickey you'd just given him.

He moaned - whether it was at your words or tongue didn't matter - and grabbed your hip harder, his pace faltering again into something much for harder and carnal as his mind was overtaken by the idea of spilling his hot load into you.

"Gonna…gonna fill you…" he began muttering promises through breaths and thrusts, any semblance of normal speech pattern forgotten. "So fucking full."

"Please."

"Yeah, baby," he promised, managing to fight through the primal thoughts in his mind to carry out another delicate action, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Know you love it. Go ahead and milk it out of me."

His hold on your head remained as he released your hip, slipping his hand between your bodies instead to rub your clit with purpose, fully intent on not allowing himself release until he felt you spasm around his cock.

With the loudest moan of his name he'd perhaps ever earned you threw your head back, thankful his hand was there to protect it from the hardwood as your vision turned white, the temperature in the room seemingly one-thousand degrees as you clasped your legs around his waist, holding him closer.

His thrusts continued to get sloppier, and when he felt your orgasm approaching a more manageable end, he opted to ask before finding his own release.

"Can I…can I…"

"You owe me two minutes that you interrupted…when I was trying to clean…"

"Baby, no," he begged, his head shaking as he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead and nose, hoping his sweet affection would earn him favor. "Oh, please, no…"

"Not yet."

It was a wonder that he could continue fucking you like this with how hard he was, the discomfort and need to cum evident by his begging and whining. When you finally gave him the permission he was seeking his orgasm was immediate - thick, hot ropes of his cum filling you so much it didn't take long for the thick liquid to start leaking out around his cock.

You were both overly sensitive, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't now as he continued to drag his half-hard cock through your painted walls, content on doing so until you were a mess, pleading with him that you'd had enough and it was too much.

He listened, removing his cock from your freshly fucked sex and sitting in the chair that waited beneath him, eyes fixated on your leaking cunt. He couldn't resist - three fingers gathered the mixture of fluids that was flowing from your pussy and he pushed it back in with little consideration toward your overstimulation.

You shot up with a gasp, sitting upright just as he removed his fingers again, wasting no time and unwilling to hear complaints as he dove back between your thighs, messily licking and slurping at your hole until he felt enough of your combined releases were on his tongue. He leaned back up, one of his hands coming to the back of your head to pull you down to meet him in a heavy kiss, passing you the thick liquid he held on his tongue and continuing to lick at your mouth as it slid down your throat.

When he broke the kiss for breath his eyes were full of so much love you thought he might break your shared "no marriage" rule and propose.

"I fucking love you," he finally breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap gently to continue the shared moment of pure bliss.

"I love you, Jonny," you promised in return, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you curled against him. "In every universe."

There was no way for you to know that, and yet, it didn't sound like too much of an impossibility.

"Atom…"

His affectionate tone was matched by the loving way he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before he claimed your lips again in the softest kiss of the night, letting you climb out of his lap afterwards knowing there were things to be done after sex.

"'m ordering a pizza before we go to bed," he called after you as you grabbed your sweater from the floor, using your other hand to attempt to run your fingers through your messy hair.

"'m gonna shower," you replied, grabbing the other pile of clothes to add them to the hamper. He loved how easy things had become between the two of you in these recent years - he wouldn't give it up for all the power in the world. "Extra cheese or I'm breaking up with you."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"The kinda monster that better hurry up so he can join me in the shower."

You took him by surprise by leaning behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms hugged around his neck briefly. Sometimes he didn't know how or why or for how long it would last, but he knew for now, at least, you loved him in ways writers try to convey in novels.

"I'll be so fast you'll think I teleported there."

Of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on his mind like a bad conscience. The reason for so many of what he used to hold in his heart as his best days, the very same that now incessantly repeated in his mind, an unremitting reminder of what he used to have. 

When he declared he had lost everything due to the incident, he was speaking of you. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to reach through to steal a look at his lost love, and while he told himself it needed to be something that didn't become a habit that's exactly what happened. Some things never changed - he was still more than happy to do nothing more than gaze at you in silence, enjoying how you adjusted annoyances as you read, the way your nose crinkled in focus, the way you fell asleep on your desk, the way you played with the necklace he'd given you when you were nervous…

He'd almost broken his promise to himself several times now, happening across you on a bad morning and an even worse night when the emptiness in your chest at the loss of him was too much to bare, the false face you normally wore too much effort to carry on forever. You missed him, and sometimes you couldn't bring yourself to do more than sob that fact into the night, clutching the lab coat wearing teddy bear he'd gifted you to your chest.

He was positive he still had a heart, because he could feel it breaking every time.

Now was one of those times, perhaps the worst he'd seen you endure, and he'd only been watching for a minute now…at least, that's what he thought, though he wasn't keeping track of time. Your eyes were burning red and you had a framed photo of the two of you lying on the bed next to you, one of his old shirts hugging your frame in familiarity.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name from your lips again punched another hole somewhere in him far deeper than any other. You felt him - without words you knew he was there, his presence occupying your space in a familiar comfort that you’d come to accept was irreplaceable. So he had lost track of time…enough time for you to feel him again, the man you'd spent so many hours with in the past exactly like this.

“Jonny?”

He wanted to disappear, a war waging in his mind between the profound desire to hold you again and the need to hide what he’d become from you. Instead, he was frozen, even his mind quiet as the way his name rolled off your tongue again filled his ears sweeter than any memory. He'd promised himself that you would never have to look at what he had become, insistent that you thinking he was dead was better.

“Please, Jonny…I can feel you,” your voice broke more and more with each word, desperate to plead to him enough to persuade him. “I know…I know you’re there, somehow. Please.”

What was he supposed to do when you begged like this? You used to beg in the sweetest ways, he'd never made you beg for anything in earnest, not through tears like this…

Seeing you like this because of him made him feel more villainous and monstrous than anything else he'd done. It was anxiety inducing to watch you beg for the man he used to be, knowing he could never again give you what he once did. It made him sick - every cell felt sick, every portal poisoned and shrinking, withdrawing within himself.

But one more sob from you and a lapse in judgement from him led to a wrong step, his form stepping through a portal directly at the foot of your bed before he could take it back.

Oh, how he'd missed your bravery. You were sitting in a flash, eyes wide and puzzled but not at all afraid as you looked upon him - the new him. For the first time he had to wonder if this form blushed - he felt his cheeks heating like he would have before, but that didn't mean they looked the same. You leaned against the headboard, away from him which was exactly the opposite of the pull you felt to him.

A familiar pull - one that you'd only ever felt before with one person, with your person. Your eyes resolved in knowingness and you glanced at the photo beside you before your eyes found what was technically his face again, eyebrows pulling together as you worked through your puzzled thoughts.

At least you'd stopped crying.

"J…Jonathan?"

A breath was sucked from somewhere in him and filled the room with a heavy sigh saturated in relief - he couldn't deny how right it felt that you were speaking to him again, seated in the same room…seated in the room you'd shared.

"Remember…you used to say I was so black or white," he cleared his throat that suddenly felt far too dry, an oversized hand coming up to the back of his neck to rub nervously. This is where he used to run his fingers through his hair, you noted internally as your eyes watered again hearing his voice. "Either a genius or an idiot. Now I'm black and white all at the same time…"

His rambling was cut by your arms flying around his middle, the size different between the two of you that had always been there now even more significant in his new form. He stood frozen in his place, form rigid as you squeezed him as though you would never let him go.

"You're here."

"I…I'm here," his voice was shaking and he wanted to run, he could feel the unease spreading across his body and expanding like a sickness. But the worse he felt, the more the holes shrank…everything about him was on-edge. "But I'm not me anymore, baby. I'm…this."

"You're you," your voice was that sweet, understanding tone you'd used in college with him, before the two of you had even dated and when you were both pretending you were nothing more than best friends. He'd always said it was like a lullaby to a baby. "I felt you."

But he didn't want to hear it now, and something dark and incendiary inside him screamed that you were lying - that there was no logical scenario where you were okay with how he looked.

"Don't patronize me," his voice snapped into something dark, holes flaring out again and spreading to almost encompass him in darkness, almost like a shield. "Don't. I know what I look like. I might not have eyes but I can see. I can see that I look like…a fucking freak. An abomination."

You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. There was no lying to him, he was a reasonable, intelligent man - he knew that this form was not what anyone would describe as perfect and was certainly not what you had fallen in love with, and there was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise.

"You look like something tragic happened to you," your voice was unfaltering, the delicate tone coaxing him into the relaxation he used to always feel with you. "But I don't care what you look like, and I never have."

"It's not like a bad haircut or weight gain, Atom," he snapped. The vulnerability he was displaying was difficult to navigate as there was truly never someone to go through what he was…there was no anecdote to help him. These days, his default setting was anger.

Anger was better than anything else.

"I'm hideous. Look at me."

"I am," you said quietly, your voice dropping to just above a whisper. You looked right in his face, unwaveringly. He longed to kiss you more than ever before. "I'm looking right at you, Jonny."

That quieted him as he lost himself in the tranquility of you - you were the only one who had ever understood him enough to walk him through the difficult emotions and that was still true, even with his sorrow and rage felt and expressed tenfold. He'd thought so before, always known so with no scientific way to prove it until now…you were made for him.

And him alone.

"My Jonny."

Before he could register the movement your hands were resting on his chest and the walls he was trying to built crumbled, the spots essentially exploding into dozens of smaller ones all across his body, avoiding where your hands rested. As you lightly stroked your fingertips there they merged again to several larger, relatively heart shaped blobs.

He hadn't felt a gentle human touch since the incident, and he'd never thought he'd feel your touch again. If it was possible, he could have died on the spot. It was obvious that he was lost for a moment, forgetting the danger he presented to you, forgetting to maintain control.

But only for a moment, the horrors ever present.

After temporarily losing himself in the haze of feeling your touch again his shaking hands flew out, grasping your waist tight as his breathing came in heavy, concentrated breaths. Instead of letting him retreat within himself you stepped closer, hands slipping as close to his shoulders as you could reach.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," you said quietly, already teaching yourself how to get used to looking up into his face and not seeing his eyes. "And here you are."

"I lost everything," the vulnerability was shining through more as he opened himself to you again, almost having to reteach himself for a moment that you were someone he could share his emotions with. "My dream job…gone. My body…which was no temple to begin with but now I'm just this…this thing. I lost…I lost you. My dream girl…my everything. I lost my everything."

He saw the pain flashing in your eyes as you listened to him - as you empathized as you always had, your heart connected to his.

"You found me again," your voice was breaking again as you spoke, desperate for him to understand that all the times you'd said you'd love him no matter what you'd meant it. "I'm right here."

You moved your arms lower to wrap around his waist, stepping closer - but he ripped himself from you the moment you were close to connecting your head to his torso, the holes once again flaring in fear.

"No!" he shouted, immediately kicking himself for shouting at you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, swallowing hard as he calmed his emotions enough to speak again without lashing out. "You can't…the spots…the holes…"

Your brow pulled together like it always had when you were feeling inquisitive and you only sought to close the distance between the two of you again, stepping forward as you took in every inch of him.

"Holes?"

"They're portals," he explained, suddenly feeling self conscious about himself in ways he hadn't experienced since his one attempt at a high school dance. "I'm still figuring out how they work…and I don't want to lose you. I could really…really lose you."

He had missed this expression on you - when you were so deep in thought it was obvious your full focus was on solving the puzzle presented to you. He'd thought of this long ago and come to the conclusion that you would want to study him - to understand him more.

He wasn't sure he was ready to be the experiment under your scrutiny. But he was certain he could never be away from you again.

"Portals to where?"

"Everywhere," just like a doctor and patient, you were asking questions, formulating a hypothesis, he was providing the data. How many times had the two of you lived this scenario? Was now really so different? He remembered how you used to look at him in amazement…your expression now was truly no different than it ever had been. "Sometimes just back through another portal. Sometimes to other dimensions to other…universes. I've gotten lost and…I'd never forgive myself if you fell through. You can't be close to me."

"You just need to learn how to control them."

"I can't," he breathed out, his words exasperated with a break in the middle to accentuate it. It was all he could manage - it was all he had to.

"You can," it wasn't a tone full of false hope, it was decisive and resolute - you believed he could, and with your belief, he would try. "It's just another thing to learn, and you're the smartest man I know."

Before he could react to your sudden movements you closed the distance between the two of you again, sticking your hand through one of the holes in his arm with a deep breath.

"Hey -!"

Almost instantly your hand reappeared through his chest and a sigh of relief ripped through him, a puzzled smile spreading across your face as you wiggled your fingers. "Intriguing," he swore he could hear a familiar purr behind your words, and he had to wonder if you were trying to distract him from the complex mix of emotions he was experiencing. "How unique."

"You…you mean how freakish," he attempted to correct, focused on the feeling of you reaching into him. "This uhm…this has to be weird."

"You've stuck fingers in me," you defended, the playful tone in your voice one of the exact things he'd missed. Then again, in truth, he'd missed everything about you, even the parts he once didn't love.

"Atom…"

You pulled your hand back through him which earned another relieved sigh from his chest, his nervous breaths returning as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, your head finding a rightful position lying against his chest.

"Just hold me. You'd never let yourself lose me."

Your faith in him was misguided and foolish, the love you felt for him clouding your mind from the horror that you held in your arms - he was convinced of it. He froze, unwilling to give into even the slightest movement that would create a domino effect, unwilling to do anything to increase the risk he posed to you.

But seconds passed without incident until he'd been allowing you to hold onto him for several minutes. You were still here, still against him, still warming him up in ways he had longed to feel again for what had already felt like an eternity. Slowly, his arms circled you, pulling you slightly closer, clutching to you like you might still disappear at any moment.

As the minutes ticked away his arms got tighter and tighter, his hands resting on your lower back like you were made of porcelain.

"You kept all of my stuff…"

His voice was still so unsure, like he felt he was intruding…like he didn't belong here, in his own home. Like he didn't deserve to be holding you again. You nuzzled into him further in response, your hands flattening against his back to hold him against you tighter.

"I could never get rid of anything that makes me think of you," you whispered, eyes closed as you soaked in the moment, feelings both familiar and new.

"I haven't…laid in a bed since…"

He trailed off and you could feel the energy around him darken - you knew anger was a secondary emotion and in this instance it followed unimaginable hurt.

"Come to bed with me," you weren't asking, it was an instruction - voice unwavering and unquestioning. You looked up into his face again, and it was just like it had always been - you looked at him like you loved him.

"But why would you…ah -"

You really didn't mind the new height, in fact him towering over you more than ever before was causing other feelings that weren't quite appropriate for this sweet lovers' reunion, but it did make standing on your tiptoes more obsolete than ever, your lips barely reaching his chest. His words were cut off, a whine taking their place when your lips connected with his skin. He melted like it was the first time you kissed him, any residual panic withdrawing further into him as he held you tighter.

You felt the shift in his energy and smiled against him as you pressed more kisses wherever you could reach, mindful when you approached a spot, lips continuing to brush against him as you spoke.

"If you get into bed with me I can kiss more of you," "You're so tall now, Jonny. Can't reach."

One thing that hadn't changed was his complete willingness to obey you, to give in to your every request, to fulfill every instruction…it continued to be true as he scrambled into the bed, nearly groaning at the familiar feeling of his pillow and the sheets you'd insisted they needed again. The seconds that passed with him alone - with him getting used to his new height in the bed he once fit comfortably in, getting used to controlling the holes (when was the last time he'd laid down?).

But when you climbed into the bed beside him, the anxieties vanished. You moved as close to him as you could, one of your hands delicately resting on his torso while the other reached to his face, stroking your thumb across his cheek delicately.

It was the kind of moment where your eyes close in serenity, and somewhere inside him he felt it. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this could last, but with the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd always reach out to you.

All of the versions of you were meant to be his.

And they would be.

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

[yuyusgirlie]

meow

wonwoo x reader

wc: 1.2k

content: fluff, he really likes the cat, tw: league of legends, there will be a part two?, a lot of world building for the cat

Wonwoo’s day started like any other day. He woke up in the morning to his alarm, stared at the ceiling for a solid 10 minutes dreading the idea of getting up to go on a run, and then proceeded to get out of bed to get ready for said dreaded run. He wasn’t necessarily a morning person so his morning routine was just that - a routine. A cycle he went through mindlessly every day so that he could at least get his day started. 

There wasn’t much special to this particular day; the air was a little crispy as the fall was coming in so he settled for a pair of black sweatpants and a thin grey sweater to get him through him morning run. Walking through the apartment he waved to his roommate who just got back from the gym, grabbed his headphones, keys, and phone from the counter, and walked out the door. 

Part of his daily morning routine was to walk over to the forested area of the park for his stretches before he ran 5 laps around the park. Normally this would take him about an hour. 

Bopping his head to the music in his headphones he was about to start running when he felt something brush up against him. He quickly ripped off his headphones and jumped out of the way. The park was not unfamiliar to some wildlife, so fearing that he was about to become a squirrel’s next victim he jumped on a nearby picnic bench and looked back. 

What he found was a curious small black cat looking back at him, confused as to why its new friend ran away. Wonwoo sat there for a second. Well for longer than a second. He sat there for a bit. He stared at the cat. The cat stared back. This was suddenly: the best day ever. 

“Aren’t you a little guy, come here pspspspsps” Wonwoo said putting on his best cat-attracting voice. He slowly got down from the picnic table and bent down to try to look safe enough to attract the cat over. With his hand slightly out for the cat to sniff, the cat cautiously approached with his nose to the tip of Wonwoo’s finger. After a preliminary sniff, the cat moved closer to Wonwoo for a full and loving pet. 

Overjoyed, Wonwoo didn’t move from his current position and gave the adorable black cat all the pets and scratches he requested. The cat walked back and forth, rubbing against Wonwoo’s leg and purring.

After a good 5 minutes of getting many pats, the cat decided it was time to move on and with a final rub against Wonwoo’s leg, walked further into the park. 

Watching the cat leave, feeling slightly betrayed, Wonwoo decided that his daily routine was going to look a little different today. He turned his music off, put his headphones around his neck, and started following the cat.

Along this journey he was worried that the cat was going to accidentally hurt itself or cause trouble on the roads, but this cat was surprisingly aware of everything. He paused and looked both ways before crossing the street and was sure to take clear paths. Everytime the cat stopped, Wonwoo tried to reach down and pet the cat again, but the cat had other ideas and started to walk away again. 

After a good 20 minute walk the cat turned into a little neighbourhood and began doing a little cat run towards a specific house. Rather than running up to the front door, the cat decided to rest on the steps leading up to the house. Taking this as a sign to pet the cat, Wonwoo sat next to it and finally got a second chance to pet the furry little guy. 

Both Wonwoo and the cat enjoyed this little serene moment until it was broken by a loud voice, “George, oh my goodness, there you are!” 

Hearing a voice coming from the door that the stairs lead to, both Wonwoo and the cat jumped up and watched where the voice came from. 

The cat walked towards the voice, snuggling up to the person, where as Wonwoo kind of just froze. 

You were opening the door to leave for the store to pick up some groceries but in your way you found the cat that forgot to return home last night, and… a man? 

You and Wonwoo kind of looked at each other for a solid minute until Wonwoo finally decided to say something, “His name is George?”

“...yea.” 

“That’s fun. I found him in the park, he’s very nice.” 

“Thank you.”

The exchange was painfully awkward, but what was not being said spoke louder for both of you. You found a cute boy sitting outside of your home and you wanted to ask him a million questions but didn’t know where to start. Where as Wonwoo accidentally stumbled across the house of a cute person and was too shy to possibly talk to them.

“Um also thank you for finding George! I thought he was lost so thank you for bringing him home!” You said with a smile. 

“Honestly he brought me here,” Wonwoo said kinda nervously with a chuckle, “he’s really cute so kind of just followed him.” 

You looked at the man in awe at how he just mindlessly followed a little creature around town. The thought of that happening made you laugh in which Wonwoo eventually joined you in. 

“Well thank you regardless, do you want to come in for a warm drink? I don’t know how long you’ve been out but it’s a little cold out today.” 

Deciding that today couldn’t be more out of the ordinary, Wonwoo threw all caution to the wind and agreed to come in. Following you and the cat into the home, he is met with a cozy little house. 

You walk over to the kitchen and turn on the kettle to warm up some water. “Tea or coffee?” 

“Coffee please.” Wonwoo said watching you move around the house. Not wanting to intrude more than he already has, he decided to sit down on the floor and pet George as he sat on a little door mat. 

You watch the strange man sit next to your cat and pet it and wonder many things about him, but right now it was mostly about his name. “I realize now I forgot to introduce myself,” you let him know your name before asking him for his. 

“Wonwoo,” he says with a smile before looking over to George again. 

“Well Wonwoo, it’s very nice to meet you, I’m sure George would say the same. He’s usually not this friendly with people so this is a nice surprise.” 

“Oh really?” His attention shifts over to you again. “He was really nice and friendly the whole time.” He looks over at the cat who is now purring, enjoying the scratches behind the ear. 

Wonwoo takes a look around the house from his spot on the floor and notices the controllers sitting on the couch. “Do you play?” 

You look over to where he is looking and chuckle, “Yeah my brother and I play, do you play?” 

“Yeah I do! That’s awesome!” Wonwoo finally gets up from his spot against the wishes of Geroge and walks over to your collection of games. 

He starts to look through the titles as you join him in the living room. “I have these and I have a few more on my PC, mostly just League though.” He looks up at you and looks at you in awe. You are unsure what made this happen but you just smile at him. 

“Wanna duo?” 

[stazsi]

Right time

warnings: break up, mentions of kissing, basically sad shit ex!matt ;(

my notes : okay so this is my first one shot or whatever. i'm not rlly wanting to make it a 2 parter so imma leave this here hehe. :)) ( i'm sorry it's so sad )

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ﾟ✧

it's been 4 weeks since matt and i roughly broke up and he still hasn't stopped trying to contact me.

message after message and tears after tears.

I've always believed in right person, wrong time but if i love him this much why can't i have him now? i don't understand why he can't let go after breaking up with me, so that's why i'm outside his door right now trying to build courage to knock, the floor boards creak inside the house telling me someone's home.

anxiety flowing through my veins as i stand here, the wind flowing against my back giving me chills

knock,knock

..

click.

i straighten my back and look up listening to the the sweet but threatening sound of the lock clicking, reminding myself why i'm even here. i stand frozen staring into them blue eyes i'm used to, just puffier. "hi.." i whisper my voice a little louder than the branches cracking behind me. he stares at me clearly in shock and regret, we haven't seen eachother since the breakup and clearly it shows.

i slowly back up keeping my space, i try to let words escape my mouth but they're stuck in my throat same with my breathing, my stomach swirls and suddenly every body part itches from the sweat. his face goes pale blue with sadness and he slightly moves to the side sweetly inviting me in with no words.

i walk past him his strong cologne infecting my nose, i sit down on the couch and place my bag on the scratched up table. as i look around their house there's so many memories i didn't know i'd be so sadly familiar with. like the dent in the wall from when chris threw my heels, the countless coffee stains on the table from my rough mornings here..and the more i look the sadder i get, tears threatening to escape my eyes, it's silly really..i shouldn't be this sad about a ruined wall or table, even looking down hurts my heart; it's like someone is stabbing a hot cigarette into my fragile heart.

"y/n?" he speaks with sadness, i think he has been trying to get my attention but i've been looking around and forming a wetness on my face from my eyes .

i quickly wipe my light red cheeks and straighten up wiping the tears of embarrassment against my blue ripped jeans. i apologise and clear my clogged up throat.

"what are you doing here?" he asks sitting down and licking his lips, a thing he does when he's nervous he doesn't want dry lips and wants to present himself and act like hes not nervous

i don't wanna tell him why i'm here, i don't even know how to tell him.

i don't even know why i'm here

the silence thickens and as the seconds go on i regret this more and more.

"i don't know" i finally speak up allowing him to un-tense and let out a healing loud sigh.

it's starting to get more awkward as seconds turn into minutes and tears fall

"i'm sorry y/n" he lets out his volume decreasing, almost like he regrets starting to speak. he's sorry. i'm sorry. why can't we be the same? hes said his apologies so why isn't his aura yellow, happy like we normally are? why can't we go and laugh on fun car drives or cry in each others arms why are we separated?

"was there someone else?" i whisper my voice and heart breaking halfway through of the thought of him being with someone else.

he flinches. as if this question is important, as if i'm right.

"y/n.." he says trying to console me "there was someone else?" i ask knowing the answer but unable to believe it, my world just broke in two. the room spins vertically and horizontally and time stops giving me a second to break down, tears escape rather fast and i'm unable to breathe the dizziness taking over my whole body.

i nearly said sorry just because i don't want this to be true i don't want this life i want me and matt happy together i don't want a cheater i want matt. normal matt. happy in love matt. We've been doing this dance for a while now, the fallen out of love dance. one step forward then he spins me all the way back, the music slows down till it eventually breaks up into static and we're no longer dancing. we're just here.

imagining all the times he kissed her, hugged her, told her she's special, the compliments.

i feel his stare stabbing me like thousands shards of glass as i sat there, staring into his familiar yet deadly eyes, i felt a surge of emotions welling up within myself. the silence between us is deafening, broken only by the haunting echoes of my own heartache. suddenly, the words escaped his lips, shattering the fragile hope i've clung to for so long. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt and in that moment, the weight of his confession hung in the air, suffocating the remaining fragments of trust and love - the truth, like a jagged blade, pierced through my heart, leaving behind a raw ache that no amount of apologies could soothe. nothing could mend our wounds, our love can't be replaced or fixed. I felt a surge of conflicting emotions raging within. betrayal, hurt, and a burning desire to escape engulfed my senses. without a word, I rose to my feet, my movements fueled by a mix of anguish and determination. every step I took echoed the resounding ache in my heart, a painful rhythm that matched the cadence of his footsteps behind me.

I could hear him calling my name, barely as my ears are focused on any other sound than his voice, that one sweet voice that once made me feel the most special but now it's disgusting and tinged with desperation, but I dared not turn back the tears that stung my eyes blurred the path ahead, yet I keep on, driven by my sadness and panic from the shattered pieces of our love. His hand reached out, barely touching my hand, but I still felt the strong energy between us.

the air was thick with unsaid words and broken promises, a weight that hung heavy between us even if we are a 10 minute drive away. i can still hear him pleading to me as i lay lifeless in my bed unable to even flinch or blink. breathing hurts and falling asleep becomes difficult. my mind clouded unable to shut down all alone i lay, without him by my side.

maybe it isn't the right time.

my notes; i love and hate this okay thanku for reading💙

[bedtimescenarios]

Hii! You asked for prompts to stay motivated, so I thought I'd share my all time favorite as a possible request?

I'm a SUCKER for an injured whumpee who's incredibly scared of the caretaker, not understanding that they just want to help them! Maybe they lash out or try to run away and have to be held down to receive the medical care they desperately need, with the caretaker trying to comfort them as best as they possibly can... You know?

/nf of course!! Have a great day!!

This is my first time requesting whump stuff, I hope I'm doing everything right aaa

hey there, anon!! thank you so much for the prompt:) it's actually helped me get to writing, and it's even a bit different from my usual stories, so i had an opportunity to diversify my writing!!

i hope you like this and that it fits the prompt well enough, and thanks again!

p.s i am supposed to be sleeping and have written this at 2 am. if there's any mistakes in there or something that needs to be re-done please let me know😭

. . .

As the door swings open with a squeak, Whumpee instinctively presses their back into the wall and lowers their head. Whumper must have had a bad day, otherwise he would've let them heal before another session. They're not getting that luxury now, they think, as the wounds on their body throb and sting with the reminder of their situation. They prepare themselves. They unclench their jaw so they won't bite down on their tongue, shifting so their knees are facing outwards,- they'd rather endure another leg fracture than be nauseous all week- and they tightly shut their eyes.

"Whumpee?"

The voice that rings out is different.

They don't raise their head, but they hear the person's next footstep resound closer. Another one is their cue to cower, pressing an arm against their bleeding abdomen. Did Whumper send someone else to hurt them? Oh, God, he sent someone to finish them off. He got bored, they're finally going to die, or worse-

"Whumpee, I'm not here to hurt you." The voice says, as if reading their mind, and Whumpee takes note of the apparent gentleness of it. A trick.

They look up through the fallen strands of hair stuck to their forehead, trying to assess the amount of danger- no, pain- they're about to be in. A man stands a few feet away, and they quickly identify him as the owner of the voice. Fuck, he's strong, Whumpee thinks as they notice his buff, tall build. He could break their wrist bare handedly, without much effort. Their eyes slowly trail up to his face, noting the short, dark dreads pulled back into a ponytail that ensures an unperturbed view of his surroundings. Increased efficiency and a boost in fun. I can pair your screams with clear images, Whumper used to say.

Caretaker's obsidian eyes meet Whumpee's, and they imagine him saying that same thing to them. They ignore his manipulative attempt at an empathetic, pitying glance. Having been through this too many times already, they can recognize it from a mile away. They just want their break, at least until their wounds close. And they won't let this random stranger take it away from them. Their gaze hardens slightly, yet it's still tinged with raw fear.

"I'm Caretaker. I won't hurt you, I swear- Just- Whumpee, we need to get you to a hospital."

Another lie. But... taking them to another location? No, no no no. Whumpee's hand clenches around their wounds. Another lonely gathering of walls where their screams will echo for eternity. Whumper is giving them away for good. They're so, so tired. Death suddenly doesn't sound as bad.

Alarms blare inside Whumpee's mind, turning their world to hues of red. They feel their veins burn with adrenaline, and before they know it, they're on their feet, scratching at Caretaker's face. They use all their strength, a final attempt at freedom- one way or another. Like a wounded rabbit scratching at the fox whose jaw is clenched upon its ears.

They expect a hard blow to their temple. Or the sharp prick of a syringe. But nothing comes, except for pressure pulling their hands away from the man's face. As they're pulled away, writhing in the grip, they internally swear at themselves for omitting the possibility of backup. Only when their arms are held firmly to their sides is it that they notice themselves trembling, and only when the two people next to them lower them to their ground do they realize how much of an effort each move is. How much pain each shift brings.

As the people behind them hold them still, hands quickly shuffling through a first aid kit, they can finally make out Caretaker's expression. Beyond bloody streaks, his face is painted with genuine shock- or simply incredible acting. He doesn't step forward again as Whumpee sobs in terror, their eyes glassy and breathing labored. Though, if they look closely enough, they can distinguish tears at the corners of his eyes too. He tilts his head, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards softly.

"Shh...It's okay. We'll make you all better, and you'll be able to trust again sometime."

[restinslices]

I hope you feel better soon (from ur posts about ur health). Could I request for Bi-Han with a 'Genius' daughter? Basically she has extremely high intelligence, can create artificial life (despite it not lasting long) and is an exceptional strategist.

Thanks for the well wishes! Hope you enjoy!

Bi-Han takes great pride in being a Lin Kuei, so just imagine how much pride he takes when his own child is a genius-

Bi-Han would definitely push his daughter when it comes to certain skills, so I think he'd catch on to her having high intelligence rather quickly

Notices that every challenge he gives her, she passes easily

We saw that there's a whole hologram type of area, plus there's already suits being created so there must be an area for that aswell

His daughter prefers to spend a lot of time there, and I think that's what would clue him in that something's going on in that brain of her's

He has her working with Sektor and observes very closely

"Impressed" isn't a strong enough word to describe how he feels

"Proud" doesn't scratch the surface either

How many people can say they have a genius child? One that can create artificial life? One that's an exceptional strategist? Some of these kids can't even read at their grade level-

No tea no shade, but if she's not his first child, he's making her the heir to the Lin Kuei anyway

Y'all remember how he complimented Sektor? He'd do the same to his daughter

"The improvements you've made to the suits have not gone unnoticed, daughter. Your intelligence is a blessing to all. I am proud to be your father"

Ik Bi-Han is this very tough dude who's hard on people but y'all gonna try and convince me he's not making his approval known?

Especially after the shit he's dealt with when it comes to different views with his dad and brothers, a daughter making his life easier is what he needs fr

I can see him watching her work on whatever it is even if he has no idea what's going on

This video is their dynamic

I think it's easy to be like "oh he'd be jealous of his daughter because he wants to have her intelligence and bring the Lin Kuei up in the world!"

No

I don't see it like that

I mean damn, Sektor is smarter than him when it comes to mechanical shit. He didn't seem jealous or angry. He was impressed and applauded her intelligence

There's just no way he's being a salty bitch towards his daughter.

"Your kid doesn't know the difference between their they're and there. My daughter builds android butterflies. We are not the same"

He wouldn't say it like that, but you get my point

All I see is a very proud dad. He has no idea why she's so damn smart but he's not complaining. I see a lot of admiring what she does and letting her put in her two cents when it comes to plans, which is something he does NOT let just anybody do

"I don't have a favorite child!" *only has her pictures on the wall*

Gods forbid he has other kids-

But this is a fluff ask so we will not be getting into that :D

[sc0tters]

Just One Tub - Leon Draisaitl

summary: who would have thought that your freezer breaking on a hot summers day, would be the perfect start to your love story?

request: yes/no (was actually meant to be for a summer fic exchange but it is now December so…)

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 2.91k

authors note: so this was all ready to go in August before I totally fell off of Tumblr but I pressed save rather than post so I figured I’d edit it before I published it and now here it is!

You knew it was dangerous falling for him.

From the moment you knocked on his door needing a place to leave your frozen foods after yours decided to stop working in the heat of June. Leon was days away from going home after an anticlimactic end to the season, but when you showed up the idea of packing was pushed to the back of his mind.

There was something endearing about the way your voice cracked with panicked rambles as you begged him to hold your ice cream and frozen meals that you weren’t prepared to lose when your freezer broke. Leon didn’t know how or why things changed, but in the midst of offering him a spoon as you sacrificed a pint of mint chip ice cream that didn’t make the cut to join his freezer, he knew you were different.

And before he was even ready to snap his fingers, Leon found himself more focused on learning your quirks and less about packing his suitcase for his inevitable return home.

𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨

Leon grinned as your giggles were masked with soft sips of red wine “no I’m being serious!” He complained recounting the story of how he never cooked in his kitchen after the time he burnt a pot of cooked pasta.

You shook your head half-amused, half-concerned as you placed your wine glass down “I’ll teach you to cook sometime.” Your offer lingered in the air making his cheeks grow warm at the thought of spending more time with you “you don’t have to do that.” He shook his head not wanting to have you see just how bad his skills in the kitchen were.

It was bad enough that he already had your lasagne engraved into his tastebuds forever, and that was something you said you just ‘threw together.’

But it seemed that you were on a different page as a lightbulb popped above your head “consider it a thank you for housing my ice cream.”Your offer made him nod as he scratched his beard “I’ll be gone for three months though.” His tone was disappointed as he was still trying to figure out how to approach his pretty neighbour, and to this day he swore he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t knocked on his door.

So call him stupid but he was willing to ask your electrician to come over and teach him how to blow a fuse, in the hopes of getting you over more.

You couldn’t help it as you looked around his living room “what is it that you do for a living?” The hockey memorabilia that lay scattered on the walls dawned on you. Yet it still didn’t occur to you that he could have been a hockey player, honestly you thought he was a fan.

After all, a lawyer wouldn’t exactly have court memorabilia just lying around…

It felt like the world stopped around him as you seemed to be the only person in the building who didn’t know who he was “i-i work in sports.” He watched tentatively, almost immediately assuming that he was caught “cool.” You shrugged growing distracted as the timer on the air fryer went off.

Like puzzle pieces falling into place Leon realised that he could have been screwed “I’ll get plates.” No Leon was definitely fucked.

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙅𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

Just like clockwork as Leon came back you had caught on to what his true profession. It had been weeks of teaching him how to cook but now after days of radio silence from you, Leon had to admit he was confused when you didn’t schedule a weekly cooking session.

So as he watched you walk back into your apartment he couldn’t help it when he practically followed you in “are you okay?” His face displayed amounts of concern, as his voice made you freeze

The truth was that you had known for weeks after a season highlights video popped up on YouTube where you learnt all about what he actually did. And at first you really didn’t care, but when you told your friends about it they considered it a red flag from the German.

So with the logic of if he was hiding his profession what else could he be hiding, had made you pull away “I’m fine Le.” You had shortened the boys name highlighting that you were irritated “you know you’re doing that thing when you lie.” He crossed his arms following you into your apartment.

It made you furrow your eyebrows “doing what?” You tapped your foot on the floor partly intrigued as to what he could have picked up on “you hollow out your cheeks when you’re hiding something.” It was something always had your parents knowing you were lying and part of you was amused that someone had brought it up after all of those years.

So as the small smile formed on your lips you finally broke “why didn’t you tell me?” You asked holding up a newspaper that’s front image was of him in his full hockey gear.

It was clear you were more confused than hurt or even irritated and that’s what stuck with the boy most “you gave me a chance to be just me.” His confession had you cursing yourself for opting to avoid him “look you will always be just you to me.” You watched his lips form into a smile at the words.

He nodded running his fingers through his hair “but if I am fully honest with you then I hope to get the same back.” Your words made his heart bloom with joy, he liked being just Leon to you.

𝙊𝙝 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙗𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨

The boys knew that something was going on with Leon. First it started with silent daydreams in the middle of team outings, before they knew it then Leon started feeling much happier. The grin that was left constantly left plastered on his face served as only one of the mere hints to the fact that he was clearly in love.

So as any good teammate would, the boys started with basic badgering. In the hopes of getting to know who the mystery girl was.

But what the didn’t expect was that they’d finally learn about you when Leon wasn’t even around “hi Lenny!” You grinned looking up from your clipboard to see one of your favourite patients with someone you had never met, his dad.

The widened eyes were a clear give away as he laughed “thought Lauren mention that I would bring him in today.” Connor laughed as he held his hand out for you to shake “No it’s just that Le made you seem shorter.” Your mouth was never one for keeping you in check and today seemed to be no different.

Now it was the boys turn to freeze “you’re the girl from next door with the ice cream?” It made total sense, Leon’s description of you was bang on, and as your cheeks shone a crimson shade of red you couldn’t deny it.

It made Connor laugh “I hope that it’s the only thing the bugger has shared.” Leon had watched you break a blender upon seeing a spider in it and eat a cake from the floor that you spent all week making.

Lenny reminded you that he was there was he let out a bark, making you crouch down to stroke him before you started your examination “it is but he is like so clearly adores you.” Connor had to admit the joy he got watching you hide your cheeks as you so clearly felt the same way.

It seemed that you weren’t going to remain a mystery girl to his teammates for long because by the next week, all of them were changing their dogs vets to you.

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

Years had gone by and Leon wished he could say that his curiosity about you had diminished. But as you integrated yourself further into his circle, he knew he was so incredibly screwed.

Day by day he was falling deeper in love with you “are you even listening to me?” Connor whined as he snapped his fingers in front of Leon’s face. It was the all stars break and as neither boy joined the list, they instead opted for a holiday in Mexico.

Leon practically begged you to come along as he didn’t want to third wheel, and knew that you deserved a break to be a good bit of company.

You were stood at the bar chatting away with some guy that nobody from the group had ever seen before “someone needs to remind him that he should go up and get her back.” Lauren smirked as she sat on her fiancés lap.

It made Leon roll his eyes “I am not jealous.” He shook his head cutting himself off when he heard you laugh “you sure about that?” The couple teased making him scoff.

Lauren knew all about how you were into the German as she had been up to be your shoulder to cry on during the many nights where he had left your apartment after making sure his outfits were good enough for the nights that he was going out on. His smiles and laughter as he spoke about the excitement of how a girl would invite him out for a night out as he prayed that you would ask him out.

You never thought that you’d ever see the girl outside of the center, but Lauren loved getting to know the girl who made Leon’s smile grow larger than she had ever known it to be.

As the blonde duo watched on they couldn’t help but smirk they watched him get up “you going to go get her?” Lauren couldn’t help but be somehow proud of herself as she had given you the confidence shot to get you over to the other guy.

Because of course whilst Leon had gone on these dates, you could never find yourself with the confidence to do it too. But at least this trip seemed to be your breaking free moment “maybe she needs someone to make sure she’s okay.” Leon shrugged as he looked to his took his jacket off knowing that he was going to completely over power the other guy in size and build.

Now Connor and Lauren would have totally be lying if they hadn’t rolled around to watch what happened in front of them “hey peach.” A chill came down your neck as you felt the Germans hand rest against your back.

It seemed that the American in front of you matched your expression “hey bro I didn’t know that she was taken.” As he raised his hands in surrender slowly backing away, your rambles of protest seemed to do nothing for him.

Leon realised that his hand was still on you as you turned to him “peach, really?” Laughter erupted from your lips as you shook your head “honestly it could have been buttercup.” He shrugged as you noticed the couple hide on their lounger when they saw you looking back at them.

You knew you couldn’t have been mad for too long “what was it about him that you hated so much?” Your question lingered in Leon’s mind as he sighed knowing that he couldn’t truly tell you what he thought. Because honestly, it was the fact that he hated how it was someone else who made you laugh the way he could. That was when he knew that he couldn’t try be with another woman ever again, you were all that he wanted.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

Valentine’s Day had always been a bit of an odd day for you. It wasn’t necessarily a sad day, but somehow your luck always meant you were home alone watching Netflix with a tub of ice cream as you waited for your dinner to arrive.

Even as it had been almost a year, your question from Mexico still lingered on his mind with every date night he got ready for, because you seemed to constantly plague his mind, even if you weren’t in his presence.

You had finally settled on the couch when a harsh knock came at the door “what the hell?” You mumbled letting go of the remote as you got up again “I’m coming!” You repeated assuming that it could have only been an irritated delivery man with your pizza.

Your wallet was in your hand as you made your way to the door “Leon?” You furrowed your eyebrows seeing him soaked from the pouring rain “you are going to catch a cold.” You clicked your tongue as you ushered him inside of your warm apartment.

Your eyes traveled down to the bouquet that he held in his hand which resulted in him panicking as he thrusted the roses into your chest “t-these are yours!” He stammered forgetting all about the words that he had come up with on his walk to the florist.

It made you softly smile sensing his nerves “what’s going on?” You asked letting the door shut behind him as your hand reached for his.

The gesture made his heart bloom “I hated that he was the one who made you laugh.” His confession made your eyebrows furrow as you cocked your head “I don’t follow.”

Leon took a step closer to you “in Mexico you asked me why I hated the guy that hit on you.” His calloused fingers were rough against your cheek as you tilted your head to him, leaning into his touch.

His breathing was heavy “I don’t like the fact that there gets to be a guy who makes your world whole and he isn’t me.” The words seemed as if they had the power to freeze time where it stood.

You felt nauseous thinking that this was all just a dream as your mind played tricks on you “why can’t it be you?” The question painted the walls as his ears ached his heart pounded so loudly.

But that was the question that remained unasked for all these seasons, why was it that two people fit so well together but couldn’t find a way beyond mere friends.

Each of your families knew the other and at this point everyone saw it as a mere matter of time until you guys would be more than just neighbours.

The answer was on Leon’s tongue but his lips stayed sealed as his mouth went dry “I want this but if you aren’t all in then I’d rather not lose you than get the joy of calling you mine.” You whispered shutting the gap between the both of you.

There lay the answer as the atmosphere suddenly became warmer around you both “please say it.” You pleaded bringing your hand up to cup his own cheek.

That was all it took to light what seemed like a fire beneath his ass “I’m yours forever and always.” Leon declared dipping his head down to let his lips brush against yours.

You swore that the harps played as you melted into his touch letting your body mould against his “shit that’s my pizza.” You pulled away from him hearing a knock at the door.

𝘼 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙥 𝘿𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙈𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙚

You swore you hadn’t dropped from cloud nine over the last twelve hours “you looking at it won’t make it any less real.” Leon smiled as he walked out of the bathroom “I just can’t believe we’re here.” Your cheeks grew sore because of how big your grin had been that day.

Leon had his towel loosely hung by his hips “and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” His voice was rough as he pressed a kiss against your shoulder “but I can’t believe you refused to join me in the shower.” He nipped at your skin, causing you to let out a gasp.

Your hand raised to softly hit his chest “well Mr Draisaitl you have to work for rewards like that.” It made him laugh as a knock came at the door “well I think that your husband deserves a treat Mrs Draisaitl.” The hockey player made his way to the door.

It made you grow confused as the sounds of someone calling “room service.” Came from the other side “thank you!” You watched as Leon shut the door bring what he ordered in.

There he held a tub of ice cream, the very same brand and flavour that you begged him to put into his freezer first all those years ago “you did not.” A laugh left your lips as he held out two spoons in the other hand.

The gap between you both closed to nearly nothing as he smiled “figured it was only right we started off marriage with how we started back then.” Leon placed it on the table next to you “what did I do to get a boy as sweet as you?” You asked as your arms wrapped around his neck so that you could peck his lips.

The comment made him scoff as he picked you up resulting in a squeal leaving your lips “don’t give me a chance to remind you that I am a man, peach.” Leon dropped you onto the bed as he crawled onto the mattress to join you.

Well it looked like that ice cream was going to have to wait.

Let’s just hope that it doesn’t melt this time.

[theresattrpgforthat]

The one part of D&D that still hooks me every time is the thrill of character creation. Tweaking all those numbers, the min-ing, the max-ing, all to put together a vision of a character and the life they've led. Are there any solo games that scratch that itch?

THEME: Solo Character Depth

Hello there! So much of what I’m familiar with in regards to solo play has a pretty light character creation compared to games like D&D, because the game itself is where you get to piece together that character’s life. Big shoutout to the Lone Adventurer, a You-tuber who plays solo games and records his play sessions - you might find more games that interest you on his channel!

KUROI, by Candlenaut.

Kuroi is a cyberpunk setting which pays homage to the greatest giants of the Cyberpunk genre, of which the author has been a die-hard fan since the early 90s.

The game is played on a 6x6 inch grid and is a so-called micro wargame. You progress from level to level of a heavily guarded corporate building, trying to fulfill the objectives of your Heist. The game uses a unique Action roll system with two re-rolls (Yatzee style) that you must tactically manage in your turn by using these dice to buy various actions and enhance them. In the game, you can choose several ways to progress through each level, you can be stealthy or manipulate enemies or go all out with your entire arsenal.

This is a micro skirmish game, so much like D&D, your character is built with combat in mind. You play through levels, trying to get around or fight through various enemies. Your character has skills and actions, although rather than rolling for your stats, you distribute a range of numbers according to your strengths. The higher your skill points, the more resources you have, in the form of re-roll. You also have descriptive characteristics, which you can fill in as you like.You can also look at a play through of the game on the Lone Adventurer’s YouTube channel!

Anamnesis, by Sam Leigh.

You play as an individual who has woken up with memory loss. You do not remember who you are, where you are, or what you care about. As you draw tarot cards, you fill the blank spaces of your past and learn more about your present. There is no winning or losing in Anamnesis - the goal is to tell a story and discover the identity of the character you've created.

Anamnesis as a game is entirely about character creation. You use a deck of tarot cards to provide prompts: your character is someone who has to piece together pieces of their backstory slowly, as pieces of the world around them remind them of who they used to be. If you like slowly discovering a backstory using vivid imagery and symbolism, you might like Anamnesis.

Notorious, by Always Checkers Publishing.

Notorious is a sci-fi tabletop roleplaying game for one player. Play to tell stories of the Nomads; notorious bounty hunters who strike fear among the scum & villainy of the universe & follow the dubious code of the Nomad's Guild.

In the midst of an intergalactic war, you'll take on a lucrative contract from one of six factions. The job is simple: bring the target back, dead or alive—no disintegrations.

But your presence won’t go unnoticed. 

Your growing reputation also attracts a series of hostiles. Suspicious locals who simply don’t like you (& their friends might not either), rival Nomads or faction agents working against you.

Notorious feels pretty fleshed out, with races, origins, load out and personalities that all come into play when you create your character. You play through a hunt, with descriptions of your mark and the planets they may be hiding out on determined through random rolls. Part of your character is randomly rolled, but these pieces feel like an outline that you can fill in.

You can check out a play-through of this game on the Lone Adventurer’s channel. If you want to follow the story of a lone bounty hunter like Boba Fett or the Mandalorian, this might be the game for you.

Ironsworn, by Shawn Tomkin.

In the Ironsworn tabletop roleplaying game, you are a hero sworn to undertake perilous quests in the dark fantasy setting of the Ironlands.

Others live out their lives hardly venturing beyond the walls of their village or steading, but you are different. You will explore untracked wilds, fight desperate battles, forge bonds with isolated communities, and reveal the secrets of this harsh land. Are you ready to swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost?

I don’t think Ironsworn really leans into the min-maxing that you’re looking for, but it does have a wealth of character options, especially if you consider the Starforged and Sundered Isles expansions. Characters choose three Modules that can represent your skills, tools, or companions, all of which help flesh out who you were before you started adventuring. You develop the character as you play, expanding on their abilities and forging bonds with NPCs as you complete quests. Your character isn’t a blank slate before you start, but I think much of the fleshing out happens as you roll.

Ironsworn isn’t solely a solo game, but it’s definitely designed with solo players in mind. The base game is free, so you can try it out without having to pay anything before you have to make a decision to buy any of the supplements!

Colostle, by Nich Angell.

Colostle is a solo RPG rulebook that allows you to play a single player adventure campaign through the impossible and incredible world of the Colostle.

The Colostle is a castle so big that there are oceans, mountains and cities within its rooms! There is no 'outside' to the Colostle, everything is within. And stalking these Roomlands, are the Rooks, huge walking stone castle towers that attack anything they see, but hold the Rookstones, the only source of magic in this world.

Colostle uses character classes, similar to D&D, complete with stats attached to your class choice. However, the game uses a deck of cards that you draw to help determine what happens next when you fight and/or explore. You also choose a calling; a reason why your character is questing in this gigantic castle. Compared to many other solo games that I’m familiar with, this game is much more structured and similar to traditional fantasy games, so Colostle might be worth checking out.

You can watch a how-to-play video for Colostle here!

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

Sapphic vampire fiction mini reviews, ranked from least favorite to most:

House of Hunger: Bland characters, a story that barely scratches the surface of the implications of its premise, and a central relationship with nothing underpinning it make for an aimless story with a climax that hits like a limp noodle. If the dynamic between a vampire and her indentured maid appeals to you, try The Wicked and the Willing instead.

An Education in Malice: For a Carmilla retelling, the titular character really lacks bite. Laura at least has some interesting contradictions in her, and De Lafontaine could be quite compelling if we saw things through her eyes, but the central relationship isn't built on a lot, and Carmilla herself is really disappointingly bland. The prose comes off as overwrought and melodramatic in the first act, and the constant leaning on poetry feels gratuitous, but it picks up steam and becomes appropriately gripping by the one-third mark, and it carries the book enough that I had an enjoyable but rather shallow experience. I struggle to think of a reason to recommend this over In the Roses of Pieria, which plays with similar thematic and aesthetic elements much more adeptly. Also, it's a pet peeve of mine when a story makes a point to establish a specific historical era for its setting but has characters that feel utterly modern.

The Deathless Girls: This book does a much better job with its sense of time and place, and the characters and their motivations are quite strong. I only rate this one low on this list because the main characters don't actually deal with vampirism as a condition until the very end of the book. On its surface, the premise might seem quite similar to A Dowry of Blood, but there's actually very little thematic or narrative overlap.

Ex-Wives of Dracula: An excellent exploration of the queer teenage experience in conservative small town ~2015 USA along with some pretty novel twists on vampire and horror movie tropes. Strong, vibrant characters with a rich, messy, and compelling relationship carry a solid mystery plot and some pretty pointed critiques of its setting, but the actual climax and resolution don't quite hold up to the quality of the rest. Also I simply must warn anyone who didn't grow up in the time and place this book explores about the profound and casual bigotry and nastiness of that setting, which this book replicates to a T.

The Wicked and the Willing: A thrilling and compelling dark romantic drama centered on a British vampire in 1920s Singapore, her newly hired and desperate to escape poverty personal maid, and her majordomo who is struggling to keep her conscience under control after years of aiding and abetting her mistress's dark appetites. Extremely strong character writing pairs with deft exploration of themes of colonialism, entitlement, class divisions, sexism, and the ways in which certain types of status can and cannot afford one leeway to be nonconforming in other ways. Intermixes diagetic and non-diagetic BDSM very organically also, if that's your thing.

In the Roses of Pieria: Rich prose dripping with atmosphere follows an obscure academic as she digs into a series of ancient correspondences and discovers a millenia spanning love story between two vampires. The character writing is solid, if not quite as impressive as some other entries on this list, but the quality of the prose more than elevates it. The text makes elegant and powerful references to Sappho throughout, and the whole experience is heady and compelling in ways that I struggle to describe in greater detail. Funnily enough, the vampires are the least interesting part of the world building. This one has a sequel coming, and I can't wait.

A Dowry of Blood: A darkly enchanting epistolary novel that takes the form of letters written by the first of Dracula's wives to him as she attempts to make peace with killing him. She unpicks a delicious and horrifying knot of feeling and history as she revisits their millenia together, recounting and reckoning with the manipulations and abuses that defined the good times and the bad. The characters are evocative and rich, the narrative voice by turns sparse, longing, furious, contemplative, and mournful, and the story simply springs to life. It accomplishes an incredible amount in approximately 200 pages, and I absolutely cannot recommend this one enough.