#surfing her own time stream in a bigger time stream

[ghostbsuter]

They may feel it, but never witness it.

Bart does not explain his impromptu leaves in the speedforce, nor how and why the speedforce seems to only take him and spit him back out few hours later.

Well, bart can't really explain it without sounding ridiculous.

How else do you explain to your family and teammates that grandma speedy keeps bringing him to playdates with some god of times grandson?

At least they're the same age! Danny's very crash, honestly. Got the speedster appetite and running together ensures even faster speed with no obstacles in front of them!

Man, he loves intangibility.

Now how does he explain this to uncle max?

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[awesomerextyphoon]

Home for Christmas

This is my first entry for the wonderful @navybrat817​, @stargazingfangirl18​, and @donutloverxo​’s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Black!Reader (Fem)

Summary: You got screwed this holiday season. Thankfully, someone decided to give you a break.

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 2,211

Warning: Unprotected Smut (wrap it before you tap it!), Oral (f and m receiving), Fluff, Angst, Talks of Anxiety

A/N:  Not gonna lie, I feel a little intimidated by all of the amazing writers participating. So let me throw my hat into the ring, so to speak. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Back to Masterlist

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Okay, thanks.” You could barely keep your voice together you were so distraught.

You lost your job and your apartment all in the same week. You had used up most of your savings paying your grandmother’s medical bills. Your anxiety had gone through the roof since you got the pink slip yesterday. Now, six weeks till Christmas, you have to ask (beg) your friends if you can couch surf until you can get back on your feet.

You told your therapist that your anxiety had spiked to uncomfortable levels. You could barely sleep at night and you’ve had trouble concentrating on simple tasks. It felt like the world was closing in and you were helpless to stop it.

You hoped that something would give.

  Bucky was coming back from an outing with Sam when he spotted you fumbling with your keys with tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Startled, you swiveled your head, “Oh Bucky! How are you?”

“I’m fine. So, do you want to talk?”

Your lower lip quivered and the dam broke,” I lost my job yesterday, all my savings went to my aunt’s medical bills, and my landlord said I have to leave at end of the month!” you sobbed as Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Bucky cooed as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“It’s not, but thanks.” you choked out trying to compose yourself.

It would seem that fate thought it right to mock him today. Brock got another compliment for his work and the love of his life was about to be on the streets.

Though Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that you knew next to nothing about his feelings with him being too cowardly to tell you. They first came ten months ago at a get-together Sam roped him into attending. He was enraptured by your kindness and sharp wit, plus it didn’t hurt that you were breathtakingly beautiful and your cookies were heavenly. The two of you quickly became friends going to movies, museums, and adult arcades. You were exceedingly kind and understanding even when Bucky showed you his prosthetic arm.

He wanted to go further, but he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

Though, maybe…

“I was wondering, would you like to stay at my apartment ‘til you get back on your feet? It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms so you won’t be ‘invading or unwelcome’. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“But what about the re-”

“No. It’s fine. You said it yourself. You need to rest and regroup.” He was going to be fine, he was the CTO of SHIELD Inc. Both Steve and Sam have stated that he should move to a condo or a penthouse, but he’s glad that he never listened.

You nodded your head and sighed,” Okay.”

Bucky grinned, “Good. Though it’s not for free. Your payment will be in your ‘out of this world’ cooking.”

You giggled, “It’s a deal!”

  You moved in three days later. It was delightful to not have the threat of financial instability peering over your shoulder.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into a routine. You woke up around 7 AM, did some exercises and meditation, made breakfast, had a nice conversation w/Bucky, did some job searching, researched different recipes to try out, baked some desserts for Bucky to share with his team, cook dinner, had a nice chat w/Bucky over dinner and wine, and Bucky would do clean up with a movie.

Both Bucky and your therapist noticed your dramatic increase in your mental and emotional health.

Your aunt noticed how serene you looked when finally had the chance to visit her. She also teased you about Bucky and how cute the two of you would look.

You deflected your aunt in good jest, but she was not wrong. You had started to see Bucky in a new light. He was devastatingly handsome, sexy even. He was tall (6’3” / 1.9m), broad shoulders and muscular arms that you always loved to be enveloped in, eyes like the Mediterranean after a storm, luxurious dark Chestnut brown that was delightful to the touch, and a soft, protruding belly that was perfect for cuddling (though Bucky was insecure about it though). He was your own giant teddy bear who you would love to love (and fuck).

Maybe the two of you could be something more.

  “You have to tell her, Buck.”

Bucky groaned internally at yet another one of Steve’s interventions. He hasn’t been able to focus at work since you’ve moved in with him. Sam was constantly calling him out on it, and now Steve has weighed in on the issue.

“C’mon, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re taking advantage of her spectacular cooking and baking skills.” Sam exclaimed while biting into a Levain Style Toffee Crunch Cookie.

Bucky knew that he should say something. He was planning on telling you on Christmas Eve about the gift he bought you last week.

Now, all he needed was courage.

“She probably feels the same way, Bucky. There’s no way she would’ve stayed with you this long if she didn’t like you.” Sam added while going for his third Salted Caramel Brownie.

“I know. It’s just that she deserves someone better.”

Steve scoffed, “For fuck’s sake, man! You are smart, caring, and funny! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a lot to offer!”

Bucky gave Steve a smile, “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Sure. Now move over, I want some of those brownies.”

  Christmas Eve dinner was going well.

You were able to visit your aunt two days prior to which she teased you about Bucky yet again. You didn’t dare to bring up the sex dreams and times you masturbated in the shower wishing it was Bucky giving you such sensations.

You were biting into your teriyaki-glazed salmon when Bucky cleared his throat, “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’ve been such a coward,” Bucky uttered.

You put down your utensils, “Bucky-”

“No. I-I love you.”

What?

“I’ve loved you since that get together ten months ago,” You smiled at the memory,” I saw this kind, funny, beautiful woman who was amazing and was willing to put up with a loser like me. I know that I’m not in your league-”

You stood up,” Bucky, you’re not a coward and you’re not a loser. You have been nothing but kind and understanding this last few weeks. You let me stay with you when I was barely hanging on financially. You’ve respected my space without expecting anything in return. I know I’m not the best roommate, but-”

You were cut off by Bucky enveloping you in a tight hug, “Thank you,” he breathed.

Glancing up at him, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Bucky gathered his courage and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The kiss sent a bolt of electricity throughout your body. After a few moments, you pulled away and licked your lips in excitement.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

  The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs once you reached his bedroom. Bucky ripped off your top and chuckled at your attempt to cover yourself,” You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”

You backed onto the bed with a grin, unable to hide your giddiness as Bucky’s eyes darkened with lust and the look on his face was not unlike that of an apex predator.

Bucky took things slow, wanting to savor this moment. He worked you from top to bottom at an agonizingly slow pace. Soft, open-mouthed kisses marked his path smirking in pride at the sound of your moaning and squirming with each caress.

“Bucky please,” you begged as Bucky made his way to your chest.

Bucky tutted in response, “Let me adore you, love,” as he covered your breasts with hickeys, pinching and sucking your nipples, relishing the sounds of your moaning and mewling. He smirked at your praises as he made his way to your stomach.

He made sure to give your midsection extra love and care, “Utter perfection,” Bucky murmured as he kissed a stretch mark near your hipbone. Your heart soared at the declaration. You’ve never had a partner who complimented you let alone give you the time of day let alone a partner who actually put your needs first.

And in such a delicious manner.

Bucky was about to go in on your thighs when you stopped him,” Please, let me,” you panted as you got off the bed and undid his belt. You bit your lower lip once you got back his boxers.

He was a lot bigger than you thought.

“You sure about this, doll?” Bucky asked amusedly taking in your raised eyebrows and a sly grin.

Nodding eagerly, you laid your head in his awaiting lap and gave his dick an open-mouthed kiss followed by a long, slow lick to his weeping tip.

You were careful not to go too deep, not wanting a repeat of that one Spring Break. “Fuck, doll,” Bucky praised as you worked his dick like a lollipop. You alternated between playing with his balls and sucking on what you could fit in your mouth.

Bucky bellowed when you lightly scraped him with your teeth. He never thought that someone like you would give him the time of day. Ever since Bucky left the Army, it seemed that no one would even look at him, even before they knew about the prosthetic left arm. He was about to give up all hope of finding anyone who accepts him when you came into his life. You were his light, but you were not afraid to be imperfect. He could be vulnerable with you in a way that he has never been with anyone, even Stevie.

You continued your ministrations for a couple more minutes until Bucky gently tugged your hair, “Sorry doll, I won’t make it if keep workin’ me like this, and I want to give you my first gift this evening.”

You pouted but relented as Bucky motioned you back to the bed. You parted your legs and moaned when Bucky gave your slit a long, slow lick after kissing and nipping your inner thighs.

“Better than any baked good. Fuck! I could get addicted to this!” You giggled at the statement loving the praise.

Bucky attacked your folds with a masterfully executed battle plan. He switched between licking and sucking your clit with insane precision, scissoring your folds with his thick fingers (sometimes metal ones), and playing with your juices.

You were on Cloud Nine. Each of his movements sent wave after wave of euphoria throughout your body. Bucky’s tongue and fingers made your hair stand on end and bolts of electricity shot through your veins and danced along your skin. You grabbed a fistful of his luxurious hair and arched your back towards him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Bucky rumbled.

The dam broke.

“Bucky!” you shouted as Bucky lapped up your juices and crawled up to caress your face.

“You sure you want this, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Please Bucky,” You begged as he pushed himself into you inch by inch pausing once he filled you.

“So fucking tight!” Bucky breathed huskily.

“Bucky. I. Need. You.” You murmured between kisses to his neck and jaw. He started out at a slow pace, making sure you were used to his size but he intensified his thrusts once you began moaning in pleasure and begged him to go harder.

Each thrust hit you just right, sending you higher and higher, but Bucky made sure not to send you over the edge (not yet). He decided to add to your sweet, sweet torture by kissing your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. You didn’t know how much you could take, but at the same time, you didn’t want to end.

Thankfully, Bucky heard your mental pleas. He worked your clit and you came with another shout as he nipped the juncture between your neck and collarbone. Bucky came soon after with a primal roar.

Laying on Bucky’s bed and looking out the window, you saw a thick yet gentle snowfall. You were about to make a nice (if not a little snarky) Christmas remark when you felt a weight on your chest. Casting your eyes downward you found a silver snowflake on a thick silver chain with sapphires in the middle and on each of its six points. It was beautiful.

You nearly swiveled your head in shock. “Bucky you di-”

Bucky caressed your cheek and kissed you, “You’ve been so kind to me since we’ve met and I wanted to give you something as wonderful as you.”

“Well, since you put that way. I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your present.” you teased.

Bucky snaked his right arm around your midsection, “It might not be ‘til Noon at best. I’m gonna need another round.” he crooned as he kissed your neck.

Part of you wondered what the hell all those people were thinking when they didn’t give Bucky a second glance. Well, it matters not. Bucky was yours and you would be damned before you let him go.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @jtargaryen18​ @sapphirescrolls​ @jobean12-blog​ @sweeterthanthis​ @gotnofucks​ @mculibrary​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @tilltheendwilliwrite​ @imanuglywombat​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ @navybrat817​ @anyatheladyclown​ @buckysbunny​ @nacho-bucky​ @donutloverxo​ @stephanieromanoff​ @threeminutesoflife​ @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight​ @chixkencxrry​ @hurricanerin​ @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil​ @captain--barnes​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @thebanprincess​ @winteralpine​ @leslie2898​ @buttercandy16​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @hevans-angel

[mrwinterr]

Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. 

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and protected sex, oral [male and female receiving], vaginal fingering, belly bulge, light degradation) dirty talk/language and recording. Mentions of drugs and alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.

Disclaimer: I don’t smoke regularly, so anything that has to do with drugs mentioned are techniques I’ve outweighed based on what I’ve been taught by different people. I don’t know which method works best nor am I encouraging the activity. It just came with this fic’s territory. It’s not that deep. You do you, boo. 

Title Inspiration: “Happy” by The Maine 

A/N: I might or might not have based some of this on true events. All I can say is, life is short, shoot your shot! Enjoy! 

A/N #2: There’s a Part 2 now!

“You owe me.” Your friend next to you said for probably the third time this hour. You learned earlier in the day to tune her out. She had been saying that since you persuaded her to accompany you on the weekend long road trip to the neighboring state just so you could see your favorite band…again.

Growing up your parents thought this was just another phase, but as your teenaged years passed on by and you’re now well into adulthood, you’re still a bigger stan for The Avengers as ever.

The Avengers consisted of three members: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Everyone had their take on each of the guys, Steve was the nice one, Sam was the goofy one and Bucky was the bad one. It was silly. They weren’t *NSYNC or The Backstreet Boys, but the fangirls will be fangirls.

Their music wasn’t exactly mainstream, but they did very well within in their genre’s scene. They graced the covers of a couple of magazines, garnered thousands, close to millions, of views and streams online, were featured on TV every now and then, toured around the globe, sold a bunch of records, even independently, but despite all that notoriety, they stayed true to their sound and that’s what kept you around as a fan.

That and the band’s front man Bucky Barnes. 

He was hot – plain and simple. Ok, maybe he was just that to most, including your friend who couldn’t deny it, but you didn’t want to objectify the man. What their music had done to get you through the years, they were more than that. There was a level of respect there. You also didn’t buy into the “bad boy” gimmick the fans have dubbed for him. They were human beings just like the rest of us. Imagine being called something like that by the public? They just so happened to be fortunate enough to share their talent to the rest of the world.  

“You’ve already seen them. I don’t know why you think you need to for what a tenth time?” She clearly wasn’t amused by your infatuation with the band, but she was still your friend and she would always be by your side through thick and thin even if she didn’t have the same taste in music as you. You loved her for that. Who else would stand for hours in a dark room full of loud, sweaty, smelly, rude even, and sometimes drunk people with no self-control for you? She really was the real MVP.

And she was right though. You’ve already seen The Avengers perform. It was probably more, but you’ve lost count. Whenever they’re in your city or two to four hours in the next one over, you loved this band alright!

You both were polar opposites standing next to each other in line waiting for the venue doors to open. She was calm and still, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face – she could almost play as the “mom that tagged along and didn’t want to be there” – but you knew she wasn’t really mad. There was a bar inside she could occupy herself at. You on the other hand were trying to contain your excitement. You tried your best to not fidget around in anticipation so much. You didn’t want to sweat off your makeup that you managed to apply on point or get an embarrassing stain on your clothes.  

“It doesn’t matter,” was always the response you gave her, “their music means everything to me. I’ll always come out to support them.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed a bit at that. She wasn’t trying to knock you down. She knew you deeply liked the band, but she also knew another side of you, and she liked to pick at it. “Yeah that and you’re into Bucky,” she said and just flat out poked at the side of your breasts. The bra that you chose to purposely wear tonight gave your boobs an extra push and it didn’t go unnoticed by her. They were out there, tastefully, since you were hardly the flashy type. 

“Okay, but who isn’t?” You flare back swatting her hand away and trying to shut her down. You didn’t need to have this conversation with her while other fans were around. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl. You weren’t 13 anymore.

“Chill.” She said raising her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to fight you on this one again.

When the top of the hour hit, the roar of the crowd signaled the doors had opened. Once inside, you hit the line to the bathroom considering you’d been outside for a few hours. You didn’t just have to pee, but you needed to freshen up. Your cheeks were a bit flushed from standing in the heat. You dabbed lightly at your face with a small blotting sheet, sprayed a bit of body spray and finished putting every hair back into place before finding your friend, who was already at the bar.

You sported a 21 and up paper wristband that was handed at the entrance, however you weren’t planning on drinking. Usually you had one or two drinks at most, but you were assuming you would be the designated driver tonight. You just always flashed your ID to the bouncer for the wristband to emphasize that you were of age. Unfortunately, some bands have had a bad reputation of fooling around with underaged girls, who lied about it.

She held up her drink to you with a smile on her face. Yeah, you were going to be the one driving back to the hotel, but at least she’s happy. She tried to coax you into ordering a drink of your own, but you only shook your head at her nonsense and stood away from the crowd.

As an avid concert goer, you’ve been to enough shows that you’d been in every section of the crowd. Hell, you’ve even gone crowd surfing before! Plus, you couldn’t hang with those vicious and hormonal fans in the crowd anymore, so you learned to enjoy the show from the back with a full view.

The opening bands were decent. You’d never heard of them, one was probably local, but you always believed live music was just as good, if not, better than opposed to being recorded and remastered at a studio. 

During their sets, you caved and bought a drink from the bar, hoping it’d help to pass the time before the headliners came on. Your friend was seemingly on her phone when a random guy approached you asking if he could buy you a drink. The house lights were on. Did he not see the can of beer in your hands? You politely declined his offer and further advances until he gave up and walked away.  

“Girl. He was cute!” Your friend said shoving you lightly.

“I wasn’t interested,” you shrug and taking a swig of your drink. 

“You’re not being fair,” she started and seeing that you weren’t catching on continued, “you can’t wait around hoping that one day Bucky will notice you. Honey, he came here to play a show and make money not look for a girlfriend.” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, bursting your bubble like that and all, but her intentions were good. Bucky Barnes just set the standards too high.

She wasn’t wrong. Guys like Bucky meet new people every day, met girls probably way prettier than you. The majority of their fans were female because let’s face it, the guys had sex appeal and you know what they say…sex sells.

Looking around the venue, you took in the kinds of girls you were going up against. There was a mixture of women of different backgrounds and sizes decked out in different styles, but the ones who won most of the time were the ones that looked good dressed in risqué clothing and heels. Some of them probably even wore less make-up than you or none at all. You couldn’t understand how it was effortless for some people.

It wasn’t that you had low self-esteem. You had your fair share of internal struggle, so sometimes your insecurity played its part. You had your good days and you had your bad days.

You decided upon wearing something simple that you would be comfortable in while still serving a look. And the only other significant thing you did to your make-up was add in a little more shimmer. Yeah you wanted to impress, not sell your soul to the devil.

“Okay, but I just really wasn’t interested,” you said again hoping she’d understand. She did, aware you wrestled with that demon in your head always taunting and ridiculing you that you could look better when you’re perfect just the way you are. With an added bonus of telling you that Bucky was missing out if he hasn’t noticed you already, she ordered another drink in time before the lights dimmed and ear-piercing screams erupted to alert that The Avengers finally took the stage to headline the show.

Like each of the shows you’d previously attended, they were amazing. They poured their hearts out with each beat and belt. Every lyric resonated with you so deeply. There was just so much raw emotion packed into their performance. The beauty of concerts was that they were designed to let you forget about all the bullshit happening in the world for a few hours. They were therapeutic for you.  

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say your friend secretly liked The Avengers’ music because she broke you out of your shell and had you swaying along with her to their songs…that or it was the alcohol taking over her. You didn’t fight it and you allowed yourself to let loose.

You tried to give each member equal attention, watching them as they played, but you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Bucky the most. They were just trained on him. His cheeky smile and onstage presence were electric. The mere sight of him, all sweaty as his clothes stuck to his skin accentuating his toned body so well, all but had you shuffling trying to ease your body’s frustration and mind.

The only time you looked away was when you swore you thought he looked at you. Making eye contact with someone on stage was kind of awkward sometimes, but with him it was almost intimidating. Believing he was probably staring at the girl behind you, you downed the rest of your drink, pushed that thought away and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.

A full set of songs that showcased their albums and a two-song encore later, you were driving yourself and your buzzed friend back to your hotel room. It wasn’t that far from the venue, electing to stay within its vicinity. Upon entering the room, you tossed the shirt you bought at the merch booth on your bed before removing your leather jacket while she face-planted down on her bed, arms wide open, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. You couldn’t blame her. It felt great to rest right after standing on your feet for hours.

Your back rested against the headboard, you knocked your boots and socks off a while ago and had your bare feet up on your bed. You hadn’t changed out of the rest of your clothes or even wiped off your make-up yet. Instead, you sat there skimming through the timelines of your social media accounts while you waited for your friend to get out of the shower.

You had posted a few photos and videos of the night to your story, like your outfit, a few of you and your friend sightseeing, and of The Avengers’ set. You refreshed your timeline and noticed Bucky’s account pop up before everyone else that you followed. It’s no surprise that you were following them on social media. You liked seeing them share the personal moments of their lives. They used to be interactive with their fans. Bucky had even once commented on the old photo you had with the band years ago.   

You met them after a show when they were just starting out with their first full-length album debuting that summer. Now, they hardly came out because all it took was one crazed fan to ruin it for everyone else. Their popularity sometimes deemed it unsafe for venues to let them stick around so late, restricting them from meeting their fans.

You click on Bucky’s account and go through his story. There was one of a view of the open road from their tour bus, a clip of a song he liked, a cryptic quote with a deep underlying meaning to it, him getting ready to go on stage and then of the show.

He had taken a photo of the crowd towards the end of the set, asked fans to tag themselves if they could, because the crowd was amazing…as if they didn’t say that in every town they played in.

His caption read: “Awesome crowd tonight! Probably our best show yet!” topped with how much he loved the city. Sometimes you wanted to reply to his posts like he was one of your friends, but then you second guessed yourself knowing he’d never see the message, or he would and just ignore it because he was busy. You knew it was a long shot, but what did you have to lose and what is it that they said these days? Shoot your shot.

You didn’t linger on the body of the message for too long, settling with a “Great show tonight! You guys were amazing as always! :)” hitting send and closing out the app thinking it would conceal any embarrassment that might come out of it. It was a ridiculous thought.

After surfing through the channels of the TV and picking at the food you had delivered to your room, your phone pinged. You saw that it was a notification from your social media account, but once your face unlocked the phone and the subject appeared, you nearly choked on the drink you were sipping on.

Bucky Barnes sent you a message.

Your heart pathetically started beating really fast. The phone almost slipped from your hands as you opened up the toxic app again to read what he said. He probably just sent you an emoji or something.

“Thanks for coming out.”

That was it. Okay, what did you except? A proposal. That was a fair response. He probably had some downtime and was able to reply to people. You couldn’t be that special…but thinking you could strike gold again, you started typing up a response.

“Of course! Will always be out there to support you guys! Hope the city treats you well and have a safe rest of the tour.” Yeah, that was a good one. You say to yourself thinking that would be the end of it…except it wasn’t.

“Appreciate it. You know of any good spots around here?”

Nope. You did not. Do you look up some recommendations for him? No, that’s too much. Great, you’re having a conversation with him through DMs and you can’t even genuinely contribute enough to hold it down.  

“No, not really. I’m not from here actually. My friend and I drove here just to catch the show. Maybe YELP?” Shit. You just might’ve effectively got rid of him with turning him to the Internet instead.

“No way! That’s love. Good thinking.” They came through in separate text bubbles.

Why were guys so short? You couldn’t work with that. You thought about it for a while but came up with nothing, so you sent the sassy ‘girl sticking her hand out’ emoji as a reply. Damn, you were really bad at this.

Several minutes passed by and thinking you were really done with him; you got another message. It was Bucky again and he sent you a photo. It was from your own feed; the group photo of you and his band mates all those years ago.

“I thought I recognized you.” You sat up straight as you read that message over and over, eyes bugging. Thankful your friend was taking her sweet time in the bathroom, so she wouldn’t see you all strung up.

What? There’s no way. That was a long time ago. Your thoughts spiraled at his words that had you blushing. He’s pulling your chain.

“Impossible. That was forever ago!” I guess two could play this game then.

“I swear. You tripped and fell into my arms that night.”

What the hell? He actually remembered that? Yeah, that did indeed happen. You had been waiting outside surrounded by a bunch of other chatty girls, pushing and shoving their way to get to Bucky first. By the time he turned to you and you stepped forward, you lost your footing and fell straight onto him. He played it cool, but then you heard Sam, who was trapped in his own circle of girls, signing and taking pictures away, that Bucky has girls falling for him all the time.

“OMG. That was so embarrassing, and I was so awkward!” You couldn’t even speak to him when you managed to hold your own ground. You were young then, you thought you effectively put that behind you.

“You weren’t awkward! You were cute and that’s what has stuck with me since. One of the most memorable moments.”

Yup, he was definitely pulling your chain. While you were ecstatic that you were interacting with your favorite artist, you couldn’t help but wonder why you. He was a public figure and you were just a fan.

“Is this weird?” Came through as his next message after your silence. 

Oh, no. I hope I didn’t offend him. You might as well tell it like it is and get it off your chest.

“I don’t know...just a bit. Probably because I’m just a fan? I feel like you should be careful. I mean I should be too…” You really did wonder though. How was it that people of his status were willing and freely open to people they barely knew only to get threatened of being leaked and blackmailed by their own nudes or messages? What made them trust the other party so easily with that kind of stuff? They couldn’t be that dumb. Well, you got your answer.

“I don’t think of you or anyone as just a fan, but you are right…at the same time I feel that you’re grounded enough and a good person that we can trust each other. If that makes sense.”

You weren’t sure if it did. He still didn’t really know you.

“Awe, well that’s really flattering. I totally understand that because that’s how I feel.” Did you? There was a pause between that message and the next that would come.  

“What’s your cell?”

Really? It was just that easy? Oh, okay then. Nonetheless, you still gave him your number. The DMs stopped and transferred over to text messages. You have Bucky Barnes’ phone number. What fan fic were you living in? Shit like this doesn’t just happen, does it?

The texts between you and Bucky went back and forth, some playful and some slightly suggestive, but you were completely oblivious to them thinking that was just in his nature. You found out the band was staying in for the night before heading back out on the road tomorrow afternoon off to the next city. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath when you stared at his most recent text asking if you wanted to hang out. It was kind of late, but you didn’t get a guy like Bucky Barnes asking you to hang out on the regular.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questioned breaking your train of thoughts. You could see her from your peripheral that she was towel drying the ends of her hair even though you’re still staring at your phone.

“Bucky sent me a DM inviting me to his hotel room.” You answered in a stoic demeanor, but it felt really strange coming out of your mouth.

“Okay. How long was I in the shower?” Your friend asked with her hands on her hips wanting an explanation.

You recount the details and show her the messages you and Bucky had been sending to each other. She scrolled through each of them and you could see the look of apprehension forming on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said her words trailing before giving you a worried look, “shouldn’t you be the slightest bit concerned?”

“About?” You ask taking your phone back from her.

“All of this!” She exclaimed her arms outstretched in exasperation and not understanding why you were so blinded by Bucky. “You briefly met the guy, years ago might I add, and you decide it’s okay to meet him at his hotel room in a city you don’t even live in?”

Alright, it did raise a couple of red flags, but you were a consenting adult and you lived a life of being cautious and in fear a little too much you wanted to be reckless for at least one night.

“I know you’re only looking after me, but I got to go for it. You know I like him! Sure, I may not know him on a personal level, but I’m allowed to have some fun, right?” You try reasoning with her. Just how different was all this compared to what people around the world were already doing with each other anyways?

She was a bit skeptic before reluctantly agreeing and letting you go but with the promise from you to be careful, share your location and his room number with her just in case she needed to save you or come after him. You thanked her for understanding and assured her that you’d be back before check-out in the morning.

On the drive to his hotel room, you thought about how you always imagined the different scenarios of what it’d be like when you’d ever meet Bucky again. What things you’d do differently or say. How you’d make sure to not trip or do something to embarrass yourself the next time. How you’d be more confident.

Parking was a pain in any city’s downtown, you ended up having to pay for parking twice in one night. Not surprising to you, they stayed in a nice hotel. It wasn’t over-the-top nor was it fancy, but it was definitely clean and a slight step up than of what was in your budget for booking a room.

When you’re finally at his door, you wonder if you were going to be catfished. Were there other people in his room? Were you really that special? Fuck it. Was the final thought, putting an end to the rest, and knocked at his door.

You hear a click and sliding of the chain door unlock, then you’re face-to-face with Bucky. He’s dressed down in sweats and a zip-up hoodie. He shoots you a smile and steps aside for you to come inside, there wasn’t much light offered to illuminate the room other than the ones the lamps attached on the wall between the beds and what little the TV could provide.

“Oh, thank God. You’re real.” Motherfucker. Did you really just say that?

Bucky laughed at that and you explained, honest with him, that this whole thing just felt surreal. He nodded in agreement, offering to take your jacket from you and a drink. It was alcoholic. Not denying him, you accepted it and waited to see what he would do next.

You watch him sit down on the king-sized bed with his feet up, one foot over the other. You’re standing there next to the dresser that also served as a stand for the TV he was watching a random show on. Not sure what to do, you set the drink aside, kick off your boots, leaving them next to the luggage rack, and sit on the spot next to him with a considerable amount of distance between your bodies.

It’s quiet and you’re trying to hush the voices in your head. Did he really invite you to just watch TV with him? Is this awkward for him? Oh, no. He’s going to realize I’m boring.

You feel the bed shift and you see Bucky is leaning over, opposite of you, to grab something from the nightstand. You don’t see much of what he’s doing as your view was blocked by his large back. When he changes positions, a brief spark of a flame emits from his hands. Your eyes trail up from his hands to his lips and notice it was a blunt. You were pretty sure this was a non-smoking room, but it wasn’t under your name, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

Of course, he did that kind of stuff. It was part of the lifestyle to be exposed to it. He took a steady hit and you watched as he exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke disappearing into the air in front of him.

“Want a hit?” He asked passing and offering you the blunt.

It’d been a while since you last smoked anything. You tried it a few times and even then, you didn’t think you did it right. You stare at the neatly rolled blunt in between his thumb and forefinger, but not too long as to not let it go to waste and ash up all over the bed.

You steadily take it from him and carefully attempt to take a puff. Wrong. That puff was anything but steady. Not realizing how close you were actually sitting next to Bucky, when you tried to exhale you ended up coughing – terribly. Bucky’s face scrunches up as he braces for the impact of white smoke to hit his face.

“Oh my God,” you say covering your mouth in disbelief, but it was a bad idea because your body didn’t like that, and you ended up coughing even harder.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to get out in between your coughing fit while passing him back the blunt and trying your best to waft at the smoke. Well, if you thought your first encounter with Bucky was embarrassing. This had to take the cake. It wasn’t proper etiquette to blow smoke in the other person’s face.

He waves it off letting you know that it wasn’t a big deal before taking another hit. He even begins to give you a few pointers to inhale in increments, until you get used to the smoke. You don’t even notice the long looks Bucky gives you hit after hit. You take a second to let the smoke stay in your mouth before you give it a second inhale, letting it process through your system before gently exhaling. It was a lot of fucking steps to remember.

“Don’t try to put too much emphasis into the exhalation,” he said as he watches you take another hit, almost perfecting it and with each puff and pass being deeper and longer than the previous, “see, you’re getting the hang of it!” He whimsically lifts his hand up for a high-five that you softly pat in return, but he seizes that moment to hold your hand instead, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The more you breathed in the more your body started to relax. All the edge was taken off and you felt good. You and Bucky continued to pass the blunt, smoking whatever was left of it and what he had with him, as you told random bits of information about yourselves to one another. By now, you and Bucky were leaning on each other, backs against the headboard, the TV barely audible as it continued to play a rerun of whatever that was on earlier.

“You know I really do remember you?” He says causing you to turn your head to look down at him. He has his gaze fixed on your hands, his thumb barely grazing the back of your hand. He’d been playing with your hand, drawing random shapes on it.  

“That’s hard for me to believe,” you answer back truthfully.  

“Why?” Bucky questions while looking up at you. He was in a slouched position, his hoodie and shirt rising up, allowing you a thin glimpse of his skin, while you sat a little higher up than him. 

You admired his handsome face, the crease lines in his forehead, the faint and not so faint marks scattered all around it, his wet lips that shone when he ran his tongue over them and the stubble that surrounded it all down to his adorable nose. Then there were those blue eyes that once put you in an overawe of intimidation, were now a bit alarming in a new sense. They were swirling and growing darker.

“You meet new people every day, Bucky. There’s no way that I could’ve been that unforgettable to you.” You just couldn’t wrap your mind around that. Staring at him, you tried to read him, but you were too faded to concentrate.  

“But you were,” he tells you in a low voice just before you notice his eyes shut and he leans in to place an experimenting kiss to your lips. He pulls back to quietly study your expression, and when you don’t show any sign of disapproval, he goes in for another.

This time with added pressure, more emotion, Bucky pulls you down by the back of your neck and casually slips his tongue in your mouth the moment your lips parted. Your heart started racing when you reciprocated his kiss, trying to keep up with him. He definitely liked to dominate. You could even slightly taste the blunt you both shared moments ago as his tongue tangled with yours.

He slips off his hoodie leaving him in a dark gray shirt. Navigating his body over yours, he pulls you down into a more comfortable position. He’s cradling the side of your face as your lips continue to move one another, getting hungrier and hungrier.

The movements cause your top to ride up, exposing your midriff. His hands wander down to caress your skin before you feel his fingers grip at the waistline of your jeans. You instantly grab his hand and stop him. This was moving all too fast for you.

Bucky didn’t press on it for too long and slipped his fingers out, running his hand back up your side and this time underneath what your tank top was covering left of your upper body. His hand snuck back out and started tugging at the material bunched underneath your breasts. When your top was finally discarded to reveal your red bra, he latched onto your neck, kissing up along your jawline and nipping at your ear, the sound of his harsh breathing sent a tingle at the contact and shivers through your entire body.

You winced when you suddenly felt one of his hands at the back of your head, yanking a handful of your hair causing your head to snap back. It gave him more access and you closed your eyes letting the sharp pain run its course and turn into something pleasurable as he practically devoured your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, getting high on you, and possibly the lingering aroma of the drugs, and sucking tiny splotches onto your skin then licking to soothe them.  

He pushed aside the straps of your bra as his lips travelled down your shoulder before stopping at the curve of your breasts. You briefly opened your eyes to see him fixated on your chest. He uses both hands to grope them.

“You think I didn’t notice these from the stage?” He asks now looking at you, squeezing and releasing them before pulling your bra down, your breasts spilling out of the cups. He instantly latches his mouth onto a nipple, while the other hand digs in between the mattress and your back to unclasp the bra. His tongue swirled around the nub, teeth lightly grazing and sucking at the skin around it.

You run a hand through his hair, it was a little sweaty and you couldn’t blame him. It was getting hot; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. It became even more apparent after he got rid of his shirt and you feel his clammy skin on yours.

He pulls back, straddling your waist, most of his body weight falling on his knees, careful to not to crush you. Your hands cascaded down his chest and rested at his thighs. You gave them a shy squeeze, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and you were only slightly satisfied.

Bucky flashes you another smile before he braces one hand next to your head and leans back over to fish something off the nightstand. When he pulls his other hand back you notice he’s going through something on his phone. Curious, you look at his face trying to get another read at him, but this whole night was just full of surprises. He finally looks at you before speaking.

“Can I ask you something and you promise not to freak out?”

It depends.

“Yeah…” Who were you kidding? You’d gladly get on your knees for this man. He swooped in for another hard kiss, your mind turning into mush just before you could get anything else out.

“I think it’d be so hot if we recorded ourselves,” his face was so close to yours making sure that your focus was on his and only his. He must’ve felt you shift because he allowed more of his weight to drop; he was closing in on you and it was like you almost had no chance of escape. You weren’t going to lie. The way his weight was crushing you and sinking you deeper into the bed felt really nice. You were speechless. He wanted to record a sex tape with you.

“I travel so much,” he starts listing off reasons why while still cradling the side of your face again, your hand bracing his forearm, and starts kissing your face, “it gets really lonely being on the road.” At this point, he’s probably kissed every inch, “I’d love to have this...it’d be so much easier for me to come thinking about you.”

Motherfucker. His dreamy voice speaking those words into you did one hell of a number because you were aching down there plus the way his hips dragged at your still jean-clad lower region didn’t offer much relief.

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate for a bit. What if his phone got hacked and the footage leaked?

“It’s just for me, baby. I swear,” he asks with hopeful eyes.

Sure, you could’ve had the strength to say no, but you were more than willing to be everything he desired. With your consent, he sealed it with another wild kiss. The magnitude of it setting you ablaze.

Bucky sets his phone back on the nightstand, propping it upright, camera on front face mode to display the both of you on its screen, and at the perfect angle he hits the red record button.

It’s showtime.

He revisits the mission of removing your pants and is this time successful. If you both weren’t so faded, he’d probably have an easier time taking them off, but they were tight, and you were grateful he didn’t clumsily break your ankles in the process. Chucking them somewhere off to the side, with his fingers, he traces the top pattern of the matching red lace panties you had on.

He let out a faint chuckle commenting on how red is his favorite color. Oh, you knew. You precisely chose this set just in case you got lucky. He plants kisses to your hip bones, his lips evading the area that cried out for his attention the most, and slithered down the bed, so he had your calves now placed over his shoulders.

Bucky laid gentle pecks on them and came back up to start nipping at your inner thighs, most likely leaving his mark there also, until you felt the tip of his nose hit your center. Your panties were definitely a deeper shade of red at this point. He pushed your panties to the side enough to get started.

You feel the pads of his fingers begin to rub circular motions at your clit. The first wave causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You feel the smirk that formed on his face against your thigh at your body’s response.

“So sensitive,” he says pushing your hips back down to continue his task at hand, “and so wet,” he added while pulling his fingers away to examine your arousal that coated his long digits. You don’t take your eyes off him and you almost forget how to breathe when you watch his lips wrap around his fingers, noting his eyes closed and how his cheekbones become more prominent on an already perfect jawline as he sucked them off clean.

When Bucky opens his eyes, they’re darker than before, clouded with lust. He roughly yanked at your panties, still in his other hand, effectively tearing the overpriced garment. After giving it a few more tugs, it was long gone. Headfirst in between your legs, Bucky craved for more of you. He licked a broad strip, down up, to your clit. His tongue teased your folds before dipping inside you, the intrusion causing you to gasp. Your body withered around desperately searching for a path to release. Bucky kept at it, his nose nudging your clit with each plunge his tongue made.

Not denying you of a finish, he adds his fingers into the mix, curling them to find that spot. Noting that your eyes had closed sometime during the act, he stills, and you whine at the sudden halt. Your hand aimlessly reaches out to his face. When you find it, you open your eyes and pick your head up to find out why he had stopped. Bucky offers one of his hands for you to hold on to before speaking.

“Baby keep your eyes on me,” he orders, and his eyes don’t leave yours as his head lowers back down to your pulsing heat. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head from lolling back in ecstasy because you desperately wanted to come. Fuck, he was so talented.

The noises as a result of his onslaught were downright sinful. Bucky’s hips started to ground into the bed trying to relieve some friction of his own. His moans tremble across your entire body. There’s no warning when you come, and you don’t even give him a chance to escape your thighs that clamp around face. Not that Bucky minded, feeling you clench around his fingers as he drank in more of what your body had to offer. Bucky only then emerges when your legs fall limp against the bed.

He plops back down next to you, but as he does so, he pulls you on top of him. Your lips reattach themselves with his and the raw nature of tasting yourself on his lips drive you both mad. He hadn’t even wiped around his face, so you feel the wetness on his chin scrape across yours, staining you with your own arousal.

Your hands moved on their own from planting themselves on his firm chest then working their way down the ripples of his abs, through the trail of hair leading to the top of the waistband of his sweats. You tauntingly pulled the drawstring to loosen it before letting it go and instead grip him through the soft material. Bucky grumbled at your actions, but let you carry on.

You palmed him, getting a feel of how thick and long he was. Bucky was growing whiny with each passing move your hand made, he took matters into his own and grabbed your hand, shoving it into his pants. Your hand instinctively wraps around his hard cock and you give it a light squeeze and a few strokes, generating long drawn out moans to spew from Bucky’s mouth.

His cock felt even better with nothing separating you two. Bucky’s pants and boxers easily slide down his muscular legs, which spread apart to give you room. You maneuver south to lie on your stomach, still in between his legs, and grab his member that was curved resting at his stomach and bring it your face.

“Wait,” he says almost breathlessly. Your mouth is only inches away from the head already weeping profusely. He sits up to rest on his elbows and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. Oh.

“Okay, smile for me,” he directs, and you follow his lead before your tongue darts out at his slit and follow the ring around the tip of his cock. You pull back to savor his taste for a moment, your hands spreading the pre-cum around his shaft. Your strokes are then accompanied by the long licks you give at the sides and to his balls that your other hand had been playing with. Bucky’s head rests on his pillow so his other hand could rest on the back of your head and guide you down his length. Your mouth immediately started to water, but it made it easier for you to bob up and down. He let you move at your own pace for the most part. Bucky pushed your hair off to the side, away from your face to get a better view of the outline of his cock poking at the inside of your mouth. You let his cock drag across the inside of your cheeks a few times until it audibly popped out of your mouth.  

“Fuck me. I knew you’d be perfect.” His words mixed with his incessant moans were like honey pouring into your ears. He loved the way your eyes looked directly at him through the camera lens when you come up with a long tantalizing lick to the underside of his cock and crawling back up to straddle him.  

Bucky gets a good shot of your flushed face and breasts that had some of your drool combined with his pre-cum running down your body before dropping his phone beside him. He sits up causing you to fall back down at the other end of the bed. He picks out a condom from the nightstand and you watch as it rolls down the length of his cock. You bite your lip watching it twitch.

He’s on his knees, but sitting on the balls of his feet, you are lying down patiently waiting for him. He swipes his cock through the wetness of your pussy, prepping himself to slide in. He’s watching your reaction with each pass his dick makes. Your body is yearning for him to be inside of you, to hit that fucking spot over and over.

Just when you think he’s about to do it, he’s reaching over for that damn phone again. Out of habit, you cover your face with your hands. Not only showing the last shred of humility you had left, but also because you probably looked like a fucking bitch in heat.

Bucky pulls your hands away, he still has the phone in his hands, and he’s got it angled to playback from his point of view before he finally pushes into you. He’s big, much bigger than what you’ve experienced, you think you need a moment to adjust, but he never gives you that opportunity and you find that it doesn’t matter when he feels so good. Too good that you find it hard to breathe with each thrust he’s making because he’s hitting it so deep. You push your hands out in front of you to his lower abdomen and attempt to slow him down. Bucky shakes his head and knocks your hands out of the way.

You let out an abrupt yelp at his retaliation to your failed efforts in trying to stop him with a particularly harder and much forceful thrust. Instead, your hands grab fistfuls of the hotel bed’s white blankets and just let him have his way.

“So beautiful,” he says spreading you further then coming down on you to reclaim your lips with his. He rips your hands from their tight grips on the bed sheets to pin them down next to the sides of your head. You don’t care where his phone went, just happy to have both his hands on you. The skin-to-skin contact just hit different sometimes.

The kisses become so feral you start to feel a burn around your mouth from his stubble. Bucky rolls his hips into yours deliciously, a damn true artist, the rhythm he’s got going sends you just about over but never fully beyond the edge to prolong the climax.

Much to your dismay, Bucky withdraws away from you again, back into his previous position, a new idea popping into his wicked mind. With his hard cock still inside you, he slides his hands under your hips and hoists your lower half up towards him, resting your ass on his thighs, effectively bottoming out. You don’t hold back at the way that made you feel and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He holds still for a second and you’re not quite sure why. You try to move by wiggling your hips, but he holds you still.

He’s staring at how close your bodies are, connected, he moves just the slightest. It causes your pussy to contract and your stomach to tighten up. He does it again in different intervals, his eyes surveying the entire thing. The next push is a little harder and when you see the devious smile breakthrough his face, he does it even more. The thrusts are much sharper and almost painful, but it quickly subsides when you feel the head of his cock probe at the right spot.

Bucky lifts your hips up higher, your back arching in bridge fashion you weren’t aware you could even do until he resumes his new pattern of thrusts again. This new position aided his cock in hitting your sweet spot a little better. He’s filming you again and resting one of his palms on your stomach. He’s not only watching, but he’s feeling the bulge in your belly from the distension caused by the jabs of his cock.  

“That’s my girl,” he praised, continuing to pound into you, “you take this cock so well.” The sight boosts Bucky’s ego and for you it actually probably wasn’t a good thing, but you’d be damned the angle did so many wonders to you right now.

“You love watching your cock go deeper and deeper inside me, Bucky?” You ask trying to look up at him from that position. Where did that come from? Your words cause him to freeze momentarily, but you could still feel his cock throbbing inside of you. He liked that.

Another impish thought running through his head, Bucky pulls out, picking you up so you’re also knee-height with him, giving you another searing kiss, then he’s behind you. He gently pushes you down, you on your elbows, Bucky leans over behind you, his soaked cock sliding up your ass resting on the small of your back as he places his phone back on the nightstand in the same position it had been in the beginning.

You don’t dare look at the screen in front of you, so you look down until you feel Bucky enter your pussy once more from behind. Your head rises and it wasn’t due to the surging pleasure, but because Bucky uses your hair as a rope to bring your body upright with his.

He thrusts up into you while he mutters incoherent slurs and lewd noises into your ear. He peppers the side of your face with wet and uncalculated kisses, his hands massaging your breasts before one of them migrates down to cup your pussy. His fingers dip in and starts another assault to your clit. You’re already tethering off the edge and on the brink of succumbing to him, but he just knew when to let up and keep you starved for more.

“Look at you,” he says, using his other hand to turn your head to face the small screen, the numbers continuing to go up. “You’re such a fucking slut for my cock,” you don’t argue with him and instead moan his name. “You like watching yourself fuck this huge cock, don’t you?” You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore; watching the two of you was hot. Your uncontrollable moans now muffled into Bucky’s palm. And he just kept egging you on, “I know I do. It’s gonna remind me just how tight this fucking pussy is.” Damn him. 

“You want to come, baby?” He asks, the speed of his fingers picking up a notch.

You pull down Bucky’s hand to respond, “Mmm, yes. Fuck! Please let me come, Bucky,” you don’t know what has possessed you, but it spurs the both of you on even more. Your next words do it for Bucky, “I want to come all over your cock,” and he’s immediately coming and spilling into the condom, still inside you, you feel his release pump through him. He’s biting your shoulder, some of his weight coming down on you, his thrusts becoming erratic, but one did the trick for you and you finally let go.

And what drives Bucky even more wild, is that you don’t stop. You keep rolling your hips into him, riding it all the way out. Bucky’s trying to hold on, with a bruising grip on your waist, his forehead resting on your back; the aftershock of his release proving too much. Your release pours out freely, you feel some of it slide down the inside of your thighs mixed with sweat.

You sag against Bucky, each of your body weight balancing against the other. You feel him scatter lazy kisses up your back and pull your face towards him to press one against your lips, moaning in satisfaction. He slowly pulls out of you with a low groan, your body feeling numb when you fall forward to lie down on the bed. Bucky discards of the condom and shuts his phone off before settling next to you.

He pushes the hair out of your face, and you, facedown, peek an eye open. He has a more than content look on his face, you notice his eyes were back to their normal color. He allows some time to pass for you both to calm down. Sleep wants to overcome your body, but it doesn’t when Bucky’s touch puts you on notice again. He runs his hand up and down your back. He’s insatiable, but he didn’t anticipate your comeback in the end and put him in a daze. He could get addicted to you.    

“Is it weird if I fly you out to Brooklyn?” He said out of nowhere. Brooklyn was thousands of miles away from where you lived. He wanted to pay your way to see him again. It was such an outlandish request. You’re starting to regain a more balanced sense of perception and thought, and you ponder on this for a few seconds. “Never mind. You think it’s weird,” he says lifting the blanket over his head turning his back to you. You could tell he was just trying to be cute.

“Oh, come on! You caught me off guard. You can’t blame me!” You respond, but he doesn’t budge. You muster up enough strength to sit up to lean over the side of his body, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder, and try to grab at the blanket. You pull it over his head and see the lazy smile etched across his pretty face. All you do is return the smile and close your eyes, basking in the post-coital bliss.  

“Stay for the night,” came as his last request and turning to lie on his back, wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t think about your car, that’s still parked nearby or care if the parking rate is probably going up by the hour and start eating at your bank account. You don’t think about how pissed your friend would be when she wakes up in the morning and you’re still not back in time. You just think about how tomorrow he’d be far away. You scoot up to give him one more kiss before laying your head to rest on him and make the best out of the present. Happy that you went with your gut on this one.

A/N: This could flop. At first, it was easy to write, but then the ending tripped me up. & while I have your attention, please let me know, anonymously or not, if there’s an interest in a Chase Collins fic? Charles Blackwood smut, anyone? Anyway, I hope this delivered! Thanks for reading!

[therayofmoonlight]

As promised, I brought some designs of my mermaid characters, so I apologize to everyone for the delay and delay, you don't know how sad I really am about all this !, this post is part of Mermay 2021, this is the first time I am participating, as I already had this in a Blog apologizing for the delay, I commented that I did not want to go without posting anything this time (soon I, who have so many FUCKING characters) so I decided to put in practice some redesigns and make characters I had never done it before and it was just my ideas, without further ado ... LET'S GO TO THE PRESENTATIONS!

PS: "in addition to curiosities such as: origin, age, professions, powers and abilities, I will argue about curiosities related to mermaids in general, such as their high knowledge, development, and discovery of powers, you will also be able to see a little IN THIS Blog, where in addition to talking about the mermaids, I speculate a little about other magical creatures present in my AU. "

Malika, Mermaid of Anemone                                                                            - Let's start with Malika, she is the mermaid of the anemone (as I already mentioned in the title) she has a very fluid personality, and she tries to stay in high spirits practically all the time!, she is that kind of childish friend who always tries to play, even in less pleasant hours; she studies with others at the University of the Mermaids on the planet Andros (more specifically, the one found in the kingdom itself, even though she came from the other side of the world), she really likes her dreads, she has a naturally greenish hair tone, and works in a cafeteria near the university, his age is 16 years old, and is in a stable relationship.with his friends of course, Her powers are very accurate!, she has poison-like abilities that can really be used, this can vary because each species of anemone has its own (Animalia/Poison/Water), Its magic shape is very elaborate, with beautiful designs on the tail, its hair grows and detach from the bun, being loose with rings that resemble each other in the dreads with two shells on both sides of its head, she has a pearl net shirt,ad  the fins resemble anemones              

Doris, Mermaid of Water Rose                                                                             - Doris is your little friend who loves pink and likes makeup, she also studies at the University of Mermaids, and came from a neighboring city, she can seem very snobbish a lot of times, but that changes when you move with her, she she doesn’t have a job .. she is only paid for financially by her parents, she wears very expensive jewelry to be cinsero, and she has a beauty worthy of being "rare" as many can say, she is 18 years old, and whenever she can go out with her friends to shop!                                                                                                 - It has very specific powers, its magic element is linked to a species of aquatic plant called "Water Rose" they do not belong to the family of flowers of the genus Rosaceae, this name is only linked to similarities, as being a species of plant of equatorial habitats to be born as a shrub in the middle of the water, its flowers are extremely fragrant, blooming at night, Doris can use the energy that these flowers have, as well as natural abilities that they have, so she can use powers of the type (Nature/Water/Odor), its magical form is highlighted by the predominant pink color, its hair grows being extremely long, with pearl gloves and fins that refer to Water Rose petals.

Samantha, Mermaid of Pearls   - The badass of the group!, she seems like a mother at times to all friends!, being the oldest, she has a very strong and respected personality, being 20 years old, she is hitting her university life, she has a car, say that..this was kind of easy for her, she actually has a very sad background story..then her parents passed away, and even though it still hurts her, she just tries to keep living to the fullest, something that Lotus really suits her (Samantha IS the Lotus religion, LMAO), in appearance she stands out for being VERY tall in stature, she has a leather jacket with her look, something that really cannot be missing, are the pearls, it is almost mandatory to be present in all the clothes she wears, she knows all types, shapes, colors and names of pearls, even collecting them for fun, when she was younger, she asked for the smaller finger of her hand on a boat prop. - Her powers can also be interpreted as being very specific, their powers are of the type (Parasite/water), she takes the energy out of pearls (literally a cancer of an oyster) so she can logically manipulate everything that involves a pearl, basically substances, its magic shape stands out for pale metallic colors , and specifically for its pearl adornments, her hair grows a lot compared to the civilian form, and she wears some bracelets on her arms, her fin has a more round shape than the others.

Glaros, Merman of Hydrophytes - Yes, I already did it, but this was a redesign with (see only) a casual outfit !, it was more specifically a redesign, but if you are curious for the first version and some curiosities that I told you, click HERE, continuing..this He is Glaros, a shy young Merman who is also at the University, he is 17 years old, and .. what can I say about him ?, he is a shy boy, who does not speak much, and he is a CDF! and obviously he is in marine biology, he likes to swim for the duration of streams, he is the only guy in the group of friends, and they put him in a lot of trouble sometimes, but he is nice, a total loving towards his friends, and always it seems to be the most accurate, he has another best friend who appears in the group a few times, who is the older brother of Lotus, Salin, he has already tried to learn surfing with Salin..but the result was quite catratrophical can't change for a few months ...) - He has a power in Hydrophytes (in short, plants that grow in water), so, his powers fit into the class (Nature/Water), his magic form comes down to a style as if he were dominated by some plants, he he has bracelets, his hair compared to the casual version grows a lot, like a Merman he has bigger wings and a more slender tail with some flowers tied at the end going to the fin, the fin does not resemble a dress different from the girls, but she has some hair that resemble flower petals.

PS: "I showed here that even with magical creatures having similar powers, they can name themselves with titles that please their own dialects you can see about it HERE"

[theyearsiturnedintoaghost]

Hello, Is This Thing On?

Hi! (as mentioned above). Do people still use this thing? I have no idea. Years ago, and I do mean YEARS ago, I had one of these. I didn’t use it for much, just reposting things, following humans I’d met in online communities, a ‘celebrity’ here or there, sometimes screaming about shit I couldn’t control into the void that is the endless scrolling interweb, and being pointless in wasting my time between classes, work, and twenty-something. Regardless, my previous tumblr had minimal followers, made minimal impact, and that was okay. It was honestly just a nice place to sort of hide in plain sight. Still be part of a social world without actually having to do much. This was also pre a billion other apps and social media outlets to express yourself or scroll mindlessly at a million other pointless things that people were posting to make you giggle or even just stop for a second and think.  

Clearly, the point of this, back then, felt like something I would use to help propel my writing career. Turns out, it did not. I did not write much, if at all. And most of the time I think it was because I was scared nothing was as good as any of the other stuff I was reading from people I liked, and thought were so much cooler and smarter than me; I still feel this way all of the time, but I do realize this was me being nervous, small minded about myself, and completely unconfident.  

Unfortunately, I am still most of these things a lot of the time, but recently, after getting fired from a job, having my heart broken by pretty much everyone on the planet, especially a few specific people, cancelled by all of my friends (?) - this is a thing btw. (It’s not as awful as being cancelled publicly, but it does still ruin your life, mindset, confidence, and overall physical and mental wellbeing) Getting a new job, hating it and feeling like I was going no where, and missing out on living a life I felt proud of and that I was actively participating in, I decided maybe I should just try to write it all out and see what happens. 

To be frank, I expect nothing of this. I can’t fathom a world where anything I have to say truly matters to people because lets be real - everyone has this own shit and everyone is going through so much all of the time.  And we all think we have something new, quirky, interesting, and important to say.  And in a world that constantly shoves perfection down our throats and works so hard to make each of us feel completely inadequate to every Kardashian, Beyonce, Grande, etc., it’s hard to really think that anything I have to say will matter to anyone; at all. 

(I also hate that all of my ‘perfectionist’ people were female, but maybe it’s harder to compare to Golden Boys when you are a female. Either way, there are many boys/men/theys/thems that are put on a pedestal and made out to be perfect out there, as well, and they deserve that notation as well. I just have no points of reference off the top of my head, so please forgive me; I am trying to do this in a stream of consciousness type thing.)

I mean, the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. I’m 33, single, living at home, afraid of my own shadow most of the time, and spend about 98% of my time alone. I pay for a phone plan that I literally only use to send memes to my two sisters, and that’s about it. I rarely receive texts, invites out, or even calls to make plans for something.  And while a lot of this is my own doing - again, I did cut off most of the world after I realized I was sort of the joke to a lot of people - it’s still kind of pathetic, and entirely uncool.  I am not a socialite, or someone cool and trendy, and to be honest, I kind of never want to be.  

Which is a semi-false statement, because years ago, when I had one of these previously, I sort of hoped it would work out and that I could write and be ‘cool.’ Whatever the fuck that means.  But now, years later, I’m honestly beyond glad I am not cool; not in the slightest. Maybe that’s making it to your 30s? Maybe the trade for having to create a daily routine of lathering up my body with like 9 different versions of FDA-Approved-Vampire-Juice on my skin to prevent me from looking any older than I already do, you in turn get to have a brain that finally realizes... having a ‘normal’ life is honestly pretty cool? Normal is clearly subjective here as everyone is normal, famous, notoriety, or not; They’re all still humans and people with feelings, thoughts, and emotions. This is a hard thing to realize when you see stadiums full of people screaming at Harry Styles (Boom! found a male perfect in this scatterbrain) or hundreds of paparazzi lined up to take photos of every person on a red carpet wearing clothing that costs as much as my student loan debt (Which sidenote, is VERYYYYYY much). It’s hard to fully realize that maybe some of those people who became ‘icons’ never really knew what they were getting into when they signed that deal with the Devil to make them seemingly immortal; especially in a world with the internet where everything can exist forever (or until the world explodes, clearly).  But maybe getting into my 30s and removing myself from most social media outlets, even listening to the news, or caring about whatever fucking popular haircut was in this season (it’s always bangs, and I’ve already made that mistake. No thanks), that I learned to realize - the truly most important people in your life are the ones that stick with you when it’s tough. When getting out of bed is so hard your limbs ache and you cry every morning on your way to work, at your desk behind your computer screen hidden in a corner, or in a bathroom stall during your lunch break. The normalcy that comes with realizing your prayers to ‘just make it to five o’clock,’ are heard and that you are just so thankful for that that you don’t even desire the innate feeling in most of our egos to stand out, be seen, ‘Make it’ in a way that lets people notice we ‘succeeded.’ Maybe this only comes with the realization of how nice it is to go to a grocery store braless and unnoticed. 

Maybe this is also something I, and so many of us in this point and shoot viral world, are trying to still learn. 

Sure, a lot of days I still crave being able to make a perfect Pintrest project, practice my Late Night interview with Letterman where I sound funny, charming, and likeable to all walks of life, or recreate a recipe from the New York Times website so great that The Barefoot Contessa finds out through word of mouth, and comes to my basement hide out, and offers to give me, a fellow barefoot loving bitch, her title and crown along with a glass of wine and a kiss from her husband, Jeffery. We’ll both laugh at how lovely it feels to be Barefoot ladies who understand that wanting ‘fame’ or ‘recognition’ in your twenties is only really a pathway to destruction by your 30s. 

And this is not exactly something that I learned easy.  In fact, I spent most of my twenties destroying my body with drugs - plenty of hard ones - and alcohol - various kinds of the same things - in order to numb my brain from the sadness that is just... being young, lonely, scared, unsure of yourself, and nervous that all of your hopes and expectations for yourself in your ‘dream life’ are too much for what you and your actual self will ever be capable of ever becoming. That I would never become the comedian I dreamed of being, or sing the perfect song in front of a crowd of admirers, or write that best selling book to tell everyone who thought I was nothing they could go fuck themselves. It’s something I still have to remind myself, and my brain and ego, that are most likely things I will never do because those are lottery dreams.  And people you know don’t actually win the lottery. And at the end of the day, I am people you know. And sometimes it breaks my own heart to realize I may never feel that rush of making a crowd laugh, or creating a piece of art that makes someone feel seen, but as Pam, from The Office said, and I am paraphrasing, ‘there is beauty in ordinary things.’ And I think reminding myself of that as I sat on the beach this summer and watched a dad teach his son to surf, and how happy they both were when he got up, gave me that brief feeling of... being okay. I won’t lie, I did cry a little at this realization at that moment, and I am slightly teary now as I write it, but I think I’m not ashamed of that because being normal means I get to feel things as I do, in that moment, and that is something I think I lacked in my desiring-bigger-flashier- twenties; actually being present in the world and your place in it. Even if that is just as small as being kind to a random person on the street.

I think that is why everything I felt I wanted to write never came out correct.  It never came out ‘Perfect.’ And that was my problem for most of my life, even up until today, I’m afraid that I am a perfectionist in the ways that are preventing me from becoming... me. I’m still fearful that I am too late in ever ‘accomplishing’ anything I ever dreamed. I doubt I will ever actually write a book. I’m unsure I’ll ever make a decent living. I am beyond doubtful I am ever going to be loveable to someone whom I also want to love back. And maybe I’m a little scared that I’ll never have a kid, or that if I do have a kid, I’ll never be a decent parent. And I’m still working on breaking the cycle of thinking something has to ‘sound’ or ‘be seen as important’ to be meaningful. There is beauty in the ordinary. I’ve started to make it my mantra. Spoken in my head every time I see a teenage couple holding hands walking in town, a father holding their baby close to his chest, a woman dressed in a power suit striding through an office building or city on their way to make their own careers or push equality further. I’ve started to dream of how actual normalcy makes the real changes. How every 4th grade teacher has a chance to change some kids life.

Clearly, a lot of these personal fears I have about myself not being ‘enough,’ or doing something good enough to become successful at it and build a life out of it, are monotonous fears and privileged middle-class complaints. I’m aware they may not resonate with anyone, anything, or mean much more than just being an online public diary entry to my own meandering thoughts, but, still - I finally felt like I had to try.  

So here it is, the whole truth on how I let myself become a ghost for years. 

I hope someone will stick around while I just... try to explain it all, figure it all out, and hopefully make sense out of even being whatever a human who is hoping to grow even means. Hopefully, something here will resonate with someone else and we can create our own little weirdo corner of the world where we’re not seeking more than just trying to be honest with ourselves and what it means to be human.  Even if that means just posting a recipe for banana bread (thank you Gwen Steffani for keeping me able to spell Banana), reposting random memes about how we all want to scream for 30 seconds and feel better, or sad-girl diary entry posts about how I ruined my own life a million times over.  Oh, and maybe I’ll give you tips on how to stain your wood deck, because I spent my day doing that yesterday and basically, Home Depot is calling me to be in their ADs. 

But at the core of it all, lets be very real, it’s hard to be human in so many ways. And I’m just hoping this connects with anyone. Especially any of us who wished we were different - in any way.

xoxo

-K

[apoguecalledjj]

Fixation (Chapter 5)

Series summary: Eleanor is new to the outer banks, and the pogues are quick to take her in. But so are the kooks, and as she grows closer with Rafe, trouble emerges. Trying to balance her relationship with the pogues and the kooks, as well as dealing with her own personal problems, Eleanor falls into a hole she may not be able to dig herself out of.

Chapter Word Count: 2786

Chapter Warnings: Fighting, slight physical violence, slight mentions of drug use

Previous Parts: Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Taglist: @prejudic3 @maragritatimebaybee @drewxxrudy @outerbankslove @bricksatanakinswindow @alexa-playafricabytoto

Over the next couple of weeks, Ellie and Rafe grew closer. She was spending much more time with the kooks, not having seen the pogues for two weeks, apart from Kie.

Of course, Ellie felt bad, she loved the pogues and missed them more than anything, but Rafe constantly nagged her to hang out every minute she wasn’t working, and she couldn’t say no to him.

A few days earlier, Rafe had asked Ellie to be his girlfriend. It was nothing special, they were simply sat in his room, high out of their minds. She had been falling asleep, her head resting lightly on his shoulder when he asked.

And since she couldn’t say no to him, she was now his girlfriend.

Ellie honestly did enjoy spending time with Rafe, and she loved Topper and Kelce as well. Kelce had become like a brother to her, and Topper could always make her laugh. Rafe was sweet too, but there was no hiding that he scared her at times. She had lost count of the times she had flinched away when he got too angry or cried when he yelled.

Ellie was currently at The Wreck. She was sat in her uncle’s truck outside of the building, her hands clutching the steering wheel as her eyes stared at the van parked next to her. John B was here and for sure JJ and Pope were with him, which meant she would have to explain why she had been ignoring them. She’d have to tell them she was now dating Rafe.

She really shouldn’t be nervous. Ellie had only known the pogues for a little under a month, she still barely knew them so she had no reason to feel so bad about dating their number one enemy. Plus she had Kelce and Topper, and Rafe. 

But she was still nervous because despite only knowing them for a short period of time, she enjoyed the pogues and wanted to be their friend. She didn’t want them to hate her, or shun her from their group. Ellie enjoyed spending time with the dysfunctional group more than anyone else, even more than the kooks she had grown so close with it. She didn’t want to lose them. To lose JJ.

Finally, Ellie worked up the courage to make her way into the restaurant, a mere two minutes before her shift was scheduled to start. The bell on the door rung as she pushed it open, causing four heads to turn her way. Three of which were stood by the counter, one stood behind. 

“You’ve been a stranger!”

“Where’ve ya been?”

“We missed you!”

Ellie chuckled as all three boys spoke at once, her eye’s meeting Kiara’s who also had a grin plastered across her face. “Sorry, guys, I’ve been busy,” She replied, heading behind the counter and clocking in.

“Too busy for us?” JJ asked, an exaggerated pout on his face as he leaned in closer to Ellie. She didn’t respond, instead just reached over and ruffled his hair, causing him to glare at her.

“Just trying to get settled in with my uncle,” Ellie said, fiddling with the utensils on the surface in front of her.

The conversation was quickly discarded, the boys moving to one of the tables as customers slowly began to stream in for lunch. For the next couple of hours, Kiara and Ellie were too absorbed in work to stop and chat, even for a minute. The last time Ellie had managed to glance over, John B and JJ were tossing a balled-up napkin at each other and bickering over something she couldn’t hear. Luckily for them, she was too busy to scold them.

Finally, the rush slowed, and Mr. Carrera emerged from the kitchen so the girls could finally have a break. Ellie rushed across the room and flopped down in the chair across from JJ, lifting her feet up so they were rested on his lap. “Fuck,” She groaned, leaning her head against the back of the chair. “My feet hurt.”

“You were only stood up for an hour and a half, lazy ass,” JJ taunted. He grabbed her left foot and slipped off her Van. “I’m gonna give you a foot-rub.”

Ellie relaxed, closing her eyes as she waited for a much-needed massage, but she should have known that was too good to be true. She shrieked and jerked upward as she felt JJ’s fingers tickle the bottom of her foot, definitely not the foot-rub she was waiting for. 

“JJ!” She squealed, leaning across the table to smack him.

“You guys are like children. I feel like I should kick you out of the restaurant, and one of you is an employee!” Kiara chastised, narrowing her eyes at their antics.

“They can’t spend two minutes together without flirting.” John B chuckled.

“We’re not flirting,” Ellie pulled her feet off of JJ’s lap and sat up straight. Did it seem like she was flirting? Was she flirting? She had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who wasn’t JJ.

She ignored the way her stomach felt at the thought of JJ being, or technically, not being her boyfriend. She was with Rafe, and she liked him. He was good to her. JJ was just a friend.

 But it felt like she was trying to convince herself that more than anything else, and no matter what she forced herself to think, the truth was constantly right there behind it. 

Sure she liked Rafe, but she liked JJ a hell of a lot more.

---

After work, Kiara told Ellie that they were heading to the beach to go surfing if she wanted to come. Of course, she happily agreed. She would finally get a chance to show off the surfing skills she had learned from her few lessons with JJ.

Ellie drove home quickly to change, deciding on a red bikini top and some black, high-waisted bottoms with cutouts on the sides. She rushed down the stairs, waving bye to her uncle before grabbing the board her aunt was letting her use.

“We’re soon gonna have to buy you your own surfboard,” Her uncle said, chuckling.

“Don’t worry uncle Travis, I have intentions of buying my own!”

Ellie made her way to the beach where her friends were. John B was already in the water, along with Sarah who must have joined them while Ellie was at her house. Pope was applying sunscreen to Kie as she yelled at him for getting it in her hair, and JJ was stood up next to them, his board propped in the sand.

He was turned away from the water, facing towards Ellie, his hand shielding his eyes as he glanced towards her. Once he realized who it was, he began waving frantically. “Hurry up! I’m waiting for you!”

She broke into a jog, quickly reaching JJ, Pope, and Kiara. “JJ tells us you’re a natural,” Kie said, picking up her board and motioning towards the water. “Come on. Let’s see!”

The four made their way to the ocean and began surfing. Ellie was nowhere near the skill level that the pogues were, but John B assured her that she was really good for a beginner.

“Come on, try to surf that one!” JJ suggested from where he was sitting on his board next to Ellie, pointing at a wave in the distance. All the others had already made their way back to the beach, and it was just the two of them left in the water.

The wave was huge, bigger than anything else she had attempted, but she started paddling towards it. She was exhausted after hours of surfing, but JJ’s cheers from behind edged her on. 

Ellie pushed upward, planting her feet on the board. She was doing it! JJ’s cheers merged into something else, shouts, shouts she couldn’t pick out. Instead, she focused on the feeling of surfing, the wave pushing her towards the shore, the breeze tickling her face slightly.

But she forgot to focus on the important things, like positioning her feet and bending her knees, and her excitement broke as she felt herself tumbling, her feet slipping and her body hitting the water. She surfaced, blinking away saltwater.

JJ made his way toward her. “Did you not hear me? I told you to bend your knees!” He yelled, laughing. “Are you okay?”

Ellie nodded, laughing along with him. “Yeah, I’m good! Let’s head in.” She retrieved her board and turned towards the shore, immediately noticing a figure making their way towards the pogues.

Shit. Rafe. She debated staying in the water, but it was obvious he had already spotted her. Slowly, she made her way towards him, dropping her board on the sand beside Pope and John B before turning to her boyfriend. 

JJ wasn’t far behind her, and Ellie didn’t miss the way Rafe was glaring at him. His eyes were dark with anger, his lips pursed as he looked back and forth between his girlfriend and the pogue.

“What the fuck are you doing with these lowlifes?” Rafe finally spoke, motioning towards her five friends stood behind her.

“Excuse me? I’m here?” Sarah spoke up, rolling her eyes at her brother.

JJ stepped forward, placing his hand on Ellie’s shoulder. He felt her tense underneath his grip, but he brushed it off, assuming she was just uncomfortable with how Rafe was getting on. His other hand clenched into a fist, the kook in front of them pissing him off. “Why do you care? She’s allowed to hang out with whoever she wants.”

Rafe stepped forward as well. His face was red, his jaw clenched tightly as he scowled at JJ. His hands were slightly shaking, his anger prominent as he finally spoke. “I have a right to care.” Ellie could tell he was choosing his words carefully, he had realized that she hadn’t told the pogues about her relationship. Rafe glanced at her briefly and she quickly looked away, shrugging JJ’s hands off her shoulder.

“Why would you have a right to care?” John B asked, watching the interaction between JJ and Rafe carefully.

Rafe glanced at Ellie and smirked. “Why don’t you let them know what you’ve been hiding? Are you embarrassed, Ellie? That’s not very nice.”

Kiara quickly pieced together what he was implying. “Oh my god.” She muttered, glancing down at the sand.

“What? What’s going on?” JJ was staring at Ellie now. 

“Ellie’s my girlfriend,” Rafe revealed. “And I don’t want her hanging out with trashy, no good, piece of shit pogues. She’s mine.”

JJ nailed him, his fist colliding with his nose. “Fuck you!”He screamed, smashing his fist into Rafe’s face again. “You don’t control Ellie!”

“JJ!” Ellie cried. She attempted to step in and stop them, but Pope lunged forward, holding her back.

“Don’t.” He warned. “You might accidentally get hit, and both of them have a mean punch.”

Ellie could do nothing but cry as she watched the two boys throw punches back and forth. JJ’s knuckles were cracked and bleeding, the sound of bone hitting bone prominent in her ears. Rafe fell back, holding his arms up to shield himself from the blond boys’ never-ending stream of anger.

“Stop, JJ,” Ellie spoke again. Finally, he turned to look at her, his hand frozen in mid-air. 

“Why? I fucking hate him, Ellie.” JJ snarled, glaring at the boy underneath him.

“Get off of him, JJ,” Kiara said quietly. “He’s had enough.” 

JJ finally climbed off of him, and Rafe stood up slowly, wiping the blood away that was dripping down his upper lip. He stared at Ellie, waiting for her to come to him, but she didn’t move. Instead, she hastily wiped away her tears and faced him, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

“You, you don’t fucking have any right to tell me who I can and can’t hang out with. I am NOT a fucking item. I am not YOURS. I can make my own decisions, thank you very fucking much.” Her hand was shaking with anger.

“And you,” She spun on her heels to face JJ. “You don’t have to stick up for me. I can handle things myself. There is NO need for you to go around punching people because you think I need it. News flash: I don’t.”

For a couple of minutes, no one spoke, everyone surprised at Ellie’s outbreak. She was still crying, tears quietly streaming down her face. Rafe stared at her, a look of regret on his face. But he wasn’t regretful of the way he had spoken to Ellie, he regretted that JJ managed to win.

JJ stared at the ground, not able to even look Ellie in the eyes. He was blinking away tears himself, embarrassed that Ellie had to see him explode like that. He knew he fucked up, and he was terrified she was going to hate him.

“Are you coming with me, Ellie?” Rafe finally spoke, softer than earlier. All the pogues looked from him to her, awaiting her decision.

Ellie ignored their glances. “Yeah. Just give me a minute. Go on, I’ll catch up with you.” He nodded and turned to make his way back up the beach. Ellie let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, relieved that the fight was over.

JJ looked up. “’m sorry El.” He mumbled. He wasn’t sorry that he did it. The way Rafe spoke to her lit a fire of rage inside of him, and he knew Rafe deserved every punch that he threw. He was sorry that Ellie had to see it.

“It’s okay, JJ. It made me mad too.” She quickly checked to make sure Rafe was back on before pulling him into a hug. He wasted no time hugging her back, his arms wrapping around her waist tightly.

“Why are you dating him?” Pope asked. He couldn’t understand what Ellie saw in him.

“I don’t know. He’s nice to me.” She knew the reason, it was waiting for her at his house. It was the only reason she was going with him.

“He’s obviously not nice to you.” Sarah shook her head slowly. “And I know my brother. When you were hooking up with him, fine, it was one night here and there. But dating him? He’s a terrible boyfriend, Ellie. You have to be careful.” 

Ellie didn’t respond, instead, she just picked up her board from where it laid in the sand. “I gotta go, guys,” She muttered, turning quickly and making her way up the beach.

It didn’t take long for her to reach Rafe’s truck, where he was sat waiting for her. She placed her board in the back before climbing in, grimacing at Rafe’s enraged expression. “What the fuck, Ellie,” He grumbled, quickly switching the truck into drive and speeding off towards his house.

The ride was uncomfortably silent. Ellie could tell that Rafe was pissed, and what Sarah and the other pogues had said was stressing her out. It didn’t take long for them to reach the house, and Rafe stormed inside, Ellie following slowly after.

She had barely got the door to his room closed when he shoved her up against it. His fingers were digging into her shoulders, his breath hot on her face as he moved closer to her. “I can’t believe my fucking girlfriend is friends with POGUES!” He released his grip, only to shove her back against the door again. Ellie winced as her head hit the surface hard. “FUCK!”

Rafe finally moved away, standing in front of his desk whilst running his fingers through his hair. He was stressed out about Ellie’s choice of friends, but she couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him.

“I need to get high.” He finally exclaimed after minutes of pacing and cursing. He pulled open a drawer on his desk, revealing a small baggie of the white powder Ellie loved so much.

Everything that had happened was forgotten when she saw that powder. “Me too,” She said, moving closer to her boyfriend. He glanced at her but said nothing, instead beginning to prepare a line for her.

As she bent down to what she needed the most, Rafe spoke. “I’m sorry, Ellie, baby. You know I love you, right?” 

She shot back up quickly at his confession, furrowing her eyebrows. Love already? They’d only been together for a couple of weeks. But when she looked in his eyes, all traces of the anger had vanished, and instead, he was just staring at her adoringly. She glanced back down at the powder on his desk., then back at him again.

“I love you too, Rafe.”

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Honeydew Cha

(A 5k commission done for https://pandaioh.tumblr.com/ Thank you so much for your support!)

“Can’t believe this. Can’t even bloody believe this. Thought I was dating the smartest girl in the world, and here I come t’find out she doesn’t even know what ‘vacation’ means.” Junkrat wrinkled his nose, already smeared in sunscreen and dented by his oversized sunglasses. “Well here’s what it means, love. It means fucking off! We’ve fucked off from Overwatch and finally got time all to us here in Oz. It means we got weeks of leave for our very own pleasure, and we’re supposed to spend it drinking, rooting, or at the beach. It’s supposed to be those four things!”

“That’s three things,” Mei’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

“And here I am, ready for bonding at Bondi and this is how you do me! I’ve already got all our things- towels, blankets, umbrella, esky. Even got my trunks and hat and thong on—”

“Your what on?”

“My shoe, Mei! You know, pluggers, flip-flop shoes. I mean, with the peg I only have the one. Did you think I meant the other kind of thong? Because ‘strewth, I’ll go put one of those on too, if it’ll get you to come to the beach with me!”

“Please do not!” She made no move to come out from the screen and seemed unmoved by his fits. “Besides, I told you I wanted to do other things than just lounge at the beach all day. I got the idea when we were out walking the other night and I think this might be really good for me. And I think you’ll change your tune when I tell you the rest of my plans.”

“What’s to tell? You snuck out and got a bloody job while we’re on vacation at the shore! Got this nice vacay cabin all to ourselves, just steps away from the surf and sand, and you’re not gonna appreciate it. My very fave girl is on holiday with me, and she wants to spend it working?! And they say I’m the mad one?”

Her voice gained a sing-song quality, lilting in tone. “I still think you’re going to liiiiike it! Just give me one more moment and you’ll see.”

“Unless you’re coming out of there with surprise lacies on, I doubt I’m gonna—”

The screen shuffled aside and Junkrat squinted, suddenly unsure about things. Mei definitely was not wearing a brand new set of lingerie all for him, but what she was wearing was certainly enough to give him pause. He recognized it almost at once too: the green sweater vest and matching visor, the little ruffled yellow apron, the polka dot socks, the cheerful winking mascot…and those jean shorts that rode up so high on those nice wide thighs were certainly nothing to be ignored, he especially appreciated that particular part of her uniform. Her new job’s uniform.

“Honeydew Cha? You’re working at Honeydew Cha?” He lingered forward, rubbing at his chin and inspecting her. “Arright, love, you got me interested.”

“I told you!” She flashed him a little smirk. “And I know you might think it’s a little crazy to get a job while I’m on vacation, but… I think it might be good for me? I like spending time at the beach with you and Mr. Roadhog, I really do, but I want to do more than just linger around on the sand all day. I think I want to meet people and talk to everyone and learn new things and…” She suddenly faltered, gaze downcast. “And I used to be a tea waitress back while I was still studying. I remember it being really fun? And then I graduated and went away…and then I was…gone…nine years…”

Junkrat was already upon her, long arms wrapping about her new uniform and rumpling her nice green sweater as he nuzzled at her hair and snorted air into her ear with his pointed nose. She yelped aloud and pushed at him, but it had served to distract her. He plucked at her apron with his mechanical hand curiously. “Getting a job at all though? Is it because of money? I got cash to spare! Tell me what it is you need and I’ll get it! Whatever you want, darl!”

“It’s really not about money, honest. I just want to do something normal. I woke up and everything was so strange, and Overwatch was different and the world was different and the climate is getting worse and my friends are all in trouble and maybe it would be okay if I just did this for a little while and forgot about it all? I could serve tea and chat with customers and not worry about everything, and maybe I could feel like I used to, before everything happened. It’s just simple and nice. Like it could just be tapioca pearls and fruit poppers and people being happy drinking their tea and just being…normal. Does that make sense?”

“Nah,” he blurted out, before noticing her crestfallen expression. He frowned, chin jutting as he tilted his head to rest atop her visor. “I mean! Uh, I guess I dunno what all that’s like. But if that’s what ya wanna do? ‘Course I’m not gonna stop you from working. Just don’t understand why you wanna spend your vacation at work.”

“I like working. I think this will be fun. And this is just a little seasonal part-time sort of thing, just to help the shop for the big holiday vacationer rush. I saw the Help Wanted ad and the owner seemed really grateful for the extra hand. Plus…” She rolled onto the balls of her feet, folding her arms behind her and staring upward coyly. “I mean, if you don’t want me using the Honeydew Cha employee discount…?”

Rat gave her an affronted look before snickering aloud. “You trying to bribe me with free boba, you little tart?”

“Milk tea, half sweet, extra pearls! Just how you like it?”

“Huh. Tempting, tempting. Can I bring in my own container and fill ‘er up? Swear it, I’ll drink it straight out of a bucket. I mean, it would definitely not be the first time I’ve drank some stuff I found straight out of a bucket—”

“Ew, Jamie.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll try not t’let my feelings be hurt when I’m all by my lonesome at the beach. But I got conditions. One— you abuse the hell out of the free boba thing whenever we want. I’m talking Super Gulp American Size! Two— I get to fuck you in full honeydew uniform. With the pony and polka dot socks still on and everything.”

“That’s strange, but okay,” she said, pulling herself to the tips of her toes to kiss his chin. “But not right now, because I’m going in for my first shift! I’ll see you this evening, okay? And I’ll bring you a boba tea every night I work.”

“You better! You got a deal, darl!”

 ***

Serving boba tea and customer service was a lot different than how she remembered it. Maybe it was just being in Australia? Or had boba tea changed since then? Or had she just gotten older and everything really was just that different from however she remembered this job, from so many years ago. The customers seemed a little grumpier, the machines weren’t the ones she had learned to work, her co-workers were no longer the same age as her, and everything just seemed a little harder than what she’d thought.

She’d been at this little job at Honeydew Cha for a few weeks now, much to Junkrat’s irritation, but it was only for a few hours a day. He tended to lighten up a little when she placated him with a steady stream of all sorts of different tea flavors and treats every time he stopped by…and Roadhog hadn’t cared one way or the other, but she brought him entire bags of leftover pastries after the day was done and he always thanked her anyway. Even then, before each and every shift, Junkrat bothered her to drop everything and go to the beach with him.

But now their vacation time was dwindling and her side job was coming to a close anyway. At least she’d been able to help out the Honeydew Cha during its busiest season. There had been a steady stream of customers all afternoon as the temperature soared and overheated beach-goers ducked inside for air conditioning and cold drinks. Most of them had been quite pleasant, the Australian boardwalk crowd being so infamous for their laid-back attitudes and surf culture.

But there were always the outliers…

It was a group of six: five boys and a single girl, all in their teens or early twenties. None of them bore the mechanical limbs or robotic enhancements of the Outback’s junker clans, but something about their countenance made Mei just as wary of them. Their leader seemed to be the largest of them and was almost as tall as Junkrat himself, though built wider, with spiked black hair and a jacket despite the hot weather. The scraggly lone girl clung to him and giggled in his ear, whispering as he pulled out his wallet and counted out money for her tea. When Mei smiled at them and offered to take their order, the girl glared at her and pulled him closer.

They made their orders with no trouble and they paid, but Mei kept an eye on them all the same, as they loitered in one of the booths and talked and laughed too loudly. She could ignore them at first, but their conversation quickly turned crude and sexual in no time at all.  Mei could do little but keep one ear out as she leaned down to check the syrup pumps and count their cups. As the group drained their boba and popped pearls between their teeth, things took a turn for the disgusting.

“Anyhow, that’s why I had to leave that party real fast. Turns out she had a boyfriend.”

“What, the scrag you went upstairs with? That was a fockin’ thing to walk in on. You going at it, with the fat one with the pockmarked arse?”

“Oi. Barely fatter than the ricer they got working the counter here, mate.”

Mei’s heart dropped, freezing mid-stack and staying very still for a moment. Her throat suddenly felt very tight, but she swallowed the feeling down and forced herself to move again, continuing to unpack the cups. So what if that group were being jerks over at that table. Jerks were temporary, and they’d be leaving soon. Those jerks. She just had to let it pass, and breathe, and ignore them…

The voices continued, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, Mei listened.

“She ain’t that bad for one. I’d fuck her. Nice big tits. Bigger tits than yours.”

“What the hell! Fuck you.”

“Ay, you’d fuck anything, mate. Even an omnic. Fuckin’ root rat.”

“Fuck off.”

“She’s prettier than the one at the slope shop on your road. Heh. Go ask her out on a date? Give her a tip and then give her the tip, ay! You can have kids that look like this.”

When Mei dared to peek through the little slit between the top and bottom counter, she already knew what she would see. Sure enough, the group were pulling their eyelids shut, pinching them upwards and making grotesque parodies of their faces. She felt her chest lurch again in a potent mixture of anger, sorrow, and even a tinge of pity. But how dare they! How dare they! She should march right over there and tell them off for being such bullies, for being so—

But could she risk it? The owner of the shop might get angry at her for antagonizing the customers, even the rude ones. And she had been having a nice time before that, just serving boba and treats like in the old days. She couldn’t let it get to her, no matter how awful they were being. Best to just wait them out until they left.

Unfortunately for her, they seemed to have no intention of leaving. They carried on, discussing loudly what sexual positions that they had planned for her and wondered as to her cup size. Mei did her best to stay out of sight, and wished she’d had Snowball and her endothermic blaster with her. That would shut them up, all right. Maybe if she built a new blaster very quickly out of the boba chiller in the back…?

“What about the other girl? The skinny ginger with the sunburn?” One of the boys wondered aloud.

Mei felt her temper flare anew, head jerking up to where said ‘sunburnt ginger’ was working unawares in front of a fruit slicing machine. That girl was one of her younger co-workers, still in her teens, a softspoken local who had admitted to Mei that she had hoped this job would help her get over her shyness. And now that group of boys was targeting her too.

“Wot, that one? Yeah, I seen her here before. No tits or arse on that one, though.”

“Wonder if she’s sunburnt all over? Heh.”

“You know what they say about gingers, mate? They say down th—”

CLACK.

She could ignore it when they targeted her, but she wasn’t about to let it happen to that girl or anyone else in her charge. Mei slammed the empty stack of cups onto the counter with a clatter, swinging open the little door as she went marching straight towards them as all heads turned her way. No matter her cheerfully goofy outfit with the frills and ruffles and polka dots, she descended on the group like a thunderstorm, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed.

“Tíng xiàlái! Excuse me but you need to stop this instant! These awful things you’re saying, you need to stop.” She tried to loom over them as best she could despite her height, little white gloves clenching into fists. “In fact, I think you need to leave! Right now!”

For a moment, silence reigned in the Honeydew Cha as every patient turned to watch the tiny woman in the bubble tea waitress uniform confront an entire pack of Aussie goons. Even the group seemed startled at first, though it rapidly changed to confusion, annoyance, and anger. The girl was the first to react, shooting her a sneering grin and urging the boys on as she wrapped her arms around the largest boy’s arm and shook him to action.

“Leave off, we haven’t done anything wrong! We don’t have to go anywhere!” she said.

The boy snorted and took another swig of his drink. “Dunno why you’re so worked up about what we said, none of it was that bad.”

“No! You need to leave the premises at once!” Mei said, pointing to the door. “If you have a problem, you can call our Honeydew Cha headquarters, I’m sure they’d love to hear from you. But you are not staying here after that. Leave!”

There was an answering array of snickers and insults, but when Mei narrowed her gaze and stared them down, they finally stirred and began to drag themselves upright. Muttering insults and shooting her nasty looks, they finally began to head to the door. Passing by the counter at the front, they headed for the exit…only for the girl to suddenly launch to the side, seizing the jar that had been set by the register. The jar had been decorated with post-it notes and drawings that Mei had made herself, with little cartoons of her yeti doodle thanking them for the tips.

With that day having been busier than ever, it was brimming with tips. Coins and bills filled it nearly to the brim where they simply hadn’t had the chance to empty it. Some of the coins went bouncing away as the girl slung it under one arm, laughed and gave her the finger, and then broke into a run as all the boys followed after her. In a sudden stampede, they nearly broke the door open as they fled.

“Hey!” Mei flung herself after them, but it was too late. She stumbled to a stop at the open door, yelling after them. “That’s our tip jar!”

Hoots and jeers answered her.

“What, you wanted us to leave!”

“Thanks for the tea, you chunky-arse cunt!”

“I got a tip for you right here!”

One of the boys made a very offensive gesture at her with both hands.

“Hey! Hey! You get back here this instant! You can’t—!” Mei lingered there in the open doorway, unable to continue. She wasn’t about to leave her younger cohorts alone in the shop, and without Snowball or her weapons to back her up, there was no way she could take on an entire group like them if things went south. She could only watch as her team’s hard-earned tips got further away in the hands of those goons, their laughter fading as they slowed to a walk, when they saw her unable to chase them. She bit her lip and sniffled, and had just started to close the door in abject defeat when a shadow fell across her.

“Oi! S’wrong, love? What’s going on?”

She whirled about, to where Junkrat suddenly stood above her. “Oh, Jamie! Those awful people just robbed us!! They made a mess and caused trouble and took the jar and they were…” Her expression fell. “They were saying very awful things…About us. About me.”

His face darkened, glancing up to where the group was laughing and walking away, the stolen jar still under one arm. Even if it wasn’t the jar that really concerned him. “You? Saying things ‘bout you? What kinda things?”

His suspicions were confirmed when Mei looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. “It was bad…I don’t want to repeat…”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, voice suddenly too airy. “Well, my tea can wait. Lemme just go see about that jar…and see if maybe I can’t get ‘em to rethink talking to you like that.” He started off, peg leg clacking, and made a strange gesture to Roadhog. The larger man only nodded and peeled off into the crowd, heading in the opposite direction.

Mei watched him go, leaning further and further out the door, still unable to follow. “Jamie, wait! Wait, don’t blow anyone up! Please! I-I’m fine, see! No matter what they said, I’m fine! We can make more tips! Jamie!”

But he was already gone.

 ***

The gang of goons turned a corner, still celebrating their victory as the girl passed the stolen tip jar to her boyfriend to start counting out. Wasn’t a bad take, especially since it had irked that Chinese lady so much. Heading down an alleyway, littered with dumpsters and bins from the nearby shops and restaurants, they began to talk over their plans for dinner. The tip jar would more than pay for all of them, after all.

Over the sound of their chattering, the clicking and clacking of a peg-legged gait sounded behind them. Junkrat, smiling maniacally as ever, had found and followed them. At a leisurely pace, he started tailing after them, giggling the entire way before finally hooting aloud for their attentions.

“Hey mates! How ya goin!”

The others were none too keen on his appearance, their leader lingering behind to scoff at him.

“The fuck’s a junker doing out here? Lost your way home to the landfill? Oi, need directions to the nearest bin?”

The entire group laughed, and Junkrat abruptly began shrilling his wild laugh along with them. Cackling like a hyena, he bent over and slapped at both his knees with a thud and a clank, before his head jerked upright, yellow eyes alight and lips stretching open in his mad grin. “Ahahaha! Good one, mates! Haha! A trash bin! Ya sure got me! Imagine! Hahaha! A junker and his bins!”

His laughter only rose in pitch and ferocity. They scowled at that, and their leader snorted and flicked a cigarette in his direction, turning to lead his lackeys off along the other length of alleyway. “Fockin’ junkers, ay, radiation-rotted in the brains. Dunno what this city’s comin’ to. C’mon, let’s go—”

“Now hold on, mates! Hold on!” Rat hobbled after them with his uneven limp. “C’mon, I appreciate a good sense of humor much as anyone. Heh, junkers belonging in the bin! Absolute classic. And…say, you know any other real good ones?”

“The fuck you w—”

“Ya know. Maybe about nice ladies working in boba shops, with a ponytail and glasses, Chinese accent? That sweet girl in the green uniform what you’ve had some real choice remarks about. That girl. My girl.” His grin tightened, teeth scraping so hard that they nearly sparked. “How about it! Ya had any real rippers about my girl? Ya wanna tell them to me right now?”

There was a long pause from the other group, glancing to one another before the leader finally snorted and went skulking down the alley more. “Ah, fuck off.”

“C’mon now, let’s all be mates! I just wanna know what you said to my Mei!” Rat said, still following them. “Just tell me what you said to her. And normally I got no qualms at all about taking money that’s just laying out there in perfectly good jars, but… Well y’see, that’s my girl’s money, right there. So you gotta give it back too.”

That made the whole group turn upon him, and several of the larger ones began to advance to back up their leader, standing until they were shoulder to shoulder. Junkrat found himself faced with an entire little crowd of bogans that were nearly as large as he was, and significantly more aggressive. Several of them were already reaching for the batons and knives he knew they were carrying. But still he didn’t back down, and his grin didn’t even waver as he faced them head-on.

“Now this is normally something that I don’t do, but because my girl’s involved and she’s a real sweet sort, I’m gonna give you a choice between easy way or hard way. Now the easy way is, you fucks are gonna go apologize to my girl first of all, and give back what you took from her. Easy squeezy! Or you can choose the hard w—”

The lead man moved, his hand launching out from his belt and holding a glint of metal. The knife slashed through the air, narrowly missing the junker’s lanky frame.

There was a blur of movement, followed by the sickening hollow crack of bone against bone. The top of Junkrat’s thick skull slammed full force into the man’s forehead, splitting skin and crunching cartilage as part of his nose dented inward, and took part of a socket with it. He staggered backward as the knife went spinning out of his grasp, stunned, eyes rolling in several directions before he collapsed against a nearby wall and clutched at his face with a shout. His mates surged forward to aid him, holding him up before he could fall any further.

“Hard way it is!” Rat reared up to his full height, blood trickling a sticky trail down along his grinning features, outlining his wild smile where every tooth was bared, yellow eyes alight.  “You’re choosin’ to scrap with a junker?! Good choice, mates! Oi, Roadie! They chose the hard way!”

The other group had just begun to rally, their leader balling his fists and starting to square up with the lanky junker across from him, when there was a low rumble from the shadows at the other end of the alleyway. Amongst the piles of garbage and dumpsters, an immense shape turned its head and began to lift out of the background. The pig-masked behemoth loomed above them, one tree-trunk-thick arm uncurling with a viciously curved metal hook in his hand. Slowly advancing towards the scene, he let the sharpened tip drag along the wall, screeching and spitting sparks as it went.

Junkrat cackled from the other end of the chokepoint. With a metallic clatter, he slammed a fistful of grenades into the weapon he suddenly sported in one hand, aimed right at them. The group of hooligans found themselves penned in between the two junkers, one armed with explosives and the other…a veritable monster that was headed their way.

“Oi!” Still grinning and with his face covered in blood, Rat whistled jovially to catch their attention. “You still don’t wanna apologize to my girl? Then how ‘bout you make it up to her.”

“We didn’t mean nothing by it, ay!”

“Swear, it was nothing!”

“How we gonna—”

“SHUT!” Rat shrilled, lifting his grenade launcher as they shrank back. “You’re gonna drop your money and everything what you got…and if you don’t feel like droppin’ em, then my mate would be happy to uh, give you a sort of pat-down? And I gotta warn you, he’s got a reputation for playin’ a bit rough. Ain’t that right, Roadie?”

Roadhog rumbled dangerously, and the group shrunk into an ever-smaller circle. The girl was the first to crack, audibly starting to cry even as she upended her purse and began tossing her belongings onto the filthy ground. Among them was the crumpled bills from the shop’s tip jar. Following her lead, wallets and jewelry and credits and other bits and pieces began to shower down onto the pavement, and even their foul-tempered leader soon tossed his wallet and cards onto the ground before Hog’s spiked boots.

“That’s all of it, mate, swear.”

“We’re gonna go, we’re gonna go.”

“No harm, ay? We’ll fuck off.”

Junkrat’s gaze darted downward before he snorted aloud, nodding sharply to Roadhog before his blood-smeared grin eased and he cheerfully stepped to the side, waving them forward with his gun. “See! Glad we got all that sorted out. And if me and Roadie see you cunts lurking anywhere within boba’s reach of that shop, well… Let’s just say that Roadie’s got a real temper on him and I dunno if I’d be able to stop the big lug. In fact…seems he might be in a bit of a mood right now. Go on, then, start runnin’.”

They took their chance, bolting forward just as Roadhog’s gargantuan form suddenly broke into a run. Scraping his hook against the brick, he hurled the wicked metal thing forward in a rattle of chains, blurring forward just as the group scattered at the alley’s mouth and dispersed into all directions, their screams trailing after them. Silence soon returned to the little alleyway, and Hog took up his place guarding the entry while his younger partner began picking through the offerings left behind.

 ***

“Order number 342! Passionfruit Sunset, oolong milk tea, berry matcha!”

Mei didn’t have time to worry about that pack of hoodlums. It was just before closing now, with only a lingering handful of people waiting for the last orders and she had been so distracted by trying to keep up that she’d nearly been able to forget that group of awful people… Almost. She just had to focus on this last stretch before closing. The kitchen was splattered with syrups and flavorings, loose pearls rolled about the ground or burst under her feet, and she was starting to forget which flavors went with which colors.

“Taro milk tea and a lychee with peach poppers!” She started the blenders for the hundredth time that day, only pausing to try and slide the visor back up her sweaty forehead and adjust her crooked glasses. Her feet were staring to ache and her smile was starting to fade, but her crew was counting on her to see them through and she wasn’t about to let everyone down. Maybe she could try to refill the tip jar with her own money today, too? She couldn’t let them down…

No matter how tired she was, she immediately stood to attention when a familiar voice joined the throng of customer conversation. It was just one Australian accent among many, but the screeching tone of it, followed by the sudden movement of everyone away from the door heralded Rat’s entrance. He limped in with the telltale k-thud k-thud of his peg, and immediately sashayed right to the front of the (suddenly dispersed) line and threw down his bag and leaned on the top of the counter in his most roguish pose.

“Hey, babe! Gimme your biggest bucket of half-sweet, and then you can give me a full sweet, right here!” He tapped his cheek and leaned down as if for a kiss. “And then, you can give me a—”

“J-Jamison! Hi!” She interrupted just as he was about to make a lewd gesture, waving both hands before lowering her voice. ”Oh no, is that blood on  your forehead? Please tell me you didn’t hurt anybody over a silly tip jar?”

He quickly wiped away the trickles of red that he’d missed earlier. “What do you take me for! Not to worry. Barely even a scratch, maybe a bruise or two. They’re lucky Roadie and I didn’t hook ‘em and cook ‘em. Nah, gave them a spook was all. Swear it.”

“Just so long as nobody got hurt, please?” She sighed, pushing her sweaty hair back once more. “Well, I guess scaring them is okay…they were being pretty awful. And the things they said! And stealing the tips from my team! Just awful, they were being total…Um.”

“Cunts?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that. What’s Australian, something kind of mean but nicer than that?”

“Galahs. Dipsticks. Drongos.”

“Yes! They were being real drongos!” she said with a little smile, before passing him his milk tea, half sweet, just how he liked.

“Thanks, darl. Well isn’t that fine service. Oi, ladies and gents, isn’t that just the finest boba service you ever did see?!” He turned upon the little crowd in the waiting area, and received a few hesitant agreements and nervous laughter. Nodding to himself, he ripped open his pack and reached both arms into it, rummaging about. “Best Honeydew Cha I been to all day, and I think that deserves a tip!”

He produced her stolen smiley-faced jar from the bag and began digging out entire handfuls of cash, credits, and random little jewels and metal bits, stuffing them inside. When that was filled past the brim, he began snatching at cups and cramming them full as well, pushing them across the counter to the stunned boba shop staff. Tucking the last few dollars into a sample cup while they tried to handle the sudden deluge of tip money, he placed both hands on his hips and watched the chaos in an extremely self-satisfied way.

“Oh. And they also send you their apologies for the things what they said to you, by the by. Hope this’ll cover it.”

“W-where did you even get—” Mei sputtered, then turned upon him with that uniquely accusatory smile. “You know something, I’m not even mad that you probably beat up those bullies. Maybe they’ll learn to be nicer. I’m giving you a pass this time. And you’ve really made my team happy so…” She lifted her voice again. “Okay, Honeydew Crew, thank you to Mr. Fawkes for feeling so generous today. And you all did such a great job today that I’m giving you all my share as a bonus…in exchange for you taking care of tonight’s clean-up.”

There was a chorus of agreement as she swung open the little door behind the counter, untying her apron as she looped her arm around his and passed him his favorite half-sweet tea. He grinned at her before giving her a squeeze, letting her guide him of the shop and down the boardwalk where Roadhog was waiting. For a moment, they walked together in silence as he busied himself with his tea…before he nearly spit it out all over the top of her head when he heard her sigh and grumble aloud.

“...I really wish I had gotten to punch them.”

“Ay?!”

“I know! I know it’s mean but…They were mean first,” she huffed, before giggling at his expression. “But, thank you for taking care of those no-good bullies. And for stealing everything back.”

“That’s cold! Oh, I like that from you! Uh, why don’t we leave Roadie to his lonesome and head back to the bungalow, maybe work out some of that aggression you got?” His arm wrapped about her, gripping at her side. “Whaddaya say?”

“I…think that’s a good idea, actually,” she said with a little smile. “But maybe in a little while. It’s still a nice night for a walk. Why don’t you and I go to the beach?”

[ancientechos]

Summer Days

For @windup-dragoon, based on a bunch of random discord convos!

Hien/Kirishimi + Emet-Selch/Arianna ♡ 2192 words ♡ some kinda modern au

The scent of the sea is fresh and crisp, circling in Hien’s lungs as he takes in a deep breath. It’s warm, and sunny, and vibrant: a perfect day to visit the beach. Perhaps take to the surf, enjoy the waves...

Unfortunately (or not?), two of his trio of companions have a quite different idea of what “fun at the beach” looks like.

“C’mon, Hien! The day’s not gettin’ any younger!” Kiri waves a hand in front of his face impatiently, shouldering her bright yellow surfboard and gesturing toward the sea. “We’re gonna surf, yeah?” She follows his gaze toward the small construction of umbrellas and towels they’d left and gives a small laugh. “Just leave ‘em, they said they’re fine.”

Emet, lounging on his towel, notices them staring, and gives a hand movement he’d like to assume is a wave but is really more likely to be a shooing motion. The smaller figure a little ways away from him, meanwhile, has most of her face obscured by the hat upon her head and the book held up to her nose.

“Besides, Emet’ll probably break his bones if he tries goin’ surfing.”

Hien can’t help but snort at the woman’s exaggeration.

“And Ari, well -- she’s not really too fond of this sorta stuff.”

It still feels a little off to simply leave their companions -- though really he wouldn’t mind Emet not being here at all, he feels just a smidge bad for Arianna.  Whilst he cannot pretend to know the quiet, dark-haired woman very well, he at the very least knows of her through Kirishimi, and at best doesn’t want to seem rude...

But Kiri does know her, so he supposes he should take his chances and simply relax. They had all come here to have fun, after all. Even if their definition of such was not exactly the same.

That was still fine.

Exhaling softly, Hien drums his fingers along his own surfboard, a bright lime green colour.

“You’re right! Let’s enjoy ourselves -- ” No sooner has he finished speaking than Kirishimi has already launched herself across the sand, giving a loud cheer of victory.

“Well? What are ya waitin’ for, slowpoke?!” She turns to regard him, one hand on her hip, pale hair framed by the sun. But what does Hien Rijin in is the enormous, joyful grin that spreads across her face.

Rivalling even the gleaming star behind her, the happiness is enough to spear him straight through the heart. He remembers precisely why he’s fallen for her.

He has just never seen anyone more beautiful and genuine in his life.

“Sorry, sorry.” He lifts a hand in mock surrender. “I won’t keep you waiting.”

The sand grows damp beneath his feet, gets between his toes and he merely kicks them beneath the gentle laps of water. His girlfriend is already nearly knee-deep in salt and fighting to get ever further past the waves, to finally use her board.

“I bet I’ll catch a bigger wave than you,” the woman taunts with a sharp quirk of her lips, glancing back at him over her shoulder with one blue eye. Her black two-piece is already soaked by the water, some droplets courtesy of the children playing in the shallower waters.

“We’ll see about that,” Hien replies, with a tiny smirk of his own. If there’s anything his love can bring about him, it’s his competitive flair.

It doesn’t take them long to find a decent wave; the water here is good for surf, the wind bustling their hair and Hien’s swim shorts as they struggle to find their balance. A swell of water takes Kirishimi away from him -- brings her back just as quickly as he surfaces at the top of the wave and he sees her, arms outstretched, braid streaming out behind her.

He can’t see her face from this angle, but he’s certain that if he could, he’d see that bright, free smile again. Sure enough, she gives a delighted whoop as another wave curls above her, and she tumbles below the surf.

Hien can still hear her laughing and chuckling, but his stomach drops out from underneath him anyway as he sails downward, thoroughly soaked now as he falls into the water. He surfaces with a gasp, grasping for his board before it can bob away from him entirely.

“Wasn’t that fun?!” Kirishimi yells at him excitedly a few feet away. Her laughter fills the air as another wave picks her up, sways her. “Let’s do that again!”

By the time they return to the beach, they’re thoroughly soaked. Hien’s hair is nearly coming undone from its ponytail, and Kiri has long ago lost her braid to the depths.

Emet and Arianna have for the most part not moved, the woman still curled up in her pale sundress. Through the shadows, it’s clear she’s wearing a swimsuit beneath, though she seems to have no inclination to actually put it to use. And the other, well...

He’s not entirely sure, but Hien thinks Emet’s eyes are closed beneath those dark sunglasses he’s wearing.

Kirishimi makes her way onto the towel nearest Emet, sighing loudly. They’ve both propped up their boards nearby to allow them to dry in the sun, doubting they’ll return to the sea for today.

“Man, that was tirin’,” Kiri proclaims, bunching up her hair. “We’re all soaked.” With this she squeezes -- allowing a series of water droplets to spray upon Emet as he reclines beneath the shade.

With a jerk and a stifled sound of annoyance, he pushes his sunglasses off; though Hien can cover his mouth with his hand as he turns away, he can’t quite stop his shoulders from shaking in mirth. Arianna shuts her book silently and eyes them both from beneath her hat somewhat warily; once it becomes clear neither Hien nor Kiri have any intention of spraying her, she relaxes somewhat.

“Couldn’t you have picked somewhere with less noisy brats running amok?” the older man hisses, narrowing golden eyes at Kirishimi in a way that implies he’s not simply talking about the little urchins clambering about the sand.

“Ahahah, sorry.” Not really. If anything, Hien finds seeing his former rival irritated like this amusing. “This just seemed the closest to all our residences...”

Not telling him that he and Kiri are actually, currently, “renting” one of the beach houses here.

…Which is actually owned by the Rijin family, though Kirishimi doesn’t know this, either. It’s fine for her to think it’s just temporary. For now.

Mentally patting himself on the back for being able to keep his composure, Hien finally turns back to his companions.

“Besides, we came here for a bit of fun, right? Stretch our legs a little, maybe let’s walk around -- I hear there’s a sand castle competition further up the beach. It might be nice to take a peek.”

Thus that’s how the four of them end up shuffling down the shoreline, toward the mass of sand and small crowd of people they can see milling about. The sun beating down on their sculptures allows them to harden and set, preserving them for at least until the moment they’re destroyed.

Most of them are quite impressive -- not all of them are grand castles and mansions. Some are cats, dogs, sphinxes, even dragons. It’s hard to believe they could simply be made of sand...

Beside the rows upon rows of majestic and interesting sculptures they’ve just walked through are a few children making their own play at sandcastles, though for the most part they amount to merely mounds of dirt.

“I bet ya couldn’t make anythin’ better than that, Mr. Architect.”

One of Emet’s brows twitches as he pauses mid-step to glare down at the highlander.

“Excuse me...?” His gaze flicks from the cheeky-looking woman to the sorry pile of sand currently being kicked about by a gleeful young boy.

“Ya heard me! I bet ya can’t make anything as cool as what we just saw,”

Privately, she mumbles under her breath that it hadn’t even really looked like sand anyway. Far too realistic...

The man scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“And why on earth do you think I care what you think?”

Once it becomes clear her attempt at challenging him isn’t working, the woman kicks it up a notch.

“Whoever builds a worse one’s gotta pay the tab at dinner later -- how about that?”

The expression on Emet’s face transforms from derision to vague amusement; he gives a shrug and filches a bucket and small plastic tools from one of the pairs of children puttering in the sand.

What seems like hours later to Hien but realistically can’t be, and his rival has already amassed a miniature crowd of his own, much to the discomfort of his date. Whilst Kirishimi and his sculpture is -- reminiscent of a castle, certainly, with no shortcuts taken for details...it’s lopsided and amateur, whereas Emet’s is most certainly...not.

The proudly tall, spiralling castle, decorated with small stones and other gathered trinkets, could well rival one of those built in the competition. Hien can hardly believe the thing the older man’s managed to create in such a span of time. Were it not made of sand, he’s sure it would gleam beneath the sun.

“Well,” Hien says with a nervous laugh as they push through the small row of onlookers, “I do believe you’ve lost your bet, Kiri.”

“Why didn’t ya tell me yer some kinda sand castle champion, Emet?! That’s cheatin’!”

“Mmm? Oh, I’m nothing of the sort.” The man’s tone simply drips with arrogance as he discards his final tool into the sand. “I’ve never built one before, and that was easy.” His smirk doesn’t fade as he grasps Arianna by one of her thin wrists, pulling her closer to him and out of the crowd. Hien pretends not to see the way his normally blade-sharp gaze softens as he presses a hand to her dark hair.

________

They’d all gotten time to change and get ready before heading out to the fancy restaurant. Halfway there, Hien can see Kirishimi beginning to brood about her supposed having to pick up the tab, and tries to reassure her.

“Listen, how about I pay instead? Anyway, it’ll be fine.”

“Huh? You pay? Nah -- it was my bet, Hien. And anyway, I’m not worried.”

Certainly not, that’s why the sun has left her gaze.

They all meet in the parking lot, Emet looking utterly bored whilst Arianna holds her cellphone in her hand. While she still doesn’t speak around him, Hien would at least like to think she seems a little less nervous in his presence than before.

Before they can set foot into the restaurant, Emet abruptly raises both arms, coming to a halt approximately a foot from the doors. The others stop in confusion.

“Do wait a moment.” The smirk is, once again, disturbingly palpable in his tone even without looking at his face. “I need to open the door.”

Comprehension seems to dawn on Arianna, as she rapidly begins to tap at her phone screen; if Hien strains his ears, he thinks he can hear Emet’s phone vibrating in his pocket, though the other man seems to have zero inclination in looking at it. In a last ditch effort to wheedle the man’s attention, Arianna grabs at the sleeves of his coat --

“Open sesame.”

-- just as he says this and takes a step forward.

The automatic doors, of course, open. He gives a ridiculous half-bow that has Arianna, for once, reeling away from him even after he attempts to coax her back. She merely gives a stiff shake of  the head, hiding her expression.

“Yeah? Of course it opened?” Kirishimi says aloud, seeming irritated herself.

“You’re very welcome.”

Though he doesn’t bother to explain, Hien has the suspicion that display had not really been for them.

Things are mostly quiet once they find their reserved seating, thumbing through overpriced menus. Hien can feel Kiri deflate slightly beside him, doing mental mathematics or perhaps concerned about her dress in comparison to the other patrons.

But the food is delicious; not even Emet’s subtle attempts to antagonise him can possibly ruin Hien’s mood. He can only be thankful that Kirishimi doesn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied by her meal. He even manages to trade numbers with Arianna, letting her speak to him as opposed to through Emet or Kiri.

And when the check arrives, Emet swipes it with an annoyed exhale before either he or Kirishimi can move.

“Perhaps next time, eh? I did choose the restaurant this time, after all...”

Hien isn’t sure there will be a next time, but nods graciously regardless. Despite his presence, after all, he did quite enjoy his day with Kiri. And perhaps he even has a new place to take her, where they might enjoy dinner together, without his jabs.

[ohvalleyofplentyyy]

Merlin’s Blood

A/N: sorry if you’re allergic to walnut bread, you can just pretend i wrote something else!

masterlist

chapter 1

Chapter 2: A Moment with a Miracle

“Motherfucker—“

Mother would be sooooo mad if she heard me speaking like this.

But you had landed pretty hard in your defense, you hadn’t teleported in forever because after you nearly crash-landed into the firing zone for archery practice, mother had put a stop to it.

You landed on the top of a rather large cliff that overlooked a small town below it. “I really really hope this is Brugee or else I’m fucked.” You got up and dusted the soil of your cloak, there was a small rip at the bottom but thankfully that was it.

You started walking down the hill, pausing every few minutes to listen to your surroundings and make sure you weren’t being followed.

I can’t believe I would have the fantastic fate to meet the man who’s supposed to kill me. Also, he’s a Witcher, which makes this even worse! And now he knows what I look like, ah fuck, fuck, fuck… What am I going to do—

“Geralt I still don’t understand why you have to kill her! She’s so sweet and it’s not like you’ll be able to find her since she poofed! Into thin air!”

Shit.

You crouched down immediately upon hearing the voice of Jaskier. About 20 yards away, Geralt was walking with the reins of Roach in his hand along with Jaskier rambling off beside him.

Oh my gods, I guess my fight or flight skills decided to go halfsies and not take me to Brugee, but just get me out of imminent danger…

“—Don’t you see how horrible your reasoning is? She saved me from getting shot with a crossbow at the tavern and then trusted me to help her, I think you need to question who gave you the order to—“ Geralt suddenly perked up and put his hand out to silence the bard. You took a small breath and held it, hoping his enhanced abilities weren’t as amazing as the legends.

In a quiet voice, the Witcher said, “I smell something, lavender…”

Oh sweet peaches and cream, my oils.

Your mother had let you choose an oil for your 11th birthday as a signature statement for a young princess. You used it as a perfume and as you got older you still used it instead of the fancy ones many suitors anonymously gifted you.

You enjoyed that the scent was your own, one you grew up always having. It kept you closer to nature since once the whispers of war started you were locked inside away from harm.

Alright, deep breath Y/N.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, it only took a moment before the wind shifted to be blowing the opposite direction, taking any trace of you with it. You watched from afar as Geralt tilted his face upwards to see if he could find the scent again, but alas nothing was there anymore.

“Come on, let’s go.”

The two men walked farther away from you and once you could no longer see their silhouettes, you let out a long sigh. You looked up to canopy above you and bit your lip to keep it from quivering.

I’m alone.

The thought of that made you more scared than when your killer had been in front of you merely minutes ago.

Tears welled up in your eyes and for the first time in a long while, you started to cry.

Oh, Mama, Papa, please find me, I’m scared…

You fell asleep curled up next to the giant log you had hidden behind, the thoughts and worries swimming in your head as you fell into a blank sleep.

                                                       …

Light shimmering between the leaves of the tall trees woke you. The forest was very peaceful in the bright morning and made you feel a bit better than the night before. The forest was alive with life and wonder in the early light.

You sat on the old log and watched as some small pixies danced along the adjacent stream that no bigger than a log, perfectly pixie sized. They were brightly colored, one purple, another pink, and the last a vivacious yellow. On the other side of the very tiny stream was a deer with two small wings and a long tail, like a lion.

Creatures that resembled monkeys swang through the trees. These creatures were various versions of green, each had two sets of eyes and two tails. Long floppy ears fell down around their faces as well.

It made you smile to know that the friends of the forest you once knew very well had managed to thrive while you were confined to the castle.

Spirits of the forest and other magical creatures knew not to be afraid of you. The magic in your blood from Merlin, one of your ancestors, lifted the veil of protection that others always see when walking through the woods.

Even the most powerful mage would not be privy to such a masterpiece of wonder. The Brotherhood used magic that was, well you could say, tainted. They drew power from other things but you had your own, it was apart of your very being.

Your mother used to tell you stories about how the blood that runs through your veins was some of the most powerful in the universe.

 You always believed it was made up as a child but as you grew older, some of your royal classes turned into magic lessons leading you to question if it was all just fairytales she told you or history.

A few pixies flew down to you and floating next to them was a slice of walnut bread. You took the bread from the air and smiled at them.

 “Have you been working on your magic baking?” They are nodded, you ate the pastry and instantly felt better. The magical bread seemed to lift your spirits and you decided it was time to get moving.

Alright, it’s time to keep going.

Away from the lovely killer I’ve got on my tail…

It took some time, but you finally found the trail leading to town. You took a guess and headed in the opposite direction, hoping the two others would be going to get food instead of hellbent on finding you.

If I can just find a good stream to drink from, maybe I’ll have enough energy to get out of here.

After walking through the dense forest, you stumbled upon a good size river. It was perfect for taking a quick sip but the problem was you’d need to cross it somehow. The current seemed to be fairly strong and you weren’t at the moment. You found a spot of land that was at level with the river and rolled up your sleeves.

The water was like nectar after all this time. It was cool and icy against your palms, you took the canister Branson had been carrying in the bag thank the gods and filled it to the brim.

Who knows when I’ll find a reliable source like this again.

Poor Branson, I know he wasn’t that fantastic of a bodyguard but he did want to keep me safe, and for two weeks he did. I hope he’s in a better place now, with lots of archery fields and sword fighting classes. He was always a fanatic for fighting.

“Alight, how on earth do I cross this now…” You mumbled to yourself. You kicked small pebbles into the river as you walked alongside it. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. There’s got to be some way I can just—cross it.”

Then an idea popped into your head. You turned to the tree next to you as if to speak to it, “If my bloodline is as powerful as people say, then I should be able to just,” you put a foot out, “walk across it.”

It was exhilarating.

You’d never heard of anyone walking on water but here you were, taking a few steps on top of the gushing river that flowed beneath your shoes. You laughed and twirled across the water, dancing with the fish that jumped up every so often as to say ‘hello!’ to you.

I wish I had known about this ability long ago, crossing the moat would have been such a breeze!

But then the water started to slowly lower as if someone was taking a sponge to a spill.

Huh?

You watched as birds flew from the left, away from something. Animals on the side of the creek ran fast as if they were being chased. “What in the world…” But the worlds died o your tongue as you watch a giant tidal wave come towards you.

“Oh my gods.”

Your instinct kicked in and you immediately moved your hands. One went in a full circle while the other drew symbols on the inside of it. Water swirled around you, creating a bubble as the tidal wave roared over you.

It was horrifyingly beautiful. You watched as flowers floated in the current, most likely ripped away from the sides of the land. Some deer, sadly drowned, ran with the steam as well. They must have been crossing farther up in a shallow area, taking a rest in the lovely stream when it washed them away.

 But what was the worst, was the little doll you saw right above your head, and someone’s tiny hand reaching for it.

You closed your eyes immediately, not wanting to see the body that might come into view.

The wave must have cut through a town, but how is this possible?! It’s a river, someone must have been the cause of this…

Maybe the ones trying to kill me.

You opened your eyes at the thought, now shaking a bit as you realized the situation at hand. “This enemy has strong powers, strong enough to easily kill me.”

The river leveled a bit as the wave raced down the path. You dispersed the bubble and looked at all the debris floating downstream. You ran as fast as you could across the water, you were almost at the edge when you heard something.

A voice.

Someone called out from help, farther down where the wave must have just hit. You turned, wondering whether you should keep going or help the poor soul.

“Help, I’m stuck!” You heard them shout.

Fuck okay.

You darted down the river, sliding down the water like you were surfing when it started to drop at an angle.

Maybe it’s a farm boy? A small child? Who would be in these woods right now, maybe a survivor from the town?

You weren’t expecting to find Jaskier clinging to a log in the middle of the water, his tunic caught by something beneath the rushing stream, and the Witcher who said he was to kill you, knocked out on the bank of the river on the side you had been crossing to.

So I guess they didn’t go to town for supplies after all.

Damn.

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tag yourself here!  (its a google form)

tags: @emmalbg @holyhumorliteraturelight​  @crazzyter @romyr4 @stretchkingblog97  @emilyhuynhhh @holychic @katiejmac​ @ayamenimthiriel​  @peeyewpeeyew @petalduck​

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[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 3

WARNINGS: NONE

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @alievans007​

The clock reads 5:07 am when he snaps awake. Torn from a comfortable, almost pain free sleep by a nightmare. He hasn’t had one in three months; since the images of his wife’s brutalized and violated body in place of Erin Ferguson’s had finally subsided. That one had haunted him every night since returning from New Zealand; having him bolting awake, drenched in sweat, chest impossibly tight and making it difficult to breathe, tears streaming down his face. Those dreams had thankfully stopped just as fast as they began, and from that night on he’d been able to sleep reasonably well when paid didn’t wake him.

Tonight, he’d dreamt about Austin; the exact same images that he’d seen while dying on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. His tousled blond hair and his steel blue eyes and his sweet, innocent smile. Only this time he hadn’t been alone. Millie was with him and they’d been holding hand as they waded through the surf; talking and laughing as if they’d always known one another. Both smiling as they looked over their shoulders at him, holding their hands out towards them.  But when he’d reached out for them, they’d simply faded away, leaving him despondent and heartbroken and calling out for them.  It was then that he’d woke; eyes snapping open, feeling the sweat that beads on his brow and gathers at the nape of his neck and the small of his back, his lung fighting to draw a steady breath.  

It takes several minutes for his brain to register his surroundings; the smell and the sound of the ocean trickling through the screens of the wall to wall windows, his wife’s gentle, rhythmic breathing behind him,  the feel of her smooth leg pressed against his. She lays on her stomach, comforter pulled up to the back of her head, her bare feet sticking out at the bottom; the same sleeping position she’s had in the six years that they’ve shared a bed.  And he rolls over onto his side, fingertips gentle as they pull the comforter down to her shoulders and then brush her hair to the side; lips placing feathery kisses along smooth, warm skin, his palms sliding down her arms.

She gives a long, content sigh and her hands come up to rest over his; lacing their fingers together and then placing them against her stomach as she wriggles back into him.  “What time is it?” she inquires sleepily.

“Early,” he presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her ear.

“How early is early?”

“Quarter after five early.”

She groans. “What is wrong with you? Why do you insist on waking up at ungodly hours? You’re supposed to be retired.”

He’s been waking up at the crack of dawn for as long as he can remember, since his military days, and is able to function on little to no sleep. A trait that’s come in handy since having kids. Often the one that gets up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.  

“I told you,” his lips are on the side of her neck now. “I’ve got shit to do with Ovi today. And we have to go into Port Douglas. To my dad’s place.”  

The anxiety nags at him the second he mentions his old man. He’d reached out as soon as they’d moved back to Australia, but his father hadn’t requested to see him in person until a week ago. Sending him a text message in the middle of the night, rambling about things he needed done around the house and how he couldn’t handle them on his own. From what Tyler understood, the dementia was rapidly progressing; he had his good days and his bad days, and required a live-in personal support worker and a nurse that came every second day. He wanted to feel bad about it; that his old man was struggling. But the bitterness is still so raw; all the anger he’s been holding onto since he was a kid, the years he   had to listen and watch his father abuse his mother.  Abuse that was turned on him when he turned nine and his mum passed away. He can’t get past it; that rage that he hangs onto. The desire to teach the old man a lesson whether he remembers half the shit he’s done or not.

But he promised Esme he’d give it a shot, that he’d be the bigger man and try to put the past behind him, at least for the sake of his children. The kids deserved to spend time with their grandfather before it was too late, she felt. After all, her entire family -aside from Kyle- considered them dead.  Tyler could care less whether the kids ever saw his father, let alone spent time with him. Why expose them to someone that had caused so much agony in the first place?  

“Oh yeah…” she yawns noisily and rubs the side of her face against her pillow. “…and you’re okay with that?”

“How bad could it go? If things are as bad as his nurse says they are, he probably won’t even remember me. Maybe that’s a good thing; he won’t have a lot of shitty things to say about me or my mum.”

“Even if they aren’t that bad, don’t let him get to you. He’s a bitter old man who’s so miserable that he wants to make everyone else that way. I thought maybe he was turning over a new leaf when he’d contact me all the time, but…” she shrugs.  “Don’t let him get to you, Tyler. Just let it go in one ear and out the other.”

“We’ve been here six months and he’s called how many times? Twice? And never asked about the kids once? His only grandchildren?”

“I know it’s easy to take it personally, but if he has dementia, he likely doesn’t even remember even having grandchildren. He might remember you, but he probably doesn’t remember you have kids. I mean, Millie was two months old the first and only time he saw her.  And she’s almost six now.”

A little more than a month away. Until she hits that milestone. And he wonders if that is the reason behind the dream involving her and Austin. That she’ll be turning the exact age he’d been when he’d passed away. Part of him is even scared; that she’ll wake up that morning and be sick and it will turn out to be something horrible she will never recover from. It’s irrational and he knows it; the chances of that happening. But his brain doesn’t exactly recognize the difference between rational and irrational these days.

“Did the baby wake up?” she asks. “I thought you got out of bed earlier, but I didn’t know if it was for her or if you had pain or…”

“Around two thirty. I just got her a bottle instead of waking you up.”

“Baby, you’re the best. You spoil me. You let me sleep through the night, you let me take naps, you help me get off.”

He smirks. “Three times.”

“Yes…” she sighs happily. “…a very nice three times.”

“You almost woke the entire house the third time.”

She giggles into her pillow. “I can’t help it. You have that effect on me. If you weren’t so good at the things you do, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“If I wasn’t so good at them, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s true. I would have had my five days of fun and that would have been it. If you hadn’t known what you were doing, it would have ‘boy, bye’.”

He chuckles into her hair. “That’s fucking harsh.”

“Well you had nothing to worry about obviously because it’s six years and five kids later and I’m still keeping you around. You’ve got some skills.”

“Yeah? You’re decent, I guess.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” she huffs, and directs an elbow at his stomach.  

“I wish you could, actually.”

“Do you even have that in your cell phone? When the dry spy officially ends?”

“Maybe…”

“You have absolutely no shame,” she declares, and then rolls over to face him, pecking his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For being the way you are. With me. With your kids. You put the work in. Without complaining about. You don’t piss and moan when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night or when you have to do dishes or laundry or take the garbage out.”

“Any man who complains about all that is a little bitch.”

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of little bitches out there. I’m lucky,” she kisses him again. “Very lucky. You help out, and you’re eye candy. What more could a woman want?”

“A big dick? Oh wait…”

“See? You’ve got it all,” she laughs and tucks her head under his chin, an arm curling around his neck, fingertips gliding back and forth at the bottom of his hairline.  

He wraps his arm around her, drawing her tight against him, hand rubbing her back in slow, smooth circles. She feels so good; the thin fabric of her tank top against his bare chest, the warmth that radiates from her, the feel of her lips and her breath against his throat. He closes his eyes, finding himself easily lulled back to sleep; the sensation of her fingers against the back of his head and pain in his shoulder and back settling down to a dull manageable ache. Until it’s interrupted by the alarm on his cell phone.

“Really?” Esme grumbles, as he rolls over onto his back and reaches for the phone.  

“Really,” Tyler sighs, turning off the alarm and then staring up at the ceiling; mentally trying to prepare himself for the day.  

Even with the pain, it isn’t the physically challenges that hold him back. He’s learned to live with it and work through it. It’s all the bullshit that does on inside of his brain.  The anxiety, the illogical fears, the hypervigilance. All working together to make it extremely difficult to function as a normal human being. He can’t believe what he’s been reduce to; not even half the man he was six years ago. When he got stare down the barrel of a gun and not even blink. Now there’s moments where he can’t even go into a store without something triggering him and bringing back all the memories and the trauma.

“Do you really have to get up this early?” Esme asks, as she moves closer to him, resting the side of her head against his chest, her hand on his stomach.  

“I do.”

“Like you can’t stay in bed for like ten more minutes?” she drags a finger down to the waist band of his boxers. In the beginning stages of things, they’d both preferred to sleep naked; loving the feel of skin pressed against skin. But back then they didn’t have little ones that could sneak up and burst into a room unannounced. Making some clothes a must.  

“Not even ten more minutes,” his hand captures hers, moving it back up to his chest.

“Fine,” she huffs, and reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair.  

“Go back to sleep,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get the baby if she wakes up. I’ll bring her to you before you leave.”

“You’re a keeper,” she says with a smile.  “You’ve even learned to put the toilet seat down and put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

He grins and slips out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as she moves back over to her side of the bed; tucking one of his pillows underneath her head and then pulling the comforter back up past her eyes, kicking and wriggling her feet until they’re once again poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“Be safe,” she says when he reaches the bedroom door.  

An old habit, he supposes, used to saying it every time he left for a job in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. And it hurts his heart; that she’d become so accustomed to him leaving that those words are now second nature.

****

Ovi saunters up onto the back patio at quarter to six; hair still messy from sleep, eyes heavy. He’s grown considerably since the move, packing on the weight and the muscle: less stress, more eating right and a consistent work out schedule, and hard, manual labour. It isn’t a full time job by any stretch of the imagination, but their clients pay well and Tyler pays even better. Ovi and Chloe can live comfortably, pay all their bills, and never worry about finding themselves in financial trouble.

It’s become their routine. Sitting out back, drinking coffee and eating breakfast before setting out on the road. This morning neither of them offer a verbal greeting, instead exchanging smiles and nods before Ovi drops into the chair across from him. Both staying silent as they watch the sunrise, the rippling ocean painted in a brilliant, breathtaking golden hue.

Tyler doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the sunrises and sunsets, the smell of the salt that hangs in the air, the breeze that rolls in off the water. The mountains had been beautiful; it had been one hell of a view from the back deck at their place in Telluride. But nothing compares to this. Maybe he’s biased; he’d spent almost thirty-six years in Australia. It’s home. He’s admittedly much happier here, far more relaxed. The privacy and the seclusion not enough to solve all of his problems, but helping the healing process tremendously. He feels grounded. Secure. As if he’s finally able to put down real roots. Able to raise a family somewhere that feels totally safe.  

Ovi watches the final moments of the sunrise with the rim of his coffee mug pressed against his lips. There’s pure wonder in his eyes; as if it’s the first time he’s witnessed the scene playing out in front of him. Wide eyed and amazed, like a child on Christmas morning that’s rushed downstairs to find the living room covered in presents and treats.  

It reminds Tyler of the first time the kid had ever seen snow. He’d glanced up from the dinner table and had given a loud gasp, eyes impossibly wide, and dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter as he sprung up from the table and out the sliding door. For a half an hour he’d stayed out there on the deck; clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Tears streaming down his face, unable to even form a proper sentence as he let the soft, white flakes fall onto his upturned palms, laughing when they got stuck in his lashes and his hair. Millie joining him and teaching him to catch the them on his tongue.  

After that he became fascinated with anything to do with winter. Throwing himself into helping the kids make snow angels and snow men, even building forts and having snowball fights. He and Tyler would go ice fishing on the weekends, their main bonding time. And he loved Christmas. Not necessarily getting gifts, but giving them. Enjoying the decorating of the tree and putting lights up on the house, and all the delicious food that he’d never been able to experience in India. He was a child again; filled with wonder and excitement, able to forget all about what happened in Dhaka and the trauma he still struggled with.

“That was an awesome one,” Ovi breathes, shaking his head in disbelief before turning to the plate of food in front of him. Nothing extravagant; some scrambled eggs, toast and a selection of various fresh fruit.  

Tyler nods in agreement, pushing food around his plate with his fork. The meds fuck with his stomach first thing in the morning; often not able to actually eat a meal but resorting to smoothies and supplements to get the calories into him. He likes the weight he’s at now; a little extra around the middle, but larger through the chest and shoulders, biceps and forearms bigger, as well as his thighs. He feels healthier than he has in years, maybe even since before Dhaka. He’d been running on nothing but booze and pain meds back then. And a death wish. Now he concentrates on what he’s putting into his body and how hard he works it.

Addie stirs in the car seat carrier that sits on the ground beside his chair; the soother tumbling out of her mouth, prompting that tiny whine that comes shortly before an epic meltdown. Two weeks old and she has a temper already; small and feisty, just like her mom. When putting the soother back in doesn’t work, he picks her up; laying her across his forearm, stomach down, her face rubbing against his skin as she settles into him.  

“I don’t know how you do it,” Ovi comments. “Make it look so easy.”

“It’s far from easy, mate. Trust me. Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You don’t make it seem that way, though. You make it seem like you’ve been doing it forever. It’s only been six years.”

“I just learn as I go along. Pray I don’t screw it up. Or screw them up.”

“I think you’re doing a good job. A great job, actually. It’s still funny seeing you like this though. As daddy Tyler and not Tyler, Tyler. Do you ever miss it? Miss him?”

“Not often. But yeah, sometimes I do.”

He feels guilty for even saying it; as if he’s somehow disrespecting his wife and his kids. But he’d been Ovi’s age when he had joined the army and began building and honing his skills; the ones that he’d taken with him into the job. He'd spent years on the move; being deployed while in the military and then bouncing from job to job, never settling down, never having to worry or think about anything other than his work. Now everything had ended abruptly and with it came a much slower pace, consistency and routine, more responsibility. Not just for himself. But with six people that depend on him.

“Do you ever want to go back?” Ovi asks.

“Once or twice I’ve thought about it. But I’d never actually do it. I don’t have it in me anymore. Not mentally. I need to work on myself. Not worry about helping other people. And I kind of love my wife and the life we have together, and I want my marriage to work, so...” he sips his coffee. “I’d never do it. I lose everything. And no job is worth that.”

“So if something came up, you’d just say no?”

“Unless it’s a threat to my wife or my kids or you. Nothing will make me go back. What’s going on? Why are you asking me about all of this?”

“No reason,” Ovi shrugs.  “Just curious.”

“You’re a shitty liar. You always have been. Who’ve you been talking to? Nik? Yaz?”

“No one!” he insists. “I’ve just been thinking about things.”

“What kind of things?”  

“Things that I can do with my life. On top of what I do now. I thought maybe if you ever got back into it, I could too.”

“That’s never fucking happening,” Tyler scowls, and Addie begins to fuss again. Maybe even hearing the change in his tone of voice or feeling the tension that takes root in his body.  And he lifts her to his chest, a hand on the back of her head, fingertips gently rubbing in her dark hair. “Not for me.  Not for you.”

“We could build our own business,” Ovi suggests. “We could get the word out, take on clients.”

“I said no. We’re not doing that. We’re not even going to talk about it. Get that shit out of your head. All it’s going to lead you to is a really fucking dark place. Trust me.”

“The money is good! You used to say that all the time.”

“No amount of money is worth not coming home to my family. You’re the last person that should want to get into this. After everything you went through...everything you saw...why the fuck would you want to get involved in that crap?”

“It was exciting. When you had me take the kids. Being on the run like that. Being responsible for the lives of others. I finally got over being scared of everyone and everything. I want to help people. Just like you helped me.”

“I didn’t help you, mate. I fucked everything up. I fucked you up.”

“It wasn’t your fault that things went bad,” Ovi argues.  “It was my father’s fault. Not yours. You got me out of there alive. Even when you knew there was no money. And you almost died doing it.”

“And I don’t want you almost dying...or dying...trying to solve other peoples’ problems. We can’t save everyone. No matter how much we want to.”

“I just want to give back all the good I’ve been given.”

“Find something else to do then. Feed the homeless. Work at an animal shelter. Volunteer somewhere. Do anything that would make you feel good. But fuck the job. Don’t even think about it. You want to mess things up with Chloe? Because that’s how you’ll mess things up with her.”

“It didn’t mess things up with you and Esme.”

“Like hell it didn’t. We split up for six months. You know how close it came to her filing for divorce? You know how close I came to barely seeing my kids? It was a goddamn miracle she took me back. And I still kept doing the job and I still kept making promises I never kept and I still keep abandoning her and my kids. You don’t think that hasn’t caused problems? That I don’t pay for my shitty decisions every day? We see a marriage counsellor, for fuck sakes.”

“Chloe said she’s fine with it. That if that’s what I want to do...”

“You actually talked to her about this? About becoming a mercenary. Are you fucking serious right now? Why the hell would you do that?”

“She’s part of my life.  I can’t make a decision like that without talking to her about it.”

Tyler frowns. “You’ve actually been thinking about this? For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Ovi shrugs. “Couple months, I guess.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just bringing this up to me now?”

Addie begins to cry in earnest now; startled by him raising his voice.  And he pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, a palm against the back of her head, the other patting her back as he sways his body back and forth in an effort to calm her.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers harshly to Ovi. “Why would you even think about doing the job?”

“The excitement. The danger. The...”

“The danger is exactly why you shouldn’t want to do it. You saw what happened in Dhaka. You were right there the entire time. Why would you want to put yourself through that? And never mind that, why would you want to put Chloe through that?”

“You and Esme...”

“Don’t even bring Esme into this. I’ve screwed up. A lot. I’ve made a lot of mistakes that could have ended my marriage. We have to see a goddamn therapist to try and fix things. Is that you want? You want to screw up someone else’s life? Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing.”

“But if she’s okay with it...”

Ovi is interrupted by the sliding glass door opening; Esme holding it so Declan...in just a diaper and a t-shirt and his hair sticking up in all different directions...can toddle through.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” she gives a tired, sheepish smile. “But someone woke up wanting daddy.”

Little arms wrap around his leg and Declan rubs his forehead against Tyler’s jeans before looking up at him with a huge pout on his face and those blue eyes rimmed with red and filled with tears.  

“What’s a matter mate?” Tyler asked. “What did the mean lady do to you?”

“He was pissed because I had to change his diaper before I would bring him down here to see you. If one of them could not have your temper that would be great,” Esme helps herself to a sip of his smoothie. “Is she okay? Want me to take her? Just so this one...” she lays a hand on Declan’s head. “...doesn’t pitch a fit because he’s jealous?”

“She was just a little unsettled,” he says, handing his daughter off and then scooping Declan up onto his hip. Running a hand over his strawberry blond hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks; letting him grab at his ears and his beard and anything else he can get those little hands on before sitting down and settling him on his lap and helping Declan feed himself the leftover food on his plate.

“Oh typical,” Esme grumbles, and sits down beside Ovi,  settling Addie against her chest and laying the side of her head against her daughter’s.  “He knows daddy will give him ‘big people’ food. And you wonder why he’s going to be six six and two hundred and fifty pounds when he’s sixteen.”

“Don’t listen to the mean lady,” Tyler says to his son. “You’re going grow up and be big and strong and kick some major ass.”

“Ass,’ Declan repeats, and shoves scrambled egg into his mouth.

“Oh, way to go Tyler,” his wife sighs. “You couldn’t leave one all innocent and sweet. Don’t you dare think you’re going to be teaching my last one any of your potty words.”

He grins. “She’s going to be the worst one of them all. It’s always the small ones you’ve have to worry about.”

“Your dad talks a lot of nonsense,” Esme says to the baby, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a bad influence. He already has your sister beating up kids on the playground and using the F word.”

“She’s got a hell of a right hook,” Tyler says, and Ovi nods in agreement. “She messes up her brothers.”

“We don’t want people messing anyone up this house.  Don’t pay attention, Addie. You’re going to grow up sweet and kind and never hurt a fly.”

Tyler snorts. “Not if she’s your daughter she won’t.”

“Can you believe I put up with him? That I willingly do this every day? Listen to that mouth?”

“It’s the other things that I do with my mouth you like,” Tyler says, and shoots her a wink across the table.

Ovi nearly spits out a mouthful of coffee.

“Oh god...innocent ears...”  she places a hand over one of Addie’s ears, and then a hand over one of Ovi’s.  

“Yeah, he’s not so innocent. He’s probably getting it more than I am.”

Ovi bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head in embarrassment.

“You’re not used to this yet?” Esme laughs. “You know what he’s like. You’ve lived with him for five years now. You know the crap he talks about. Only the strong survive in this house.”

Ovi wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans and holds his hands out in a request to hold the baby. He’s always been a natural; taking on the role of a big brother the moment he’d first laid eyes on Millie when they’d travelled to Mumbai and stayed at the Mahajan house. Lending a helping hand in taking care of the kids whenever Tyler was out of the country on a job, never shying away from dirty diapers or spit up.  He is a calming presence. Never raising his voice or showing any signs of nervousness of anger. And Addie snuggles right into him, one of her hands gripping his shirt, her head against his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he smiles. “Babies are nice.”

“Remember that they’re always nicer when their someone else’s,” Esme says. “So you don’t end up with one of your own way before you’re ready for it. Because they’re sweet and they’re cute but they’re a lot of work.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“So no kids, okay?” Esme tousles Ovi’s hair. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma. Give it a few years. At least. Okay?”

He nods in agreement.

“So what were you guys talking about? Things looked kind of intense when I came in.”

“Just stuff,” Ovi shrugs. “Nothing important, really.”

“For something that wasn’t important, you two looked like you were going to get into it about something. Everything alright?”

Both Ovi and Tyler nod.

Her eyes narrow. “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“It was no big deal,” Tyler gives her a reassuring smile. “Just normal talk. Guy talk. Nothing serious.”

“Well I’ll let you guys get back to your guy stuff,” she says, ruffling Ovi’s hair once more before standing up. “I’ve got school lunches to make and bags to pack. Ughhhh. Is it the weekend yet?”  She places her hands on Tyler’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading inside.

“Whew...” Ovi breathes a sigh of relief. “...that was close. I thought she’d hear for sure.”

“Don’t ever bring the job up again,” Tyler’s voice is calm and even, his attention fully on the toddler in his lap. “I don’t ever want to hear it come out of your mouth. That’s not something you want to get involved in. And it’s not something I’m letting you drag me back into.”

“I wasn’t saying I was going to do it,” Ovi attempts to reason. “Just that I thought about it.”

“Well don’t think about. You’re too good for that. Way too good for it. Go back to school if you want. I’ll pay for it. I’ll support you no matter what you do. But not if you do that. You go into the job, I can’t have your back. I just can’t.  I can’t just sit on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself. Understand?”

Ovi nods.

“You deserve so much better than that life. So does Chloe. And I wish every day I never got back into it. That I’d just walked away for good. It would have saved me a whole lot of hurt.  It wasn’t fair to Esme. Or my kids. And that’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Trust me, kid. You do not want that guilt on your shoulders.”

It will always be there. He knows it will.  He’ll spend his entire life looking for absolution that will never come.

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Serial Experiments Lain, Episodes 9-10

In which we finally meet God, Lain loses her last haven, and an apotheosis rocks the heavens.

Who Is God?

The concept of God has been floating around Serial Experiments Lain for quite some time. Characters speak in reverent whispers of his existence, while Lain herself seems to have conversations in her head with the being who describes himself as such. Now, at last, we’ve met the man face to face, and he is... weird. Even just his design, with long flowing black hair and flamboyant clothes, is so anime-exaggeration that it instantly feels out of place in Lain’s fairly grounded world. And the build-up to his arrival at the end of episode 9 is flat-out bizarre. There’s a stream of consciousness flowing all throughout the episode in the form of a freewheeling history lesson that’s part true, part fictional, and overall feels like someone surfing between Wikipedia articles by clicking on random linked pages. There’s no hint at what this explanation is leading to, so you just have to wait as it follows its odd train of thought to the conclusion, and only then do you realize you’ve just been slapped in the face with an elaborate backstory to justify the presence of one Masami Eiri, God of the Wired. God not because he is omnipotent or all-powerful, but because he is worshiped as one by the Knights we’ve heard so much about. These Knights believe in his “truth,” and that truth has power because to them, it’s true. And as long as that truth is true, Eiri’s godhood is assured. I think.

I’m gonna be honest, I think a lot of the stuff with Eiri went over my head. Putting his bizarre half-historical backstory aside, it’s a little confusing what his role is in relation to Lain and how he fits into the bigger metanarrative. Not to mention the scene where he explains everything involves his jumping back and forth between bodies with Lain, which makes it confusing who exactly is saying what. My best guess is that he represents who Lain could become, weaponizing the power of the Wired to make himself an immortal ghost in the machine... as long as he’s lifted up by the user base. His power comes from leaving his physical form behind and becoming a wholly digital being, casting off the skin of one world to wholly live in another. He’s here to pressure Lain into giving up her own body, to embrace her digital existence and leave the real world behind for good. After all, she’s been severing more and more of the physical ties that make Lain Iwakura exist separate of Lain of the Wire. Even her desk has been erased at school; the fabric of reality is writing her out of itself. Why not abandon her useless body and transcend to metaphorical divinity? Leave this cruel world behind for the sake of a better one? All she has to do is follow Chisa’s lead and leap.

Nothing Remains

And however much Lain insists he’s lying, the desire to give up her physical life is only growing stronger and stronger the more secluded she becomes. If you thought she was lonely before, that’s nothing compared to how despondent and reclusive she’s become now. She’s so desperate for connection she tries to take that snot-nosed kid from way back up on his offer for a date, and all that leaves her with is a kiss and a confrontation with a Knight in training. And just when things look like they couldn’t possibly get any worse, her family officially packs up and leaves. The family she was unwittingly thrust into, who never accepted her as one of their own... now that she’s re-discovered who she is, they have no reason to stay around. They’ve fulfilled their mission, and so they leave her life as unceremoniously as they entered it. Leaving nothing behind but a messy, empty house, a last goodbye from her false father, and a million unfulfilled pains Lain will never get over. And just like that, despite her desperate pleas and aching sorrow (”I’m real. I’m alive. I’m here.” fucking hell Kaori stop breaking my heart), Lain is really and truly alone. Not a shred of her old life remains. All she has left is the embrace of the Wired, the one place left where there are people to welcome her. And all her physical body can do in response to attach itself deeper and deeper to the computers that give her access to it, until she literally has machinery going into her body to connect as deeply as possible. Nothing but a hollow shell using the last of its energy to cross the threshold where it will no longer be needed.

And god help the poor fools who forced her to take that step.

Blackout Spark

Because even as she’s sinking inescapably deep, even as her physical being loses all hope and all happiness, the being known as Lain of the Wired is ascending in the opposite direction. As Iwakura’s strength crumbles, the concept of Lain herself is only burning hotter and hotter. Under the swirling lights of club Cyberia, eyes blazing with determination, intimidating a Knight spy with nothing but her voice shifting into attack mode, Lain’s other half is taking all the strength her physical half is leaving behind and weaponizing it. If she’s crossing to the other side, she’s not crossing peacefully; she’s going to cross kicking and screaming and dragging everyone in her way down with her. And thanks to all the incredible power she’s consolidating as a direct result of fully embracing the digital world, there is nothing that can stop her from meting out justice. She hacks the mainframe of reality itself and leaks the names of the Knights to the press, exposing every last one of them to the searing light of the ubiquitous information flow. She faces down Eiri and blows this so-called God away, his last remaining follower rejecting him and grinding him to dust under her foot. And in a last furious blast of power, the telephone wires overhead- a symbol this show has returned to time and time again- finally come crashing down, sparking and flailing and impotent. There’s no better representation for the fabric of the world itself coming undone. Lain has torn her chains apart, and there is nothing left to stop her.

You wanted a new god, Eiri? You got a new god. And God help us all when she finally claims her throne.

Odds and Ends

-OKAY BUT I DIDN’T EXPECT FREDDY KRUGER TO ACTUALLY SHOW UP AND WHY IS HE AN ALIEN

-”Hold up, lemme put my ass-kicking music on first.” -Lain, probably.

-”So while we still can...” Cripes, now I wanna know what the parents’ deal is. How did they end up chaperoning a god? How genuine was their love, either for each other or her?

-”Now communicating.” What the hell even are you lady

-”The Knights aren’t just some ordinary crackers.” ...I feel like there’s a white person joke in there somewhere.

-...no one was talking in the opening scene. WHY WAS NOBODY TALKING IN THE OPENING SCENE.

-Okay, that spilled coffee looks way too much like a pool of blood for that to be a coincidence.

-Also, shit, guess all the minor characters we’ve met were Knights, huh? No wonder they all shared that emblem.

Holy hell, this final stretch of episodes is gonna be insane. See you next time for what’s likely gonna be the finale of Serial Experiments Lain!

[hoeforbilly]

i've never been happier

MASTERLIST (with parts 1-3)

I'm so sorry I haven't posted at all. I was dealing with some family stuff and i didn't have time or energy to post. I'll try to post more but I don't wanna promise anything, hope you like this one!

summary: super cutesy being in San Diego

warnings: z e r o

genre: fluuuuuff

word count: 1.7k

Everything was different in San Diego. From the slightly salty scent lingering in the air at all times to the cars and the attitude of the people in them. The only thing that remained the same, and you were sure would never change, was how you felt about Billy.

Leaving Indiana lifted such a weight off his shoulders you almost felt like you've never seen him take a deep breath before. Like he was choking the whole time you knew him, and now, after such a long time, he could finally relax and breath again. You almost teared up several times realizing how excruciating life in Hawkins was for him and how much he had to go through.

Neither of you really considered yourself morning people but waking up in California proved to be really easy. Every day was exciting, you got to see more and more of why Billy loved it so much and you understood why he so desperately wanted to be back as soon as Neil made him leave.

You would go for a swim nearly every morning. Then walk along the beach, back to your apartment. The sun would dry your hair by the time you walked back into the tiny place one of Billy's uncles managed to find for you on such short notice. Then you would make breakfast - pancakes or scrambled eggs if you were feeling fancy, usually just cereal though. You would talk and cuddle on the couch while flipping through papers, looking for jobs. Then there would usually be a job interview or a meeting of some sort, lunch and back to the beach. That's how life was for the first 2 weeks. You've never had a more blissfull time in your life. It felt like you were in your private little bubble of perfect happiness.

That's how you felt waking up on yet another Monday morning, Billy's head rested in the crook of your neck, his warm breath lightly tickling your skin. You smiled and ran your fingers through his curls to which he moaned quietly, nuzzling his face further into you.

"I've never been happier" you whispered, gazing lovingly at the boy. You ran your finger along the outline of his shoulder, then down his side and watched the goosebumps appear.

You were positive you were yet to have seen a being more beautiful than Billy. Nothing could ever compare to how soft his skin was, how his hair felt between your fingers or how stunning his eyes were when he stared at you through his lashes.

"I hope our kids have your eyes" the words left your mouth before you could even think. Most people would expect Billy to run as soon as he heard a girl say something like that. He would mumble something incoherent, get up and leave. That's what Indiana Billy would do. California Billy just smiled blissfully and nodded.

"I hope they have your nose. You have the cutest nose I've ever seen" his voice was low and raspy given he just barely woke up. It made your heart skip a beat.

"You want to have kids with me?" you've never talked about it. Sure it was something you thought about from time to time, he was the love of your life after all. But him also thinking about it was the last thing you would have expected.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm so in love with you it's crazy. I actually don't know how it's even humanly possible to love someone as much as I love you. I wanna have at least 2 kids with you. A boy first, and then a girl a couple years later. And I wanna raise 'em in a nice house with a backyard. And maybe even a front porch. Why not" you chuckled and shifted in the bed, so now your head was rested on Billy's chest.

"What else?" you asked, a big smile on your face.

"I haven't thought of names yet. But I'd love for the girl to have my mom's name as her middle name" you squeezed his hand hearing the uncertianty in his voice.

"That would be really special Billy. I love that."

"I bet Max would be around to help out with them, gosh she'd be the coolest aunt" you smiled at the thought.

Shortly after you jumped out of bed. Got dressed, grabbed your towels and headed to the beach. Billy was teaching you how to surf so it was especially fun. And the day went by. And then another. And before you knew it, a whole year passed.

Billy got a job at a car shop and enrolled in night classes at a local community college. He was studying buissnes, hoping to eventually open up something of his own. You went to college and worked part time at a diner. You moved into a slightly bigger apartment, with an actual bedroom. There was no puppy yet but after hours of convincing, Billy managed to get the landlord to agree to him putting in some colorful tiles in the bathroom. You cried when you first saw them. You went swimming on the weekends and despite not having much free time, Billy was still teaching you how to surf. Life was better than you ever though it could be.

The weather was particularly nice that evening so Billy insisted on going for a swim. It's been raining all week so you had to give up your usual beach routine and resort to watching movies (which really mostly ended up in making out and moving to the bedroom). Not that either of you minded, it was a nice change. You grabbed your towel and put on your flip flops, Billy already by the door, ready to go.

"Did you put sunscreen on your nose?" you asked, pulling your hair into a ponytail.

"Come on babe, I'm a Californian. I don't need sunscreen" he scoffed, making you raise your eyebrows.

"Did you already forget how red your nose was after we went surfing last week?"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

"Baby you made me put makeup on it cause you said you looked like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." his face scrunched up at the memory.

"You're right. Give me some of that sunscreen." you just laughed and handed him the bottle.

The water was really nice and there weren't many people at the beach, given it was a Wednesday afternoon. You were happy Billy convinced you to come. You had both agreed you weren't gonna become the people who live by the ocean and never go to the beach. The sand was warm, the breeze light and refreshing. The sun was just about to start setting and as cheesy at it sounds, you felt like you were the only people in the world.

What you didn't know was that in the pocket of Billy's jacket was something he's had for months. Something he had to call your mother several times about, to make sure he was picking the right one. Something Max made fun of him for obssesing over.

He watched you get out of the water, run to the blanket he was seated on and wrap yourself tightly in a towel.

"Oh boy it's getting cold" you mumbled drying your hair with a towel and pulling Billy's hoodie on. Your hair was messy and damp, there was not an ounce on makeup on your face, your cheeks were red and you looked the most beautiful Billy's ever seen you.

"Come here girl" he smiled, opening his arms. You gladly did, positioning yourself in his lap, head rested on his shoulder.

"I love you B." you whispered after a little moment of silence.

"I love you too. And I think you know cause I'm not exactly secretive about it but I wanna be with you forever." he ran his hands across your back as he spoke. "I love every single thing about you. You make me feel so excited for the future. I've never even wanted a future before I met you. You make everything so much better. You understand me like no one else ever did and I will forever be thankful you packed up your whole life and moved here with me. I can't count the times you saved my life." his voice cracked at the last sentence and you lifted your head off his chest to see tears gather up in his eyes. He reached for his pocket and got a tiny purple box out of the pocket.

"I know you deserve so much better than me" tears were streaming down his face as he spoke. "You're like a fucking angel. But you chose me and I want you to know I will forever choose you." he opened the box revealing a goregous ring with a small yellow-orange stone.

"Yes yes yes yes, of course Billy" you cried, placing both your hands on his cheeks and kissing all over his face.

"I haven't even asked you yet" he chuckled.

"Oh right" you brushed your hair behind your ears and reached down to grab his hand. He leaned forward and placed the sweetest, most gentle kiss on your lips.

"Will you marry me baby girl?" he whispered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and pressing yourself against his chest.

"Yes, of course, my god" you were overwhelmed with emotions. You were positive your heart was gonna explode from how much you loved Billy. There was nothing and no one in the world that could ruin this perfect moment. The way he chose to propose was exactly what you always wanted. No fancy dinners and people clapping all around you. No tacky flowers and spending crazy amounts on making it happen. Just the two of you, your favorite beach and a sunset.

"Do you wanna try it on angel?" Billy asked and you finally looked at him again.

"I do!" you were excited. You would have been just as happy if he proposed with a fucking spaghetti hoop but it was adorable that he picked out a ring for you.

"It's a garnet stone. I talked to your mom a bunch and she said it represents loyalty and I though you'd like the color" he explained, taking the ring out of the box and putting it on your finger. It was a perfect fit.

"I absolutely adore it B." you looked at it, tears in your eyes again. "I love you so much. So so so so much."

"I love you too baby" he smiled.

[reawritesthings]

Ratatouille | JJ Maybank

(GIF is made by me. Credit if used)

Summary: JJ Maybank is a clever little rat. Always stealing and never getting caught. Until, he finds himself in the presence of your own home and you finally catch him.

Note: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve released something so it might be a little iffy but, i really hope you enjoy it + feedback is appreciated

"Have you heard about the little rat who keeps stealing our food? Just the other day, my finest roast chicken was taken. I bet it's those dirty Pogues." Mrs Andrew's who resident three doors down complained to a few other figures, who slyly had there eye on your mother's newest trinket.

"You should take it as a compliment, Mrs Andrew's. It means your cooking is divine." You endeavour into her daily rant hoping she could see this in a different light.

Mrs Andrew vexed at your attempt to see the light in this particular theft, " That piece of chicken costs me 30 dollars. I don't pay for my food to be taken, young lady."

You threw your head back, squaring your shoulders with charismatic movement whilst hearing Mrs Andrew's bicker about a false accusation that you might be seeing a Pogue. As the daily neighbour meeting elongated into hours of constantly whining, you decided to seek refuge into a certain Cameron.

You constrain your body to accompany Rafe, your trusted advisor and best alcohol dealer. "Rafe. I need alcohol, pronto."

Rafe disapproved your request, seeing you suffer was a blessing and a curse to his sicken mind, "Mrs Andrew's giving you a hard time?" You nodded, freely motioning your head to rest into his chest.

"She's claiming I'm sleeping with a Pogue because I defended the 'rat' that steals her god damn chicken." Even the mention on the claim provoked you making you feel slightly uncomfortable that you had that potential to sleep with a Pogue.

"Don't you fancy the Maybank kid?" Rafe's eyebrow furrowed knowing too much about your personal life.

"I don't fancy him. I just see him delivering my groceries." Rafe prompted attacked your false claim by falling your emotions further.

"So staring at him for three minutes straight and, finding it hard to say 'thank you' really gives the ' I don't fancy him' vibe."

You awarded Rafe with the finger, gravitating away from his presence before you do something you'll regret.

    ✿✿✿✿

"JJ, A chicken? Really?" Kiara was slightly miffed by the actions that her best friend accomplishes the night before.  JJ rose from his worn-out deck chair that somehow stayed afloat giving the circumstances of the holes present.

"What are you on about, Kie?"

Kiara watched JJ fumble his way towards her, his walk was mistaken for zigzags which only met she had to handle a drunk JJ. "You stole Mrs Andrew's chicken and many more things."

JJ remotely failed to make a face to the name, shrugging his shoulder he twirled away from Kiara, "Mrs Andrew shouldn't be so worked up about a fucking chicken. If I did take the chicken, shouldn't she take it as a compliment?"

"You didn't have to steal it, JJ. You could have just asked me and I would have gotten you groceries." Kiara abbreviated JJ's response, hoping the statement she announced stayed in JJ's mind the next time he decides to steal.

Stealing for JJ was like breathing. He didn't need to, of course - but,  he needed to survive. It was like a curse his father placed when he turned to alcohol for pleasure. His friend tried to make him stop, but he couldn't break the curse. He always saw stealing as the only sensible way to survive in the Cut. In this Pogue life, you worked two jobs and were lucky enough to earn a tip. JJ wasn't going to rely on just an hourly income for himself and his drunken father, he needs cash, immediately.

It started with small items, food to help him function for the day. But, as he successful outsmarted Heyward, he thought bigger and placed his icky nose on the other side of the island known as 'Figure 8.' Figure 8 was JJ's dream, a dream that one day he would go full Kook and have a golden statue of himself.

"Noted." JJ bluntly responded but Kie wasn't remotely sure if JJ even took anything she told into account.

JJ watched the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of the harsh waves crashing onto the sand. His eyes watched the sunset, spreading into its last ounce of orange rays before twilight awakes. His lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he knew what house he wanted to enter, whatever the consequences he was adamant to have another decent meal. JJ landed in Figure 8, a town he knew well from his kleptomaniac days. Since he got the heads up that Mrs Andrews was on the hunt, he vowed to take the beachfront.

His stomach commences into a harsh growl, the pain was noticeable and so was a house. It was three downs up from Mrs Andrews, a typical white framed fence with artificial flowers and wide backyard. JJ's wandering eye teleported him towards the gate, a gate he began to familiarise when his hand touched the newly painted wood.

"Mrs Y/L/N House..." JJ whispered to himself. When JJ's movement came towards the garden he noticed the door left ajar, a scent rushed out of the house and suffocated JJ's nostrils making his belly flip with joy. He knew he couldn't get into trouble due to the door being already open which was odd for Figure 8. JJ approached the door and scanned the ghost-like kitchen to see if anyone was awake.

No one was seen.

JJ pushed the door and it swung open with ease, a blast of air-conditioned of a cold streamed past him, with light jazz escaping through the night. He tiptoed inside, squinting his eyes shut as he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He shamelessly headed from the double magnetized fridge covered with pictures of you and magnets from different states.

"Why do Kook's have beautiful children?" JJ murmured, haltingly placing his hand over the handle letting the momentum of the fridge open revealing a whole stack of food.

"Tempting. What do you fancy tonight, JJ?" He asked himself, fiddling around with the products making sure everything was neatly stacked the way he found it. JJ took out a plate of half-eaten cheesecake, along with a bottle of coke with some fruit on the side.

"I found dessert, but I need dinner. C'mon pretty girl, what did mama make ya?" JJ eyes darted around the island, checking if there were pots present or even a plate visible to him.

"Bingo." JJ teethed with joy as he noticed a pan neatly resting on the stove. "Come to JJ."

As JJ swayed his arching body towards the stove, he smelt the rich scent evaporate around him causing him to gag a little, "This has to do..."

JJ tasted the dish, it looked like someone effortlessly threw random vegetables onto the pan and called it a day. "This is fucking disgusting."

"Tell me about it." You chuckled, repelling the smell of your mother's failed attempt of Ratatouille, and amazed that a boy with the same age demolished the meal in three gulps. "Of all things you could eat, you choose that?"

JJ froze insight, ceiling his eyes shut with a combination of a curse word leaving his lips, "Please don't call the cops."

"I wasn't planning too, Maybank." He was stunned by your response and the mention of his surname.

"How do you know me?" JJ dumbly interrogated the girl, trying to form a vision but the darkness around them forbade him.

You chuckled, as JJ tried to figure out a time where he would have met you."You deliver my groceries every Sunday. You are friends with Pope Heyward, I usually give him a can of beer whenever he is alone."

"Beer girl? No fucking way."

You bowed letting out a quiet laugh. "I'm guessing you are the person who stole Mrs Andrew chicken? and, If you really are that hungry I can make you mac n cheese?"

JJ hurled when the name entered the room, "The ungrateful bitch. She should be glad I stole her chicken. She's hella of a good cook, better than your ma's."

"Anything is better than my mother's cooking. I sometimes ride down to the Wreck for a decent meal. Mr Cerrera's food is the best." You praised the Cerrera's talent whilst you attempted to make Mac n Cheese for the hungry boy.

JJ sent a smirk to his fond smile, "I'm best friends with their daughter. Even though, I'm not their cup of tea... I still get scraps that ungrateful Touron's don't finish."

You envied the Pogue life, even more now as JJ began to blabber on about his adventures of surfing during the hurricane's, going to Mrs Crain's and Rixon's Cove. You liked being a Kook, you had everything you wanted and more but, something was missing. You had friends, Rafe mainly when he wasn't trying to get into your pants and his sister, Sarah but, It wasn't nearly as great as JJ's friends.

"You okay there?" JJ snapped your train of thoughts, placing his hand over yours.

You gave JJ a cramped smile as he took charge of stirring, "Yeah. I was daydreaming."

JJ didn't say a word, knowing it wasn't just a daydream thought. "Cute. How about you come and hang out with us? As for us, I mean the Pogues? But, If you want to hang out just us two..." You cut JJ with a light kiss to his cheek causing a heat of pink to arouse him.

"Taking that as a yes."

You laughed, scooting him away from the stove. "You are my guest. Sit down and I'll give you your food."

JJ did as he was told, hearing your bossy attitude take charge aroused him. "Yes, chef."

You delivered JJ his meal, watching him devour as if it was his last. The small moans escaping from his lips gave you confidence that you weren't a bad cook. "JJ, slow down. It's not going to run away."

"I think you have scored the best cook of Mac n Cheese. I'm definitely coming here, again."

You were meaning to question the boy on how he cleverly entered your house, "How did you even get inside? The alarm was on."

"Simple. the back door was open slightly. Someone must of-" JJ stopped when a gasp escaped your lips.

"Fuck. I forgot to close it." JJ chuckled at the clumsiness of your mind. He managed to figure you out in 10 minutes, which he didn't mind doing.

"It's okay. Maybe you forgot for a reason?" JJ tried to flirt his way into the situation, but you were more infuriated with yourself.

"You saying we were destined to meet, Maybank? I thought a Pogue and Kook don't get along or date." You translated the rules of the two tribes made by Rafe and, JJ.

"Fuck the rules. I tend to break them." JJ shrugged looking around as he proved his point.

"I see. Well, my mother is making spaghetti bolognese tomorrow? I'll leave you a plate outside." You winked, gathering his empty plate.

"And if it all fails, I'll treat you to a nice dinner at the Wreck. My treat..." JJ rambled not wanting to leave your house but, he knew he had too.

"You mean, free food at the Wreck?"

JJ pouted at the response. He was hoping for a simple nod.

"It's a date, Maybank."

masterlist | taglist

[musicalmontgomery]

Letters

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, brief mentions of billy’s abuse 

Pairing: billy hargrove x reader

on the day Billy Hargrove leaves his small town of Coastalside, California for Hawkins, he makes fast friends with y/n, promising to write her while he’s away

loosely based on ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks // there will be more parts!

The bell on the diner door rang as the newest customer entered into the french fry aroma of the mom and pop restaurant. You kept up with your sidework, polishing the cutlery and folding it into napkins while the patron got sat into one of the red and yellow leather booths.

The day dragged on just like every other as the minute hand schlepped around the seashell clock hanging above the bar. This was only supposed to be a summer job, taking orders and serving burgers for the locals while the tourists stuck to the patios along the beach. But here you were as September was coming to its close, still trying to get the water stains from the damn dishwasher out of these knives.

After allowing the customer a moment with the menu, you finally turned around to see him sitting there. In all his glowing glory, was Billy Hargrove. The king of Coastalside, California. Grabbing your pad and pen, you sauntered over to the small booth he sat in. For the first time in all the time you’d seen him around town, he looked small. The tall seat towered over him and it reminded you of a child pretending to be a grown-up.

“Good morning, can I get you started off with something to drink?” You politely asked, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Just, uh, a-a coffee please,” Billy stumbled. You looked up from your pad where you had scribbled ‘coffee’ in loopy handwriting. A single bead of sweat on his upper lip could have easily been attributed to the sweltering Californian heat that lasted into late fall, but the anxiety written on his face told another story.

“Yeah, no problem. Any food or just the coffee for now?” Your eyes finally meeting his, you felt your heart break a little. The once bright blue that shone like the sun in the sky seemed a muted tone as they watered.

You gave a little smile as he took a moment to collect himself to spit out any words.

“Just the coffee, thanks. But hey, can I ask you something?” His eyes still boring into yours pleaded for you. You gave him a quick nod and smiled a little bigger. “Would you mind sitting down for a while? I could use someone to talk to, and you look like a good listener.”

You softly laughed, wondering where in yourself he saw that. You’d only gone to the same small schools together all your lives, but now, he sees it. Nonetheless, you accepted the compliment.

“Thanks. I actually have some extra work to finish up, but I’m off in an hour if you’re not in a hurry. I know somewhere we can go.” You tugged on the bow holding your ponytail, tightening it.

His face lightening up, he finally gave you a smile and took you up on the offer.

For the next hour, Billy waited patiently and watched as you finished up the polishing and served your other tables. Every time your eyes caught each other’s, you could see him delicately smile, and his tense shoulders visibly dropped as he seemed to remember how to breathe again.

Wondering why he seemed so distressed, you recalled hearing around the hallways that the king of Coastalside was leaving his kingdom. You hadn’t heard where exactly, but you knew it was somewhere in the Midwest. No matter where, there was surely no ocean for a nearly professional surfer like him. The demeanour suddenly made sense and you really felt for him.

Finally, noon hit and your shift was over. You gave Billy a nod as you disappeared into the back to discard your apron in favour of your purse. When you got back to his table, he was pulling out his wallet for the three coffees he’d consumed in the hour he waited for you.

“Don’t worry about that,” denying the cash he was trying to hand you. “It’s on the house.”

“Thanks. Where to?” You and Billy headed out the door, the bell ringing out behind you.

“The pier? It’ll be too hot for the tourists today, so we should be relatively alone.”

True to your assumptions, the pier and beach were nearly entirely vacated save for a few locals and truly brave visitors. The ride over was quiet but comfortable. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be one of the girls in Billy’s Camaro only to be moderately disappointed. There was less of a magical excitement than you imagined you’d feel, but you were also not riding around in the same pretext they did.

The two of you walked along the wooden boards, neither saying a word until you reached the end and sat on a bench there. The brilliant noon sun hung right above you, making you glad you’d carried your sunglasses along today. Billy, too, wore his you realized as turned over to look at. As if on a cue, a small tear gentled rolled out from underneath the shades.

“I’m sorry. This was dumb, I don’t know why I asked you here.” His voice cracked, and his shoulders shook. Your hands quickly reached up to his cheeks to wipe away the quickly fleeting stream of saltwater.

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” You didn’t know what to say or how to help him here. Though you’d known Billy most of your life, it was only distantly. You wanted just to make everything better, but you didn’t know how.

After a minute or two of just sobbing and weeping, Billy’s tears came to slow and eventually stop.

“I’m leaving today.” Finally, he broke the silence.

Still not knowing what to say, you offered a simple “I know.”

“I’m leaving my entire life here to go off to hell. Hawkins the Hellhole, Indiana in the county of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere. I’m gonna die out there, Y/N. There’s no way I can survive that long away from all of this.” He held his hands up as he turned around to the town behind you, gesturing at everything it was and stood for.

“What are you gonna miss most? Maybe it’ll help to talk about it and figure out how to get a sense of that out there.” You were just talking out of your ass now, unsure of what you were even saying.

“The waves and surfing. I was so close to a sponsorship too. By the end of the season, it would have been mine. I’m gonna miss the people. My neighbours, the Watsons, real sweethearts. They brought over a cake that Mrs. Watson made for me a couple of days ago. It was a birthday/going-away thing-“ He was quickly cut off by your interruption.

“It was your birthday?!” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I just turned 18 the other day,” he said shyly.

“Happy belated birthday! Okay, carry on.”

Billy laughed and continued on with his list.

“I’m gonna miss making fun of the tourists. Miss driving the Camaro on the rocky coastline. Miss the salty air. But one thing I sure as hell am not missing is Stella’s Diner. Those chunks of charcoal you guys call burgers are awful!” He laughed, sniffling slightly. “It has its redeeming qualities, though. The coffee, the fries, you.”

Holding a hand to your chest over your heart, you smiled as he looked down at you.

“God! I’m 18 years old! I’m old enough to go off to war and get shot, but I can’t even decide where I want to be.” Billy frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, combing through the mullet of thick curls.

“Indiana won’t be as bad as a warzone, at least,” you said, trying to find a positive in this.

“Indiana is a warzone for me! You don’t know what my dad is like.” You’d seen the black eyes, the cuts. The Billy you knew didn’t fight and the injuries finally made sense.

“You’re gonna be okay, soldier.” Billy chuckled at the nickname.

Resting his back on the bench again, you looked at him in silence. His signature half-buttoned shirt exposed the glowing tan on his muscular chest. Tensed from experience but relaxed in this moment, he looked comfortable to just be here.

“I don’t have anyone out there, Y/N. Susan and Max don’t give a shit, Dad is an ass, Mom is long gone. Don’t really have anyone back here now. It’s just me.”

“You got me.” You reached your hand over to his and held it.

“Yeah. Can I send you letters, maybe? I’ve got no one else to send ‘em to.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You’d never pegged Billy to be an old fashioned, letter-writing romantic.

You told him you’d love that and pulled your notepad and pen from work, his order still on the top page. Below where you had written ‘coffee’ earlier, you scrawled your home address that he could send to. You tore the page off, and he tucked it into his wallet for safe-keeping.

The two of you sat and stared at the ocean, outstretched before you for a while. Billy soaked it all in, fearing it may be the last chance to see it before he leaves. The quiet between you, while mostly comfortable, was missing something.

You reached up to the back of your neck and gripped the clasp of your necklace, undoing it. You brought it into his hands, folding them around it.

“You got me here. I’ll be there with you, even when you can’t write.”

His eyes buried behind his sunglasses blurred with tears again as he opened his hands to see the necklace. A simple silver chain held a delicate pendant of the Virgin Mary. Ever so carefully, he placed it around his own neck. Thumbing the pendant, he looked back to you.

He was unable to get words out, but you could see how appreciative he was for this gift.

With one last good glance at the vast expanse of water before him, he began to get up.

“It’s time for me to ship out. I’ll drive you home.”

With a town as small as Coastalside, it only took a few minutes to get from the pier to your house. It wasn’t nearly enough time with him. As he parked the Camaro, you turned into him and softly smiled. One of Billy’s hands came off the steering wheel to gently grasp the side of your face. Pulling you into himself, your lips collided like waves crashing at the shore. The sheer intensity lit a fire in your ribs, and you sighed into the feeling. Like a delicate dance, your mouth moved with his in a choreography you didn’t know you knew. As your lungs burned for air, you separated from him but he maintained his soft grip on your jaw.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to do that,” Billy gasped through his swollen lips. “And now, I have to go.”

You pressed your lips together as if to permanently seal the feeling of his into them. Once both of your breaths were caught, moments soaked in, excitement inside you dying down, you reached for your door handle. He returned his hand to the wheel.

Now exited from the vehicle, you smiled down at him in the driver’s seat.

“See ya, soldier.” You called his new nickname while closing your passenger door. Without looking back, for fear of crying if you had to see him again, you walked inside. Once you shut the door, you leaned against it, the sobs finally making their way out. Years of loving him longingly and you finally had your chance. Only to have it ripped away by fate. Your heart ached for what could have been, what you only got a taste of as you carried yourself to your bedroom.

-

The first letter came a few weeks later.

Dear Y/N,

I was right about it being ‘Hawkins the Hellhole.’ The town is bigger than Coastalside, but somehow there’s still nothing to do for fun. It’s so cold here and it’s only October. The lake is just a puddle of brown sludge and it has nothing on my crystal blue ocean. I miss it.

I miss you. I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I’ve really liked you for years. I was a jerk of kid, I know. Even more of an ass when we grew up. An arrogant little shit. But you still showed me kindness. Like you knew something about me that I didn’t know about myself. I hope that’s how you feel anyway. I don’t know if I love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that. But I think this might be it.

Write me soon. Your Virgin Mary and I are looking forward to hearing from you, no matter if you feel the same way or not.

Lovingly,

Your soldier, Billy

You laid in bed, reading and re-reading the letter for hours. It was as if your mind was unable to process the words he had very clearly laid out for you.

“I think this might be it.” No way. No way was the king of Coastalside thinking this might be love that he was feeling for you. It all felt too surreal.

“Hey, hon,” your mother leaned against the frame of your open door. “You gonna be joining us for dinner?”

Without looking up from the page, you replied with a simple “no.”

“Who’s the letter from?” she asked.

“Billy,” your eyes continued to keep their focus on the sheet of paper.

“Hargrove? I heard he moved away.” Of course, she did. Coastalside was so small that everyone knew. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

“We weren’t really until he left.”

“Maybe it’s better that he did, you know? He was such a rough kid, and you don’t get mixed up in that. I think this is a good chance to cut your losses and you’re so young. There’ll be more guys.”

Saying nothing, you dropped the paper onto your nightstand and rolled over to face away from her. She took the hint and left, closing the door on her way out.

‘She’s wrong,’ you thought. Billy is so much more than she thinks he is. He was sweet and kind. When he wanted to be, anyway. Other times, he was an ass who beat up anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

No matter what her mother thought, you knew in your heart that you felt the same way as he confessed in his letter.

You refolded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. You pulled a fresh sheet out of your desk drawer and wrote.

[emo-rejects-archive]

For Black Widow: Natasha becomes a slob and loves it!

(Thanks for the ask. Don’t be afraid to send in another.)

Who knew retirement could be this good?

After the years world ending events involved another Kree-Skull war that randomly decided that Earth would be its battleground, the Avengers, and society as a whole, decided that it was time for a change. Sure, Earths mightiest heros had once again emerged victorious, but they also came to realize something. A lot of them were getting a little too old to be doing this superhero crap. Sure, most of them were in their thirties, early forties at most, but that was still kinda old to be jumping off of buildings with reckless abandon.

Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Man, Black Panther... All of them relinquished there titles as Avengers, stepping down so that the next generation could take up the mantel. Some chose to live out the rest of their days in comfort, while others took up to helping their communities in small ways that didn’t directly involve fighting crime.

And then there was Natasha Romanova, also known as Black Widow.

Nat had spent her life being groomed to be the super spy she was, so to retire so suddenly was a definitely a hard adjustment to make. She spent the first month of retirement wandering around aimlessly. Sure, she did a few press interviews here and there, and she went out to lunch with a some old comradesa couple times, but aside from that, she didn’t really know what to do with herself.

Then one day, while she was out with her comrades, she took notice of how they were talking about a bunch of new and popular television shows. And that was when it hit her... She had been so focused on running around the world, fighting bad guys, and just generally being Black Widow, that she had actually missed out on a lot of film in the past couple of years. So, as soon she returned to her apartment in Upper Manhattan later that afternoon, she got a subscription to a streaming service, changed into some casual clothes, turned on the T.V, crashed on the couch, and started binge watching.

Nat quickly grew engrossed, on the edge of her seat with every passing episode. However, she became so engrossed with the show that she didn’t notice how quickly the time was passing. When she finally checked her phone, she realized that she had to whip up something for dinner. And then she realized that she had gotten so caught up with her binge watching that she had forgotten to go to the grocery store. Natasha cringed as she thought about what she was about to do. She was going to have order takeout from somewhere.

For the most part, Natasha had barely ever touched a piece of fast food in her life, always preferring to stick to her strick diet. But at this particular moment, she didn’t have much of a choice. She would have to walk a good ways if she wanted to get to a grocery store, and that would take away time from her binge watching. So in the end, she decided to call in a pizza from some place in Midtown. The pizza came quicker than she had I initially expected. After a few short minutes of waiting, she heard a knock on the door, and when she opened, a box of pizza was waiting on the floor for her. She assumed that the delivery person didn’t feel the need to hand it to her directly since she had payed online. She brought the pizza back to her couch, and resumed her show.

What Nat didn’t fully comprehend was that her eyes were so focused to the screen that she was subconsciously shoveling slice after slice into her mouth, blissfully ignoring the growing tightness in her stomach as it bloated up with cheese and grease. She didn’t notice that she had downed the entire pizza until she tried reaching for another slice, only to find her hands grabbing at nothing. Later that night, once she had finished the shows first season, she passed out into a food coma, clutching her swollen gut in her hands.

The next day, rather than start her day with her regular workout routine, she began with the second season of her show. When it came time for her to get breakfast, she once again ordered takeout, this time from a nearby fast food joint that just so happened to serve breakfast, because she ONCE AGAIN didn’t want to go get her groceries since it would interrupt her show.

These behaviors quickly became the new routine for Natasha, a seemingly endless cycle of lazing around, watching T.V, and ordering cheap takeout food. It wasn’t like she had to worry about money anyway, since she had received a huge check from the American government for her service in the Avengers, so she was set for life.

A few weeks later, she was looking at herself in the mirror, and she noticed something. Reaching the tips of her fingers down to her stomach, she felt it up, taking not of how the rock hard abs she had always possessed were no longer, rather they had been replaced by a subtle layer of fat. Nat felt her finger slightly sink into the softness, grimacing and puckering her plump lips. Had she really gained weight? ‘Oh well,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s nothing I can’t lose. I should get back to my shows anyway!’

A whole year passed, and not once in those three-hundred-and-sixty-five days did she ever workout. She was way too addicted to binge watching whole seasons of T.V to even think about so much as doing a push-up.

“BWOOOOORRP! Ugh, damn... That was a really good season! Now what should I watch next...,” Natasha muttered to herself before fishing in between her fleshy and sweaty cleavage for her TV remote.

Yep, she had gotten fat alright. Sitting there on her couch all day, watching whatever was on T.V, stuffing her seemingly bottomless gut with multiple pizzas and other greasy food. It was honestly hard to believe she had ever been Black Widow.

And how could she have been, not with that pale, double rolled blob of blubber that spread itself out across her lap and reached as far as her bloated kneecaps! Not with those flabby thighs and an ass so wide and chunky that they had somehow torn every pair of sweatpants she had ever owned, forcing her to waddle about her apartment in her undersized underwear on the rare occasion she actually got up off of the couch. Not with boobs bigger than watermelons and floppier than pancakes, each tit too big to even be contained by any bra. Not with those plump cheeks and that pulpy double chin that attached to her head and neck. Hell, the only recognizable part of her was her iconic short crimson red locks, and even those had been drenched in grease from her refusing to shower for months on end.

Natasha began to surf her streaming surface, searching for something new to binge or something she liked enough to rewatch. She grunted piggishly as she felt a low ominous gurgle in the pits of her bowels, letting out a sputtering burst of warm gas from her rear and into her couch. Nats eyes fluttered, her doughy cheeks blushing and her plump lips curling into a smile as she took in the raunch stench of her own brew. If she had to be honest, she had actually come to enjoy her newfound obesity! She found it super liberating to be able to laze about, eat whatever she wanted to, and burp and fart freely with no repercussions! No one had invited her out in months, and she was totally fine with that! The world had forgotten about Black Widow, and she had forgotten about the world.

Hell, she thought that she heard the world almost ending again outside her living room window last week, but did she care? Nope. Not one bit. How could she when she had shows to binge, and pizzas to eat?