#they’re like old pals I’ll never get bored of seeing

[milkcurdles]

Fancy seeing you!

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: Many Partings

Oh, oh oh oh, the chapter title is a mirror to the Fellowship chapter “Many Meetings”, don’t touch me I am cri

Aragorn: “Hello! Don’t ask; I know you want to go back home.” Frodo: “I do. I want to see Bilbo even more. I was sad to see he didn’t come with the others.” Aragorn: “Well, he’s getting really old, dude.” Frodo: “EXACTLY WHY I NEED TO GO.”

In which Arwen gives Frodo her golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s choco—I mean Valinor

Oh and he also gets another necklace

Eeeeyyy resolution to Eomer and Gimli’s little spat!

Eomer and Gimli are the politest, most gentlemanly simps ever

I love how much effort the book puts into acknowledging how honored Theoden was. Eowyn’s fear was that her family would be disgraced and forgotten, with no more dignity than a peasant living in a dirty thatched hut, but all this pomp and circumstance proves that the line of Eorl is still honored and respected and loved.

GHAN-BURI-GHAN

THE CHAD AND HIS HOMIES RETURN

HELLO I LOVE YOU WE WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE GOODBYE

I got so emotional about the drums, bruh, that’s literally beautiful ;~;

MERRRYYYYY *sobs*

I LOVE YOU MY SON. AAAAHHHH TToTT

“HAIL, EOMER, KING OF THE MARK!”

They’re in good hands.

Trothplighted! Now THAT’S a word!!

Aww, Eowyn and Faramir got engaged in Rohan! That’s cute :-3

Well there go all my goofy headcanons about Eomer being a cranky, overprotective brother and giving Faramir the side-eye. Even he just likes him automatically. Bummer. And here I was hoping for some funny family drama!

Eowyn: “Whaddya think of that, former crush? :-3” Aragorn: “Couldn’t be prouder :-D”

Okay yeah so when I read the last chapter, I wrote this thing at 3 AM like “kinda not digging how the book barely mentions what angst Elrond would be feeling over never seeing his daughter again ever; even the movies take the time to explore that (even if they paint Elrond as the bad guy who gets in the way of love)”, but at least here Tolkien gives us a mention of it. That’s nice. Please don’t just ignore Elrond’s feelings, the man’s been through enough.

OOH! A gift?? A gift for Merry??? I’m very interested—!!

GASP IT’S THE HORN

THAT’S GONNA BE VERY IMPORTANT ISN’T IT

PRETTY SURE I’M REMEMBERING SOMETHING ABOUT THE SCOURING OF THE SHIRE AND THE HORN BEING VERY IMPORTANT

Aaaand they all hug! Awww!! TTuTT I’m gonna have so much fun drawing this LOL

“And they drank the stirrup-cup”. Thanks to this line and Google, I have now learned a thing about the traditions of the Scottish Highlanders.

Legolas, upon visiting a cave: “Welp, you beat me. I like caves now.”

TREEBEEEEEARD!!

QUICKBEEEEEEEAAAMM!!!

MY FAVORITE TREES I LOVE YOU GUYS

In which Treebeard cusses out orcs in Entish

In which Treebeard admits that he bored Saruman nearly to death!!

Oof, that’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, King Tree ol’ pal. But I forgive you. I won’t call mercy a weakness.

I love the mental image of Quickbeam bowing “like a tree bending in the wind”. They are not VERY bendable, but they can be a little bit!

There are no Entings :-C

Gimli, begrudgingly: “FINE I’ll visit the forest, I guess.”

Gimli calling them “my hobbits” noooo 😭😖😭😫🤧😭😭

STOP SAYING “I fear we shall never meet again”, IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Bye, Legolas; bye, Gimli! Love ya both, you hilarious nerds.

Merry and Pippin get one last drink with Treebeard! Yaaaay!! 8-D

Bye, King Tree, I love you!

Aragorn threatening to spy on Pippin and call him back in service to Minas Tirith is hilarious and very on-brand

Ooh, red sunset and a green flame…wow.

That’s so evocative and I can’t find the words to express why.

Bye, Aragorn. Love ya, long man.

Well, well, well! Bo and lehold, look what the cat drug in! It’s Saruman!

Me when Saruman chews out Gandalf: LOL

Me when Saruman breathes wrongly in Galadriel’s direction: oh he’s dead 8-.

Y’know, it’s funny. Grima’s fear of leaving Saruman is a lot like the fear people often have of leaving abusive relationships. However, Grima has everything he’d need to actually make a departure, things that other people stuck in abusive relationships might not—a support system, financial freedom, another place to stay, and people who would help and protect him—and yet he chooses none of it, and goes back to his oppressor. Fascinating.

OOP. OKAY SARUMAN TALKING TO THE HOBBITS NOW, EVERYBODY SHUT UP.

Saruman: “You cruel little urchins. Come to mock an old beggar, have you? I’ll bet you wouldn’t even give me a bit of pipe weed.” Frodo: “I would if I had any.”

That is the KINDEST 1000 IQ gigachad own I have EVER seen. Frodo like, “I have gone through untold hell, but you can’t make me cruel to you, no matter how much you try.” LIFE GOAL: BE LIKE FRODO

And Merry like, “Here, I’ve got some pipeweed, you can have it back.” My favorite hobbits, everyone. The chads. The absolute legends.

*mutters to self* “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; and in doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head…”

Merry’s sarcastic “thank you!” to the curse on the Southfarthing tho X’-D

Merry: “Can I have my bag back?” Saruman, a petty wet sock: “NO”

I wonder if the Shire has a thing where you can like. Sue for damages to person or property. ‘Cause that seems to be what Pippin is implying here by “what about our claim for kidnapping us”. In which case, Pippin half-joking about suing a wizard is VERY HECKING FUNNY

Also would like to point out that Sam didn’t say a word until Saruman was gone. I can only imagine he was just sitting in the background glaring at him the whole time.

Aaaand they let him go. Hahaha. Doom.

In which Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond speak in telepathy, wooo~

In which Sam still wants to see Elves, even after he’s been riding with Elves this whole time

BILBOOOOOOOOOO

BILBO MY LOVE I’VE MISSED YOU

Just the fact that the hobbits run to find him without taking off their coats or eating or washing up. That’s like charging into a house to see somebody, with your coat and shoes still on, leaving dirt on the carpet but neither of you care. It’s so emotional and full of love and I just aaaaahhhh— 🥹😭🥹🤧😭

Bilbo will never not be competitive, LOL! “I wanna be older than the Old Took!”

“How splendid! How wonderful! But where were we?” Bilbo I love you

“Yeah I was invited to Aragorn’s wedding and all that, but I was busy and I didn’t want to pack.” BILBO I LOVE YOU

“Didn’t go to the wedding because I couldn’t be arsed” is such a HUGE MOOD

Ohh, the melancholy of watching the weather changing and knowing you’ll soon have to leave

Also Frodo and Sam same brain

“Except the Sea.” Stopppp I’m gonna cry—

“To their delight, Gandalf said: ‘I think I shall come too. At least as far as Bree. I want to see Butterbur.’” AND ROAST HIS TOES

Aww Bilbo getting old and forgetful. It hurts, but it’s so sweet ;u;

“May come in useful, if you think of getting married, Sam.” 8-D 8-D 8-D hahaha yesss, tease the boy

Bilbo: “I don’t have gifts for you.” Pippin: “Okay, but consider: what if we sass you?” Bilbo: “Haha, you make me so proud! I lied. Have some pipes.”

Bilbo: “B-T-dubs, where’s my ring?” Frodo: “Er, I kind of threw it into a volcano, Bilbo.” Bilbo: “Oh, yes, that’s right! That’s what the whole thing was about, isn’t it? Silly me.”

Bilbo being just as interested in oliphaunts as Sam ;u;

REPRISE OF “THE ROAD GOES EVER ON!” SHUT UP I CRI

Just the way they let him nap for a while before talking again. It’s such natural comedy, and also very sweet and warm and full of love and just aaaaahhhh

Also Frodo agreeing to finish Bilbo’s work. There’s something so emotional about that. Makes me think of Christopher and all the work he did to preserve his father’s notes…I wonder if he ever made the connection himself. I wonder if he saw himself as his dad’s Frodo.

And we end with some foooooreshadowing….

Friendly reminder to everyone who complains that the RotK movie has like five different endings and that’s too many: The book is worse. The book is so, SO much worse. 🤣

[new-royston-cursebreakers]

(I am Hopping in your Asks for the character pen pal game! This letter is from Tooth to Cricket)



Dear Cricket,

Hello, my name is Tooth! In case you wanted to know, I picked out that name myself! I’m 11 years old and I’m 5 feet and 2 inches. I heard you’re 1 foot tall, but I’m finding that really hard to beleive. But I guess I don’t really have room to say that cause I can speak to ghosts. 👻

My school is making us write letters to pen pals and I thought your name sounded interesting because I love bugs! My friends are named Spider, Beetle, and Bee. You could fit right in! My favorite bugs are 🪲 stag beetles, rolly-pollies, and cicadas (I like to scare my brother Morgana with their skins). Here’s a fun fact: some cicadas spend 17 years underground for a huge chunk of their life, which is longer than I’ve been alive! What are your favorite bugs/bug facts? 👀

Do you want to hear about the gang me and my friends made? Too bad! >:p We play with ghosts and sometimes even help them pass on if they’re nice enough to tell us stories. Places like shut down parks, 🏫 schools, or wearhouses are the best place to find ghosts! Personally, if I was a ghost, I wouldn’t want to die somewhere I knew would become empty and boring. Maybe at a 7 11 where everyone goes so that it won’t be hard to find me.

Anyway, I hope you see this letter and I hope I labeled it correctly!

From,

Tooth 🦷

Hi Tooth!

Glad to report that you labeled that letter correctly! Now let’s hope that I did, too. I like your name, too. I didn't get to pick mine, it was just a nickname from my parents that stuck, but I wouldn't pick anything else. I got it because I can imitate a cricket chirp perfectly! Anyway, I’m glad to hear from you! I was afraid I’d get a letter in the program from someone boring who only wants to know why I’m so small and nothing else.

To get that out of the way: yes, I am small! I’m 14 years old and a bit taller than 11 inches. It’s funny what people will believe when it comes to magic and the supernatural. My friend, Auster, runs an apothecary with his family, and they’ll get people calling them snake oil salesmen and calling his magic a hoax—in the cursed town! But I guess it’s different when it’s right in front of you. In fact, I was a bit skeptical when you mentioned ghosts, but then I took a step back and figured that maybe New Royston just doesn’t have a lot of ghosts. Though there have been some spooky things going on, so maybe I just can’t see or hear them. Got any tips?

Anyway! Yes, I love bugs, and I’m so glad to have a pen pal who also likes bugs! I’ve never met a stag beetle, but my friend Monty’s family’s farm raises rolly-pollies! Among other bugs: crickets, dragonflies, and a couple others. I’ve never met a cicada either since the last time our brood emerged was in 1996, so I’ll have to wait a few years yet. I do wish you wouldn’t scare your brother with their skins, since so many people just crush bugs when they see them because they’re scared and so many people think I’m crazy for liking bugs or make faces at me when I try to talk about bugs, but I can understand the temptation. Monty and I scared some people in our elementary school with dragonfly nymphs when we were little. My favorite bug fact is that some ants are farmers. They’ll grow crops of fungus and keep cattle in the form of aphids since they secrete sugar.

I can understand wanting to die somewhere where there’d be a lot of activity. I get pretty lonely with my parents not home a lot, and I wouldn’t want to feel that kind of loneliness forever. Maybe, if I could choose where to die, I’d die at the school, so I could always listen in as generations of students pass through. This school’s been here for hundreds of years, and it’s the only high school in town, so I doubt it’d be abandoned anytime soon. But at the same time, I catch glimpses of those ghost shows with those people walking around screaming “Hello?! Is anyone there?! Show yourself! AAHH DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?!?” and I just feel bad for the ghost. I wouldn’t wanna be annoyed like that all the time. I guess ghosts have it rough no matter which way you spin it!

It’s really nice that you help them pass on. Like I wrote, I don’t think New Royston has a lot of ghosts, but just in case, how do you go about contacting and helping ghosts? Doesn’t it ever get dangerous, like if they’re mad? Also you said you play with ghosts, so what kinds of games can ghosts play? I imagine they’d be way too overpowered in a game like hide and seek. They could just go between two walls and they’d never get found!

Anyway, thanks for writing to me. Hope to read more from you soon!

Cricket

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[idy-ll-ique]

Cravings.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff overdose

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

based off this prompt

Summary: How Y/N's pregnancy cravings led to her becoming friends with Captain America, The White Wolf, The Scarlet Witch and Vision.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! i am in love with Sam Wilson. but like, who isn't? this is sort of an AU, but not really. takes place in phase 4 of mcu. enjoy!

masterlist

---

Mm, that smells so good…

Y/N took in a deep breath as a sweet, sweet, tangy smell hit her nose. "You smell it, honey?" she cooed, cupping her bulging abdomen as her baby kicked once. Then the kicking increased and she groaned, heaving herself off the couch. "Baby, we can't have it, it's not our food. We already had dinner, sweet—" She whined when her baby kicked twice.

"Maybe they'll understand…?" she whispered to herself. Y/N was 8 months pregnant and lately, her cravings had been at an all time high. Every time she got a craving for something she couldn't have, the baby in her belly wouldn't stop kicking and she'd go to sleep upset, tired and hurt. And today, the baby wanted whatever the neighbors were cooking.

She wasn't really familiar with the neighbors; she liked keeping to herself, and with the addition of the baby and single parenthood, she didn't want to disturb anyone or break the peace. Soon, the kicking got really uncomfortable and Y/N grabbed a plate, walking out of the house. They'll understand, she told herself, they have to. If not then they're heartless cows.

"So, Wilson, you've got a nice apartment here, thought you were living with your sister and nephews at the docks," Bucky grinned, popping open a bottle of beer. "Moved out a couple weeks ago, didn't wanna intrude. Plus she has a boyfriend, it's getting kinda serious between them…" Sam chuckled, "Wanda, whatcha cookin? Smells really good!"

A very pregnant Wanda Maximoff walked out of the kitchen, a huge smile on her face. She was 7 months in with twins. "I'm cooking Borscht, it's a traditional Ukrainian recipe that I like very much. You're gonna love it," she gushed and Bucky raised his glass in mock toast. "Can't wait!" Just then, the bell rang. "I'll get it!" Sam shouted, walking up to the door.

He opened it and saw his neighbor standing there, holding an empty plate. Her head was downcast and she was squirming, fidgeting. Sam had seen her once or twice since he moved in; she was very much pregnant, and she liked keeping to herself so he never invaded her privacy. "Hi, how can I help ya?" He smiled at her. She got startled and looked up, opening her mouth.

Y/N was speechless. She already felt bad about asking her neighbor something like this and now he reveals himself to be this handsome?! "Hello…?" she snapped out of her thoughts and cleared her throat. "I— I'm sorry, I don't wanna intrude…" Bucky showed up behind Sam and she glanced at him, her eyes going wide.

"You have company, oh no, I'm sorry— not now, baby, let's just go—" she whispered, wincing and whimpering in pain when the baby started kicking again. Sam nodded his head towards Bucky who got the hint and left. He then walked outside and closed the door behind him, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, you can ask me anything, what happened?"

"It's embarrassing…"

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm your neighbor! Sam, by the way, Sam Wilson." She gave him a timid smile. "Y/N Y/L/N. It's just… whatever you're cooking smells really nice and I got a craving; it's wrong, it's your food, your party and I'm intruding like an idiot, it's just— my baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving for and they kick all night, I'm so sorry—"

Sam grabbed both her shoulders, silencing her. "Don't be embarrassed by this. It's fine, you got a craving? I'll give you some of the food! Wanda, my friend who's cooking, is also 7 months pregnant, believe it or not. She'll be so happy to give you the food, it's a new recipe she's trying and the more people there to eat the better. Why don't you join us?" Y/N sniffled, the kindness of her neighbor and her pregnancy hormones reducing her to tears.

"You're so kind," she whispered and Sam laughed, giving her a warm hug. "But I don't want to intrude." He sighed but understood. "Okay, how about when she's done cooking, you take some of the food home? Will that be okay?" She nodded. "In the meantime, I'd love for you to meet my friends. Wanda especially, wanna come in?" Y/N agreed and the two walked into the apartment.

Bucky and Vision, who were in the sitting room at the time, looked up. Y/N gave them an awkward smile, raising a hand to wipe her tears off. "Hi there," Vision greeted. "Hello, I'm… I'm Y/N, Sam's neighbor, it's nice to meet you," she mumbled shyly. "Hi Y/N, I'm Bucky and this is Vision," Bucky introduced and she nodded. "So, um, there's gonna be a party here…?"

"Oh no, just old friends catching up over dinner. Wanda!" The woman walked out of the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she saw Y/N. "Hey!" Y/N smiled at her. "Hi, I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." Wanda beamed at Sam. "Your neighbor? Very nice to meet you too, miss!" After a small conversation the Scarlet Witch went back to the kitchen while Sam coaxed Y/N into sitting.

"So, what brings you here?" Bucky asked, glancing at the empty plate. "Cravings," Y/N sighed as Sam followed Wanda to the kitchen, "My baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving, it's a problem… I didn't want to intrude, it's just… the food smells so nice and I… I actually want to sleep tonight. Just a tiny portion, I'll be gone before you know it."

Bucky frowned at her words. "Gone— hey, we don't mean to make you feel unwelcome here, why don't you stay for dinner? I'm sure Sam offered too, it's really not a big deal. You won't be intruding and Wanda will be delighted to have another member around who wants to eat her traditional recipe, right Vis?" Vision smiled at Y/N and nodded. "Yes, please stay."

"Okay, since you're asking so nicely," she joked and all three of them laughed. "Dinner's ready! Who wants some Borscht?!" Wanda exclaimed gleefully, walking out of the kitchen with a pile of plates and cutlery as Sam followed with a pot with steam coming out of it. "Guess what? Y/N's decided to stay!" Bucky announced and all of them cheered, Wanda giving Y/N a hug.

"That's amazing news!"

"Oh, you managed to talk her into it, how nice…"

Bucky smirked and swung an arm over Sam's shoulders. "Girls like me better than you, pal, accept— ow! I was joking!" Y/N giggled as Sam shoved Bucky off him, giving him a punch on the arm for good measure. "You two seem like really good friends," she commented and Vision scoffed. "You should've seen them when they first met. Couldn't stand each other."

"Oh please, every great friendship starts out like that, am I right?" Wanda nudged Y/N and she grinned. The five of them sat down to eat; Sam served everyone the Borscht. "So, how many months along are you?" Wanda questioned. "8, how about you?" "7, there's twins in there." Y/N gasped. "How lovely! I've always wanted twins, they're so cool."

"I used to have a twin brother," Wanda shrugged. "That's— wow. So, which one of the three is it? Or is he at home?" Y/N smirked. "Vision here, we got married a year ago, it was a small ceremony, only close friends." Y/N grinned at Vision. "Awesome! Congratulations, guys!" Vision and Wanda smiled at each other. "How about you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Y/N's mood dimmed slightly but she kept the smile on her face. "My ex, he got me pregnant. Not really much of a happy story; I love my baby, I really do but I'm gonna have to raise them alone; he said he doesn't even want to visit, let alone pay child support, I just— come on, I'm boring you with the story, I don't wanna be a Debby Downer," she waved in dismissal.

"That's so wrong of him! Give us a name and we'll make that bastard pay up," Sam glared, which made Y/N smile a bit. "It's okay, Sam, you don't have to. I have a nice job, and he isn't that good of a person anyway, it's better if he's out of my life for good. I can't wait to try the Borscht, Wanda." Dinner after that was fun and fairly uneventful.

---

Y/N was watching TV the next morning when someone rang the doorbell. She blinked and opened the door to see Sam standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile on his face. "Sam, hi, what brings you here?" she smiled back at him. "Have you had breakfast?" Y/N frowned slightly and shook her head. "Not yet, I was just about to cook. Why?"

"Will you join me? There's a lot of Borscht left if you're interested." She grinned at him; how had she not introduced herself to him earlier?! "That sounds really nice, thank you for the offer! Let's go." The two walked to Sam's apartment and Y/N sat on the couch as Sam went to the kitchen to get the food. "I actually have something to ask," Sam began as the two sat down to eat.

"What happened?" Y/N questioned curiously, a hand resting on her belly as she ate the delicious Borscht. "I want you to tell me about all your cravings from now on. Anything you want, no matter how weird. I really want to help you, Y/N, will you allow me to do it? I just… I don't want you to suffer anymore, I'm here for you. A friend. Please?" Y/N blinked at him, shocked.

Surely he wasn't that nice? "You really want to do that?" she gasped. "I do. I feel really bad about how your ex just left you so vulnerable and full of responsibility, and he won't even help with the baby, I— I want to take some of the responsibility. It'll make me feel good." Y/N nodded instantly. "That's so nice of you, thank you! I'd love that, you offering to help… you're an angel."

Sam flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, a goofy smile on his face. "Just helping a friend in need." The doorbell rang all of a sudden and Sam sat up, alert. "What?" Y/N whispered. "I'm not expecting anyone. Stay here." Grabbing a gun from a drawer near the dining table Sam put it in his back pocket and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door, he saw a man.

The man was dressed in black trousers and a band t-shirt, his hair a rough mess and a glare on his face. "Can I help you?" Sam frowned. "Your neighbor, Y/N, have you seen her? I'm her ex boyfriend." Sam's blood boiled when he introduced himself but he kept his cool. "I haven't seen her, I'm sorry. She isn't very social, you know and I respect people's privacy."

The man groaned and left. Sam returned to the living room, keeping his gun away with a sigh. "What happened, Sam, everything okay?" Y/N asked worriedly when he sat back down in front of his plate. "Don't be mad." Y/N's frown deepened with confusion. "Why, who was at the door?" He looked up at her. "Your ex. I sent him away. Did you want to talk to him?"

Y/N froze for a minute but then scoffed, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Thank you for that, I wasn't ready to see him. I'm not mad at you, by the way." Sam nodded and the two spent the rest of breakfast in silence.

---

"Y/N! I know you're in there!"

"Go away!"

Upon hearing the commotion out in the corridor Sam opened his front door, seeing Y/N's ex boyfriend banging on the door to her apartment. 3 weeks had passed since he showed up at Sam's house. "Is there a problem here?" he asked calmly and the ex boyfriend turned to him. "Dude, it's none of your business," he sneered but Sam simply raised an eyebrow.

"Y/N is my friend, I think I'd know when she'd want me to intervene."

"Well now's not the time, pal, go back in! Y/N and I are having a personal conversation," he scoffed. "Oh really? Because to me it sounds like she's asking you to go away," Sam rolled his eyes. All of a sudden Y/N's front door swung open and she stepped out, looking between both men. Her eyes lit up when she saw Sam.

Over the course of 3 weeks, Y/N had come to like Sam a lot. Along with being handsome as fuck, he was also really kind, sweet and caring; he bought for her all that she craved, let it be the middle of the night or the afternoon. She also found out that he was an Avenger, previously used to be known as the Falcon but now, Captain America. She trusted him even more, knowing he'd protect her from anything.

"Sam!" she smiled brightly, pushing past her ex to run to Sam. He gave her a tight hug, keeping an arm around her as they both turned to Y/N's ex, who was staring at them, jaw dropped. "A friend, huh, Sam?" he sneered but Sam only stared at him with disdain. "Don't talk to him like that! You weren't even here when I needed you, and now I have an awesome guy helping me with things and you suddenly wanna show up?!"

"Y/N—"

"No, you shut up! You're just a coward and— and an asshole and I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Leave and if you come back, I'll call the police on you, I swear—" Sam cut her off by chuckling wryly. "Sweetheart, I'm an Avenger, are you forgetting? Next time this guy shows up, call Bucky. I'll give you his number. I'm sure Buck will have a lotta fun teaching this guy a lesson."

Y/N beamed at Sam. "Okay!" Y/N's ex stared at the two, jaw dropped. "You're both crazy," he whispered, "Crazy maniacs, I tell you!" Y/N and Sam stared after him with broad smiles as the man left, grumbling under his breath. "Ugh, he's been showing up every day for 3 weeks, and today he created a scene. So sorry about that, Sam, I hope I didn't disturb anything."

"Aw, Y/N, you know I care about you. Don't worry, I was just watching TV. He shows up again, you call me first. I'm always here for you." Y/N gave him a timid smile, rubbing her belly. "I actually wanted to ask you something if you don't mind…" Sam nodded at her to go on. The truth was, he liked her too. She was super adorable, and the pregnant belly of hers made her glow like an angel.

One of the main reasons why he decided to help her out so eagerly was the fact that he wanted to get closer to her, maybe ask her out someday in the future. They would be a happy little family; Sam, Y/N and the baby. He was ready to look after them both, no bias to the baby. "...Sam?" He snapped out of his thoughts, blinked and shook his head.

"Sorry, sorry, got lost in thoughts. What?" The timid smile was back on her face. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date sometime with me… of course you can say no, I won't mind, but I'd really like it if you say yes…" No way. "Y/N, I'd love to go on a date with you, that's fantastic! How about this Saturday, two days from now, at 8 we go to dinner?"

Y/N smiled brightly at his words. "Oh— okay, okay, that will be great! Yeah, yeah, Saturday works for me. So, um, see you then— or maybe before that if I need something, I—" Sam smiled at her endearing behavior as he skittishly ran back to her apartment, a giddy smile on her face. "The things you do to me, Ms Y/L/N," Sam laughed to himself as he went back to his own apartment.

---

A loud, wailing noise pulled Sam out of his slumber. He immediately sat up and checked his phone, walking out of his apartment to ring Y/N's doorbell. She opened the door with a tired smile on her face, greeting him with a quick kiss. "Little one giving you trouble?" he smiled fondly as the two went to the baby's bedroom, who was sobbing at the top of his lungs.

A few days had passed since Y/N had given birth, and since Sam and Y/N started dating. She had a little boy; they named him Luke. "The crying just doesn't stop," Y/N sighed, leaning against the doorframe as Sam entered the bedroom, picking Luke up. The baby quieted instantly, peering up at Sam with his big eyes. "There, there, don't cry. We gotta let your mommy get some sleep or she becomes very cranky."

"Hey!" Sam grinned at her. "I was only kidding, darling, you know I like you," he winked and Y/N shook her head. "Good thing I like you too." A few minutes later, as the baby fell asleep again, Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw multiple, hurried texts from Vision. "What happened?" Y/N asked him as he stared at the phone, trying to make sense of the messages. "I don't know."

Y/N grabbed his phone and looked through the cryptic messages, her eyes going wide. "Wanda is in labor! The twins are coming," she whispered and an incredulous expression showed up on Sam's face. "She's only 8 months in, that can't be right." Y/N slapped her forehead. "They're twins, Cap, they always come early. Go to the hospital, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

They shared another kiss, giving each other smiles. "I'll see you then." Sam then left the apartment, rolling his eyes at another weird message Vision had left him.

"For God's sake, you're a robot, how hard is it to type?!"

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Two

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Smut (DubCon,) Manipulation, Anxiety

Word Count: 3.4K

A/n: Boom part two! I wanna hear what y’all think’s gonna happen with this series

Madness Masterlist

Bad Dream Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

“Good morning, Darling.” Chapped lips press a kiss to your cheek, strong arms winding around your figure and a sharp chin digging into your shoulder.

“Breakfast smells delicious.” You only hum, trying to get your hands to stop shaking.

“Is it eggs?!” Sarah bounds down the stairs excitedly, running straight for your legs.

Steve intercepts her, tossing her up in the air then catching her in his arms again.

She erupts in a fit of giggles and squeals as he starts tickling her, and you find yourself biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything to him.

“Eggs and bacon and pancakes only for you, Princess!” He exclaims, kissing her cheek then setting her back on her feet.

“Do I still go to school?” Sarah asks, climbing up onto one of the barstools and kicking her legs.

“Yes, sweetie, you still have to go to school. We’re gonna get you back to school soon, there’s just some things that... your dad... and I need to discuss first, okay? But today, you can relax at home, eat your breakfast and explore the house if you want.” She nods her head eagerly, little hands holding her fork as you slide a plate of food over to her.

You portion some out for Steve too, grinding your teeth together in distaste.

You scoured the house for anything that could be used against him but came up completely empty-handed. Rat poison, bleach, Lysol. Nothing.

He takes his plate with a smile, his free hand gripping your waist and turning you to him slightly.

He leans down, lips pressed against yours for a brief gentle moment before pulling away and sticking his tongue out at a snickering Sarah.

He sits down beside Sarah and starts eating, his eyes boring holes into your back as you gather some food for yourself. As you’re getting ready to sit down, he stands up, unlocking a drawer by the sink and grabbing a bottle of something.

Your heart races in your chest and you hold your fork just the tiniest bit tighter, prepared to use it as a weapon if you need to.

He turns back to you with a smile, setting two small pills on your napkin, away from Sarah’s curious gaze.

“Take them with your food,” he instructs, kissing your forehead then sitting back down between you and your daughter.

"Morgan’s gonna get dropped off for a little while, Sarah. She’s around your age and I think you two will get along great. You guys can play while your mother and I talk, okay?” She bobs her head up and down, shovelling the eggs into her mouth.

“Good.”

~*~

“They’re really hitting it off,” Steve says with a smile, watching as his daughter and her new friend play in the backyard.

You hesitantly come up beside him, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“I-I’m always nervous about her making friends. She’s never really had problems with it but...” You trail off, taking a step back as he turns around to face you.

“Tony’s got Morgan enrolled in a private school, says it’s really good. I was thinking we could send Sarah there too.” You bite your bottom lip and shrug. “I-I don’t know how I feel about private schools. What are the reviews like? And are they strict? I don’t want her... all I want is for her to have a normal childhood. That’s all I want.” Steve’s face softens and he nods, taking your hand and ushering you to the living room.

“It’s all gonna be okay. I know it’s gonna take some getting used to, but it’ll all work out in the end, you’ll see.”

You take a couple of deep breaths, wanting so desperately to believe him but you know better.

“Tony says the school’s really good, and it’s not super strict. The kids still get to have fun and make friends while learning. I think we should give it a shot and if she doesn’t like it we’ll find another school for her to go to.” You nod, eyes fluttering over to the window looking over the backyard.

“Now, I think you and I need to set down some ground rules, okay?” You turn to him, your guard up in an instant.

His face is calm, but you still don’t trust him.

“Sarah’s going to be at school all day, I’ve gotta go to work, which means you’re going to be here to look after the house. My beautiful housewife.” You furrow your brows, “What am I supposed to do here all day?” He looks around with pursed lips.

“Cook and clean? Keep the house looking nice, maybe you could start a garden if you want. But soon you’ll have less time for moving around and more time for...” he trails off, his hand coming to rest on your stomach.

“You’re gonna give me another baby, gonna carry it in that beautiful body of yours. And when the baby gets here you’ll have your hands full so you may want to start planning for that now.”

You’ve got no choice in this.

“D-did you keep any of Sarah’s old baby furniture?” You ask softly, fighting back tears.

“No, I gave it to Nat and Bucky cause they were talking about adopting. But you can buy more. I’ll give you my card and that can be your task. When Sarah’s at school and you’re done with cleaning, you can start setting up the new baby’s room.” He says it like it’s the most prestigious task he could give and you should be thanking him for the opportunity.

“Now, one last thing...” He eyes you for a moment then shakes his head.

“Your old wardrobe is going to be gotten rid of. I don’t want to see you in these leggings or jeans. I’ll have Nat bring over some clothes that are more acceptable, but until then, there should be a few decent dresses still in the closet from... before.” His eyes dark the tiniest bit at the mention of how things were.

“I want you to go change, then gather up all your old clothes. Once that’s done, you can start making lunch. I’m going to run out to grab a few things for dinner, we’re having guests over tonight, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”

You say nothing, eyes focused on the floor.

He grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look at him, his eyes blazing.

“I asked you a fucking question, dear. You’d better answer me before I get angry.”

You swallow hard then nod, “o-okay. I will.”

He nods and lets go of your face with a smile, rising to his feet and fixing the sleeves of his shirt.

“Good. I’m thinking pasta for dinner.”

~*~

You’re wearing a yellow sundress that comes just past your knees. It flows with every step you take and you’ve gotta admit that it’s quite pretty. You hate that he chose it, though.

You set the dining room table silently, mind racing. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice you’re not alone until a hand is grabbing the bottom of your dress.

“Mommy, did you hear me?” You gasp, jumping in surprise then shaking your head.

“No, Sarah, I didn’t. Mommy was just thinking. Sorry, what did you say?” She huffs a breath.

“Daddy said that Aunty Nat is coming over for dinner! Do you think she’ll bring ice cream?” Your heart clenches and you sigh.

“I uh... I don’t know. You’ll have to go ask... your father.”

“Ask me what?” Sarah turns to him and lifts her arms, giggling happily when he scoops her up in his arms.

“When Aunty Nat comes is she gonna bring ice cream?”

“Well, I don’t know if she’ll bring ice cream, but maybe after dinner we can all go out and get an ice cream cone. How does that sound?” She claps her hands together in excitement, squealing when she hears the front door open.

“Knock knock!” A female voice calls.

You swallow hard, trying not to let your anger get the better of you as Sarah shimmies out of her father’s grip and rushes to the door.

“Aunty Nat!” The redhead picks her up and spins her around.

“Hey, pumpkin! How’s my favourite girl doing?”

You walk back to the stove, stirring the noodles and imagining how satisfying it would be to dump the boiling water on the traitorous redhead.

“How’s dinner coming along?” Steve asks, his hands finding your hips.

“Just about done. Everyone can sit down, it’ll only be a minute more.” He nods, kissing your temple and opening the fridge to grab drinks.

“Hey, pal.” You stiffen, too many memories filling you at the voice.

“Hey, Buck. Glad you could make it.” You keep your back to the brunet, not wanting to see him, to remember what happened any more than you already have to.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests, dear?” Steve asks, one hand grabbing the waistline of your dress and tugging. You reluctantly turn around to face the brunet just as the redhead walks into the room.

“Well?” Steve asks, looking at you expectantly. You say nothing, glaring daggers at Natasha. She meets your gaze for a moment then looks away, knowing full well what she’s done.

“Dinner’s ready.” Is all you say, yanking out of Steve’s grip and turning back to the stove.

“It’s nice to see you again too, (Y/n),” Bucky says, walking past you and into the dining room.

Natasha brings Sarah after him, leaving you and Steve alone.

“You and I will need to have a long conversation once they leave,” he hisses. “If your attitude doesn’t improve, then you’re going to need to be punished for it.”

You turn and look up at him with defiant eyes.

“I’m wearing your stupid dress and I’m playing your stupid game. What more do you want from me? You’ve got me and my daughter held hostage in your goddamn dollhouse and-” He grabs you by the throat, shaking his head at you.

“Fine. I’ll fucking teach you now then.”

He shoves you aside and walks into the dining room, a smile on his face.

“She’s just gonna bring dinner out. Then she and I need to have a little chat before we join you.” You reluctantly bring the food out, if only so Sarah can eat. You’ve hardly set the steaming dishes down before Steve’s grabbing your hand and yanking you through the house and up the stairs.

Your heart races in your chest, fear coursing through your veins at what he may have planned for you.

Flashes of different ways he’s punished you run through your mind and you feel your eyes fill with tears as he shoves you onto his bed.

His chest is heaving, with anger or exertion, you can’t tell.

“S-Steve I’m sorry. P-please don’t hurt me.” He watches you for a moment then shakes his head.

“You know I can’t tolerate that kind of behaviour.” You crawl back, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“I-I’m just, please! I’m scared and tired a-and I don’t have any friends and m-my dad is-is...” You shake your head, hoping he has a shred of decency left inside of himself.

“Please!” He stares at you long and hard then sighs. “You know I love you, and I love Sarah with my entire heart. But I can’t tolerate this rude behaviour. I know it’s a big transition for you, and I’m willing to be patient, but you can’t treat our guests that way. Rudeness directed at me is different, but you have no right to treat Bucky and Natasha the way you did. That’s why you’re being punished. I’ll forgive the snappy behaviour towards me, but not them.”

You shake your head and shove your face in your hands, sobs bubbling free from your chest.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.” He nods, turning to the dresser and pulling out a familiar box.

It’s the box he keeps his torture toys in, you realize.

“Lay down on your stomach. If you listen, your punishment won’t be nearly as severe.” You sniffle and nod, rolling over and laying down on your tummy.

He flips your dress up and yanks your panties down your legs, eyeing your ass for a moment.

“Bucky and Nat are important members of this family, and you will treat them as such, do you understand?” You nod, crying out in pain and thrashing away from him as a leather paddle comes down hard on your ass.

“Am I going to have to tie you to the bed?” You can’t answer, you’re too busy trying not to choke on your own snot.

He grabs your wrists roughly and ties them to a hoop on the headboard, successfully leaving you at his mercy.

He smacks you again, and again, then a fourth time, and you squirm away as much as you can.

“When you’re good, you don’t get punished.”

He delivers sixteen more impossibly hard hits, then tosses the paddle onto the ground and climbs onto the bed, cock raging in his pants.

His knees push your legs apart and you shake your head, tugging against your restraints desperately as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Huh, would ya look at that?” You press your face into the mattress, humiliation filling you as he rubs his cock through your wet folds.

“Feels like somebody enjoyed that a bit more than they were letting on, huh?” You shake your head, crying out as he sheaths himself fully with only one thrust.

Your walls burn at the intrusion, body instinctively creating more moisture to lubricate the violation, but that’s not how Steve sees it.

“Fuck, your body misses me, huh? Hates it when my cock isn’t fucking you.” He grabs your hips and hoists them up, then starts a punishing pace, forcing you to take every painful inch of him.

“Fuck, feel how tight you are... squeezin’ me so nice...” Every hit of his hips against your ass makes you cry out in pain, your entire lower half on fire.

“M’gonna fill you with my cum then lock it in. You’re gonna give me another fucking baby. Gonna grow nice and big.” He picks up the pace, eyebrows furrowed and face screwed up with pleasure.

His hips still, warmth exploding within you as he reaches his climax.

He stays inside you for a long while, catching his breath while his cock softens, then he slowly pulls out.

“You know,” he begins, rooting around in the box for something, “it’s much more effective if you orgasm too. Really sucks it all up in you and improves the chances of fertilization.” A switch flips and then there’s a constant buzzing noise filling your ears.

Right as you realize what it is, he’s got the vibrator pressed against your clit.

You jolt away from it, hips wiggling at the stimulation.

“N-no,” you whisper uselessly, inhaling sharply when he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you steady, forcing the vibrator against you.

“Look at that... feels good, huh?” You don’t reply, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the coil in your belly tightens, your toes curling and your back arching, forcing the device against you even more.

Your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back as your body starts to convulse, a powerful orgasm tearing through your entire being.

“There it is,” Steve whispers, watching with dark eyes as he forces an orgasm out of you.

Your pussy flutters and clenches, clit swollen and aching when he finally removes the vibrator.

You’re still recovering from the intensity of your climax when he presses something cool to your entrance.

He forces the plug inside of you, despite your protests, then yanks your underwear back up your legs.

“Now c’mon. We’ve got guests to entertain.” He unties your wrists then helps you to your feet, watching in satisfaction as you struggle to walk down the stairs.

You rub your raw wrists, heart racing in your chest as you slowly walk into the dining room.

Bucky and Nat each look up at you, the redhead turning away while the brunet eyes you, a dark look in his eyes.

Steve’s hand remains possessively on the small of your back, and you carefully sit down, wincing at the burn in your backside and the throbbing of your core.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Steve says, a smile on his face as you portion out some food for him and yourself.

“It’s alright. Things happen,” Bucky replies, eyes stuck on your face.

“It’s been a while since we... since I last saw you, (Y/n). How have you been?” You swallow hard, eyes focused on your plate as you answer Bucky’s question.

“I’ve been fine. How have you been?” He takes a moment to answer, and in the thick silence of the room you can hear the metal plates in his arm whirring.

“I’ve been good. Happy that Steve has you back now.” You nod, forcing yourself to chew and swallow a mouthful of pasta.

“Mommy I’m full! Can we go for ice cream now? Aunty Nat and Uncle Bucky said we could!” You nod, pushing your almost untouched food away and standing up quickly.

“J-just let me clean up, then we can go for ice cream.” You start gathering the dishes, eager to leave the room and put some distance between yourself and the people at the table.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Nat says, rising to her feet and gathering the other half of the dishes.

You ignore her, grabbing the remainder of the food and starting to pack it up in containers in the kitchen.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry.” You shove the food into the fridge and turn to face her, tears welling up in your eyes.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? You’re fucking sorry?! I’m right back where I fought tooth and fucking nail to escape because of you! You’re the reason I’m back here with him, why Sarah’s back here and why he’s hurting me all over again and all you have to say for yourself is ‘I’m sorry’?!” Your voice is whispered, but the words may as well be shouted.

She shakes her head, hating the truth behind your words.

“Y-you don’t understand, (Y/n). I had to.” You sniffle and scrub a fallen tear off of your cheek.

“Or what? Would he kill that rapist boyfriend of yours? You swore you’d keep it a secret and now, because of you, my father’s dead and I’m stuck with a man who’s going to torture me and possibly my daughter as well. So don’t you fucking dare tell me you had to or that you’re sorry because those are both lies.”

You take a few deep breaths, walking to the sink and starting to wash the dishes.

“I trusted you. And you led him straight to us. I don’t care what you say or what you do, I’ll never fucking forgive you. If it were up to me, you’d be left at that cabin to bleed out. It’s what you fucking deserve after what you’ve done.”

She’s silent, standing there behind you for a long moment before turning and leaving the kitchen.

Your hands shake with the intensity of your outburst and you have to stop yourself from crying, chest rising and falling rapidly as your emotions get the better of you.

Your vision starts to blur, soapy hands gripping the edge of the counter tight enough to hurt. You lean over slightly, trying desperately to suck in more air as anxiety fills and overwhelms you.

“(Y/n)?” You don’t notice his hands on you until he’s pulling your hands off of the counter.

“I-I can’t.”

His hands find your waist, trying to usher you away from the sink, and your ears begin to ring.

Your knees give out and you crumble in his arms, him easily supporting your weight as you lose consciousness.

“Buck, take Sarah out for ice cream now.” His voice holds the same type of authority as it does when they go on missions, and the brunet pops his head into the kitchen to investigate for a moment before nodding.

“C’mon Sarah. Do you know what you want?” Bucky asks, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her to the front door.

“Do you?” She sasses.

“Well missy, I’m gonna get two scoops of chocolate, and Aunty Nat's getting mint chocolate chip.”

“I want cookie dough!”

The front door closes with a soft click and Steve sighs, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

[stardustincarnate]

CONFESSION // Mello x Reader

word count : 4016 genre : fluff a/n : i haven’t gotten over my writer’s block, so yes -- here i am, once again posting old fics from my wattpad account. 

Today is the day.

After contemplating about it for a couple of weeks and confiding it to his best pal, Matt, Mello has finally decided to confess his feelings for you tonight, exploiting the situation where you two will normally go riding on the city streets during Friday midnights such as this one.

To say the least, he isn't the best in this kind of thing— love, that is. Before, all he could think about was one thing which was proving that he's better than Near, and besides, no one really piqued his interest. But then the enigma that you are came.

You can be cunningly evil at times if you want to. You'll often say to the ones you've fooled or to the other mafia members, "It's nothing personal, it's just business." You also have a harsh mouth as he would like to describe. Anything that comes out of it may sound derisive or blatant, but it's basically the truth. You don't sugarcoat things— you don't even try to. Although sometimes you seem to make the truth more cruel than it really is, which makes you look too intimidating for the others. They're only thankful that you don't talk very often and only will if you have something conducive to say.

But that's not all that you are. Mello could feel it, so he grew curious of you. Just a mere speck of curiosity, but then it grew. He wanted to talk to you, but then he asked himself what's the point of doing so, thus he disregarded the idea. That's why you developed a friendship with Matt, who you think is really fun to be with, first. Then as your friendship grew, he thought of introducing you to Mello, and that's when it began. To be frank the beginning of your friendship wasn't easy, and to think that friendship only started growing not until you celebrated a year and a half of being with the mafia.

It was a long process, but in the end, it was worth the wait. Day by day he started lowering the walls he barricaded himself with, and same as you. He became really outgoing and deep down truly caring as your friend, like he is with Matt, because after all you two are the only family he has. And— let's not forget his strange addiction with chocolates! And, well, you like it.

You like him.

Mello knows this as well. He knows that his feelings are reciprocated and he's happy with that. But the question is, who's going to make the first move? Certainly not you. Between fighting the devil and confessing your feelings for someone, you'd probably choose the former. You don't seem like the kind of person who will make the first move. He as well is like that.

And that leads us to his acquiescence of doing it instead. Did he have a choice? Well, maybe, if one considers you doing it instead, but that will definitely take several months, or even years, from now. And he can't wait that long! What if you suddenly start to develop feelings for another person? He can't lose you, you that is just in front of his eyes, one step away from him. He needs to grab the opportunity while it still is there.

Because with you, he feels happy and contented. And for the first time he finally feels like he is number one.

And he really is, in your heart.

"Wooh!"

Matt exclaims after slamming the door, causing Mello to jolt upwards from his reverie. "You know I almost got caught by another mem!"

"Is it done?"

"Of course."

"Hm. You sure this suggestion is for the better? You know how scary that woman can be when she's mad. Especially after finding out that her tires have been flattened."

"Didn't you say you wanted something more romantic tonight? So, I thought of flattening her tires so she can't use her own scooter, that way she can ride with you."

"Uh-uh... Is it romantic though?"

"You two will be close enough. And—no perverted thoughts—she gets to wrap her arms around you while riding. If that's not romantic, I literally don't know what is."

"I'm having qualms about this one."

"What? I'm just as clueless as you are when it comes to romance. I'm doing my best here to help you ya know?"

"I know, I know. Sorry."

"It's your fault you fell in love with her." Matt jests, chuckling. But he immediately behaves himself when he sees that deadly glare of his friend. "Hey! I was only kidding! Don't look at me like that, Mels. You're creeping me out."

"Hah. But I guess you're right. My fault. And great— now I'm having more doubts than before and feeling.. tentative."

"The almighty Mello is nervous? Wow. I never thought I'd live to see this day!"

"Say one more word and I'll make sure it's the last you'll ever emit."

"HE-HE-HEY! Now you're just being belligerent. Don't worry. I'm sure you two will come back here as a couple. Swear it on my life. So stop doubting yourself. And just.. don't act awkward and dorky when confessing towards your little devil."

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. Just don't."

Mello heaves a sigh. "Sometimes I do wonder if you're really the smart Matt they used to talk about back in the orphanage."

Matt only grins. He's about to reply, but then they both hear footsteps—angry footsteps—coming closer.

"Oh, speaking of the devil. Here she comes. In three.. two.. one.."

With that, you kick the door open and look around. You look like you're about to whip someone's ass and the men can almost laugh at your reaction knowing the reason behind it. You give them a steely look when they unknowingly start to curve their lips to a grin. They quickly change their reaction.

"This has gotta be one of the worse days of my life!" You exclaim as you slump on the sofa beside Mello. "I can't go with you. I've got a flat tire, and I have no idea why. Someone must've done it.."

"Who would do such a terrible thing? Especially to you, the devil no one else even bothers to approach?" Mello momentarily glances at Matt before taking a bite of his chocolate, which you then steals from his grip. "But don't worry, I gotcha. You can ride me... with me I mean! You can ride with me, NOT RIDE ME—good Lord I'm sorry."

'Aha, and there goes Matt's reminder that I shouldn't act awkward.' He looks away with a blush.

"I think [Y/N] is okay with either of that—"

You raise an eyebrow at Matt. "Oh, you mean you Mathematics. You can ride him all you want so don't be shy and put my name in your shoes."

"That's not—!"

"—ANYWAYS, Willy Wonka, you sure you okay with me riding with you? You won't mind?"

"Jesus, stop calling me that! And yes. You're my friend so I won't mind."

"Thanks mate!" To his surprise, you hug him from the side. And you are hugging him a little too much. "You know I've always wanted to ride your motor. It looks cooler than mine."

"Ah.. well— you're squeezing me a bit too much.. don't you think?"

You pull away and snicker. "Sorry. You're like a marshmallow that I just want to squeeze sometimes."

"EHEM. Pardon me, will you? I need to go to the restroom."

Matt stands up, thinking that his job here as cupid is done—or not quite yet. He has one last plan in mind. And even he isn't sure that that plan is going to make things better or worse.

"Enjoy taking another dump!" You shout as he leaves the room, making sure to lock it. Now you and Mello are completely alone, facing one another in utter silence. And it's too silent that you can hear some of the other mafia members arguing in a distant room. You can even hear someone moaning. Mello can hear it too.

You both give each other a look that only you two can understand.

"Oof. Must be nice. Err, so anyways," you start. "The usual place tonight?" And by that you mean stopping by to go atop a dilapidated building in a forsaken road to stargaze with him for ten minutes. You two make sure to always include going there to find tranquility in the stars and with each other. It temporarily removes all the problems and worries you have.

With Mello ruefully shaking his head, you frown. He puts an arm over your shoulder and nods reassuringly instead. You hide a smile.

"We can do that next week or earlier if we're not too preoccupied so don't be so glum. I'll be taking you somewhere new. I'm sure you'll like it."

"I hope so. Otherwise I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You'll be the one getting your ass kicked it if you don't give me back my chocolate right now."

"But I need chocolate too! Chocolate makes you happy. So I need it, 'kay?!"

"As far as I know that chocolate is mine and not yours???"

"But I'm your friend aren't I? You still have a lot of stock in there I'm sure."

"I'm running out of chocolates so give it back you little demon."

He hastily maneuvers before you can even stand up and try running away. He seizes your wrists and places your arms behind your back to prevent you from moving. Since you two are facing each other instead of him being behind you, the position is rather awkward. The proximity of your faces makes both of you blush and in an instance he backs away. You cackle in triumph as to his dismay of not getting his chocolate back.

You look at your wristwatch before taking a bite of the sweet. "Well Marsh-Mello, what are we waiting for? Let's hit the road! I'm already bored." You hold his hand the moment he stands up and you two run outside.

Mello throws the helmet to you which almost hit your face, earning an irked look from you. He then starts the engine as you wear your helmet.

When he starts to move just before you can take a seat, you panic. Of course he only wants to toy with you. He stops at a corner and waits for you, who's running and ready to smash his face. You pant as you finally reach him.

"You little bastard! Why'd you have to make me suffer?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You groan and then sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The closeness of your bodies make you both blush. He makes sure you're all set before once again driving in a high speed that made you hug him tighter. You've always known that he drives this fast, but to experience it yourself? It feels like your skin is being blown away and seperated from your bones.

"W-Would you mind slowing down, just a bit?"

"Come on [Y/N], that's not fun."

"So you call this fun? You're gonna kill us both. I'm too beautiful to die right now!"

"Tsk. You're no fun." You're about to make a rebuttal but he slows down reluctantly and matches the speed you will normally drive at. You sigh in relief and absently rests your chin on his right shoulder, looking at the stores, buildings, and a few people walking on the sidewalk which you are hastily passing by. On your left you see numbered vehicles and a few more buildings.

You're enjoying the ride, however, you hear the tire from behind pop. That is already bad, and worse comes when the front one pops too. He goes to the side before halting.

"Shit! Just our luck!"

"Haha seems like you and I share the same fate, huh? Goals."

Mello sighs as a realization dawns him.

'Matt.. you little shit.'

"Whadda we do now?" You worriedly ask.

"We're still halfway to the place I'm taking you and this happens.. I suppose I can just park this somewhere. You wouldn't mind walking, would you?"

"Sounds fine with me then."

He nods and parks the motor beside a bicycle and a car in front of a store, placing a tracker in it just in case it gets stolen. But if it ever does, he can just get another one. Legally or not. Doesn't matter.

In silence, you and Mello start walking side by side. Arriving upon a city bridge you can't help but stare at the river. The limit to what you can see on its side is a lively city despite the hour, with skyscrapers and billboard signs lit up. You can hear the occasional, distant sounds of car engines.

You avert your gaze back in the front, meeting chatty people on your way who are walking opposite to you and Mello. You realize that they're mostly couples who are matching clothes and openly talking, not caring if they're to be heard by others. Mello also notices, and not only that but the way you two undeniably look like one. Without any intentions, your clothes match. Not that it's a big deal since everyday you two wear black, but because of your surroundings, he might as well seize the opportunity.

Beaming from ear to ear, he holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together. You're confused, but at the same time liking it, a blush creeping on your face.

"Don't mind if I do. We don't wanna look like a couple who can't bear with each other after some kind of quarrel, do we?"

"But we're not a couple."

"No, not yet."

You stop and raise an eyebrow.

"Oop. Did I say that out loud? My bad."

He cheekily grins. It's only a joke, you think, but at the same time you wish that he's not joking—which he really isn't.

"Hey, how long are we going to walk?"

"Why? Are your feet giving up already? Want a piggyback?"

You completely turn red. He smiles at that.

"Nah.. I—"

"Don't waste the opportunity. I might change my mind later."

"I don't care. This is enough."

You squeeze his hand tightly—too tight that he swears he feel his phalanges breaking—but unexpectedly, he just moans. And people look at the two of you.

"The fuck was that?!? I didn't know you were some kind of masochist!"

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD?"

"AHA so you do admit being a masochist!!"

"WHAT? NO! I'M NOT!"

"Why so defensive now?"

"Because people are hearing you???"

"Let them! HAHAHAHA! MY BOYFRIEND IS A MASOCHIST! ISN'T THAT CUTE??"

But after realizing what you just said, you stop and gnaw your lower lip.

"Oh earth swallow me right now.. Sorry! God I'm embarrassed. You're not my boyfriend—"

"Didn't I tell you? Not yet."

You punch his shoulder playfully. "Stop joking around! I might actually believe you ya know?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"..Of course you are—"

"—OH, here we are!"

He diverts the topic, leaving you to slightly pout to yourself as he turns left to an unoccupied and dark area, pulling you to the railing where you two halt and see the perfect angle to view the city and the river from. The water and its light ripples glimmer under the moonlight as the brisk wind hits your skin, making you slightly shiver. Mello notices this and takes off his jacket, insisting you should wear it instead. You don't argue.

"Mello, this is.. magnificent. And a nice spot to stargaze as well! It's pretty wherever I lay my eyes on."

"Except behind us, maybe. You don't like trees that much."

You cackle. "They give me the creeps, especially during night. But at least we don't have to face that way, do we?"

He shakes his head as he laughs, inclining himself closer to you. He places his hands just beside yours on the railing, looking up and then looking at you, who's still busy admiring the sky.

He can't help but smile admiring you in your adorable placidity.

"The stars are pretty tonight." You say as you notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

"You always say that. They're always pretty. Sparkly."

"Mesmerizing to look at." You add. He nods, still staring at you.

"That's why I love the stars.."

"Uh huh. And chocolate." You grin.

"And you."

You stand flabbergasted, daring not to look at him directly. Your heart feels like it's about to jolt out of your chest. Your fingers begin to tremble on their own as you feel something intangible whirling inside your stomach. You know what it is—and he's making your heart flutter. But you can't trust this feeling as you aren't even sure if he's joking or not. And if he is, you kinda hate it. You want it to be real.

"Aye, don't flirt with me. That's so not you." You snap, rolling your eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to perceive what's on your mind. He taps your shoulder before sitting on the railing, inviting you to join him. You're a little hesitant for the fear of falling to the water. And when it comes to this kind of thing, you don't trust Mello. You're sure he'll eventually push you. The number of times he had done this to you in some places before is something you can't even count anymore.

"C'mon [Y/N]. Don't be scared. I won't push you. Or if I do, you're free to drag me as well."

"Tch. So you do intend to push me." Nevertheless, you sit beside him and grip the bars tightly with your clammy palms. Luckily the concrete extends six inches after the railing.

Mello feels like you two aren't physically close enough, and he thinks it's not 'romantic' enough, so he slides even closer to you until his palm is already above your hand and your shoulders bump.

"Oh, no. You keep your distance, Mr. Wonka."

"It's not like we're having social distancing here you know?"

"You're too close."

"And I'm going to get even closer.."

He whispers, his hot breath tickling the side of your neck. You sigh and face him, and your noses bump. You urgently back away and you almost slip if not for him.

"What's gotten into your system for you to act so flirty all of a sudden?"

"You."

"MELLO!! I'm damn serious. Like, all the jests can wait but for now, just.. don't flirt with me. I'm in no mood."

"Aww, trying to shoo me away huh? After stealing my heart and my chocolates, here you are suddenly breaking my poor, poor heart."

"One more attempt and I'm going to drown you."

"Heeeeeeey. Don't be so vicious now." He softly bumps your shoulder with his. You only click your tongue in annoyance.

"Seriously. Stop messing with me. I hate you."

"No you don't. I'm not messing with you. I'm serious—"

"Tch. Serious my ass."

"..You don't have one—"

"See? You little fucktard. You keep on messing with me. So just stop flirting with me. I swear I'll kill you if you continue."

"Whaaat? Seriously, I'm not messing with you. You gotta—"

"Mels, no, no, no. You can poke fun of me, push me off right now or anything but just don't flirt with me. You're a bastard for torturing my feelings. That's not cool at all. Damn it," you spat. He keep his silence, his mouth starting to gape.

"Don't make me assume things because I really, really, really like you!"

The words pour out unbidden. Your voice resonates and immediately you shut up and look down with a furious blush.

'That's it, congratulations for possibly ruining your friendship.' You think as you bite your lower lip.

Your blush vanishes as the fluttering feeling in your chest does, being replaced with instant regret, as if your heart has dropped to your stomach.

The look of surprise in his face turns to a cheeky grin. With much glee, he chuckles.

"I've always known this devil is a pure softie inside..."

"M-Mello.."

You are about to tear up, but then he says, "Do you know what you just did? You ruined my plans, [Y/N]! But I suppose I can forgive you for that."

"What?? Plan?? Damn you, damn you, damn you! I knew you were up to no good! Damn it, Mello! Pretend this night never existed. I'm outta here—"

"No no, it's not what you think. 'I like you' was supposed to be my line, not yours!" He can't help but burst out laughing, leaving you momentarily dazed, but then when you realize what he possibly meant by that, it's as if your heart has come back to life. Your face turns red.

"I was going to confess to you tonight, but it looks like the tables had turned. You are a.. partypooper! Do you know how many times I've practice saying that in front of Matt, just to end up with you saying it instead of me? Unbelievable!"

He wheezes, catches his breath, then looks at you. "And look, I'm not complaining, alright? Haha.. but the way things turn out to be in the end is just so.. whimsical. But I'm gonna say it anyway: I like you. I like you a lot."

You scrutinize his facial expression just to be sure that he's serious, and you confirm he truly is. He's absently smiling, and just from staring at you is the reason. Rapture dances in his eyes. He looks genuinely happy and candid at the moment. And here you are left speechless, only staring at him as a sheepish smile slowly invades your face.

You almost lose your grip on the railing when he briefly kisses your cheek. And again, nothing comes out of your mouth.

"Do I also need to say that I wanna be your boyfriend? Because, isn't it obvious?"

"Mello..."

"No pressure, [Y/N]. If we both like each other but you're not yet ready for a relationship, I understand and I can wait."

"Well.." You hide your face on his shoulder because you feel like the longer you stare at him, the more probable it is that you'll faint. "Uhm.. Err... Have you ever been.. in a relationship?"

"No, not really. You will be my first one. If you accept."

You smile. "Well, same as you here."

"Really? I thought you already had a partner or two before."

"I had no time to be in love. Add that some of the people I was acquainted with sucked, and the kind ones.. well, let's just say that they seemed to be missing something.. something that, I suppose, only you have. And.. it will really make me happy if you are to be my first," you lift your head up to meet his eyes. "So I accept."

"You serious?? Right here?? Right now??"

"Need I repeat myself, partner-in-crime?"

"Haha! Course not!"

You peck his cheek as your warm smile broadens. You then rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving the distant city as he wraps an arm around your waist, meticulous so that you two wouldn't slip from the railing and fall down.

"I think it's safe to assume now that you're the one behind flattening my tires. And just so I can ride with you. You're a cunning man, so I suppose you also did something with your own scooter just so we could walk together, like couples in movies. Haha I never thought you'd think something like that!"

"It was Matt's idea. Swear. He thought it was more romantic that way. And he's probably the one who rigged my scooter. He really can be a huge pain in the ass sometimes."

"Like you are."

"Aw come on. Take that back you little demon!"

"Noooopeeeee! Pfahahaha— AAAA SHIT!"

And with that, you both plunge into the frigid water with a loud splash.

[punkpresentmic]

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt 8 — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

It’s an otherwise unmemorable patrol for Shouta, the streets almost entirely empty at this hour. When he notices the shadows of the alleyway shift in the corner of his eye, he can't be certain it isn't a figment of his imagination.

He stares into the inky blackness for a long while, paused at its edge with a hand on his capture weapon.

The flick of a lighter announces the man’s presence, illuminating a face not unfamiliar to Shouta. Giran smiles as he lights his cigarette. "Evening, Eraserhead—have you got a minute?"

His reputation precedes him. Giran’s involved in the worst sorts of deals, a broker for villains & criminals of every caliber. If he’s here, it’s trouble. It’s exactly why Shouta approaches; this is his route to protect. "What are you doing here?"

Giran takes his time answering, rolling well-scripted words around his tongue as he takes a drag of his cigarette & blows a slow cloud of smoke that disappears into the nearest streetlight. "My client wanted me to have a word with you. To get your thoughts on a couple business matters."

"I have no business with the likes of you. What do you want."

"I see we’re not sugar-coating things here. Alright, then." He flicks ash onto the pavement. "My client has intel regarding the incident that killed Shirakumo Oboro."

The air is stolen from Shouta’s lungs, & for one hysterical moment he thinks it’s an attack from a Quirk. He gathers himself, shows nothing but a scowl on his face.

Giran continues, "This info is deep & dirty, implicates all sorts of characters. But my client is willing to make a trade: a morsel of info for a morsel of info. You drop off your package, my client drops off theirs. I’ll see to that; I have a reputation to uphold, you know." He smiles. "Customer satisfaction & all that."

Shouta crosses his arms, hiding how his nails bite into his fists as his heart thuds. "What does your boss want to know." He makes his tone bored, disinterested.

"Simple, really: a schedule of UA training exercises. & remember, hero: incorrect information only gets you incorrect information in return."

Disgust rolls through him. "Why is your client interested in that?"

Giran shrugs. "Beats me!" He laughs.

“Okay. Why would I ever give criminal scum like you information like that," he scoffs. It’s not a question, even as... troubling... as this exchange has been. He’ll have to report the strange & cruel ruse.

“Because you want to know what really happened to your old pal Oboro, of course." Shouta’s body locks up to even hear the name, let alone tossed around so casually. The weight of what Giran’s saying truly hits him then—intel regarding the incident, implicates all sorts of characters, what really happened. Giran sees this & grins around his cigarette. "What? It’s just a schedule," he drawls. "Even if my client wished a class of highschoolers any harm, do you not have faith in yourself & UA to protect them? You have All Might on staff now, for god’s sake."

Shouta hesitates. It’s enough of a betrayal in itself.

"& after we get you everything you need to know, you can tell your boss. We don’t ask for your permanent silence; it’s just that for now the matter is... delicate." He taps the ash from the tip of his cigarette, shaking his head. "It’s filthy business, really—like I said, it involves lots of types who’d rather it be kept quiet." A wink, then. "& it’s not like we’re asking a lot from you either—it’s a steal, if you ask me."

Implication of people ‘who’d rather it be kept quiet?’ On the subject of... him?

The trade is simple enough, so long as he can guarantee his students‘ safety. & he’s naïve, in his vulnerable state, & fiercely believes he WILL protect them. & he WILL get Oboro the justice he deserves.

Shouta makes the trade a day later, a sick feeling to his stomach. On the schedule: the location for USJ.

Shouta becomes responsible for nearly getting his students, the Symbol of Peace, & himself killed. & it’s abundantly clear he’s made a deal with the devil—Giran’s 'client' doubtlessly being the League of Villains themselves. Ultimately, the League failed, but they were close. Too close. & the weight of it is on Shouta’s shoulders.

At the very least, it leads to the capture of one of their strongest weapons, the Nomu, which is, repulsively, determined to have once been human. A human modified beyond recognition.

Giran has some nerve calling after this. Shouta answers his phone with a vengeance. Giran opens with poison praise: "See, I told you you could do it!"

The rage & pain of USJ comes to a boil under Shouta’s skin, least of all the fact that it was for nothing. "You told me nothing about Oboro," Shouta hisses despite himself, the words spilling unbidden from traitorous, unheroic lips.

“Oh, I do believe we did, hero. Your investigators aren't completely incompetent at digging out some answers. But here’s an extra bonus for your trouble: Shirakumo Oboro is alive. He was taken after the incident reported to have killed him." He gives it a beat to sink in as Shouta sputters. “We’ll be in touch."

Giran ends the call.

Shouta doesn’t tell anyone about the contact, about his role in what happened. His end of the deal was silence. Temporary silence. He’ll confess. To all of it. But he needs time. He needs to know they’re lying. Or worse... that they’re not.

& Giran does contact him again, in person, directly before the students’ summer training camp. Shouta knows exactly what they’re after coming to him now of all times. He doesn’t let Giran get a word in; he’s not giving them any more information, vehemently refusing to hear anything out despite Giran’s silver-tongued talk about his friend, no matter how much it rips him up inside. Lies, they’re all lies. He’ll turn himself in for what he’s done & detail what he’s learned. But no one will lay another hand on his students.

Giran sighs, holds up his hands at Shouta’s glowing eyes & floating capture weapon. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point, Eraser. Sorry to bother you, but don’t shoot the messenger, okay?" Giran breathes a little easier when Shouta blinks, stepping toward the door. "& since I’m such a good little messenger, I can tell you this much: You might want to check up on your students at the mall."

Shouta runs for it. He’s too late. Police cars surround the building by the time he gets there.

The camp location is moved. Everything is top secret.

But it doesn’t change anything. Shouta doesn’t know until the hospital that Giran used that meeting to track his phone.

& now Bakugou has been kidnapped. If anything were to happen to him...

It’s his fault. His lapse in judgment did this, his actions did this, his silence did this.

He calls Giran while his students are in the hospital & one of them is captured. "You took my kid," he growls into the phone. "I’ll rip you apart."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Eraser! I had no part in that. I never get my hands dirty—"

"—Save it for someone who cares. I don’t have time for this. Contact your—your client. I want to make another trade."

Giran is silent on the end for a long minute & then, "I’ll see what I can do."

Giran calls back shortly after, saying they can make an arrangement, "But this one is a little more... slippery than our previous offers. There’s lots of pieces on the board, you must understand. I was told to ask you the following: what do you think you can offer my clients? Just so that both sides can get an understanding of each other."

"Anything," he snarls. “Bakugou is a child; I’m—we’re—not bargaining with his life."

Giran hums, interested. "I’m sure my clients will be interested in hearing that. Shall we arrange a meeting to discuss terms? Say... a few hours? Same place as our last rendezvous?"

& Shouta fully readies himself to give up anything—that’s his kid. They’ll understand, he tells himself. They’ll understand.

But then Momo arrives with that tracker. He’s shaking as he calls to cancel the meeting with Giran, but his voice is steady. He has a conference, he tells him. They’ll have to postpone it until afterward.

Hizashi bursts into the room shortly after he makes the call, worried sick. Hizashi gets him in a tight hug, crushing his soul back into his body as Shouta trembles with what he almost did, with how Momo probably saved him too with that move. Already heroes & they don’t even realize it. Hizashi whispers about how Shouta did everything he could, how it’ll be okay, how they’ll get him back. Hizashi kisses his head, then, & apologizes for being late. He cracks a wry joke about how he’s glad he got here before Shouta could do something stupid.

Shouta buries his head in his husband’s chest. Hizashi’s smile fades. They both know how more truth rings in that statement than Shouta wants to talk about. Hizashi clings to him fiercely. Together, it says. We’ll get through this together.

Of course, then Hizashi announces the obvious to the gathered team of heroes on the case: that there’s a traitor in their midst.

Hizashi kisses the traitor good luck before his press conference.

The events of Kamino Ward unfold, terrifying & devastating in their consequences.

Shouta receives Giran’s call before the dust is even settled. They've lost the Symbol of Peace. The League has vanished. “WELL Eraserhead, that’s what we in the business call a double-crossing."

"Consider it payback for endangering my students."

Giran’s voice is cold, impersonal, empty of its usual snake’s charm, "I think you’ve done that all on your own, Eraser."

Shouta hangs up the phone. This isn't the end of their entanglement & he knows it.

(pt. 9)

[amphxtrite]

oliver wood x fem!reader to cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: angst, slut shaming, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: you’ve had a crush on Oliver Wood for so long, but he continuously treats you badly. What happens when you’ve had enough, and who will help you through it.

a/n: I love Ollie, but this idea came to me, and I really liked it.

word count: 2.9k

“sometimes it’s better to let go than to hold on.”

enjoy <3

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

Quidditch was your favourite activity. You’d loved it since you were just a little kid, watching from the stands as men and women flew around a stadium playing the most wonderful game you’d ever come to know. You spent most of your childhood begging your parents, day and night to teach you how to fly, knowing they couldn’t say no to you forever. For your ninth birthday they bought you your first broom and it was one of the happiest moments of your life.

“Happy birthday dear y/n, happy birthday to you.” Your family and friends finish your birthday song. You flash a toothy grin before closing your eyes, making a wish and blowing out the nine bright flames on your cake. Your mum retrieves a knife and begins to slice the cake as you and your friends begin to chat. 

Your dad walks up to you, holding something behind his back. He kneels down to your level, “y/n sweetie, your mum and I have thought about it, and we believe it’s about time we gave you this.” He smiles, handing you a long object hidden in silver wrapping paper. You look down at the object confused, but when you wrap your small fingers around it, you immediately know. Your eyes widen and you rip off the paper. You were right, in your hands was a beautiful, sleek broom. “It’s a bit big for you, but you’ll grow into it.” Your mom laughs, coming in behind you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You don’t hesitate to bring her and your father into a hug, thanking them over and over again for your gift. Happy tears spilling from your e/c eyes. 

When you received your letter to Hogwarts in the coming years you made it your goal to become the captain of the quidditch team of whatever house you were sorted into. In two years, your parents had taught you all their tips and tricks for navigating on your broom. You picked up quickly and worked hard to add to the talent you already had. When you arrived at Hogwarts, bright eyed and excited to learn, you were sorted into hufflepuff, the house of the loyal and hard-working. You found this a good fit, you got started right away for a good reputation and waited patiently for second year, when you could finally try out.

When the fateful day rolled around you were one of the first people on the pitch for try-outs, the captain being the only other person there, she found your enthusiasm adorable and quickly became like the older-sister you never had. As the try-outs began, she was skeptical with your skill as you were only in your second year, but she learned that you were not only enthusiastic about quidditch, but your skills were unmatched. She was quick to make you a chaser, your fast skills and sleek tricks making you the perfect candidate. You helped the team to the best of your abilities not only playing well and helping them to victory, but also having a cheery personality, making friends with all the players and comforting the team after losses. You became the hufflepuff quidditch team’s darling. Your happy personality and love for quidditch made it impossible for anyone not to be drawn to you, but, you guessed it, there was a catch. The happiest people still have a reason to frown and your reason was Oliver Wood. 

He’d been your first crush at Hogwarts. You first saw him at a gryffindor vs slytherin match, a keeper and a mighty good one. He was so fast and had incredible skill, you couldn’t help but catch feelings for the handsome brunette. You decided you wanted to talk to him. 

It was hard since you were in different houses and different years, but you tried. Before a match against gryffindor one day, you caught up with a couple of your pals, Fred and George Weasley, to ask them about Oliver. “Hey Fred, Hey George!” You called out to them while they made their way to the changerooms. “Hey y/n, what brings you over here?” Fred smiles over at you. “Just wanted to wish good luck to my favourite twins of course, you’ll need it.” You laugh, reaching up to rustle their short red hair. The twins laugh. “There’s something else I can tell.” George narrows his eyes at you and you grin a bit. “Okay you got me. There is something.” Fred nods for you to go on. “Can you tell me a bit about Oliver?” The twins look to each other, sharing a similar cringe on their faces. “Oliver? As in Oliver Wood,” Fred questions. You nod. “You don’t fancy him do you y/n?” George asks, cocking an eyebrow. “I might think he’s cute.” You grin sheepishly. “Listen y/n.” George rubs the back of his neck. “Oliver’s a great lad, but he’s not someone I’d try and have a relationship with, at least not right now.” He concludes. You look at him confused. “Well he is two years older than us and he’s a bit… Intense.” Fred finishes for him. Right as you open your mouth to ask for details, the man himself Oliver Wood comes marching through the change room doors and looks at the twins. “What are you two doing out here talking to our rival? Come on they’re about to talk strategy and I wouldn't’ want a stupid hufflepuff hearing it.” He spits the word hufflepuff out like it was poison. 

You feel your confidence falter and tears prick your eyes. “Come on now Oliver, she’s our friend, no need to get aggressive.” Fred tries to reason with Oliver, noticing the sadness on your face. Oliver simply rolls his eyes and steps back inside, shouting a quick hurry up. The twins look at you apologetically, you wave them off and start to walk to your own team's changeroom, disappointment written on your face. 

Even after hufflepuff won the match, you didn’t feel like celebrating, as soon as your seeker caught the snitch you were ecstatic but, Oliver had walked past you on your way out of the pitch, muttering ‘stupid hufflepuff, I’ll bet she was listening to us.’ That cut deep, leaving a permanent frown on your face even while the rest of your house partied. 

You were now in your fifth year and had been appointed captain of the hufflepuff team, after most of your teammates graduated, and you were overjoyed. You’d spent the whole summer thinking up strategies and new tactics and now you would be able to try them out. Throughout the school your friends had given you pats on the back and congratulations, they knew you’d been working on this since you stepped in the Hogwarts walls, and they were happy for you. Oliver on the other hand acted as though he was furious you’d achieved your goal. You had lost feelings for the keeper over summer but he continued with the constant ridiculing ever since that game all those years ago, calling you fake, not even that good, or just saying outright untrue things about you to anyone who would listen, and even though you didn’t fancy him anymore the comments still cut deep. It brought sadness to you every time you heard he’d mock you. You used to cry over these things, but you learned to build a wall to protect yourself from Oliver’s judgement. It was his last year anyways. You wouldn’t have to deal with his bullying any longer. 

“I heard y/n shagged the last captain to get the position she’s in now, what a whore.” You hear a voice whisper, Oliver. You sigh. It was going to be a long year. 

Practice with your new team was fun, making sure the new members felt welcome and running over old strategies with ones who’d been on the team in previous years. You were having a blast with everyone, until a voice called out. “Beat it puffs! We’ve got the pitch today.”

 You sigh, apologizing to Cedric who you were conversing with and flying down to meet the angry gryffindor. 

“I’m sorry Oliver, but I got the pitch booked with Sprout yesterday.” You pull out the slip of parchment residing in your pocket. “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got new players too y’know.” He scoffs his thick Scottish accent rolling off his tongue. “We’ve only just started, listen if you can give me an ho-” Oliver rolls his eyes and cuts you off. “I don’t care l/n, I don’t listen to little fakers who buy their way into positions and shag their way into captain.” He remarks, looking bored. Blood rushes to your face in anger and sadness. You drop your broom as your hand goes limp, your head hung down, not wanting him to see your tears. “What’s wrong l/n, you gonna cry?” 

Cedric touches down and tries to pull you away, but you’re frozen trying to blink the tears out of your eyes. 

“Oliver that’s enough.” Fred pushes his way to the front and puts his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. The gryffindor captain rolls his eyes. “Why are you defending the slut? You know I’m not wrong, she doesn’t deserve anything she has now.” He laughs a little.

You feel yourself burst.

“What the hell did I do to you?!” You lift your face and scream, letting the tears of anger and sadness slip down your face. “What did I do, that was so bad, so terrible, that made you want to bully me since I was twelve?!” You march closer to him, letting him see the pain he caused you. “I’ve barely spoken to you once and you built up this, this hate for me. Calling me fake, a slut, that I don’t deserve what I have. Do you know how hard I’ve worked for all this? Practicing daily, keeping up with school work, getting injured and hurt in games AND dealing with your ridiculing?!” You shout, letting years of anger be expressed, you see a flash of regret in the seventh year's eyes, but you couldn’t care less. “I wanted to be your friend Oliver, but without getting to know me you spread rumors about me, call me names, and you don’t care! I’m sick of being quiet about it, why can’t you just leave me alone!?” You finish. Oliver is stunned to silence letting your words sink in. You were right, he knew that, he never did get to know you. He just didn’t know how else to deal with the weird emotion he got when he saw you or the way his stomach burst into butterflies when he heard you laugh. So he shoved his emotions to the side and tried to convince himself you were this horrible person in order get rid of the feeling, but it never worked, so he continued, always hoping you’d brush it off and move on, but here he was standing shocked in front of you as tears ran down your red cheeks. He realized then that the feeling inside him was love, but it was far, far too late. You ran, ran away from him, any hope he was a good person and the idea that the two of you could be together one day. You ran from the toxicity of the way Oliver treated you and you ran from being hurt anymore. 

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that Wood. Y/n has done nothing to you and you treat her like the scum at the bottom of your shoe, I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Cedric shouts at the shocked gryffindor. The sixth year hufflepuff had watched you pine over Oliver since he was in his third year. He had a massive crush on you, but could never say anything in fear he’d ruin your friendship. He’d watched Oliver mistreat you for years, and watched as you held onto the hope he’d change, but Oliver had gone to the last straw and he couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore. He calls down the rest of the team and turns back to the gryffindors. “Enjoy the pitch.” Cedric says sarcastically to Oliver, patting him on the shoulder with a menacing smile, before turning and running after you. 

The rest of the team didn’t feel like playing anymore. Feeling sick to their stomachs after this encounter. Oliver turns around, but no one will look him in the eyes. Even the twin’s usual happy demeanor is gone and they’re glaring daggers into Oliver. “You fucked up, you know that right? You know, y/n had a crush on you since the second year, but your egotistical ass couldn't see how great of a person she is and instead ruined any chances of ever being with her, can’t believe she’d see something in someone like you.” Fred seethed, no one talked to his friends like that. He and George storm away and the rest of the team turn and follow, throwing disapproving looks at Oliver. Fred was right. You were right. He was the biggest idiot in the world, and now he’d have to deal with the consequences.

Cedric found you running into an empty girls washroom, he didn’t want to intrude, but he knew it was empty, and he knew you needed help. He steps inside and doesn’t hesitate to run to you and wrap you into his arms. You hug back and sob into Cedric’s shoulder. “W-what did I do w-wrong?” You sniffle and cry into his quidditch robes. “Nothing love, nothing. He’s an arsehole and doesn’t deserve you. He’s an idiot, walking around with a broomstick up his ass.” he smiles when he hears a small giggle from you. “You’re right Ced, he does look like he’s got a stick up his ass when he walks.” You stop crying to laugh a bit, wrapping your arms tighter around Cedric’s torso. 

“Listen, you're perfect darling, and if he can’t see it, I know I can.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Cedric takes a deep breath before continuing. “I know this isn’t the best time, but Merlin y/n, I’ve fancied you since the day I saw you do quidditch try-outs, zipping around like a pro on your broom, showing up everyone else on that pitch,” he sighs. “I saw you fall in love with Wood, pine over him even though he treats you like trash and push off his comments about you. Y/n, you’re so strong, so kind, so beautiful, so smart. Don’t let someone like Oliver get you down. He’ll never be worth it.” He finishes, gliding his thumb up and down your face. You blush. “Thank you Cedric, but I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” You sniffle, looking guilty. Cedric smiles. “I’ll wait for you darling, no matter how long it takes. I’ll be here with arms wide open.” He holds you tighter, kissing the top of your head. You smile. “Thank you Cedric, so much. I will come around I promise.” You sniffle before laughing into his shoulder. 

You knew then that you found the person you were really supposed to be with for the rest of your life. Cedric brought smiles to your face, while Oliver brought tears. Cedric admired your skills and knowledge, while Oliver doubted them. Cedric made you feel happy, supported, smart, beautiful. Things Oliver could never, and you realized. Sometimes it’s better to let go, than to hold on.

Oliver watched from the side as you fell in love with Cedric. Watched as the hufflepuff golden boy walked you to class, sat with you at lunch, hugged you after games and supported your dreams. Oliver did his best to move on, but was reminded daily of what he lost. Fred and George never looked at him the same, he saw you smile and laugh with Cedric by your side. That should be him, he thinks to himself a lot. If he had been kind, talked to you, got to know you. Maybe he would be the man you hugged, kissed, loved. The man who was by your side. He lost his chance and all he could do now was watch as you fell in love with someone new. 

Cedric Diggory had filled the hole in your heart Oliver had left. He showed you what real love felt like and showed you how you should be treated, and in the end, you did come around. After Cedric had caught the snitch in a match against slytherin you flew up to him, grabbed his shirt and tugged him towards you, letting your lips crash against his for everyone to see. It only lasted a couple seconds, but it warmed you to the core, sealing the realization Cedric was the one for you, it brought a smile across your face. “Did I do it?” Cedric’s grin grows impossibly wide as he takes your hand in his. He just won the match and the girl of his dreams! He had to be imagining things. “You did.” You confirm, squeezing his calloused fingers. Cedric laughs and whoops in celebration, pulling you around the pitch in a victory lap, holding your hand for all to witness before the two of you touched down. Cedric brings you in for another kiss, and the spectators roars in excitement. The brunette smiles into your lips, and as you pull away you whisper into his ear. “Thank you Cedric, for showing me true love.” 

And all Oliver could do was regret

[hallothere]

I broke down and wrote the essay. No, I did not and will not proofread it. I don’t waaaannaaaa

There’s Only One Winner For Isengard

In a perfect world, in a world with no meta requirements that could bend to the will of the player, we would roll up to Isengard level-capped, no debuffs, with one quest-marker on hand: Ruin Saruman’s day. But this is a pre-written sequence of events in which we are only along for the ride. We, the player, and a Ranger are shipped off to Isengard with only one conceivable goal: survive. On a meta level we know what Saruman is capable of. At level 70 or 80-something at best, even we are aware that we are no match for a wizard with a canon fate. Not to mention our Ranger companion! The Grey Company has been through enough (though we don’t know the half of it yet) and we are reasonably distraught at the possibilities.

This is why we, the player character, will lose the game of Isengard.

Beyond the meta rules of the game, where quest objectives are whatever the devs wanted them to be (looking at you, Mordrambor) the player character can not defeat Saruman in any way that’s meaningful. And (again on a meta level) in order for us to get to experience the action at Helm’s Deep and Rohan at large, we have to get out of Isengard. We’d get bored of waiting for Theoden and Co. We’d hurl insults or slap fish at Saruman and realistically incur wrath. Honestly, with the set of circumstances presented to us, who could survive imprisonment in Nan Curunir?

Only one of the Company ever could: Lothrandir of Suri Kyla. 

To begin with, none of the Rangers we have any real information on could have done it. Anyone who’s spent time in Angmar is at a disadvantage due to the prevailing dread (game mechanic or otherwise) that can be manipulated by Saruman. Any Ranger that has a major traumatic past is at a disadvantage (sorry Mincham) because if nothing else, Saruman has proven to be a master of illusion. Even Halbarad for all his leadership ability has a pretty exploitable weakness: eventually Saruman can crack the code with a vision of Aragorn’s demise, the one end Halbarad must fear above all others. Or what bond could more easily be exploited than that of a leader and his men? Lheu Brenin’s in the gang now after all. All Saruman would have to do was send for a few more incentives. 

But Lothrandir comes built with a few key advantages that make him the only Grey Company Ranger qualified to come out of this battle of wills on top. His specific strengths, mindset, and personality traits combined with the circumstances that the game sets up going into Isengard make him the clear choice of Rangers- if a Ranger you must have- to stay behind in Nan Curunir. 

Lothrandir wins because he changes the game. From ‘go’ our co-prisoner does something that either puzzles the player character or sends them into an anxious fit. Lothrandir declares himself fearless and sprints recklessly into the ring. Any way you figure it, this seems like a poorly calculated move. He doesn’t stop to survey the enemy. He doesn’t gather intel. Heck, he doesn’t even bide his time to see if he’ll be killed before he even reaches the dungeons. Lothrandir sprints right in without so much as a thought or a plan. Saruman doesn’t know it yet, but from that moment on Lothrandir has him on the back foot. 

Consider for a moment Saruman’s MO. He’s a wizard, and he uses a great deal of magic, sure, but time and time again we are reminded of the power of his voice and his words. He calls down a storm on Caradhras (in the movies for darn sure), he via-Wormtongue whispers poison into the ears of King Theoden. He doesn’t lead with any kind of grandiose display when trying to sway Gandalf. No, he leads with a persuasive argument. Later on, he nearly talks Theoden back around, after failing to wipe out all of Rohan. After killing the man’s son for goodness sakes. He nearly talks himself out of that one!

But Lothrandir has already changed this from a game of wits to a game of wills. There will be no vying for favor, or biding time, or compliance, or even giving Saruman a chance to ‘talk it over friendly’ first. He’s already spitting on the shoes of everyone he sees. The accomplishment in this is twofold, and it makes a major impact on the rest of his time in Nan Curunir. 

Firstly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir sets Saruman up for a whole lot of assumptions. He does not display any signs of diplomatic ability, wisdom, or even common sense. He very intentionally projects an attitude of reckless disobedience. In the player’s own eyes, it seems as if he ‘doesn’t know any better’. This gives Saruman a clear path to take regarding Lothrandir. He assumes you can’t reason the typical way with someone who has shown zero inclination for listening. The player character demonstrates that the Grey Company (or least their associates) are capable of compliance. For all intents and purposes, this Lothrandir doesn’t appear to be. He’s contrary, fool-hardy, and evidently dumb enough to dive in headfirst and get himself killed. You beat that kind of guy into submission… don’t you?

But Lothrandir has changed the rules of the game. Saruman is no longer fighting with his best weapon, but with a tool to be found in any old villain’s arsenal. When he took the approach of reasoning with the player character and disregarding Lothrandir, he set the victor’s foundation on our snow-pilgrim’s greatest strength. 

Secondly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir makes this a battle of physical endurance. Unbeknownst to Saruman, this is the one thing that makes him stand out from the rest of the Grey Company. He has walked through the frozen north lands and the fiery south lands and come out unscathed. He has mastered the unarmed combat style of the Lossoth by joining in mid-winter wrestling matches in a place that took down many Elves, Angmarim, and notably one King of Arthedain! Lothrandir has conceivably spent his entire life training for this matchup. Any endurance he has built up, any fighting he can do without access to a weapon, all are assets to the kind of game he just made Saruman play. Lothrandir is uniquely built to survive any physical torment Isengard can throw at him, or at least, better equipped than any of the others. 

To say Lothrandir is the best choice, we also have to rule out the others. Corunir was thwarted by the Rammas Deluon and for all he learned from that, it’s a weak spot in his proverbial armor. Golodir too, resisted a fair degree of torture (palantiri based, even!) in Carn Dum, but it won’t be hard for Saruman to suss that one out and make our old man’s life a living nightmare. Even Radanir, serious and seemingly unattached to any social bonds now that his good pal Elweleth has gone sailing, would be a poor choice. He is too serious, (for lack of a better term) too genre-savvy, and even if he is spitting blood and delivering a witty one-liner, that’s Saruman’s foot in the door! ‘I’ll never betray my friends and kin, you kaleidoscope hack’? You’ve just told him your weakness, Radanir! No, he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his (or Saerdan’s) life. Radanir is the wrong choice too.

We don’t know a significant amount about the others (except Ranger death would move Calenglad to tears, we can’t put him through this) in order to pinpoint their fatal flaws in the Isengard encounter. But, the game puts us in the incredible position of having seen Lothrandir’s Achilles’ heel and letting us take that disadvantage away. 

Lothrandir of Suri Kyla is uniquely equipped to survive any physical encounter that Saruman throws his way. Now, who’s to say the wizard won’t change his tune and go back to his old tricks? In an incredible twist of fate, we are. The game sets us, the player, up to play Saruman’s game from the get-go. We keep our pixelated head down, try and fly below the radar, and express just enough concern over the fate of our fool-hardy pal to get Saruman to cement his estimation of Lothrandir as a pawn in the game in stone. By making ourselves the better target for the words of a wily wizard, Saruman decides that the best way to deal with the spare prisoner is by playing right into his hands. As we all know, the player character escapes. While that might seem bad for someone who Saruman has earmarked for corporal punishment only, it covers Lothrandir’s one weakness. 

Aside from being the only significant unarmed fighter, Lothrandir is also never painted as a loner. He spends his time in Suri Kyla, hanging out with the Lossoth and sharing their campfires. In the new questline in Forochel, he jumps at the chance to make a new Dunedain friend and takes to King Arvedui like a duck to water. They’re instant best pals. It’s minutes before Lothrandir is telling him Aragorn’s life story and pledging to go with him on a buddy adventure to seek peace for a regretful shade. And if that’s not enough canon for you, Lothrandir bears the brunt of the Falcon clan aggression on the way to Isengard. He does it for you, his friend and companion in suffering. It’s a bit meta, but we have to assume in the internal universe he knows you a little. You’ve run your merry adventures to a degree where, were this not a video game, Lothrandir would at least consider you an ally if not a friend outright. 

He exposes his weakness unwittingly to the Falcon clan, but he leaves it at the gates of Isengard in an extremely well-timed move. By sprinting through the gates without a care as to what’s going on with you or anyone else, Lothrandir establishes an emotional distance between you both in the eyes of any onlookers. Whatever affection you have for him, it doesn’t seem reciprocated. This isn’t a major weakness for Saruman to exploit, then. You’re not one of his kinsmen. If he did want to pursue that line, he could always send to Tur Morva for one, right?

This is where the game comes back in to shift the tide in Lothrandir’s favor. We escape. We play the game, we nearly lose the game, and had we not been given an out the power scaling makes it difficult to conceive of an outcome where we the player can win Isengard. Sure, we’ve been released from prisons before (Delossad to name one) but this is the climax of Dunland. We make a daring escape, and move south towards the Gap of Rohan and all sorts of bad times. 

Back in Nan Curunir, Lothrandir is getting the daylights beat out of him, and taking a victory lap. He’s cemented his position as ‘the prisoner we’ll break with violence’. The uruks have seen him insubordinate and disorderly. In the Lothrandir interlude, there’s not only the canon (stated outright!) reality of past and present torture. There’s also zero hesitation in Lothrandir taking that one on the chin. There are no other objectives on his mind than making the next few minutes as miserable as possible for everyone around. He has no other goals. And he doesn’t need them. Nobody is surprised that Lothrandir is signing his death warrant within nanoseconds of being presented an offer to comply. He spits on the offer. He tips over the slop bucket. He beats bloody any orc (and gameplay purposes aside there are very few that dare come forward) that actually tries to kill him for it outright. 

He’s built up a non-rapport with Gun Ain. She talks about killing him and he doesn’t say anything. They’re all playing his game and he’s winning. In the conversation with Saruman, we’re not given the opportunity to watch Lothrandir ‘resist’ in the same fashion the player character did. We don’t need to. Saruman has bigger and better things to worry about- killing a prince, wiping out a nation- than one Ranger who he’s just going to order well-flayed again. By setting himself up as the punching bag, Lothrandir has managed to fly beneath Saruman’s priority threshold. He’s been relegated to the responsibility of Gun Ain, and still with somewhat protected status because they haven’t wormed anything useful out of him yet.

All of these moves have culminated to an impasse. Saruman is not winning points in the game like he expected. One ‘meathead Ranger’ has managed to resist all the torments of Isengard, and he’s gained nothing from this. The other prisoner escaped, word had doubtless reached him that the Tur Morva Thirty-Odd are free and raring to be a thorn in his side again. He has no external leverage to apply on Lothrandir and it’s become increasingly obvious that our Ranger friend is not engaging like the player did. But still, Saruman has his pride. It’s his downfall in the end, and it’s his downfall in his fight against the one Ranger who’s already beating him. Lothrandir can’t be killed outright because Saruman hasn’t won yet. And with that guarantee of protection, Lothrandir can coast all the way to the conquest of Isengard. 

He can keep playing the game and stalling for time. It’s morbid, but what better way to waste someone’s time and energy than convincing them slow, drawn-out torture is the way to go? A little extreme, Lothrandir, but it’s still his game to lose. He wastes Saruman’s time. If he is eventually rescued, total victory. If he’s killed in the end, he definitely didn’t give the wizard the satisfaction, so a less resounding victory but one in the win column nonetheless. 

With a little help from our usually Ranger-cidal devs, Lothrandir reprograms Saruman’s game of chess to a boxing match. He takes out all his disadvantages, gets Isengard to attack from a point of... if not weakness then at least neutral ability, and then devotes his every waking breath to violent disobedience.

Sure, you could have taken any of the Grey Company with you to Isengard. Lheu Brenin could have swapped out for Braigar or Amlan or Mithrendan or Culang- but only one of these guys has the brute strength, commitment, and sheer audacity to pull it off. 

You take Lothrandir to Orthanc. There’s a different prisoner of Nan Curunir when he leaves.

[makeste]

BnHA 6th Popularity Poll Reaction Post - Risky Spoiler-Dodging Edition

hey guys, so seeing as the results from the 6th popularity poll were leaked today, I figured I would do a separate reaction + analysis post this year, rather than piling it in as an extra on top of the chapter reaction post tomorrow. I figure this makes more sense anyway, since they’re really two completely different things. also this way I can write as much as I want lol.

also, just fyi, I am still completely unspoiled for chapter 293. and probably the smart thing to do to keep it that way would be to log off tumblr and hold off posting this until tomorrow, but I apparently have no impulse control today so oh well. anyway, so I’m hoping you guys will keep this spoiler-free if you don’t mind! as always, I would prefer to just jump right in completely unaware tomorrow like Troy returning to the study room with the pizza boxes lol.

okay so this first part is just going to be my predictions. fyi I am writing this part on Wednesday night, and then I’ll add on the results part on Thursday or Friday (ETA: Thursday, apparently, since I am impatient.)

okay so first of all, just as a refresher, this poll was open to Japanese voters from Aug 3 to Sep 30. meaning chapters 279 through 285. meanwhile last year’s poll took place around the tail end of the MVA arc. so between then and now we had Heroes Rising, the Endeavor Agency arc, and the War arc up to the part where the 1-A kids took on Gigantomachia in Gunga, and started battling Tomura in Jakku. so technically only a couple of arcs, but a LOT of stuff going down in them. oh and season 4 of the anime as well

so! firstly, I predict that my truculent africanized honeybee son will hold on to his crown at #1, coming off a year in which he did some internship-boosted soul searching, borrowed OFA in movie canon, and finished out the voting period as the my-body-moved-on-its-own character development MVP. like CALL ME CRAZY lol, but I’m pretty sure his title is safe. and then after him will be Deku and Shouto as usual

Aizawa should hopefully also have a strong showing because the dude had a banner fucking year. reunited with his old dead friend, took on Tomura with his hopelessly inept hero pals, and then chopped his fucking leg off. he had better be in the top 10. his fucking leg died for this, idk what else he has to do

Endeavor also stands a decent chance of doing well given the internship arc and the final episode of season 4. which I’m sure will go down just swimmingly if that does happen lmao. especially if he somehow manages to rank higher than...

Dabi, which I don’t think he will btw, but you never know. anyways though, but I’m thinking Dabi’s going to have a stronger showing than in past years (in the last poll he only got 367 votes and was ranked 19th). mostly because of his fight in the Gunga mansion, and his cheekily censored name reveal to...

Hawks, who is also going to rank pretty high here, I think. might be he loses some points for killing off Twice, but his back was basically to the wall there. and he has always been very popular, and I think season 4 will also give him a boost, along with his heavy involvement in the first half of the War arc

Tomura was already in 6th place last year and I think he cracks the top 5 this year. he’s gotten exponentially more popular since the MVA arc, and got a boost in the last poll even though his flashback had only just barely happened, and he hadn’t finished Awakening yet and all that stuff. anyway, so he’s only gotten cooler and more tragic since then so I think he makes a big play here

Kirishima, Momo, Tokoyami, and Mina should also hopefully do well, since the poll opened right in the middle of all that Gigantomachia action, and Toko had just got done being an absolute badass and protecting his birb dad. I don’t think he’ll quite make it to the top ten, but he should

and last but not least, I’m hoping that Mirko will come out and take the polls by storm, although I have no clue how popular she is in Japan lol. she’s clearly Horikoshi’s favorite though. she SHOULD be everyone’s favorite, but I mean, we’ll see how it goes

anyway that’s it as far as predictions! and so now, through the magic of writing stuff at different times, we will fast-forward to the part where we actually find out the results!

OH MY GOD YES, STEAMPUNK KHLKSLLKL. HERE FOR IT. JOLLY GOOD SHOW. 5 STARS

Kacchan looks SO COCKY and SO HAPPY and SO ADORABLE, YES I SAID IT. he is adorable as FUCK. I don’t quite know what it is about this particular Kacchan that just screams “LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE MY STUPID, LOUD SON IS WITH HIS BIZARRE WINDOWPANE-LOOKING CONVERTIBLE SUNGLASS GOGGLES and his POORLY TIED CRAVAT”, but I think it’s because he looks like if a Digimon character and a FMA character had a baby

anyway, so it looks like most of the people present here are more or less who we expected to see. except that I can’t tell for sure if that’s Dabi or Shindou, and if it’s Shindou I’m going to punch somebody in the face so you will have to excuse me

Iida wearing a TRENCHCOAT and a TOP HAT with ENGINE EXHAUST GOGGLE ACCENTS is my new favorite Iida of all time. take note how there is no possible way he can wear those goggles with them sitting on top of his hat like that. plus he’s already got glasses on. these are just purely for aesthetic and IF THAT AIN’T JUST THE STEAMPUNK WAY

Deku out here speaking softly and carrying a lead pipe. Kacchan you best look out. seems like he’s done watching you take first place year after year while he languishes in the number two spot. your only hope is that he trips while attacking you because his boots are unbuckled

Shouto’s standing over there with the rest of the non-first-and-second-place characters, but what are the odds his results are actually within spitting distance of Deku’s same as always. anyway he doesn’t mind, though. also his outfit is by far the most sensible one here, but if you look closely he’s got some sort of fire extinguisher/jet pack thing strapped to his back that’s got a control switch on his belt. Shouto are you jetpacking or putting out fires

Kirishima out here all “I’m not sure what steampunk is so I’m just going to take off my shirt and pose”

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH SKLKSDLKFJLSKJLDFKJSLDFFJLDKSJFL:KS. SIR. SIR. also, lowkey furious that Horikoshi refuses to show us the automail leg that he is clearly sporting here but which we just can’t see, SHOUTO MOVE GODDAMMIT

Endeavor has TWO fire extinguisher-slash-jetpacks. THE BETTER TO... WHATEVER. look at you here in the top ten again. you really live for that controversy

HAWKS OUT HERE WITH HIS STEAMPUNK BEATS BY DRE AND HIS WEARING A RING ON EVERY FINGER. nice to see you’ve still got your wings there, kiddo. then again Deku still has both of his arms too so who even knows what is going on

BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IS THIS DABI OR SHINDOU. as if I don’t know the truth deep down in my heart. y’all I am gonna flip lmao. it’s not that I dislike Shindou, strictly speaking. but just... I can’t explain what it is, but if you put him and AFO next to each other and told me “you can only punch one”, I would be having a serious crisis. just, THIS FUCKING GUY, idek. STOP SMILING

Tomura looks like he just wandered onto the set here by mistake and has no idea where he is or what is going on. it’s because you’re wearing a bigass severed hand that’s blocking your entire view, Tomura. just take the hand off your face my sweet murder dumpling

anyway! so I managed to also find a link to the full poll results while somehow managing to avoid spoilers, and then I wanted to compare the results to last year’s poll, and so I made... this

hopefully you can all see this. if you’re on desktop you might be screwed, but on mobile you should be able to click and enlarge it. I mean, assuming you actually give a fuck about boring poll analysis spreadsheets lmao

anyway, so there were actually 13k fewer votes cast this year which is a bit of a surprise. is the series not still growing in popularity? do people apparently have better things to do during their quarantine lol

anyways but despite this, and despite getting 8k fewer votes overall, Kacchan still managed almost twice as many as his closest competitor. well fought, Deku. please put down that pipe

I somehow always underestimate the power of ship popularity to influence these things. but for example, it looks like Present Mic got that Vigilantes Trio bump. ride that wave for all it’s worth my man! hell, you got me on board

Iida fucking Tenya somehow got some sort of POWER BOOST out of NOWHERE which I can’t explain at all lmao, but I’m here for it. NOT BAD FOR AN OLD MAN

Sero managed to get the exact same number of votes in both 2019 and 2020. clearly the most loyal fans in the business

Mirko being all the way down at #20 is, of course, a travesty, and I hereby nominate her to be the one to punch Shindou in the face

ngl though, the lack of a single female character in the top ten hurts just a bit. it’s not overly surprising, but still. the worst part of it is that even if you kicked Shindou to the curb and moved everyone else up one slot, it would still be all dudes since Mic beat out Momo by a margin of a little more than a hundred votes. hard to stay mad at Mic for too long, though. ah well

Tomura actually lost a bunch of votes which is a genuine surprise to me. I know the villain standom isn’t as dominant in Japan as it is in Western fandom, but still. you can go ahead and punch Shindou too I guess

Tokoyami lowkey doubled his vote count over the past year while hiding down there at #18. he is slowly becoming more powerful. biding his time

anyway so I think that’s it! I mean not really, but I’m getting kind of tired lol. so just, you know, insert the usual gripes at Overhaul’s ranking here, although we can be happy about Magne making her way onto the list (r.i.p.), and Mineta and AFO taking a very satisfying slide down (all the way out, in AFO’s case; good riddance you bum). Hadou also got a huge boost which is awesome. Mustard’s persistent ownership of the #36 spot will forever remain a mystery to me, but oh well

anyways, this was fun. and I really do feel like everyone is looking away on purpose so that when Deku brains Kacchan with that pipe in about two seconds from now, there will be no witnesses, oh my fucking god

[13tinysocks]

I wanna see some anti fanfic rec plspls

You asked for it. May I present, a creepypasta x reader anti-reading list.

Quick Disclaimer: No author names will be dropped nor fic links or sites they’re on. I dislike these works but I don’t want anybody to be harassed. Don’t go after people, holy shit. These works are only here because of some heavily disturbing content. One of them just makes me super mad because of a few circumstances. These are purely my opinions. I am not writing Jesus nor do I write the cleanest stories out there. Dark topics should be explored in fiction. However, some things just shouldn’t fucking be romanticized. Fanfic is practice, I’m not taking points off for wonky writing.

You’re allowed to like whatever the fuck you want. I’m not shaming you or the authors. I’m talking about media I dislike, which I am completely allowed to do. If your friend or favorite author’s work is in here, maybe don’t send this to them. I get it’s tempting but still, it could be upsetting. Again, don’t fucking harass anybody. 

This list is in order of - Pisses me off to FBI open up to whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck.

Content warning for: Rape, miscarriages, abortion, necrophilia, sexism, child grooming, multiple types of abuse, ablism, and meanie head criticism of popular fics. Seriously, this gets exceptionally bad at the final one. 

First up in our lineup a pretty popular. It’s the least upsetting and problematic. It’s a various creepypasta x reader mansion fic. This is more of an honorable mention because it’s frustrating to read over being super bad.

Recruited.

Summary: (Y/n) killed an attempted rapist and covered it up years ago. She is recruited into the cpp’s to be considered as a proxy along with two others. Follow her through a journey of no character development into becoming a proxy.

What’s wrong with it?

-Brian literally is a misogynist. He literally hates women.

-(Y/n) is an asshole. Not in an entertaining bad bitch way. No, in an unaware bland way. Points off for being a business major, girl you have no soul and it shows.

-She is treated like the voice of reason who is always morally correct. Thing is, if anyone is neurodivergent or mentally ill and ya’know shows symptoms of it, they’re cRaZy, evil, and an annoyance. 

-Yes, people creeping on or getting clingy can be shitty/annoying but sometimes the way (Y/n) acts is completely unjust. It left a bad taste in my mouth because the character felt okay to be shitty to people who weren’t like her.

-The endings are disheartening and make no fucking sense. Cody, who is clingy at worst, gets rejected Jack, who TRIES TO BREAK (Y/N)’S FUCKING LEG, gets with her. Can I get a HELLO?????? 

-(Y/n) also doesn’t get with Jeff who suddenly turned into her brother character after hundreds of pages of romantic tension. Again, Recruited is not inherently bad but it may be really disappointing to people who are here for 1-2 specific characters.

-Queer bait-y author’s notes and inconstant love interests. Author’s notes would read like “Teehee, maybe I’ll make (Y/n) have Jane and/or Natalie endings……” But that never happens after it’s teased multiple times. I get not wanting to add more to your plate but don’t suggest it if you don’t want to do it or only want to please heterosexual readers.

-They put Tim outside like a dog for being a bad boy. 

-Author’s notes and percentages fill in details for the reader that aren’t in the fic. I’m not going to read all of that. Put important information in the fic. 

-Lot’s of excessive jealousy. Painfully heteronormative. 

What about the good?

Readable. Dramatic like Big Brother. Can be an entertaining read if it’s your thing.

Conclusion

Left a bad taste in my mouth. I feel like the author literally hated half the cast and was annoyed while writing them. When you don’t enjoy writing something it shows. Also, her other work (pandemic! Reader X X-Virus) is super tone-deaf and I don’t recommend that either. Don’t recommend joining this fic’s Discord server either. Won’t get into details but in my and my friend's experience: it’s not a good environment with a lot of playing favorites. 

-

Next up on our list is a grossly popular Eyeless Jack X Reader fic.

My Imaginary Monster

Summary: Immoral monster, Eyeless Jack, sneaking into a 5-year-old girl's room. He gets attached, sticks around through her childhood. Thing is, he gets real creepy. Starts to catch feelings for a 16-year-old he’s watched grow up. He kisses a minor who reciprocates his feelings which is textbook child grooming. Nasty fucker runs away, there’s some drama from that. (Y/n) grows up, comes back to town, and Jack’s a’creepin’.

What’s wrong with it?

-Jack is a literal child groomer. 

-Do I need to say more??? Immortal adult kisses a 16 y/o. Gross.

-People in the comments are going gaga for grooming. Are you kidding me, he’s a pedophile.

-The OC’s take up more than half of the ~200 page run time. I couldn’t get attached to any of them even after the supposed significance. Which is fine but they took up so much of the fic that it got boring and annoying incredibly quickly.

What’s good about it?

I enjoyed Ben. He did the right thing and I can respect that. Trans and poluyamourus reprrensentation.

Conclusion:

No child grooming in my fucking lobby. I think the author was trying to paint it in a bad light. But the thing is, you can write a creepy stalker fic without making them a groomer. A lot of people are trying to escape their troubles through fanfic, including those who’ve dealt with sexual abuse. Don’t bring that into x reader spaces. Don’t put readers through that again. 

-

Last and absolutely least we got a Tim X Reader. 

BIG TW. FUCKING HUGE TW. MOST OF THE TW’S FROM EARLIER ARE FROM THIS ONE FIC. 

Pure Forgiveness.

Summary: (Y/n) is abused by her mom. Her dad killed himself and she’s all (Y/n)’s got in this world. Until Tim comes along and “saves” her. He takes her to the mansion and keeps her as a pet to torture. 

I’m going to get into all the nitty-gritty to satisfy your morbid curiosities so you don’t read it. 

What’s wrong with it?

-Chapter 1 opens with (Y/n)’s miserable life. Her mom hates her so much she has a fucking torture table for (Y/n).

-There’s an attempted rape in chapter 2.

- She’s taken to the mansion by Tim in chapter 3 because he’s “off his medication” and “acting nicer than normal”. Hi, mentally ill person here, that’s not how it fucking works you ding dong. 

-Mental illness is made out to we wholly evil.

-Also tic’s are made out to be scary. As a person with tics, don’t write tics as scary or super weird. Thanks.

-(Y/n) not being able to escape, fight back rapists, and other horrible shit is labeled as weak.

-At one point (Y/n) is dragged through the mansion, beer bottles and used condoms are thrown at her. Girl has to shower off cum.

-(Y/n) is tortured in various ways. Mostly beaten, berated, burned, cut, starved, etc. 

-She is drugged and repeatedly raped by Brian and Toby. These rapes are recorded and shown to (Y/n).

-Brian has black hair. Why?

-Toby and Brian give (Y/n) a forced abortion.  

-(Y/n) gets raped almost every fucking chapter.

-At one point Jack orally rapes (Y/n) to abort a baby. 

-Toby and Brian are necrophiles. They skull fuck a corpse at some point. It is graphically described how they like to have sex with dead bodies.

-Slenderman forcefully impregnates (Y/n) to “keep the (Tim’s) baby safe” whatever the fuck that means.

Why does this happen?

Because Tim wants a kid because his dad raped his mom and his mom was a prostitute. He’s soooo sad guys :(((

Feeling hungry? Here’s some things that are eaten by various characters.

-Hair 

-Cum (forced)

-Toby 

-Piss 

-A miscarried baby 

What’s good about it?

Nothing. Fucking nothing. Don’t read it.

Conclusion

If you like this fic you need therapy, I’m not joking. It’s like a car crash and Rob Zombie movie horribly mish-mashed together. It sucks. The comments praise literal abuse and berate (Y/n) for being afraid. Fuck this fic and everything it stands for. It’s shock horror and torture for the sake of it. It makes no fucking sense and it’s harmful. People think this is okay. It’s not. 

-

Thank you to my pals in the server for helping out and finishing some of these where I could not. Especially you Connie, everyone say thank you Connie she got through Pure Forgiveness. Absolute trooper legend. Again, don’t go out of your way to harass these people. I made this list so you can avoid these works because they have the potential to be upsetting. I’m not the police, I can’t force anyone to stop nor do I want to. Author’s are allowed to explore dark topics but some should be done respectfully or not at-fucking-all. I hope these people grow as writers and understand treating some things a certain way isn’t cool. You can enjoy dark fics, I do too, fuck I write them too, but Jesus God, some things are a no from me chief.

[alphadaddyderek]

Not all math puns are awful, just sum (sterek fic, high school au)

ao3 link: click if you dare

summary: ’what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100’

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

AU where Stiles and Derek have to share a textbook and they write terrible math puns back and forth to each other.

Stiles sincerely, genuinely, regrets taking AP classes.

Well, kinda.

They would look great on his resume. Colleges wouldn’t even second guess accepting him and he would receive so many scholarships which would help his dad big time.

AP classes will also raise his GPA crazy high which, again, looks great to colleges.

Sometimes they just suck.

His AP Statistics class is definitely #1 on the ‘classes that suck straight ass list’.

It’s boring and it can be kinda hard. Plus it’s math so it’s automatically gross.

Stiles is good at math, but it’s not his forte, that’s more Lydia Martin’s thing.

Anyway, Beacon Hills High had to have some budget cuts this year, like, serious budget cuts. The sports teams are lucky that people care about people throwing balls all over the place, otherwise they would’ve gotten cut too.

Since the school has had budget cuts, the students don’t get individual textbooks anymore. Meaning, that they can only use it during class and then they have to leave it in the classroom for the next class to use.

So, yeah.

It’s the third week of junior year, AP Stat is as boring as always. He has Lydia to talk to sometimes but she has other friends in the same class, so he's not always entertained.

The teacher didn’t really care about whether or not students did the work, he just played chess on his computer the whole class anyway. He gave the page number that we were supposed to work on and that was that.

Stiles prefers that to lectures, but still. When he’s done the work there’s nothing left for him to do. He could go on his phone, but even that gets boring eventually.

What he’s trying to say is that he’s bored, okay?

Turning to the page that the teacher assigned, Stiles is shocked and wildly amused, to already see writing on the margins of the page. He figured it would take at least half the school year before people started vandalizing the textbooks. Although, it’s written in pencil so it’s easily erasable.

When Stiles actually reads what was written he snorts. Luckily, it’s loud in the class so the most attention he gets is when Lydia shoots him a weird look which he ignores.

'what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100'

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

Should he write something back? Stiles doesn’t know if the person who wrote this is hoping for a response, or if they wrote in the book because they’re just as bored as Stiles is.

Eh, fuck it. Why not?

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

Stiles snickers at his equally bad math joke before finally deciding to focus on the actual work. He didn’t want to be one of the ones who didn’t pass the class, because that would suck. So he does the work and for the remainder of the class he lets out a giggle or two every once in a while because even though he’s 16 years old, he apparently still has the sense of humor of a child.

π π π

It’s the next class and honestly, Stiles kind of forgot about the writing in the textbook. After he left that class he went to AP Geography where there was immediately a test, which he nailed by the way. Plus, with all his other classes, he just didn’t think it was important to remember a bad, but still funny, math joke in a textbook.

The teacher assigns them another page number full of questions to work on. And, just like last time, there’s writing in the margins.

‘i’m sorry, that was pretty mean of me to say’

That one has Stiles laughing out loud. Not too loud though, because he doesn’t have that much of a death wish. He just laughs loud enough to make Lydia send him another weird look, except this time Lydia questions him about it.

“What is so funny?” she asks, twirling her hair with her pencil.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing really. Just somebody writing lame math jokes on the book pages.”

“Well, you’re laughing at them. So doesn’t that make you lame as well?”

Stiles dramatically gasps.

“Wow, Lydia, that was pretty mean of you to say,” Stiles replies before bursting into more laughter.

At this point, Lydia is looking at him like he has brain damage but he really can’t bring himself to care. It’s hilarious and if she doesn’t think so then oh well. Her loss.

Well, she doesn’t know that that was the joke inside the textbook, but still, whatever.

It’s funny.

π π π

By this point, it’s kind of like Stiles and this unknown jokester are pen pals.

It’s been a week filled with terrible math jokes and Lydia probably losing more and more respect for him as the days pass.

He’s told Scott about his little pen pal and of course, Scott doesn’t really get it, but he’s supportive nonetheless.

It’s a Friday night and Scott is at Stiles’ house. They’re playing video games and eating so much pizza that Stiles will be bloated for an entire week.

Thankfully, his dad is on the night shift, otherwise, he would be heavily judgmental of Stiles’ life choices.

After several rounds of Mario Kart, they take a break to eat said pizza and talk a bit.

“So,” Scott takes a huge bite of his slice. “how are you and your math buddy doing?”

Stiles takes a bite of his own slice. “Why are you asking? Jealous?”

Scott laughs. “Oh yeah, I’m so jealous. Please, Stiles, make terrible math jokes with me.”

Stiles flips Scott off. “You only mock because you really are jealous.”

Scott rolls his eyes and then the topic is dropped.

At least for the next hour or so. Then after that, it gets brought back up.

“Do you think it’s weird to have a crush on someone you’ve never met?” Stiles asks, playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

Scott looks at Stiles, and Stiles does not want to see the weird look Scott has on his face so he continues looking down.

“You have a crush on this person?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re funny, and obviously, they’re smart if they’re in AP Stat. I would like to meet this person though, maybe. I don’t know.”

Stiles feels his cheeks heating up.

Scott nudges Stiles with his elbow. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not weird at all. It’s kinda like online dating, but like medieval style.”

Stiles can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. “What?”

It’s like medieval style! ‘Cause, it’s in a book. Instead of online.”

Scott is always able to make Stiles feel better, no matter the situation. His goofiness especially lightens his mood.

“Okay, Scott. Are we going to go jousting next?”

“I don’t know. What you guys do on your first date is none of my business,” Scott says with a sly smile.

Stiles snorts and grabs a pillow off the couch behind them and smacks Scott in the face with it, resulting in a pillow fight ensuing.

And if anybody asks, Scott did not win. He didn’t!

π π π

2 weeks after he and Scott had that talk, Stiles continues talking with his pen pal. Although, maybe Stiles is looking too deep into this, but it kind of seems like flirting now?

Hear him out.

In the margins, the person started adding smiley faces and winky faces after every message.

Ooh and they actually put their initials! D.H.

Stiles doesn’t think he knows anyone in school with those initials. Granted, Stiles isn’t exactly a social butterfly so he’s not doubting their existence at all.

AP Stat only has 5 minutes left in the class. Stiles has already embarrassed himself in front of Lydia more times than he can count, so he decides to ask Lydia if she knows someone with those initials.

She purses her lips. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles sighs inwardly before answering. “Uh, well. I was just...wondering. Ya know. Trying to expand my friend circle.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. And Stiles sighs outwardly this time.

“Fine. You know the jokes that were in the book?”

“You mean from like a month ago?”

“Well...we’ve kinda been continuing to exchange jokes and notes and stuff. And then recently they put their initials. Or, at least I think it’s their initials. I don’t know what else it would be. So, yeah.”

Lydia looks at him for a moment before her lips curl up into a smile. “You mean you’ve finally found someone who has a worse sense of humor than you?”

Stiles returns the smile. “I’ll have you know, my sense of humor is advanced. Way too advanced even for you.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, the only name that comes to mind is Derek Hale.”

Stiles chokes on his own spit. “Derek Hale? You mean the star of the basketball team? The guy with eyes that are like fifty different colors and bunny teeth that would look ridiculous on anyone else but he somehow looks gorgeous with them? That Derek Hale?”

“Yes. Other than that, I don’t know anyone else with those initials.”

“Does he take AP Stat?”

Lydia shrugs. Stiles takes that as a no.

There’s no way that Derek Hale is the one writing these notes. No way in hell. Stiles isn’t that lucky.

Plus, even if Derek is the one writing these, hypothetically speaking, Derek wouldn’t be interested in him. Don’t get Stiles wrong, he knows he’s a pretty attractive guy. But nobody in this school is as attractive as Derek Hale. Let's be real here.

Okay, maybe Danny. Danny is kinda gorgeous.

But besides Danny, nobody is even on the same level as Derek.

Well, Lydia is too.

Okay, dammit. People are on the same level as Derek Hale. The point is that Stiles isn’t.

Stiles sighs for what seems like the eighth time in. “Okay. Thanks.”

Lydia gives him a scrutinizing look before nodding and getting on her phone.

Stiles sits there and ponders why his life is like this before deciding that he must've done something to piss off fate in a past life. Pleased with his conclusion, Stiles shoves his notebook and pencils into his backpack just in time for the bell to ring.

π π π

Okay, so, Stiles must be going crazy.

When he saw that his pen pal had written his initials he figured, ‘hey, I might as well do the same. It’s only decent right?’ so he had, and ever since then Derek Hale has been shooting him looks in the hallway.

Maybe he’s hallucinating, because Derek Hale is, well, Derek Hale. Out of everyone in the hallway, why would he be looking at Stiles?

Also, Stiles can’t be the only person in the school with the initials S.S. although, he probably is the only S.S. that’s taking AP Stat so there’s that.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, should he wave? Shoot him a smile?

Actually no, he should do neither of those things because if he does, and Derek actually wasn’t looking at him, that would be so unbelievably embarrassing. So embarrassing that Stiles would have to transfer schools immediately.

Stiles shakes his head and opens up his locker to gather his things for his next class. When he closes the locker Derek is standing right there like they’re in a horror movie and Stiles jumps so hard that he drops his notebook.

“Shit. Sorry,” Derek says and bends down to swipe Stiles’ notebook off the floor.

“No, it’s okay. You’re awfully quiet for an athlete.”

Stiles holds his hand out for his notebook but Derek doesn’t seem all that interested in returning it to him just yet. Derek looks at the front of his notebook.

“Hmm. AP Stat. Interesting.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods. “Yep,” he says popping the ‘p’. “it is interesting. Well, actually it’s not. AP Stat is yuck sometimes and it can get boring but it’ll look great on my resume so.”

Derek nods. He looks at Stiles for a few more seconds before he opens his mouth, and the second he does, Stiles’ stomach fills with butterflies.

“What is the probability that anyone will pass that fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100.”

Stiles bites his lip to stifle his smile. He doesn’t want to cheese like an idiot in front of Derek Hale but he thinks that ship has already sailed cause Derek’s lips stretch into a big smile.

Stiles clears his throat. “I think there is statistical data to back up your theory.”

“Oh, is there?” Derek asks, smile turning into a smirk.

Stiles nods then looks at his notebook that is still in Derek’s hand. “Can I have my notebook now? I’m not sure what exactly you’re plotting but I don’t like it.”

Derek scrunches his face up. “Wow, that was bad.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes. “Like yours were any better.”

Derek shrugs, smile returning to his face. “I thought my mean joke was pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, hilariously bad. I didn’t laugh at all, not one bit.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t believe a word Stiles just said, which is fair, he shouldn’t.

“So,” Derek begins, eyes boring into Stiles’— seriously, what is up with Derek’s eyes? — “what is the probability that you will give me your number?”

Stiles pretends to think about it for a second. “I'm thinking 100 in 100.”

[johannawrites]

𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 - 𝟭𝘅𝟬𝟭

 (  a  series  of  prompts  from  first  episode  of  the  amazon  show  good  girls  revolt .   change  pronouns  as  necessary  !  )

“Um, is it true what you wrote in your letter?”

“Did you really go to an orgy down there?”

“Peace and love are back in California.”

“We can't give up on this story yet.”

“Yeah, well, youth is wasted on the young.”

“Do I have to wear a tiara?”

“Yes. I mean, no. But something fabulously chic.”

“All that's left to do now is to make yourself indispensable.”

“Fantastic. What's her number?”

“She's only going to talk to me.”

“Okay, look, I know you were the more natural fit for this story, but there's nothing I can do. Don't sabotage the story.”

“I'm trying to help.”

“No, I'm working under a deadline.”

“I get serious and start a family.”

“A serious family. Please don't invite me to the dinner parties.”

“I don't joke about writing or cooking.”

“I don't joke about drinking or cooking.”

“See, we're the perfect duo.”

“It's like you guys are fighting over the lower bunk bed in jail.”

“We're finally in the same city after months of being pen pals. God.”

“Well, I already told my parents you were coming.”

“Oh. Your parents. I didn't, uh... I didn't know that they were a part of this event. It's... it's so conventional. I mean, I have to kiss the ring before we can start dating?”

“You know, I wouldn't mind meeting your parents.”

“Oh, no. No one's meeting my parents. Ever.”

“See you in an hour.”

“What are you still doing here?”

“Quite a cat fight last night.”

“Is it true that someone's left a comb on her desk every morning since she got back?”

“You sound like an old man who doesn't know what's cool anymore.”

“Real women never go out of style.”

“No, coffee's supposed to be black. You don't put milk in coffee.”

“Oh, I was just coming to find you.”

“So sorry I stood you up last night. I was working late and I just crashed in the infirmary.”

“Don't try and soften me up.”

“Why don't you let me make it up to you. Hmm?”

“Okay. A week ago we were sending each other letters sprayed with sandalwood oil. What happened?”

“That was a dream. You moved back home to New York. To reality.”

“I'm young. I want to have fun, I want to tiptoe through the tulips. I feel like you're trying to put me in a box.”

“I'm not. Is that what you think of getting dolled up for a night on the town?”

“I don't have anything to wear.”

“They're gonna love you. I already told them how happy you make me.”

“Hey, babe. If you don't change, everyone's gonna think you came home with me anyway.”

“And that's when you saw the first guy fall down or get pushed down?”

“I'm not saying it's sh1t, but you might want to take another stab at that lead. Starting off with a quote won't fly, believe me.”

“I don't suppose you could run out and grab a birthday gift for a 13 year old girl?”

“A lot can happen here in 90 minutes, Y/N. Anything else?”

“How about you start calling me by my full name?”

Nope. That'd take too long.”

“I was here, too...I fell asleep.”

“Okay, now without yelling at me, tell me what she said.”

“They started the riot, not the fans.”

“So they're hiding something. Shit. That's good.”

“There were 300,000 people there, but no law enforcement presence whatsoever.”

“You're pretty cute when you've got a scoop.”

“But they escalated things instead of controlling them.

“I am so proud of you.”

“Hey, as far as I can tell, you and I are kicking everybody else's ass in the city.”

“The song will haunt you because you have such a good ear for music.”

“You should really get high first. Then you'll really dig it.”

“Well, I'm over 30. I'm too old to try pot.”

“Oh, no. No one's too old to smoke out.”

“That's good to know.”

“Because nobody trusts the police.”

“Because they would arrest you for smoking marijuana. So the bands felt safer hiring an outlaw motorcycle gang.”

“So they bonded at those parties. There was a kinship.”

“Yeah, but doing drugs doesn't necessarily mean you believe in peace and love.”

“Well, yes, it does. Uh, I mean it... did. It was supposed to.”

“Can't say I'm surprised at your decision. Bummed out, but not surprised.

“Can you use your dad's credit card?”

“You can't be serious.”

“We're too close to give up now.”

“Your car is downstairs.”

“I'm not gonna make it.”

“Oh, good, you got the gloves.”

“I'm glad you spent a little extra for the 11 inch style. The ones that hit you right at the wrist bone are the least functional things I have ever…”

“I just haven't slept well the last few nights. I'm... clumsy.”

“You didn't eat much dinner.”

“I ate.”

“What do you women even do in there?”

“I'll be out soon.”

“No, I don't want anything about me in print.”

“Like I told you before, I am gonna read all of your quotes back to you.”

“No, I don't want my name, age or anything about me in there. I'm disposable. I'm a back up singer. My job is to sweeten the band's sound. And I do that only as long as I look good and sound good to them. You dig it?”

“If anyone from a record company reads that I'm up there with an opinion of my own... That I'm a narc... I'll be moppin' floors instead of singing in amphitheaters.”

“Good morning, my whispering coven.”

“Is she sick?”

“Very ill. Death's door.”

“Well, I feel like shit and I'm here. Call her and tell her to come in.”

“People are devastated out there, Y/N.”

“There's devastation in here, too.”

“Detailed eyewitness account from two sources.”

“Great. What did these guys see?”

“The guys are gals.”

“One of the things that stuck with me over the years is what I learned about ancient Roman dentistry. To treat a toothache, they advocated gargling with urine. And it was only after prolonged and ineffectual swishing with piss that an extraction would ultimately be undertaken.”

“This is a three-ring circus, folks.”

“But both of their stories support one another.”

“There are our man-on-the-street interviews, except that they happen to be women with no clout.”

“Oh, God! I knew I could break this story wide open, and I did.”

“You stood me up. For the second night in a row. You lied to me so that you could help them... Are you listening to a word I'm saying?”

“My God, is there a "we" in any of this?

“I'm sorry I stood you up. Twice.

“You turned the ship around.”

“Yeah. That felt pretty good.”

“Please, do not insult me by making this personal.”

“Did you do my job for me yet?”

“I left you two choices. You present me with the same two choices. It's unacceptable.

“Why don't you arm wrestle over it?”

“So boring.”

“Just pretend like you're seriously working.”

I don't want to get fired here, okay?

“Oh, I... I got my period.”

“Is this the first time?”

“That's simply how we do things here. We have rules, protocol.”

“Those rules are dumb.”

“We do not change our modus operandi for one person.”

“Now, clearly, you are a very talented…”

“Clearly, I don't belong here. This is ridiculous. I quit.”

“Well, your name is all you have in journalism.”

“Did you get another job?”

“No, I just got this one.”

[ghostsxagain]

FC meme! Adam Scott, Daniel Ezra, Viola Davis, Alexandra Breckenridge, Sadie Sink and Manny Jacinto!

send me a fc and i’ll make up a character on the spot | accepting!

okay these are amazing choices, thank you so much! Since there are so many lovely characters to create, I’m going to put them under the cut.

I was working on an Adam Scott muse that never really got to see the light of day. His name was Elliott Watson and he was the older brother of my muse Heather. Their parents divorced and it changed the kids. Elliott became almost like a third parent to his siblings, shouldering the responsibilities and caring for them during the transition into shared custody. Because of this, he doesn’t express his own feelings and wants to care for others instead. Would be fun to bring him back and actually flesh him out maybe? He is 45+ years old and works in an office environment.

Scott Jeffries. About 30 years old. Concrete layer at his grandfather’s company. Ambitious, has a great sense of humour, very sensitive. Raised by his grandparents after his parents passed away when he was an infant - very close to them. Makes friends easily and holds them close. Very doting as a romantic partner and likes to care for others. 

Nella Richardson. 50+ years old. Anchorwoman. Has been married and divorced twice (once to a man and once to a woman). She’s extremely independent and used to be quite career driven, but has learned to carve out time for her loved ones after her first divorce. Now she values leisure time and enjoys learning new hobbies and skills. Has a wine night with her gal pals at least once every two weeks. 

Abby May Ryan. Late 30s. Landscaper/gardener. Abby loves the outdoors and will spend as much time outside as she can. Used to work a corporate office job - that’s where she met her ex husband - and hated it. After their divorce she turned to her passion. Has two children that she has primary custody over (two sons). Very silly and playful. Attends therapy regularly and has open communication with her kids. Gentle. 

Poppy Chamberlain. 20 years old. College student, studying math and statistical science. She is the daughter of Ember Chamberlain. She grew up loving puzzles and games, always valuing knowledge. She’s very close to her aunt, even though they have very little in common. She’s bright and friendly, despite being a ‘nerd’ and loves meeting new people. Has completed every escape room currently offered in her town. 

Ronan Padilla. Early 30s. Pilot. Adventurous. Has a hard time sitting still. Hates ‘boring’ dates like just having dinner at a restaurant. Has a step mother that he actually likes, visits his parents often. Oldest of four, including his step siblings. Loves video games but can get bored if they’re too long or repetitive. Can be self deprecating and insecure at times. Knew he wanted to be a pilot from the time he was a little kid, planes always fascinated him.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Green-Eyed Monster (Ethan x MC)

Summary: During a fundraising event for Edenbrook, Ethan’s jealousy gets the better of him.

Warning: NSFW!! 18+

Author’s Note: I wrote this 3 times. I hope you enjoy

2nd Author’s Note: Ethan is canonically rich. And I like reminding y’all of that fact.

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @lion-ess24 @contrerascecile @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey

~v~

The ballroom of the Four Seasons is lit beautifully, the Dom Perignon is flowing freely, and he has some sort of fancy crab cake in his hand, but Ethan couldn’t care less about any of it.

He hates parties. That’s not a secret, everyone knows it and he’s always been vocal about it. The board thought getting all of Boston’s elite hoarded into one room was a sure fire way to get them to open their pockets. And by the looks of it, it is working. But Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the pomp, the circumstance, the luxury of this ball, or the money that went into it.

He has eyes one one thing, and one thing only. Or, one woman only. Naomi Valentine.

There aren’t enough words in any of the languages he’s fluent in to describe the way she looks. Her normally curly hair is bone straight, falling right down her back, a few strands tucked behind her ears. He likes it like this, his view of her face unobstructed.

And her dress. Scarlet red, downright sinful, the neckline so deep and plunging, it shouldn’t be legal to wear it in public, the material clinging to her like a second skin.

He’s been quietly observing her all evening, watching as various men - and some women - fawned over her, flirted with her, flaunting their wealth, as if she cared about any of it. The only thing Naomi wants is for these people to write checks and save their place of employment.

She danced with politicians, attorneys, trust fund babies, real estate developers, the works. She’s currently swaying on the dance floor with some guy, though he can she’s not into the dance. The mystery man is talking, but he’s not holding her attention, not in the slightest.

But the mystery man makes a mistake. Ethan watches as his hand slides down her back, landing on the swell of her behind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Naomi simply twists out of his grasp.

Naomi has the situation under control. He sees that clearly, but Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t like that someone else is touching her, especially so intimately. Anger swells in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t stop him himself, even though he knows he should. He gets up from his seat at the bar, leaving the tiny crab cake, and marches over to where they’re at.

Wanting to make his presence known, Ethan clears his throat. The action garners Naomi’s attention and she stops dancing.

“Ethan!” She exclaims brightly. “How nice to see you.”

“Rookie,” Ethan greets back, purposely ignoring the man she’s standing next to. “Care to dance?”

“She’s a little busy, pal!” Ethan hears the man talking, his shrill voice a nuisance in Ethan’s ear, but still he pays it no mind.

Naomi is nicer than him though. She smiles at the other gentleman politely. “I’ll save a dance for you, Carl! And you can tell me all about your new yacht.”

That seems to do the trick as the man steps aside and walks off.

Ethan holds out a hand for Naomi, which she eagerly accepts. They begin swaying in time to the music. “You looked like you needed a save. That guy was too handsy.”

“I was managing him just fine, but thank you anyway,” Naomi replies. “He was just so dull. Most of these people are.”

“I’d never know it by looking at you. You have a much better poker face than I do.”

“I grew up around people like this. I know how they operate. Give them a few well-placed compliments, and they’re putty in your hands.”

Ethan doesn’t have a reply for her. He just holds her close, vaguely aware of their surroundings. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Red looks good on you.”

“It happens to be my boyfriend’s favorite color,” Naomi explains, her hand mindlessly stroking the back of Ethan’s tuxedo jacket. “I wanted something to really wow him tonight. Do you think it’s working?”

“Oh you have no idea how well your plan is working, Rookie.”

She pulls back only slightly, looking at Ethan’s face. His blue eyes have grown darker. “I think I have some idea the effect I have on him.”

Three months. It’s been three months since that fateful night at Ethan’s apartment where he kissed her. After that, the doctors decided to see if their mutual attraction towards one another was worth exploring.

And while no one else knows of the relationship, opting to keep it just between them for as long as they could, Naomi and Ethan had never been happier.

“You look so beautiful tonight, and every guy in here is ogling you.”

“Ogling?” Naomi rolls her eyes. Ethan could be so dramatic when he wanted.

“Yes, ogling. I’m not a fan of it.”

“Well, you’re going to absolutely hate what happens later,” Naomi says with a sigh.

“Why, what happens later?”

“The auction.” Naomi swallows hard. “I’m one of the doctors participating in the people auction.”

“What?”

“My friends all volunteered, and they signed me up as well. I couldn’t say no, they all think I’m single and it’d just raise too many questions.”

Ethan frowns. The thought of these rich scumbags fighting over a chance to take his girlfriend out on a date didn’t sit well with him. It was annoying enough not being the only one she danced with throughout the evening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Naomi continues. “But they sprung it on me yesterday, and I knew you would be upset. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want anyone else getting a chance to wine and dine you.”

“You worried I’m going to leave you for one of these pretentious bores?” Naomi smiles, teasingly. “You know better than anyone that rich and old happens to be my type.”

Ethan’s hand travels down the small of her back, and he feels her shudder under his featherlight touch. “What did I tell you about calling me old, Naomi?”

“I like seeing you jealous,” Naomi continues.

“Is that right? Was that your plan all along, to make me envious of the other people here tonight?”

She shakes her head. “No, it happens to be an unintended outcome of the evening, but I’m happy nonetheless.”

Without warning, Ethan pulls Naomi flush against him. A quiet groan escapes her upon contact with him. She looks around to see if anyone heard anything. Thankfully, everyone else is too wrapped up in their own dancing.

Ethan lowers his head close to her ear, just to make sure no one else is listening. His breath is warm on her neck and he feels her shift her weight from one foot to the other, squirming. “I’m really tired of sharing you.”

“Oh, really?” Ethan can hear the challenge in her tone. “Well, there’s still a few more hours left in the evening. I think you can be a team player until then.”

“But I don’t want to be a team player.” His hand is on her hip, squeezing so fiercely through her dress, Naomi is sure she’s going to bruise. She likes it. “You, in this god forsaken dress, waltzing around here with men that would kill for even 5 minutes alone with you? How ever will I survive?”

“You’re a patient man,” Naomi says. “You’ll manage.”

Ethan spins Naomi away from him, and she twirls back into his arms. The song that’s playing reaches its crescendo, and he can tell it’ll be over soon. “I won’t. I want you all to myself.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you, all alone with me, in our room,” Ethan whispers.

Naomi surprised him earlier, getting them a suite for the evening. She knew that with all the drinking they’d be doing, driving home was going to be impossible. Plus, it’d be a fun little retreat, a romantic night for just the two of them.

“I want you out of this dress,” Ethan continues. “I want you under me, writhing uncontrollably.”

“Ethan…”

“Saying my name, just like that. Or louder, I’m not a picky man.”

Thank God he’s holding her, because her knees are buckling. Liquid heat pools in the pit of her stomach, and she rests her head on Ethan’s shoulder. She pants hard, trying to keep her composure. They’re in a crowded room, full of colleagues and Boston’s most influential residents, and she’s getting dizzy with desire.

“That sounds fun.”

“You think you can make it upstairs in 10 minutes?” Ethan asks. The song ends and he steps back, letting Naomi go. She wobbles slightly, adjusting to standing on her own two feet.

Once she’s steady, Naomi clears her throat and locks eyes with the man in front of her. “I’ll meet you there in 7.”

~v~

Naomi makes it to their suite in 6 minutes, tops. As soon as she saw him swagger out of the ballroom like the smug jackass that he is, she grabbed another champagne flute and quickly downed it, letting the bubbles coat her tongue. Once she’s done with that, she makes her own exit and heads off to meet Ethan.

Their suite is lovely, with a gorgeous view of Boston Common. On any other day, Naomi would be able to appreciate that, but not now. 

She pushes open the double doors to their bedroom, and she finds Ethan. He’s staring out the window thoughtfully, but her entrance gains his attention.

He checks his watch with a smirk. “You got here sooner than I anticipated.”

“What can I say? You were down there making some pretty hefty claims. I had to see if you were really going to put your money where your mouth is.”

“I plan on putting my mouth on a lot of different places, Rookie.” Ethan shrugs off his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair and he loosens the cuffs of his shirt. Slowly, he walks over to the large king-sized bed and sits casually. Crooking a finger, he summons Naomi over, and she nearly trips over herself in a rush to be near him.

Neither one of them speaks as Ethan silently appraises his girlfriend, figuring out where to start first.

He picks her feet, and he bends down, his fingers reaching her ankle where the shoes are strapped. “How attached are you to these shoes?”

Of all the things he could’ve said, that wasn’t what she was expecting. “W-what?”

“I’m trying to figure out how much care I should exercise with them,” Ethan explains.

“They’re Aquazzura and they cost me $800. If you break the strap or the heel, I can’t be held responsible for whatever harm comes your way.”

“Even if I replace them?”

“Even then.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan carefully unbuckles her heels and she steps out of them. He trails a finger up and down the back of her calf, reveling in the softness of her skin before looking up at her. “Take off your dress.”

“You don’t want to do the honors?”

“Trust me, I do. But if I get my hands on it, I can’t promise that I won’t rip it off of you.”

Naomi’s very tempted to let him do just that, but she reaches around and unzips it herself. It falls to the floor in one fell swoop, and she steps out of it.

The dress didn’t call for a bra, so Ethan is rewarded with an uninterrupted view of her. He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. Naomi in that dress was a vision, but this is her in his favorite form.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her thong and he slides it down. She does the rest of the work and impatiently kicks it away.

And now she’s just standing here, stark naked, subject to his piercing gaze while he’s still fully dressed. The obviousness of the power dynamic makes her shift uncomfortably.

Ethan grabs her hips and pulls her forward, so she can straddle his lap. His hands find her face and he cradles it. “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth crashes against hers, not allowing her the chance to reply to the compliment. 

Naomi grabs hold of his shoulders in order to not fly backwards due to sheer force. Ethan set an undeniable tone. Urgent, hot, demanding. His hands keep her in place, locked in the sensual embrace. Not that she’d ever willingly leave his arms, now or ever.

His tongue invades her mouth, clashing with her own and he groans. He can still taste the champagne on her, something light and bubbly. It’s intoxicating.

All too soon, Ethan breaks the kiss, leaving Naomi breathless and buzzing with energy. His hands leave her face and roam freely, exploring.

“I have a challenge for you,” he says, his lips finding the column of her neck.

He sucks on her pulse, and she finds it hard to concentrate. “Huh?”

“I want you to stay quiet. Absolutely no sounds.”

“I thought you wanted me saying your name.”

“You will,” Ethan assures her, and the promise makes her stomach clench. “But right now I want you to be quiet.”

“And if I don’t keep quiet?” Naomi challenges. Ethan cups one of her breasts in the palm of his hand and squeezes, the pad of his thumb circling her nipple.

“Then you don’t get to cum. I go back downstairs and I leave you here like this.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

With a raised eyebrow, Ethan pulls at her nipple, twisting it between his thumb and index finger. Naomi gasps. “Are you willing to challenge me on that?”

Naomi’s head is fuzzy but she swallows hard. She nods, not willing to test him on this front. “Fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Ethan smiles. “Good.” He kisses her with a renewed energy and his unoccupied hand travels down to her thigh, his nails scraping against the flesh. 

Naomi bucks in his lap. She’s shaking and her fingers are digging into his shoulders. The anticipation of what he’s going to do is killing her and she’s almost afraid to breathe.

His finger slides between her thighs teasingly, and before she gets a chance to respond, Ethan slides a single digit between her folds. It catches her by surprise and she gasps.

Ethan tsks one disapproval. “Silence, Naomi.”

Fuck you, she thinks, but she obeys regardless. Her nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades and she tries her hardest to stay quiet.

He moves at an unnaturally slow pace, not allowing Naomi to settle into a rhythm. Any other time, she’d spur him on. “Harder, deeper, more,” is what she wants to say, but he’s cursed her with silence. Instead she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Ethan continues his torture, enjoying the view. A hot and bothered Naomi is a sight unrivaled, and he’d keep her like this forever if it was possible. He can feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, all the muscles in her thighs and abdomen tight with the effort it’s taking to keep quiet.

He adds another finger and groans. “Fuck, Rookie. You feel so good. So tight, so wet, and all for me.” 

She needs to breathe. Her lungs are tight, her chest heaving against his, but he has her walking a tightrope right now, and one false move can end it all.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Ethan continues, the rough pad of his thumb sliding against once, twice, three times. “And you’re all mine. How did I get so lucky?”

Naomi’s skin flushes furiously. He knows she’s has kink for him talking during sex. On their volition her hips rise and fall, rise and fall, trying to keep pace with him. As soon as she does, his fingers slow down, dragging her from the edge of ecstasy, before speeding up again.

He does this repeatedly, the randomness of his movements making her head spin. Every nerve in her body is on fire, and she can feel the pressure building in the pit of her stomach.

So close, so close, don’t stop, plays in her head on a continuous loop as Ethan keeps working against her. The pressure builds, a heat settling in her veins and before she can stop herself a quiet, “Yes,” slips past her lips.

The energy in the room changed instantly. Ethan stills his fingers, then removes them, and Naomi feels the panic bubbling up and she pulls back to look Ethan in the eye.

“Oh, Naomi,” Ethan frowns.

“Don’t stop.”

“You violated the deal, Rookie. You were supposed to be quiet.”

She could cry in this moment, the frustration too much to bear.

“And you were doing so good,” Ethan adds, kissing the side of her head. “You were so close, weren’t you?” He toys with her, his finger sliding up and down her slit, doing nothing more than teasing her entrance.

When she’s back to herself, and not the ridiculous mess of flesh and lust that he’s reduced her to, she’s going to fucking kill him.

A whimper is pulled from her throat when his fingers plunge into her again.

“Come on, Naomi, I’m allowing you to use your words. Tell me how close you are. Let me know how badly you want to cum. You’re right there.”

Naomi really doesn’t not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, stroking his ridiculous ego, but there’s no room for foolish pride when your boyfriend has his hand between your legs.

She moans, broken and terse. Now that she’s finally allowed to talk again, words escape her.

“Please…” is the only speech she’s finally able to muster up. Groundbreaking.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do to you?” His finger thrusts into her again without warning, slow and languid. “Do you want me to do more of this?”

“Yes! Ethan, please dontfuckingstop!” She’s not sure if the words are coherent, but she doesn’t care. She got them out, and that’s what matters.

Ethan smiles, his mission accomplished. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The teasing doesn’t register because all Naomi can focus on is the pounding of her pulse, the feeling of his hands, the smell of his cologne. She can feel it building again, the fire deep in her core. She’s so close. So cl–

He stops. Again. This time, he wraps an arm around the small of her back and flips them, Naomi’s back hitting the soft down comforter dramatically.

Now she wants to scream at him. “Ethan, I seriously cannot–”

Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to chastise him because in a flash, he’s dropped to his knees, his hands on her ankles pulling her forward on the bed with an unexpected roughness.

“Be as loud as you want now, Naomi. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

His beard scrapes against her inner thigh, and god, she’s glad she convinced him to keep it. Slowly his tongue darts out, flattening against her folds.

Her hips fly off the bed against her will, arching to meet his mouth. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Naomi pulls, keeping him in place. “Fuck!”

The expletive works as encouragement and Ethan continues this work, his tongue alternating between expertly lapping at her folds and flicking against her clit. Naomi grips his hair tighter, earring a deep growl from Ethan. The vibration alone is enough to send her flying.

“Please, right there,” Naomi begs. If he kept it up just a little while longer, she’d finally get to taste the release he’s denied her.

His fingers nudge at her entrance again, sliding in with ease, and lips wrap around her swollen nub and he sucks hard, and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm is something that’s long and drawn out, a culmination of teasing, anticipation and sheer relief. Her entire body goes tense as the sensation holds her in a vice grip, and then finally, she relaxes, falling back onto the bed.

“You okay?”

She can’t tell if Ethan’s genuinely asking or if he’s being cocky. It doesn’t matter either way. “I’m dead. You killed me. RIP Naomi.”

“Yeah?”

Naomi nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because we’re just getting started, Valentine.”

Ethan stands up and quickly unbuttons his shirt, letting it slide to the floor next to her dress. Next are his shoes and pants. Any other time, Naomi would be right there with him, on him liking a second skin, helping him get rid of the clothes, but every bone in her body feels like it’s been replaced with Jell-O. She’s content just watching this time around.

He slides his boxer-briefs off, not intentionally putting on a show, but Naomi can’t help but stare. For all the compliments he pays her, Ethan, naked and painfully hard with arousal for her and her alone, is a masterpiece.

In a flash, he’s all over her, his hands interlocking with hers above her head, pressing her into the mattress. Ethan captures her in a heated kiss the moment he enters her, swallowing whatever guttural sound she was going to make.

His thrusts start out slow and measured, but they quickly grow more frenzied as his control over the situation slips. Naomi arches, desperate to meet his pace, but she’s crushed under him, pretty much immobile.

Needing to do something, Naomi swings her thigh over him, the heel of her foot pressing into his lower back. The pressure forces him deeper, something she didn’t think was possible.

Her head snaps back pressing further into the mattress and Ethan takes advantage, his mouth finding purchase on the exposed skin, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck before sinking his teeth in, biting down hard before soothing the flesh with his tongue.

That’s going to leave a mark, but that’s nothing Naomi can bring herself to care about because the mix of pain and pleasure is heady and all-consuming.

The obnoxious bite is a sign. He wants to claim her, mark his territory. She knows he has a possessive streak, but this is new.7

“Ethan, oh god.”

She can feel him smirking against her, and his thrusts pick up in tempo once more. “Say it again,” he demands, groaning into her skin.

“Ethan,” Naomi repeats, her voice going up an octave. He’s about to make her cum again, she can feel it.

He frees her hands, and while she enjoyed the intimacy of the position, she’s glad to be free. Her hands roam, one gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, the other digging into his shoulder blade. His hands grip her hips, somehow pulling her even closer. 

“How close are you?” Ethan asks, his voice gruff.

“V-very.”

The thrusts become sloppier as they both chase the inevitable release. Soon the only sounds that can be heard are their shallow breaths and their slick skin colliding against each other.

Fire floods Ethan’s veins and he reaches between them, pinching at her bundle of nerves once more. A pleasant growl settles in his chest at the way she clenches around him.

“Let go, Naomi,” Ethan demands. “Right now.”

The command is more than enough to send her over the edge again, her body tensing, toes curling. She comes undone with a silent cry, her nails piercing into the skin of his back.

Her release triggers his own. It doesn’t take much, one more deep thrust and he moans, spilling inside of her, hot and urgent.

He rolls off of her and Naomi inhales deeply, not realizing just how crushing his weight was. Neither one of them says anything for a while, just trying to catch their breath and get their heart rates back down.

“Fuck,” Naomi says, still shaky and breathless. She turns her head and looks at Ethan with a smirk. “I should get you jealous more often.”

~v~

The couple takes their time getting dressed again, not yet ready to go back downstairs. They lazed around in bed for a while before taking the world’s quickest shower and searching for their clothes that are scattered around the suite.

“How long have we been gone?” Naomi asks, sliding on her shoes.

“Too long.”

“I know my friends are wondering where the hell I am.”

“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse.”

 “Of course. I’m nothing if not quick on my feet.” Naomi turns around and sees Ethan readjusting his bow tie in the mirror. She walks over and leans into his side. “Is it bad that I just want to stay up here with you?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“What if I want to tempt you?”

Ethan groans and drops a kiss onto the side of Naomi’s head. “You little seductress. Don’t you have an auction to be a part of?”

“About that, I wasn’t thinking. If you’re really uncomfortable, I won’t do it.”

Ethan dismisses the statement with a hand wave. “Nonsense. You’re a big girl, I trust you, and if you want to do it, you should. Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to make this hospital a lot of money.”

“Okay.” She spins around and poses dramatically. “How do I look?

“Like you just got thoroughly ravished by your boyfriend. Absolutely perfect.”

Naomi makes it back down to the ballroom by herself. It’s later in the evening, so more people are out on the dance floor, and the drinks are still flowing.

Sienna is the first one to spot her. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Were you getting any of my texts?”

“Sorry, Si. I haven’t checked my phone all night.”

“Where the heck have you been?” She asks.

Naomi shrugs, noncommittal. “Wandering around mostly. This hotel is huge, I almost got lost.”

“What happened to your hair?”

Naomi touches the crown of her head. While she was getting freshened up, the humidity of the shower made her curls come back, so she decided to throw it in a messy bun.

“I got really warm,” Naomi explains. “It was too much effort to keep it down, and it was making my neck and back hot.”

Sienna seems to believe the excuse because she simply shrugs and nods. “Okay!” She grabs Naomi’s hand and drags her along. “Come one, Dr. Banerji says it’s almost time to start the auction.”

All of the people participating in the people auction line up on stage, as Naveen acts as the emcee.

It wasn’t just people auctioning themselves off for dates. A Celtics player offered up seats in the VIP suite at their arena, restaurants offering certificates to get private dining experiences, Ethan even offered up his box seats at the Citizens Bank Opera House for one evening.

When they got to actually auctioning off dates, Bryce was naturally a hit, with two women bidding back and forth until $1500 was reached.

“And for our next participant of the evening, we have Dr. Naomi Valentine!”

Naomi steps up to the podium next to Naveen and she’s met with polite applause from the audience. She’s never been shy before, but being part of the crowd and looking down on them are two different experiences.

“Let’s start the bidding at $100.”

“$100!”

“$150!”

“$150, do I hear $200?”

“$250!”

“Someone’s eager!” Naveen teases. “How about $275?”

$400!”

“$450!”

This goes on for a while, various men throwing out numbers, vying for Naomi’s hand.

“$2000!” Naomi scans the crowd and sees it's the guy she was dancing with earlier before Ethan cut in Carl Something or Another.

“$2000! $2000 going once, going twice–”

“$15,000!”

The number is so not what Naomi was expecting to hear, she nearly loses her balance. Holy shit, someone wanted to spend that much money? On her?

Murmurs fill the crowd as the guests all turn to one another, gossiping aloud.

“$15,000 going once, going twice, sold!” Naveen scans the audience and chuckles. “Sold to Edenbrooks’ very own Dr. Ethan Ramsey! Step up and come greet your date, son!”

Naomi’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as Ethan saunters onto the stage, a lopsided grin on his face. Naomi can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in waves.

All of the Edenbrook employees in attendance immediately begin talking. Of course there was talk of Ethan and Naomi maybe being a thing, but this confirms it.

“What on earth are you doing?” She asks, looking around. Everyone’s staring at them.

“Bidding.”

“A small down payment on a house?”

“What? I can afford it.” Ethan shrugs. “Besides, you couldn’t have possibly thought I was going to let someone else get this honor.”

Naomi narrows her eyes at him and laughs. “You know, you’re really crazy when you’re acting possessive and jealous.”

“I know.” Ethan steps forward and wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist. “And you love it.”

“I kind of do.”

He kisses her, earning a few whoops and whistles – and one rogue “Get it, Nay!” from Sienna – from the crowd. When he pulls away, the apples of Naomi’s cheeks are a deep red, not used to this level of attention all at once.

“So, now that I’ve proved my point, how about we get out of here? I think I need to take you on a date that’s worth $15,000.”