#weeks. and with work specifically. and now its leaking over to everything else and i just feel terrible and gross about just existing

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Good riddance to the Open Gaming License

Last week, Gizmodo’s Linda Codega caught a fantastic scoop — a leaked report of Hasbro’s plan to revoke the decades-old Open Gaming License, which subsidiary Wizards Of the Coast promulgated as an allegedly open sandbox for people seeking to extend, remix or improve Dungeons and Dragons:

https://gizmodo.com/dnd-wizards-of-the-coast-ogl-1-1-open-gaming-license-1849950634

The report set off a shitstorm among D&D fans and the broader TTRPG community — not just because it was evidence of yet more enshittification of D&D by a faceless corporate monopolist, but because Hasbro was seemingly poised to take back the commons that RPG players and designers had built over decades, having taken WOTC and the OGL at their word.

Gamers were right to be worried. Giant companies love to rugpull their fans, tempting them into a commons with lofty promises of a system that we will all have a stake in, using the fans for unpaid creative labor, then enclosing the fans’ work and selling it back to them. It’s a tale as old as CDDB and Disgracenote:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CDDB#History

(Disclosure: I am a long-serving volunteer board-member for MetaBrainz, which maintains MusicBrainz, a free, open, community-managed and transparent alternative to Gracenote, explicitly designed to resist the kind of commons-stealing enclosure that led to the CDDB debacle.)

https://musicbrainz.org/

Free/open licenses were invented specifically to prevent this kind of fuckery. First there was the GPL and its successor software licenses, then Creative Commons and its own successors. One important factor in these licenses: they contain the word “irrevocable.” That means that if you build on licensed content, you don’t have to worry about having the license yanked out from under you later. It’s rugproof.

Now, the OGL does not contain the word “irrevocable.” Rather, the OGL is “perpetual.” To a layperson, these two terms may seem interchangeable, but this is one of those fine lawerly distinctions that trip up normies all the time. In lawyerspeak, a “perpetual” license is one whose revocation doesn’t come automatically after a certain time (unlike, say, a one-year car-lease, which automatically terminates at the end of the year). Unless a license is “irrevocable,” the licensor can terminate it whenever they want to.

This is exactly the kind of thing that trips up people who roll their own licenses, and people who trust those licenses. The OGL predates the Creative Commons licenses, but it neatly illustrates the problem with letting corporate lawyers — rather than public-interest nonprofits — unleash “open” licenses on an unsuspecting, legally unsophisticated audience.

The perpetual/irrevocable switcheroo is the least of the problems with the OGL. As Rob Bodine— an actual lawyer, as well as a dice lawyer — wrote back in 2019, the OGL is a grossly defective instrument that is significantly worse than useless.

https://gsllcblog.com/2019/08/26/part3ogl/

The issue lies with what the OGL actually licenses. Decades of copyright maximalism has convinced millions of people that anything you can imagine is “intellectual property,” and that this is indistinguishable from real property, which means that no one can use it without your permission.

The copyrightpilling of the world sets people up for all kinds of scams, because copyright just doesn’t work like that. This wholly erroneous view of copyright grooms normies to be suckers for every sharp grifter who comes along promising that everything imaginable is property-in-waiting (remember SpiceDAO?):

https://onezero.medium.com/crypto-copyright-bdf24f48bf99

Copyright is a lot more complex than “anything you can imagine is your property and that means no one else can use it.” For starters, copyright draws a fundamental distinction between ideas and expression. Copyright does not apply to ideas — the idea, say, of elves and dwarves and such running around a dungeon, killing monsters. That is emphatically not copyrightable.

Copyright also doesn’t cover abstract systems or methods — like, say, a game whose dice-tables follow well-established mathematical formulae to create a “balanced” system for combat and adventuring. Anyone can make one of these, including by copying, improving or modifying an existing one that someone else made. That’s what “uncopyrightable” means.

Finally, there are the exceptions and limitations to copyright — things that you are allowed to do with copyrighted work, without first seeking permission from the creator or copyright’s proprietor. The best-known exception is US law is fair use, a complex doctrine that is often incorrectly characterized as turning on “four factors” that determine whether a use is fair or not.

In reality, the four factors are a starting point that courts are allowed and encouraged to consider when determining the fairness of a use, but some of the most consequential fair use cases in Supreme Court history flunk one, several, or even all of the four factors (for example, the Betamax decision that legalized VCRs in 1984, which fails all four).

Beyond fair use, there are other exceptions and limitations, like the di minimis exemption that allows for incidental uses of tiny fragments of copyrighted work without permission, even if those uses are not fair use. Copyright, in other words, is “fact-intensive,” and there are many ways you can legally use a copyrighted work without a license.

Which brings me back to the OGL, and what, specifically, it licenses. The OGL is a license that only grants you permission to use the things that WOTC can’t copyright — “the game mechanic [including] the methods, procedures, processes and routines.” In other words, the OGL gives you permission to use things you don’t need permission to use.

But maybe the OGL grants you permission to use more things, beyond those things you’re allowed to use anyway? Nope. The OGL specifically exempts:

Product and product line names, logos and identifying marks including trade dress; artifacts; creatures characters; stories, storylines, plots, thematic elements, dialogue, incidents, language, artwork, symbols, designs, depictions, likenesses, formats, poses, concepts, themes and graphic, photographic and other visual or audio representations; names and descriptions of characters, spells, enchantments, personalities, teams, personas, likenesses and special abilities; places, locations, environments, creatures, equipment, magical or supernatural abilities or effects, logos, symbols, or graphic designs; and any other trademark or registered trademark…

Now, there are places where the uncopyrightable parts of D&D mingle with the copyrightable parts, and there’s a legal term for this: merger. Merger came up for gamers in 2018, when the provocateur Robert Hovden got the US Copyright Office to certify copyright in a Magic: The Gathering deck:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/14/angels-and-demons/#owning-culture

If you want to learn more about merger, you need to study up on Kregos and Eckes, which are beautifully explained in the “Open Intellectual Property Casebook,” a free resource created by Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/#q01

Jenkins and Boyle explicitly created their open casebook as an answer to another act of enclosure: a greedy textbook publisher cornered the market on IP textbook and charged every law student — and everyone curious about the law — $200 to learn about merger and other doctrines.

As EFF Senior Staff Attorney Kit Walsh writes in her must-read analysis of the OGL, this means “the only benefit that OGL offers, legally, is that you can copy verbatim some descriptions of some elements that otherwise might arguably rise to the level of copyrightability.”

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/01/beware-gifts-dragons-how-dds-open-gaming-license-may-have-become-trap-creators

But like I said, it’s not just that the OGL fails to give you rights — it actually takes away rights you already have to D&D. That’s because — as Walsh points out — fair use and the other copyright limitations and exceptions give you rights to use D&D content, but the OGL is a contract whereby you surrender those rights, promising only to use D&D stuff according to WOTC’s explicit wishes.

“For example, absent this agreement, you have a legal right to create a work using noncopyrightable elements of D&D or making fair use of copyrightable elements and to say that that work is compatible with Dungeons and Dragons. In many contexts you also have the right to use the logo to name the game (something called “nominative fair use” in trademark law). You can certainly use some of the language, concepts, themes, descriptions, and so forth. Accepting this license almost certainly means signing away rights to use these elements. Like Sauron’s rings of power, the gift of the OGL came with strings attached.”

And here’s where it starts to get interesting. Since the OGL launched in 2000, a huge proportion of game designers have agreed to its terms, tricked into signing away their rights. If Hasbro does go through with canceling the OGL, it will release those game designers from the shitty, deceptive OGL.

According to the leaks, the new OGL is even worse than the original versions — but you don’t have to take those terms! Notwithstanding the fact that the OGL says that “using…Open Game Content” means that you accede to the license terms, that is just not how contracts work.

Walsh: “Contracts require an offer, acceptance, and some kind of value in exchange, called ‘consideration.’ If you sell a game, you are inviting the reader to play it, full stop. Any additional obligations require more than a rote assertion.”

“For someone who wants to make a game that is similar mechanically to Dungeons and Dragons, and even announce that the game is compatible with Dungeons and Dragons, it has always been more advantageous as a matter of law to ignore the OGL.”

Walsh finishes her analysis by pointing to some good licenses, like the GPL and Creative Commons, “written to serve the interests of creative communities, rather than a corporation.” Many open communities — like the programmers who created GNU/Linux, or the music fans who created Musicbrainz, were formed after outrageous acts of enclosure by greedy corporations.

If you’re a game designer who was pissed off because the OGL was getting ganked — and if you’re even more pissed off now that you’ve discovered that the OGL was a piece of shit all along — there’s a lesson there. The OGL tricked a generation of designers into thinking they were building on a commons. They weren’t — but they could.

This is a great moment to start — or contribute to — real open gaming content, licensed under standard, universal licenses like Creative Commons. Rolling your own license has always been a bad idea, comparable to rolling your own encryption in the annals of ways-to-fuck-up-your-own-life-and-the-lives-of-many-others. There is an opportunity here — Hasbro unintentionally proved that gamers want to collaborate on shared gaming systems.

That’s the true lesson here: if you want a commons, you’re not alone. You’ve got company, like Kit Walsh herself, who happens to be a brilliant game-designer who won a Nebula Award for her game “Thirsty Sword Lesbians”:

https://evilhat.com/product/thirsty-sword-lesbians/

[Image ID: A remixed version of David Trampier's 'Eye of Moloch,' the cover of the first edition of the AD&D Player's Handbook. It has been altered so the title reads 'Advanced Copyright Fuckery. Unclear on the Concept. That's Just Not How Licenses Work. No, Seriously.' The eyes of the idol have been replaced by D20s displaying a critical fail '1.' Its chest bears another D20 whose showing face is a copyright symbol.]

[highsviolets]

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :) 

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker​

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

 “as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest.  And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi ​ @goldafterglow @teaofpeach ​ @justrunamok ​ @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination​ // taglist link in bio!

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship. 

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.  

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation. 

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious. 

If you weren’t eating it,  you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective. 

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world. 

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand. 

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it),  he sighs in aggravation. 

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way. 

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about. 

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes. 

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action. 

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so. 

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it. 

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque. 

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity. 

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry. 

"I'm so sorry." 

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity. 

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes. 

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak. 

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+  +  +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was. 

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else  for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?" 

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp. 

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first. 

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly. 

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction. 

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent. 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting. 

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now. 

He nods. 

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest. 

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this. 

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop. 

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway. 

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back. 

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this. 

“How long?” Her tone was strong. 

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded. 

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him. 

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.” 

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment. 

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?" 

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.” 

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment. 

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.” 

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?” 

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.” 

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.” 

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same. 

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days. 

And they were going to make the most of it. 

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody. 

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself. 

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself. 

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak. 

“I want to know you, too.” He says. 

“We will. We have five days.”

 +  +  +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body. 

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers. 

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before. 

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death. 

“What about your father?” She had asked. 

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes. 

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers. 

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.” 

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.  

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.” 

+  +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.   

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .” 

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive. 

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.” 

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?” 

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. 

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze. 

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?” 

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even. 

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her. 

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.” 

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.” 

“Then explain it to me!” 

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. 

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a  white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.” 

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her.  He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat.��

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned. 

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down. 

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad. 

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!” 

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.  

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.  

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”. 

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly. 

+ +

 The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms. 

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him. 

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose. 

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy. 

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her. 

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey.  Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future.  He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him. 

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not  having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away. 

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door. 

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her. 

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick. 

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him. 

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it. 

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her. 

“James.” 

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight. 

Did they and it was slow and tender. 

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud. 

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could. 

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.  

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be. 

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass. 

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

 The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads. 

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly. 

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door. 

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could. 

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.  

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel  Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost. 

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper,  giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.” 

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade. 

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral. 

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.” 

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

 Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?” 

 Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it. 

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance. 

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage. 

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.” 

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.” 

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,” 

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.” 

 Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more. 

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all. 

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much. 

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy, 

 I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too. 

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”. 

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye- 

“James!” 

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting. 

“Be right there, Sergeant.” 

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya. 

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist. 

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time. 

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

 Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older. 

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again. 

She kept begging and begging him non stop. 

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.  

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.  

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,” 

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.” 

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,” 

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up. 

“What’s going on?”  

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.  

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” 

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second.  He wondered what else he possibly had to say. 

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow. 

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could. 

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?” 

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready. 

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye. 

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre. 

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention. 

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up. 

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley. 

“I think you like getting punched.” 

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor. 

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day. 

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him. 

Steve just stared back in boredom. 

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red. 

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes. 

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived. 

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

 Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door. 

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.  

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her. 

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while. 

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way. 

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue. 

Next, she removed his pants. 

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him. 

“Just take it off.” He ordered. 

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. 

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future. 

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan. 

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.  

“Faster.” She moaned. 

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long. 

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o. 

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work. 

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock. 

That did it for him. He whimpered. 

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them.  He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.  

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face.  They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. 

+ + 

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him. 

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra? 

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard. 

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present 

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there. 

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head. 

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck. 

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion. 

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly. 

His eyes were enthralling. 

“There’s no meaning?” 

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later. 

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you. 

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower. 

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze. 

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up. 

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely. 

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available. 

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants. 

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life. 

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes. 

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked. 

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him. 

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him. 

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go. 

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock. 

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy. 

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say. 

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before. 

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder. 

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft. 

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case. 

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed. 

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+  +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre. 

Or maybe he was just that stealthy. 

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time. 

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance. 

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell. 

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen. 

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+  +  +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened. 

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+  +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting. 

You weren’t sure what would happen. 

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you. 

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly. 

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned. 

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it. 

“What the fuck are we doing?”  He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.” 

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

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[echo-of-sounds]

exploratory birthday

-Gang Orca xf!reader-

Headcanons and a smut drabble for Kugo’s birthday! And look how his little nose wiggles like a bunny’s! It’s so cute!

As with most things in a relationship, celebrating his birthday with a partner is new to him. Kugo’s celebrated it before, but there’s a different feel when you’re with your friends, relaxing and laughing with one another. And when you’re beside your partner, it’s intimate, softly praising their life, cherishing their mere presence.

He isn’t completely opposed to a birthday party. Keep it small with his closest friends and he’ll enjoy it. If they’re too many people and too many things going on, he’ll get a little overwhelmed.

To really amaze him, book a hotel room someplace far away for an entire week. Kugo works enough that he’s able to get decent chunks of time off. Use it to your advantage and spend that time together, cuddling, caressing, and kissing in a bed overlooking the sun setting into the ocean, drinking wine, and listening to gentle music.

For a nice afternoon together, lounging on the beach is the best option. The water may be too cold for a swim, but Kugo still appreciates the sounds and smells. And he might go swimming despite the freezing water. His body can tolerate it. Don’t worry, he won’t drag you in.

Museums, zoos, and aquariums are also a good option. He enjoys learning, especially if it’s about something you’re interested in. Love rocks and gems? Take him through the geology exhibit at a museum and explain everything. He’ll listen to every single word with a huge, loving smile.

He doesn’t know how to properly answer the question: ‘What do you want?’ He’ll stare and say something like socks, unable to think of anything else. He doesn’t need nor expect you to get him anything. He has plenty of money to buy whatever he wants.

But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get him a present. Because you should. He deserves plenty of them. 

Clothing is simple and always a good go-to for anyone. Though Kugo does require more specific clothing than those without mutation quirks. There are a few stores he frequents. Contact them and order a new suit, sweatpants, or just a nice T-shirt. His clothes get ruined quickly, so he’s always in need of more.

Firming your voice and pumping yourself up, you slid the sweater off your shoulders and spoke, “You have another present.”

Kugo answered from the couch as he tidied up, “From whom? I thought I opened them all.”

“Me. I was waiting until we were alone. It’s kinda for the both of us. I hope you like it.” You lingered in the doorway for him to turn.

When he finally did, his eyes opened wide.

“You said you liked lingerie. I figured your birthday was a good time to buy some.” He stared. It agitated shame through your body. “Did I not get a good set?” He just stared, not moving, not speaking. You recovered your body with the sweater. “Sorry if it’s wrong or not what you wanted. I thought- I wanted to try something-”

“You’re remarkable.” The pillow fell from his hands. He walked closer and gently pinched the sweater. “May I move this?’

You nodded. It dropped, allowing him to see and fondle your stomach. Palms shaped around to your sides. Your skin pinched between his fingers. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your feet left the floor, turning your reply into a yip. He carried you to the bed, sat you on the edge, spread your legs, and helped himself to you as he pleased. A wet, thick tongue swept over your panties. Hands felt up the thigh-high socks. 

He hummed against you, “Very soft.” His tongue slid under the material, taking a taste. “You’re so soft, everywhere.”

You moaned the further his tongue wormed in, freely twisting and writhing inside. But it left all too quickly. He asked, “What’s this now?”

“It’s your other surprise. I saw it at the shop and wanted to try it.”

Kugo glided your underwear down your legs, sucking in once he saw the pink jeweled heart. Nails clicked against it. Each one ever so slightly fluttered the plug in your ass. He spread your cheeks to see the complete view. “It looks perfect. It suits you beautifully. What?” He questioned your smile.

“Nothing, honey. You’re just cute.” You petted his forehead. The neverending compliments got repetitive, but his curiosity and service were beyond adorable.

“May I?” He grabbed the heart. 

“It’s for you.”

To start his experiment, he twisted it, watching the jewel intently. The plug fluctuated up and down. Next, he gently pulled it, spreading you around its widest part. Right as it was about to pop out, it pushed back in. He purred handsomely, “You really bought this for me?”

Nodding and moaning, your legs opened more to let him play. It sunk as deep as it could go, twisted, and pulled, and sank again. Then it withdrew entirely, suddenly. You whined at the stretch and pop. 

His warm tongue lapped over you in apology. The tingle made you squirm and giggle. “What?”

“No one's ever licked me there. It’s weird. It tickles a little.”

“I should have done this sooner. You taste wonderful,” he groaned gutturally. His tongue returned, waving around, tenderly loosening the muscles, releasing them enough to nudge inside. 

Your hips jerked. The foreign feeling gradually died. Your body accustomed to the wet intrusion, quite enjoying it, hungry for more. “Kugo, it’s-” A thumb massaging your clit induced a cry, “Deeper.”

Two fingers widened your cheeks. It gave him room to push flush against you, rubbing his nose, delving his tongue as far as it could go, dripping saliva, stretching greedily. The thumb pressed and rolled hard, unlike his usual caring motions. 

The slick stroking pushed up, curving your back with an intense moan and tightening muscles. You gripped the sheets through the fall, humping his face, thanking him repeatedly.

When you slumped, his tongue slowly retreated. It left you oddly hollow. You opened your eyes to his naked body and very eager erection. His gaze locked in between your legs. 

But he was big. It couldn’t fit comfortably in your ass. You mumbled, “Kugo, I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Relax, my love. I wasn’t going to. I’m not ready for that either. I’m afraid I’d hurt you.” He rubbed your thighs, kneeling and licking back down to your ass. His tongue only gave a few brushes before the butt plug touched you. It slicked over his spit, tapped your entrance, then playfully poked in, smoothly twirling as it stretched you again.

Once it nestled inside, you reached for his arms and told him, “Lay down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. It is your birthday after all.” He lounged and you straddled him, immediately kissing along his forehead. His skin cooled your lips the lower you grazed. His tongue was out, waiting to sweep into your mouth. The soaked weight drew a long moan from your throat.

You sat up and went to unhook your bra. But he stopped you. “Don’t. Keep it on.”

“You like it that much?”

“It’s beautiful on you.” His hands stroked over your breasts and the bra’s soft material. Reconnecting the kiss, you positioned him. Hands shot to your ass when you lowered. His words jumbled with his tongue in your mouth, “You’re tighter.”

“So you feel it?”

He hummed, holding your body tight as you swayed your hips, testing the new sensations. Between him and the butt plug, you felt as full as ever. He seemed to enjoy it too because his hands never left your chest. His eyes never left your breasts. His mouth never stopped its praise.

You didn’t get to grind for long though. Kugo lifted your thighs for you to bounce. With hands leaning on his chest, you did, moaning every time his head kissed your front wall, sweeping along it tediously. Arousal leaked onto his skin. It sleeked and stuck to yours.

You didn't get to do that for long either. He stilled your hips. “Wait. I want to try something.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Turn around.” You lifted off of him and turned, bracing yourself on his thighs. He lined himself up and, supporting your back, instructed, “Lower onto me.” You did, slowly, hesitantly, feeling him stretch you differently in the different position. 

When you seated fully, he asked, “Are you all set?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Hands smoothed up your sides, carefully pulling you back to lay on his chest. You gasped as the change flattened him firmly against your front wall. The pressure was angelic. He guided your hand to your lower stomach, then your pubic mound. The area swelled with him within.

You sighed his name. Kugo didn’t move at your whining. Nor at your digging nails. Nor at your lame attempts to hump on him. Fingers just pawed all over your stomach, kneading, clutching, sneaking under your bra to pinch your nipples. A heavy tongue washed over your neck and shoulder, sparking sensitivity, lust, need.

“Kugo, move,” you weakly fussed.

Hands drifted bottomward, gripped, lifted you till only his head remained inside, then released, letting you plunge all the way, completely stuffing himself in you. Your moan mixed into a yelp. 

He froze. Concern threaded his voice, “Was that too much?”

“No, I- No, Do it again,” you panted, hooking his arm. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I- Again.” He listened and dropped you just as intensely. “More, please… Please…” 

He did it over and over, hitting hard and deep and so fucking wonderfully. Your eyes rolled back. Your spine curved higher each gorging fall. Yet his hands kept you close, leading your joyride. 

“Fuck me- fuck- more.”

He thrust up, meeting you in the middle, rooting himself deeper, richer, nearly too much, but the pinch of pain only added height to your peak. Lewd sounds gushed out. The sheer luxury and gluttony in you didn’t care. It just felt fucking amazing.

His flattery continued through his slapping and sticking. Your words caught in your throat. You could only grip and moan in his control, waiting for the final fall.

And it came, wet and loud. Your legs straightened. Your muscles went taut. Kugo quickly joined. Dense heat drained from him to you. Claws grated into your skin, holding you down so he could fill you full. It melted the ache his thrusting caused. 

The high ebbed with his cuddling hands. His tongue lapped your jaw. You blindly felt backward for his cheek, tipping him for a kiss. “I love you so much… more than you’ll ever know.”

His hands stopped protectively on your lower stomach, right over where he released. He nuzzled your cheek, whispering, "You're better than anything I could have ever asked for."

You kissed him. Both of you nested on the bed, holding each other, feeling him mix and twitch deep within you.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 30 (12K Follower Special)

(Master Post)

I want to thank you guys for being so patient with this fic. Its hard to believe its been a year since I first wrote part 1. I have been agonizing over this part for so long, I hope you all enjoy it. PS, I would love to hear what you guys think. And please share it around.)

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila used her key to unlock the front door. She quietly entered only to see her mother smiling at her.

“I was wondering where you were. How is everything honey?” Her mother greeted.

Lila put on a smile for her and greeted her with a cheek kiss. She was not expecting to see her mother up. She would have sworn she would be asleep. The work at the embassy often left her mother drained, it was rare when she was up an about at night when she was home.

“I had to slip by the school. Make sure that I had everything I needed for tomorrow.” She answered.

“Studious as always. I am so proud of you.”

“Of course! If I want to be as amazing as you I have to keep up with my school work.”

Lila knew her mother would eat up the flattery. Her mother was a gullible woman that loved to be complimented. She was not stupid, but she was far too trusting. The brunette knew all too well that her mother had often had her kindness taken advantage of by others.

“I was listening to the answering machine messages, and I noticed your principal called. He says that he is glad to have you back from your leave of absence?”

Lila didn’t bother sweating the comment.

“It's an error with the school computer. Remember how my old school had similar issues? I will clear it up this week.”

“Of course. School systems don’t really change much wherever you go, we really need to discuss that at the next meeting.”

“Don’t worry Mamma, I am making the most of it.”

“Mia stellina I know you will. That is why I got you a gift.”

“Oh?”

Lila watched as her mother pulled out a small box that was gift wrapped. Handing it to her daughter.

“I am sorry I had been gone most of last week. Things have been hectic. What with the… oh you don’t need to worry about all that. I saw this on my way back and I was saving it for your birthday, but I figured now would be a good time.”

Lila opened the present to reveal a lovely silver bracelet, with a small charm in the shape of an eye mask. Her mother knew Lila had a love of masks and would make sure that if there was some place she went that was interesting, she would get her a mask from that place.

“Thank you, Mamma, it is lovely.” Lila hugged her mother. Managing to hide how little she actually cared about the gift.

“I knew you would love it. It will look so lovely on you when we go out to dinner with your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“The handsome blond model you told me about. Adrien?”

“Oh! Right. Yes of course. My boyfriend. Though I am not sure he will be able to have dinner with us anytime soon. His father has him on such a strict schedule.”

Mrs. Rossi frowned.

“We can work something out another time. I’d really like to meet him.”

“I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Lila began making her way to her room.

“I think I’m going to get ready for school tomorrow.”

“Alright dear, I will be here all day tomorrow, maybe I can swing by your school and we can have lunch together.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to it.”

Lila closed the door to her room.

She let her fake smile leave her face as she looked at the bracelet.

Tacky

Lila didn’t hate the gift, no, she did like that her mother did take the time to get her something. She just wished her mother could have gotten her something better. But really, Lila couldn’t really expect much despite how hard her mother works.

Lila looked over the bracelet more, her mind wandering as she stared at the little mask charm. It looked reminiscent of the masks worn in Mascaraed balls. Lila had to admit it was very fitting.

Everyone wears masks. People sculpt a persona, a personality in which they deal with people. They wear it as best as they can. People often change their masks as they grow or go to new environments. Lila was well aware of that. She was practically a master of it at this point.

Even her sweet naïve momma wears a mask. The mask that she is happy and doing fulfilling work. Lila knows better than anyone that her mother was practically forced to take this position.

Being a diplomat to Paris was considered the worst option when given a choice. Considering how there are depressed supervillains that pop up and nearly destroy the city several times a week because of a Super Terrorist’s quest for jewelry. Lila remembered how her momma tried so hard to spin this into a positive light. How this was her first role as an ambassador and that if she proved herself, she could choose her next assignment. Lila would have rather had gone to any country other than France, even America was preferable and they have their own craziness to deal with. Nevertheless, her mother did her best to be cheerful as she was thrown into this.

Lila refused to be like that, one’s mask should be the person they want to be, not the person they have to be. She would try out a different persona with each place she went, and sure enough, she would leave with a fun experience just before everything went crumbling down.  She would then start from scratch and no one was the wiser.

Paris turned out to be the best place for this, since everything here is so bizarre here, no one would think twice about looking into a lie that seems outlandish. So, Lila allowed herself to be a bit more reckless with her actions. She had to admit, that her carelessness now needed to be corrected, she had allowed herself to get too lax with how good things have been and it nearly blew her cover 3 times. She needed to fix things.

She snapped back to reality, staring at the bracelet. She still wasn’t a fan of the look, but it was still a gift from her mother.

She would wear it tomorrow for her lunch with her mother. But afterwards she can slip it into her bag or something and forget about it. Her mother would be back to being worked like crazy and forget about it after two weeks.

Her phone began vibrating, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She looked at the number and her eyes went wide. It was Alya.

Did that nosy reporter see her at the school?! No, that can’t be possible. She was likely calling about something else. The Italian exchange student took a calming breath and answered her phone.

“Evening Alya? Whats up”

“Hey girl.” Alya greeted with her usual cheery tone. Alya was doing her best not to be in a fiery rage right now, she needed to be calm. A good reporter keeps calm under pressure. “I am just working on an article for the Ladyblog. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course. So, if it’s for the Ladyblog it must be ladybug related. What do you want to ask about? I am an open book.” Lila matched the cheery tone Alya had given her, she was hiding her absolute disgust over the subject. Ladybug was one of the last people Lila wanted to talk about right now, especially with how that heroine left her locked in a closet during the last akuma attack.

“Oh, it’s about akumatization. You know, that thing with the butterflies that maniacal monster Hawkmoth does to people. I am writing an article of how it impacts people and with how close you are with Ladybug, I figured she might have leaked a detail or two that I wasn’t aware of. Do you mind answering some questions about it?”

This wasn’t a complete lie, Alya was writing about Akumatization, but it was about Lila’s times as an akuma specifically.

“Well I might have a detail or two that could be shared. Ask away!”

Lila knew she had already had a close call with Alya earlier this week, she didn’t want to give the reporter a single reason to think she was a bad person. She could lie about a thing or two if needed to ensure that this line was secure, until she left the girl dangling from a cliff.

“Great! Thanks for doing this. You are a life saver.”

“Glad I can help, so bring on the questions.”

“Right. First question, how many times have you been akumatized?”

Lila was about to answer three, once during her first time in Paris, once during Heroes’ day, and once during her day back, that of course wouldn’t be good. She had said during Heroes’ day she was on a leave of absence outside of Paris. So that won’t do.

“Two. Once on my first day at Dupont, and the second time on my first day back.”

She is Lying

Alya had noticed the lie, Lila had been akumatized at least three times. Once was during her first day, the second time was at Heroes’ day because there were reports of Volpina among the akuma army. If Lila was out of France at that time, Volpina couldn’t have possibly been there. The day she got back had to have been her third time akumatized.

“I see, and during both of those times you felt intense emotional distress. Correct?”

“My memory is a bit fuzzy on them, but yes. I can say that I felt emotionally vulnerable.”

“As expected. And you have no memory of the activities you did while you were an akuma?”

“That is correct. If I was in complete control, there is no way I would have done such awful things.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. Now this question is a bit more of a confirmation, something of a rumor among the Ladyblog. There is some speculation that if you accept the akuma willingly, you will maintain your memory of what happened while as an akuma. Is that something you can confirm?”

“Yes, Ladybug mentioned it once during a conversation. She was worried that Hawkmoth had some ‘Supporters’ that willingly did his bidding. I also believe if the person gives up the akuma willingly back to Hawkmoth they retain their memories during their time as an akuma. But I am not certain of that.” Lila added a touch of some truth to make it appear more legit that she and Ladybug are close. That is some personal information she discovered for herself. Lila was certain that this would ensure Alya trusted her.

Alya was certain Lila was willingly working with Hawkmoth and that she would never trust this liar ever again.

“Oh wow, that is very interesting. So just to assure the readers that you aren’t one of those followers. Have you ever accepted the akuma for yourself willingly?” Alya made sure the question had a lighthearted tone to come off as a joke.

Lila laughed.

“Willingly work with that butterfly creep? You would have to be someone with no empathy to even consider it.”

“One last thing, is it alright if I quote you in my article? If not, I will keep your name out of the…”

“By all means go ahead. I would love to be a part of your work if you want me to be.”

“Alright, I’ve got everything I need. Thanks again Lila. I should have this article out by tomorrow.”

“Anytime. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Lila hung up the phone with a content smile.

She is none the wiser. I even did a little bit of good letting her in on that bit of information on Hawkmoth. That should send some good karma my way

Lila smiled as yawned suddenly. She decided now would be a good time for bed.

_______________________________________________________________________

Alya smiled as she made sure she was off the call.

“Thanks Lila, you have no idea how much help that was.”

She had transcribed the interview into her article as she was talking with the liar.

She read through it to make sure there were no errors

“Alright, and this will be up tomorrow morning after first period.”

She scrolled up to the top page of the article which read:

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

“Now to add the last few edits before going to bed.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The ride back to the Dupain Bakery was quiet for most of it. It seemed to fly by as the two teens held hands while the large mountain of a man drove them back.

Everything felt so surreal. A wonderful breakfast, a pleasant time of checking out the latest exhibits of the Louvre, a peaceful stroll through the park, an intense session of ice skating, and the dramatic confession on the top of the Eiffel tower which did not go as expected, but still went over very well.

“Marinette.”

“Yes Adrien?”

The blond model felt his face heat up a bit as he tried to speak up.

“So… I guess we can cancel that idea of talking things over in a week.” Adrien said with a nervous laugh.

“Yea… I suppose so.” She giggled.

The two were both happy with how things turned out, but both were still sort of shocked on what to do now.

“How are we going to tell the others? Should we text them so they aren’t stunned?”

“I think this is something that would be better told in person.”

“You mean bragged about?” Adrien teased.

“Maybe.”

The two blushed at this before laughing more. They felt like toddlers that were let loose in a candy store. Excited and bubbly.

“So, we tell them tomorrow then?”

“Yes,”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

The limo stops, causing the two to move slightly forward but their seatbelts kept them from moving off the seat.

“I guess this is my stop.”

“Let me get the door for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“And what gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a Lady out of the car?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide for a moment. The way he said that rang familiar. But she shook that out of her head. She was going to stop comparing him to chat noir.

Adrien didn’t notice the brief blank out as he got out of the car to open her side.

Marinette got out of the vehicle and gave him a smile.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Shall I walk with you to the door?”

Marinette gave the polite gentleman teen a kiss on the cheek.

“Here is good enough. If you walked with me to the door, My Parents would likely invite you in, and your father would be upset if you were gone any later than necessary”

“Very true.”

Adrien mentally cursed at the fact that his father had a stick up his ass the size of the Eiffel Tower.

“Good night Marinette.”

“Good night Adrien.”

Marinette walked to her door and used her key to enter the bakery.

Once the door was closed, Adrien went back into the limo, he closed the door and sighed happily.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

The driver said nothing as he began driving the boy home, but he did have a small ghost of a smile on his face. 

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette closed the door behind her before sliding down with a loving sigh. Her legs were jelly.

Her kwami flew out of her bag.

“Seems everything went well.” The ladybug kwami commented with a sly smile.

“I’m dating Adrien Agreste.” Marinette stated blissfully. Her eyes were sparkling as if she had found the 8thwonder of the world.

“I am so happy for you Marinette. I knew you could do it.”

“This must be a dream. All of this is some dream, I’m still in bed and I slept through my alarm. Adrien is actually downstairs waiting and probably regretting every… OW!”

Marinette noticed her kwami had pinched her hand.

“Tikki! Why did you do that?!”

“To prove you were awake.”

Marinette paused before going back to her joyous expression.

“Its real!”

The kwami loved seeing her chosen so happy.

“We should probably head upstairs, you have to tell your parents all about it. I believe your dad was keen on finding out details.”

“Right! I have to tell them everything.”

Marinette had so many people she wanted to tell. Her parents, Alya, the girls, Chat noir…

She felt herself stop.

“Marinette?”

“I’ll have to tell Chat noir.” Her feelings felt a bit jumbled now that this thought was given life. And something told her this would not be as much fun as telling the others, whether it was because of how he would feel or how she feels about it.

“That can wait another time, you can’t just lay on the bakery floor.” Tikki commented, trying to change the mood.

“Good point, I should probably get up.”

Marinette knew she would have to tell the cat sometime, but there would be a right time and place. Right now, was a time to be happy and enjoy the fact that she was dating her crush.

_______________________________________________________________________

Adrien arrived home to see Nathalie waiting at the door.

“And how was your day with Miss Dupain Cheng?” Nathalie inquired, her usual monotone hid her genuine interest.

The blond smiled a bit.

“You will be seeing her around me a lot more, I will need to work with you to rearrange my schedules if I want to be able to have time with her.”

“I see. I will see what I can do.”

“Is father…”

“He is occupied with work, you’ll be able to tell him about your day during your scheduled dinner this upcoming Friday.”

Adrien’s smile faltered slightly, he thought things were going to be different with how his father had shown sudden interest in his life the other day. But this was likely for the best.

“Thank you, Nathalie. I will be heading to my room. Have a good night.”

“You too Adrien.”

Adrien headed to his room. Despite his father’s absence on the matter, he was still in a good mood and he would not let the distance get to him.

His smile blossomed once his door was closed and his kwami companion bursted out of his pocket

“Well done Romeo, you got the girl.” The cat kwami congratulated his wielder as he moved to his stash to help himself to some cheese.

“It’s kind of hard to believe it’s real. It feels like a dream. I didn’t think I could be this happy, Plagg.”

“Well good, you deserve to be happy considering all the crap you go through.” Plagg stated as he found a nice chunk of Camembert with extra stink.

Adrien laid back on his bed, he could just revel in the warmth of this day for a while.

“I wonder how everyone will react to finding out. I kind of want to text Nino and let him know.”

“I don’t really understand the big deal with this reveal stuff. You are acting like this is an unmasking ceremony or something.”

Plagg realized his words may not have been wisely picked.

“That’s right, I will need to let Ladybug know.”

Adrien was silent, his expression hard to read as his words hung in the air.

“You are okay with all of this right?” Plagg asked.

“I did say that no matter who was under that mask, I would love that girl. I meant it, but there are many different types of love. It doesn’t need to be romantic. I think it took me some time to realize that.”

Plagg chomps on to his cheese.

“Well, as long as you are sure.”

Adrien stretched.

“I should get ready for bed”

“Why? It’s still early.”

“I don’t want to be tired when I see Marinette tomorrow.”

Plagg rolled his eyes at the soft smile on the blond’s face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you are actually cheesier then cheese.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Okay Kim, I get it. The guy in the show modified himself to look like a cucumber.”

“Max, you aren’t even listening! It was a pickle! A pickle, Max! I swear it is the funniest…”

Max was distracted. By his phone vibrating.

“Hold on Kim, I got a text from Alya, it might be urgent. I will have to call you back.”

“That’s cool, but I am showing you that clip. It is hilarious. “

Max secretly thankful that he had an excuse to hang up. He loved his friend, but he had weird taste.

Max looked at the text.

Everything is set up, make sure that the mass email goes up after first period starts. We need to have everyone is in class.

Max understood. he would adjust the time that everything got sent out.

Affirmative, Any other last-minute requests?

Max waited for a snarky reply from Alya.

Nah, we’re good. Thanks Again.

Max sent a thumbs up emoji and put the phone to the side.

“Markov. Adjust the timing of the mass email to 15 minutes after first period.”

The robot turned his mechanical screen to his creator.

“Consider it done”

“Thanks Markov.”

Max took a deep breath and called Kim back.

“So, you were saying about the pickle.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila assumed she would be the first to arrive at school. She had made sure to get up earlier than usual so she could slip into the school and make sure everything was set up. To her surprise, she had found the classroom had two students sitting at their desks.

“Alya, Nino. You’re both here early.” Lila did her best not to sound mad about it.

Nino yawned as he drank from the coffee that he had bought with Alya before coming.

“Alya was so hyped about today she couldn’t sleep. So, She called me this morning and asked for a coffee date to help keep her awake.”

Alya was snoozing on her desk face first.

“Maybe get a double shot for her, she seems really exhausted. Wait was this about that paper for the ladyblog she was writing?”

“Wait you know about that?” Nino’s eyes wide, how did Lila know about the article? Was this plan going to backfire? Nino wasn’t sure if he said too much.

“Yea, she called me last night to answer a few questions. She was pretty excited about it. I suppose an article about akumatization would be popular.”

Nino eased himself, it’s clear Lila did not know what was in the article.

“Ah, well she was working on it all weekend.”

“Knowing Alya, that article will be exactly what she needs to get buzz on the blog.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Lila strolled up to her seat, it was clear the exhausted Alya and Drowzy Nino didn’t notice the evidence she had planted under Marinette’s chair. Lila smiled as she thought about how well today would go.

Lila pulled out her stuff and began to survey the classroom. Everything was set up exactly as she had done yesterday. All she needed to do was wait for everyone to show up, and then let the plan go into motion.

Nino sat at his desk, he was pretending to not be paying attention, but he was keeping watch of the devious liar. Lila was sneaky, and his girlfriend was in the middle of a power nap to be observant. Of course, he knew he wasn’t the most convincing fibber, so he would need to be subtle in keeping a close eye on the liar.

Lila had gotten up from her desk and left the classroom for a brief moment. She felt herself shudder.

What is this chill I’m getting, something doesn’t seem right with those two… are they suspicious?

Lila shook the thought out of her head. It was clear that they were just tired, likely on edge from lack of sleep. Getting paranoid would lead to her getting sloppy again. She needed to play this right. Today was the day everything started going her way again.

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette was bubbly on her way to school. She couldn’t wait to tell Alya and the girls all about what happened yesterday. She knew that Alya would probably be over the moon, and something like this could only be said in person, texting would ruin the moment.

“Marinette, you might want to slow down.” Tikki pipped up from her bag. “I think someone is nearby.”

The designer slowed her pace a bit.

Marinette closed her bag and turned around to see a blond teen running up to her.

“Adrien?”

Marinette stopped to let the boy catch up.

“I… I wanted to surprise you at the bakery.” He said between breaths. “I wanted to walk with you to school.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm at the statement.

“But I … miscalculated how far you were from my house and to make up for time… I sprinted.”

“You usually have your bodyguard drive you to class. Is your father okay with you walking to school?”

Adrien finished catching his breath.

“He doesn’t know and it’s probably better that he doesn’t, but I let my bodyguard know in advance. He seemed fine with it… Just as long as I message him when I am at school.”

“Sneaking out of the house to meet with a girl, I didn’t know I was dating a badboy.”

Adrien looked at Marinette with surprise until he realized she was joking. He found himself chuckling.

“Now you know the truth, I also have a leather jacket in my closet.” Adrien said while doing his best to look tough to play up the ‘Bad boy’ look he was trying and failing to portray.

Marinette giggled at that lame attempt. Adrien loved that sound.

“I don’t think I can imagine that. Besides, I like good boys.”

Marinette started walking to school.

Adrien sighed happily before matching her pace to join her.

He reached out his hand to hold hers, still nervous about how to go about this dating thing. Sure enough, Marinette was more than happy to hold his hand.

______________________________________________________________________

“I’m up!” Alya exclaimed as she shot up.

“Aw man! Now the moment is gone. I was going to draw on her face.” A pink haired teen frowned, as she held an open marker in her hand but Nino was standing in between her and the formerly sleeping teen.

The reporter quickly gathered her bearings and looked at the smaller teen.

“Like hell you are going to mark up my face.”

“Well now that you’re awake it’s no fun.” Alix commented with dissatisfaction. “Maybe later.”

Alya rolled her eyes. She is too tired to deal with whatever Alix is up to.

“I’m glad you got up, I wasn’t sure I could hold her off any longer.” Nino sighed in relief.

Alya stretched in order to wake herself up from her lethargic state.

“Did school start yet?”

“Not yet, but most of the class is here”

“Anything suspicious with you-know-who?”

“She was the first one to arrive in class after us. She went outside for about 5 minutes then came back into her seat. After that, nothing weird.”

“Okay, and I guess you didn’t notice anything else.”

“Nothing”

“Okay, and why does Alix want to draw on my face so bad? Did she make a bet with Kim?”

“Kim bet her 10 Euros that she wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“She will be out some cash.”

Chloé walked into the classroom with Sabrina following shortly behind. It was apparent that the mayor’s daughter was in a mood.

She looked up to Max’s seat and moved her way up. The robot enthusiast didn’t realize she was there until she slammed her hand on his desk. The sudden action startled him and made him look up at the clearly driven teen.

“I did some digging about your little app.” Chloé spat with disgust.

It took Max a moment to figure out what she was referring to.

“Oh, you mean ‘Soulmate Searcher.”

“I know all about that Soulmate Survey bull crap.”

Max had lost interest in that whole thing after he had some more startling information revealed to him. He had even forgot about the argument he had with Chloé.

“Wait, you’re still hung up on that?”

“You were the one talking about how smart and junk it was. I had Sabrina do some digging.”

Max looked to Sabrina, the poor ginger haired girl had a rough night. Likely researching for Chloé.

“Look, I kind of moved past looking into it. So, let’s just agree to disagree and move on.”

Chloé glared at the glasses wearing teen and snapped her fingers.

On cue, Sabrina dumped at least a couple dozen pages on the desk.

Max really didn’t care about this right now, he had a much more important objective to focus on, this was an annoying distraction.

Astonishingly it was Nathanael that picked up a few of the articles.

“These are all written by the same guy.” The artist commented as he kept changing articles to see if there was a second opinion by someone else.

Curious, some of the other classmates moved to the pile of papers.

“Some of these are also old articles, like back when the app wasn’t even a thing here.” Myléne chimed in.

“One of the articles even has an author’s note on the bottom that says that this article holds inaccuracies that no longer apply.” Rose Quipped.

Chloé turned a fiery gaze at Sabrina.

“I told you to research thoroughly!”

“You told me to find anything that was written dismissing the app as fake. This was what I was able to find…”

Chloé grumbled.

“Whatever! I know that app is crap.”

Chloé stormed down to her desk and threw herself on her seat, only to hear a creaking noise and then fall with a painful slam to the floor. The loud noise blocking out the sound of the morning bell.

Chloé’s scream was loud enough to draw the attention of Miss Bustier who ran into the room.

“Is everyone alright? I heard a scream?” The young teacher clearly frantic with worry.

The class was silent as the teacher noticed Chloé on the floor clearly in pain from her bench seat that had fallen apart.

Lila was the first to speak up.

“Chloé’s seat fell apart.”

Lila dashed down to Chloé.

“Are you alright Chloé, that looked like it hurt.” Lila offered her hand to the fallen student.

Chloé took Lila’s hand up and grumbled as she covered her bruised tailbone.

“I want whoever made the seat fired and jailed!”

“It probably broke from the weight of your ego.” Juleka commented dryly.

Chloé turned to the long-haired teen with a grimace.

“I bet you did this you, emo freak!”

“Chloé! We do not insult our classmates.” Miss Bustier scolded. “I understand you are hurt from the fall, but it isn’t right to lash out at your classmates. Apologize to Juleka.”

Chloé moved turned away from the class with a huff.

“I am not saying anything until the jerk that destroyed my seat pays.”

Alya took notice that Lila was digging through the seat. What could she be…”

“Umm, I found something…” Lila’s words caught the classes attention.

Lila pulled out a hair tie that looked familiar.

“Isn’t that Marinette’s Hair tie?” Sabrina piped up.

‘That manipulative bitch! Lila did this!” Alya felt her thoughts scream at her.

“I knew that she was in on this! She made sure she wasn’t here to catch me off guard!”

“It could just be a coincidence.” Lila spoke out. “Marinette isn’t even here yet. It might have gotten lost under here by accident.”

Alya felt her mind screech, this wasn’t adding up, why would Lila bother with the hair tie? What was Lila planning?

Most of the class had gotten out of their seats to look to see the situation.

Max took a closer look at the collapsed seat.

“There are no breaks in the boards, and no screws or bolts to be found. I calculate a 98.7% chance that someone must have removed them from the chair. Someone did sabotage Chloé’s seat.”

The class gasped in surprise.

“I knew it! And I bet it was Marinette that did it!”

“Marinette would never do such a thing!” Alya jumped up. “I know my girl would not stoop to something like this, even if it is Chloé.”

“Perhaps we can check her locker. If there is nothing involving the seat we can clear her.”

“Wait! You can’t just invade Marinette’s privacy.”

Miss Bustier pondered for a moment.

“If we are going to search Marinette’s locker, she will need to be present. She should give her consent before we invade her space.”

“But if she is responsible she would obviously not want us to check!” Chloé shouted. “I will call my daddy and he will have the cops on the case!”

“T-That won’t be necessary!” Miss Bustier eased. She hated how much influence Chloé had thanks to her father’s position. She couldn’t just punish Chloé or simply tell her not to act out. Principal Damocles made sure to explain the delicate balance they had to maintain thanks to Chloé’s presence. She can’t teach her students if Chloé starts getting the police involved.

“I will discuss the concern with the Principal. I am sure he will make the right call and we will decide how to go about this. In the meantime, everyone please sit in your seats. Chloé, if you are still hurt, please have someone escort you to the nurse’s office.”

“I will not be leaving until I get whoever did this expelled.” Chloé hissed.

“In that case, sit in one of the open seats until we can get the seat fixed. Sabrina, you as well.”

The red head teacher made her way out of the classroom.

Chloé turned her attention to the class.

“Alright, I don’t care what Bustier says, Marinette clearly was responsible for destroying my chair and I want some justice!”

“Chloé, just because Marinette’s hair tie was under the desk doesn’t mean that she did it. Besides, when could she have done it?” Ivan pointed out.

“Well then who else could have done it?”

“To be fair, all of us pretty much hate your guts, it could be anyone.” Alix commented as she leaned back.

“So, you admit you did it!”

“I wish! But nah, this wasn’t my handy work. I would have signed it. Because that, would be art.”

The tomato haired artist chuckled at his friend’s comment. Alix gave him a quick fistbump.

Chloé growled.

“You have just as much of an idea who did this as we all do.” Myléne stated firmly.

“Sabrina!”

“Yes Chloé?”

“Who have I wronged in this classroom?”

“Um… everyone.”

“I meant recently.”

“Right… lets see…”

Sabrina went into her phone.

“You had that argument with Max about the app, insulted Myléne’s favorite charity and called the cause stupid, Told Rosé that the reason Prince Ali hasn’t written back to her in the last few weeks was because he was sick of her, told kim his swim cap makes him look like a bowling pin, mocked Nathanael and Alix’s art project collaboration, and… Oh! You also made fun of Marinette’s design sketches. I think that was it for last week. It was a light week.”

“So, there are the obvious suspects.” Chloé exclaimed with a smirk.

“Now if Marinette would get here we would have a perfect line up.”

Lila smirked at the little show, this was all going perfectly. Naturally Marinette would show up just as Miss Bustier got the principal involved. That would lead to the search of the designer’s locker, where Lila had expertly planted the screws and tools that she used to dismantle Chloé’s seat, along with items that she took from other lockers, including her own stuff to make sure Marinette got punished. Based on what she knew, that would be enough to get Marinette suspended, possibly expelled. Either one would work out wonderfully, and with that she could start destroying each person she cared about one by one.

“What about a line up?” a teen boy voice called out.

Chloé turned to see Adrien and Marinette entering the classroom.

The room was silent as the two teens walked in. The whole class watching the duo intently, as if seeing something quite shocking.

“Is something wrong?” Marinette inquired, looking around the room.

She noticed the dismantled bench seat.

“Chloé what happened to your seat?”

Chloé’s jaw opened as she approached.

“Forget the seat! What is this!” She gestured to the two with clear shock and disgust.

Adrien and Marinette look at the mayor’s daughter with confusion before looking at what she was gesturing to. The two realized they had been holding hands the entire time.

“Oh, I think we all know what it is.” Alya’s comment burst through the silence, a smug smile on her face.

“But it would be best to hear it from them.” Nino chimed in, assisting his girlfriend in the playful ribbing of their best friends.

Marinette and Adrien felt their faces turn red and they let go of the other’s hand.

“Well actually its uh, my hand was… I mean his hand was… I …” Marinette tried to get the words out but felt her mouth failing her.

Adrien put his hand on her shoulder.

“Is it wrong for a guy to hold hands with a girl he is dating?”

Marinette felt her heart in her ears as he said that.

Adrien then looks to Nino.

“It is right? Im still new to this and the shows I watched kind of made it a big deal so Im not sure.”  He whispers.

Nino nods.

Adrien looks back at Chloé now more assured.

“This is ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!”

Chloé stomped away from the two, just unable to handle the truth.

The mayor’s daughter walked out the door complaining about how she was going to be sick at this.

The class quickly swarmed the around the new couple and Alya slipped back to allow the class to ask them questions. She would get the details later.

Lila felt herself seething despite the smile she had on her face. This was not how things were supposed to be going. Even with her plan, Marinette won’t be miserable.

“Not going in?” Alya asked,

“Huh? Oh, I am sure I can ask questions later. Everyone has been waiting on this longer then I have.” The brunette commented as she kept up her façade.

She would have a word with Gabriel about this… actually she might not have to. If her plan goes well, Gabriel would never let Adrien be with someone that could besmirch the Gabriel brand. If word got out that Adrien’s new girl was kicked out of school, the tabloids would rip the girl apart for her. That thought soothed her.

“Besides, we should be concerned about what happened with Chloé’s seat. Max did say it was sabotage. We should focus on getting to the bottom of that.”

Alya looked at the clock. She noticed with everything going on, it was well into first period.

“I think something more important will come up.”

Alya went back to her desk with a sly smile on her face.

Lila felt a chill go down her spine. What did she mean by that?

As if on cue, everyone noticed their phones going off.

The class stop asking the couple questions as they look at their phones, wondering what was with the sudden message

Lila quickly pulled out her phone. Her face went pale as she looked at the attachment titled.

‘The True face of Lila Rossi’

______________________________________________________________________

Mr. Damocles was staring at his computer with shock as Miss Bustier stood in the room.

“It’s unbelievable… the records that we were waiting on for Miss Rossi are all here.”  The principle spoke in bewilderment.

The young teacher watched as Mr.Damocles looked through each file.

“So many reprimands… dozens of student and teacher complaints…. False doctor’s notes…”

“This can’t be real, right? Lila has been a good student. Sure, she had a leave of absence but that was because she was abroad with her mother.”

“These documents are all legitimate. They are all from the previous school Miss Rossi attended, she had failed to notify us of any of the following when she was enrolled here! We could never have accepted a student with such a notorious record.” The principal sternly noted.

“Mr.Damocles please, it could be possible that Miss Rossi was scared about the whole situation. Perhaps this was her chance to start things right.”

“Caline, your kindness and compassion for your students is quite admirable, however, these records still show that there was a lot Miss Rossi has been hiding from us. I will be requesting that she and her mother have a discussion with me. After that, we will decide on whether she can stay Dupont.”

“But what about the issue with Chloé’s chair?”

“You mentioned that Chloé is not injured? Then it can wait until after we sort things out with Miss Rossi.”

“Understood.”

The young teacher left the office, she began to start questioning her actions as a teacher. Was Lila really a bad egg? Was she an awful teacher for not realizing that Lila had been lying to her? She stopped at the door to her classroom when she heard the sound of her students talking.

______________________________________________________________________________

Lila could feel everything falling apart around her as she watched her classmates look at their phones with interest.

She needed to find a way out of this. She needed to think of something fast.

“Lila, is this true?” Nathanael asked in surprise.

The rest of the class looking up from their phones, their expressions a mix of anger, hurt and shock. Marinette and Adrien seemed to be the only ones that seemed unsurprised by the message.

Lila racked her brain for several seconds, until the perfect lie crafted itself in her brain.

Lila fell to her knees and started to cry.

“I thought I was free of that cyber bully from my old school…” Her words hitting the right notes.

“Cyber bully?” Rose spoke up.

Lila knew she had landed one person that was willing to believe. And much like a composer, she crafted her symphony of deceit.

“Yes, you see. Back at my old school, there was this guy I was friends with. He was a smart guy with computers, almost as smart as Max.”

“Wait, if you were friends, why is he bullying you?” Kim inquired.

Most of the class was being pulled in by Lila’s thread.

“He had a huge crush on me, while I did think he was nice, I just couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend. I told him that after he confessed to me. After that however, things started to turn bad. It started out with some minor things, a couple of spam emails, a text with a pop up scare. I could tell he was hurt so I didn’t call him out on it, I was sure he would heal and things could go back to normal… but then he started getting worse.”

“He started hacking into my phone, sending out messages to my other friends, making it seem like I hated them.” Lila made her voice more frantic, as if living through a trauma.

She could tell the class that had been looking at the phones with rage were now back under her thumb, she had them.

“I lost all of my friends, no matter what I tried to say, they shut me off. That guy destroyed my friend group. I went up to him and demanded he come clean. He refused, laughing as he insulted me. He had decided he was going to ruin my life.”

Kim went to the teacher’s desk to get Lila the tissue box.

Lila looked up at the swimmer.

“Thank you.”

She took a tissue to dab her eyes.

“The jerk then hacked into the school’s records, changing my grades, my attendence, he even messed with my medical records at the school! It was hell!”

“Lila…” Myléne moved to her side.

“So, when my Mom got the job to work at the French embassy here, I was so excited. I could finally get away from that cruel monster’s clutches… but so much for that! Now you all hate me and think I am this awful person!” Lila cried into her arms.

“We don’t think that!”

“Of course, we wouldn’t believe that!”

Lila hid her sinister grin as she heard the comments of her classmates. She had easily pulled the wool over their eyes. Much like before she had escaped the jaws of defeat with her deception.

Until the sound of her voice was coming from another source.

Lila looked up and felt the world shake as the horror she assumed she avoided was being undone by what she had gone so far to get rid of. The recording.

“Of course, it was all lies. Knowing Spielberg? Being friends with a prince? All of those outlandish lies and yet everyone ate it up so easily. I don’t know whether it’s something in la seine but everyone here is super gullible. Everyone in that class is stupid enough to believe anything! I didn’t even try to come up with clever lies. Have none of them even heard of Google? I was able to have them eating out of the palm of my hand like the sheep they are. So when I say I could ruin your life Marinette, I can ruin your life without even lifting a finger.”

Alya paused the recording.

“That… that isn’t me! That was clearly an edited audio file!”

But at this point, everyone in the class had stopped buying into Lila’s words.

“There’s an additional 44 minutes on here that say otherwise.” Alya’s statement was like a dagger in the leg. “

The class backed away from Lila, their expressions were all the same now. They were not happy with her. They were hurt.

“Lila… how could you?” Rose spoke softly, as if holding back tears.

Juleka hugged her close.

“We gave you our friendship?”

“You threatened our friend!” Kim shouted angrily.

“We trusted you!”

“Did you even care about us?”

A sea of comments from each student that was hurt by the revelation started to fill the room.

Adrien and Marinette’s expressions read more as surprise than anything else. The two had no idea Lila would be exposed like this. The class was hurt by Lila’s actions, and now she was paying the price.

Marinette moved to where alya was.

“So, this was why you were so busy.”

“Yea, and I see I wasn’t the only one whose been busy.”

Marinette had a soft smile with her friend’s comment.

“You’re the best. You know that, right?”

“No, If I was I would’ve had your back sooner. I’m sorry it took so long to come around.”

“You are still the best.”

Alya hugged the designer.

“I’m serious, after this. I want details on you and Mr. Model.”

“Deal.”

Lila did her best to try and contest the comments, trying to find some way to dispute them, but her words were falling on deaf ears. She could tell that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, it was over. She had lost.

Lila turned her attention to Marinette, her eyes seeing red.

“You, this was all your doing!”

Adrien went in front of Marinette, as if to protect her in case Lila tries to attack her.

“No Lila, you did this to yourself.” The words coming from the blond were colder then ice.

“Adrien, you don’t seriously believe all this…”

“I tried to be your friend, we all did. But you lied to our faces, you hurt our friends, you threatened Marinette. Those are things I can’t forgive.”

Lila glared at Marinette.

“Are you going to hide behind him! Have you nothing to say!?”

Marinette expected to have a whole speech ready the moment the truth was revealed, but she never expected everything to fall into place like this. Marinette felt pity for the exposed liar.

She walked past Adrien and looked into Lila’s eyes.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t think the real you was good enough for us to get to  know.”

Lila acted as if she had been struck in the face. She lost the last of what remained of her tact. She was being pitied!

“You will pay for this! You don’t get to ruin my life without consequences!”

“Is it because you’re getting an akuma from your buddy, Hawkmoth?”

Everyone turned to the ladyblogger, who pointed to her phone.

“You might want to check the Ladyblog.”

Lila suddenly felt a pit of unfathomable despair hit her. What had that blogger done?

Lila forced herself to go to the ladyblog, and on the front page on the site.

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

Right underneath was security footage of her grabbing an akuma for herself.

This was the absolute worst-case scenario.

Lila ran to the door. She needed to leave. She needed to escape. She needed some way to clean all of this up, but she was stopped. A clearly distraught teacher at the door. Tears rolling down her face and expression that no student has ever seen on the young teacher’s face. Sorrow.

“Lila, I need you to come to the Principal’s office.”

Everyone stood by and watched silently as Miss Bustier took the lying student away.

____________________________________________________________________

“Miss Bustier it isn’t what you think!”

The young teacher didn’t say a word as Lila tried to talk her way out. She was hurt by her students lies, the anguish she put her other students through, and never once looked into it. She felt like a failure of a teacher, she had defended her and this was what she came to find? It was unforgivable.”

She had brought the girl to Mr.Damocles’ office.

“Sit down Miss Rossi.” The owl-like man in the chair stated firmly.

Lila obeyed as Miss Bustier wiped her tears and looked at the Principal.

“Sir, I have some rather disturbing news I found out about Lila.”

“No need Caline. I had found the recording at the end of the documents.”

Lila couldn’t feel more mortified by this. This was some kind of twisted nightmare.

Lila of course wasn’t expecting the next person to walk through the door.

“Mamma?”

______________________________________________________________________________

A masked villain smiled as the window opened to let light into the empty room.

“This is it! This was the anguish I was waiting for! Lila Rossi, you will be my greatest akuma yet.”

He took a butterfly into his hand and turned into an akuma.

“Fly away my little akuma! And evilize her!”

The black buttefly left the lair and began to fly out and find the source of the negative energy.

“Mayura, it is your turn.”

The blue clad villainess step forward, plucking a feather from her fan and turning it a sinister blue.

She blows the feather away into the wind, following the butterfly.

“Fly away my beautiful amok, enhance and hone that despair into a mighty power.”

The two villains watch the sky light as they await to make contact.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. This will be the end of Ladybug and Chat noir.”

Lila ran out of the school, it was bad enough that people found out the truth about her, But her momma?! She couldn’t watch her mother’s heart break as she learned the truth. She ran out of the office before they said anything to her.

‘I need to find a way out of this. Marinette and Alya ruined everything! Now I am the class outcast and what’s worse, my momma is going to find out everything! I need to stop this! I need to get everyone back under my control.

Lila made her way to an alley way and hid behind a dumpster. She wasn’t sure if she was being followed, but she could not risk it. Perhaps she could talk with Mr. Agreste, he could pull enough strings that could… no, he would likely dismiss her. Her usefulness was done. With everyone against her, there was no way she could do anything.

She sat and let her despair run over her. There was nothing she could do, she felt so powerless. Everything she had been building up to. Everything she had wanted was all in reach… and yet it was ripped away from her! She would do anything to have things back to how they were, back when she was in charge!

She heard something approaching. She looked up, clearly not ready to face her punishment. But what she didn’t expect to see was a butterfly coming her way.

The butterfly made its way to the silver charm bracelet on her wrist and a feather made its way into her earing. A butterfly outline appeared over her face.

“The despair of having everything you have built come crashing down.” A familiar deep voice spoke

“All of that effort dashed in one catastrophic moment.” A feminine voice continued the line, a new yet equally sinister tone.

“You were the queen of deception until they shattered your crown”

“The pain you have suffered by that horrible event.”

“What you wouldn’t give to fix everything and gain that power over others you once had.”

“Hawkmoth, so you show yourself. I was thinking you forgot all about me. And it seems you made a new friend.” Lila interrupted their eerie rhyme.

“Oh, as if I couldn’t forget about my most competent akuma.” Hawkmoth Praised.

“I am Mayura, partner of Hawkmoth, I have been watching you closely Miss Rossi.” Mayura introduced herself. “It appears you have yourself in a much more devastating predicament then before.”

“It’s all your akuma’s fault, it’s all Marinette’s fault… Its all of their faults!’

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I am going to give you the power to get those classmates of yours back under your power, no, all of Paris under your control. You will topple Paris with an army of unquestionably loyal akuma.”

“And I will give you an ally that will obey any order from you without question.”

The Italian Exchange student loved the sound of that.

“Let me guess, all I need to do is to get Ladybug and Chat noir’s miraculous.”

“Good girl. Do we have a deal?”

“Crushing Ladybug will be therapeutic right about now. I’ll have that entire school under my foot, along with those miserable brats that ruined my life.”

“Very well! I grant you the power to reveal the akuma lying underneath each person with your masks! Show the world who you truly are, Masquerade.”

_____________________________________________________________________

(And that was Part 30! Thank you guys so much for reading up to this point. This was a long time coming. I hope it reached your expectations. Now remember to say what you think of the chapter, good, bad. I want to hear your thoughts. Is it worth seeing Part 31?

Now, I did mention that I will be announcing a new contest. Which After this reaches 1k notes I will be officially announcing.)

(If you want to support me directly, check out my ko-fi. Or if you want to support indirectly, take a look at the webcomic I am writing with @knightsweeties)

Special Honorary Tags: @martasaur @dootintootincowboy @inno-chan @tenten-hinamori @bevvydraws @worteltje7

[ribbononline]

Now that Desolation is up I can finally post the long awaited(kind of) rocket headcanon post

This is technically a sequel to this post about my HCs for their childhoods so some of these might not make as much sense unless you’ve read the previous part!

-After graduating, it became time to go job searching for a full time job. They went into it pretty excited and hopeful to get their life going together, but… things didn’t really work out that way. They struggled getting jobs that’d allow them to pay the bills, and they really didn’t want to rely on Archie’s family anymore then they already had.

It was a stressful time, but not one where they ever got upset at each other about it. They were in it together, and they’d get out of it together! And then Maxie got a job offer that sounded exactly like something he had been looking for… all the way in Kanto. After discussing some things, the company even extended an offer to Archie, albeit for a position he was less excited about. Neither of them were excited to leave Hoenn, but they did realise things just weren’t working out here for now, so they made the decision to go, get some job credits over in Kanto, and come back with the money and experience to get a better start in Hoenn.

-When they arrived in Kanto and got to work at the company of team Rocket, things started out relatively normal. Maxie had gotten a job as a scientist, researching evolution stones, how to recreate them, and to see if it was possible to make evolution stones that could trigger Pokémon that normally evolved trough other means to evolve with stones instead. Maxie didn’t truly see the point of the last part, but Rocket was very interested in seeing if they could force Pokémon to evolve. They had no interest in marine biology however, so Archie got stuck with odd jobs as a grunt. He didn’t really enjoy it, but he made do.

-That was… until things started going wrong. Higher ups got more aggressive, deals got more shady, news around Rocket got.. concerning… Eventually they both decided that it might be for the best to leave- only to be met the next day with another employee that mentioned they wanted to leave… with their arm entirely burnt up, refusing to talk about what happened.

After that, the higher ups on their branch started pulling aside employees one by one, explaining the data they had on them helping with Rocket projects and (unknowingly) helping with criminal acts. Threatening to leak that information to the police (and getting creative with a bunch of other side threats) leaving became a hard option.

-From that point on, things started going from bad to worse. Workload piled up for Maxie, and the tasks Archie was getting were more explicitly bad and illegal work.

-Due to Rocket’s nature, some of Archie’s tasks as a grunt included stealing or harming Pokémon in some way, which really tore his mental state in half. The depression he’d been struggling to keep under control got worse and worse and he often switched between states of apathy and states of just feeling horrible about the state of the world and his own position he was in.

-Maxie was being forced to work longer and longer hours, especially once a child with a Charizard started attacking other Rocket bases and the remaining ones had to work extra to make up for it. As a result he didn’t get to be home with Archie often, and even if he was, he was usually sleep deprived and stressed.

He did notice Archie wasn’t acting quite his usual self, but Archie didn’t seem to be too keen on talking about it, and Maxie usually ended up chalking it up due to the general stress of being here. Due to stress he was under himself he never really recognised anything more serious going on.

-Maxie never worked much with Pokémon, instead being more surrounded by other scientists in similar positions as himself. Seeing all control over his life slip out from under him and into a place he never wanted it to go for, he started feeling desperate to do something good. Something to prove that he was more then this, and that he could earn his place in the world. And thus, when accidentally stumbling over some articles about the red and blue orb when researching evolution stones the first thoughts to raise Groudon came up.

-Looking into Groudon and Kyogre on his own time, Maxie ended up being home even less, even less attentive due to sleep deprivation when he was there, and Archie ended up withdrawing more and more into himself. He was still doing his best to pretend he was fine for Maxie’s sake, but at this point he was also starting to have darker thoughts about the best way to deal with situations like Rocket that harmed Pokémon in the way he was being made to.

-So the day Maxie came home and finally explained to him what he’d been looking into- and the possibilities that Groudon could bring- made Archie very interested. Specifically however, into Kyogre.

-As Maxie was hatching his plan on how to make the world a better place by helping humanity to a better place, Archie saw it as a naïve idea. He understood where Maxie was coming from, but he couldn’t respect it. At the end of the day, Archie saw it as something that’d only worsen the problem- humans.

So one day, he confronted Maxie with that, and proposed an alternate solution; raise Kyogre and reset the world to its unspoiled beginnings.

-Maxie, who was still on the high of the idea of being able to do something good once they were out of this place, was not into the idea of genocide at all. Not understanding why Archie would ever suggest something like it, it just led to a lot of yelling about ‚why are you suggesting murder oh my god??', which caused Archie to draw into himself more, which led to more confused and upset yelling from Maxie because ‚why are you not talking to me and why did you suggest. MURDER?‘ , et cetera. When trying to approach it more rationally to see if he could talk Archie down and understand, Archie still never said much and Maxie due to the stress of everything only got upset again. It was a bad period for both of them.

Maxie didn’t get why his boyfriend was suddenly proposing mass murder and refusing to talk, Archie felt like his boyfriend would never be able to understand his point of view and would only worsen the state of the world with misguided idealism.

-This led to a couple weeks of this. Maxie trying to talk, Archie being unresponsive, Maxie getting upset, Archie still not really responding, cycle repeat. Still, Maxie kept feeling that eventually he’d just be able to snap Archie out of it- they never fought about anything else! The morality of genocide was just a pretty big topic to disagree on- and get everything back to ‚normal‘ again. Archie meanwhile was starting to feel like the only way to solve the current problem they were dealing with was to split ways.

That said, despite all their fighting as of late, he knew Maxie would be heartbroken if he broke that news to him, and just.. didn’t want to. So he didn’t.

-Instead, when Maxie was out late for work again one night, Archie packed his bags, his Pokémon, and without a single word left in the middle of the night on a ferry back to Hoenn. One of the two Poochyena pups Maxie had originally taken from home with him had grown close to Archie over the years and became his Pokémon back in college, so it stayed with him.

-When Maxie came home to a half empty apartment and realised what happened, he was in fact, heartbroken. After a bad freakout and desperately trying to contact Archie in some way, realisation settled in that his boyfriend just left him over genocide. And despair gave way to a deep, bitter hatefulness.

-Due to Archie having left and Rocket not being too pleased about potential insider information possibly being spilled, they upped security for a while making it harder to leave. This didn’t help the growing grudge for Maxie. When he did finally manage to sneak his way out due to Red causing Rocket to go entirely off balance, he left both with the desire to better the world, and the desire to win.

originally i was gonna add the hcs for how the teams got started here too but its already long enough like this so uhm. Next time!

Masterpost of ORAS HC stuff

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 ⧼𝑏. 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠⧽

A/N: It’s almost a new year! Figured I’d finish this one off with a bang. Literally. Okay, I’ll shut up. Also, I’ve never written Bucky before, so I apologize in advance for the massacre and disrespect of his characterization. 

Summary: ❝You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.❞

Warnings: Smut with a bit of plot. Sorta. Mostly, just smut. Vaginal penetration. Oral (female receiving). Light Dom themes (specifically, choking). Blink and you miss it cockwarming.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3K

RED

You don’t even know his name.

Don’t know where he’s from, who his people are, where he lays his head at night. None of it. Actually, the last one is a lie. You know it’s not here, in this town of less than 1,000 where the only people of color, including yourself, can be counted on one hand.

It’s not ideal, but when wanting to become consumed by a blanket of invisibility and needing to erase your existence from the greater world, you do what you have to do.

You still remember the first time he walked in, the baseball cap and glasses told a story you knew all too well.

Privacy. It was all he wanted, and you’d give him that, along with any alcoholic beverage he wanted. And, he wanted a lot.

You’d once commented that his liver had to be nonexistent and asked just how long he’d been drinking, because no matter how much he consumed, he remained coherent enough to leave a kind tip and close his tab. He said nothing.

He was a man of few words, when in public, at least.

You liked that as well. Maybe it was because he recognized that you had a job to do, or perhaps he detected that look in your eyes. It was that same look that he had, that plea for solitude.

You had a feeling that you weren’t the only one who could be in a room full of people and still feel all alone. You lived by that. So did he.

Interactions and meetings outside of the shabby bar commenced through the most generic of circumstance. It was a copy and paste situation. A rowdy, drunk customer became too intoxicated to remain inside the establishment. You calmly asked him to leave, security was preoccupied with another violent drunk, and next thing you knew, he’d grabbed you by your forearm. His grip was relentless but so was your dedication to break free. Unfortunately, mental fortitude didn’t outweigh physical capability.

He’d shoved you into the a nearby table, sending you onto the floor, your head and side loud with its throbbing. Your eyes shut as the pain coursed. However, seconds later, your attacker was outside, flat on his ass, unconscious.

That was the first time he saved you, and it was all it took for you two to progress into something more. You couldn’t say intimacy. For you, intimacy meant feelings, and feelings were nonexistent here.

This was an arrangement, a source of release.

It was mutually beneficial.

You both received something from the other, an ironic arrangement considering you had a feeling he, like you, had little else to give.

The first time occurred in your car, in the back seat. He was big—in more ways than one—so it wasn’t ideal, but he’d stated that he received a ride, so he had nowhere to offer. You certainly weren’t bringing him back to your apartment. Stranger danger and the fact that it was rundown.

So, that left your vehicle, which again, wasn’t the best place, but it wasn’t the worst. And at least you got to be on top, one of your favorite positions

The time after that, despite your initial protest, happened in the storage closet in the back of the bar. He’d shifted an old keg to block the door before he promptly placed you up and ate you out.

You’d received head before, but this was something different. You’d never had a man leave you as delirious and feeble with just his mouth alone. Hell, most of the time, you had to instruct more than a professor.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted not charging tuition.

Especially considering most failed every time.

Not him. No, it was as though he knew exactly what you wanted, and he gave off the impression that he wanted it too.

You’d allowed him to lower you to the ground, hands on your hips as he kept you upright and stabilized. For good reason, your legs were bowling balls, and you needed time to find your equilibrium.

However, when you finally came to and attempted to fall to your knees, he stopped you.

You looked up, not saying a word, your furrowed eyes conveying confusion. What man refused head?

You waited for an explanation. He offered none, bringing you back to your feet as he moved the keg and left you alone, confused and still very much on a high from your orgasm.

And sure, at first, you berated yourself for letting a stranger go down on you. You didn’t know his sexual history, but to be fair, he didn’t know yours either. You were both reckless, but with the mind-blowing pleasure he caused you, you weren’t exactly stressing over longterm implications.

You didn’t see him for a few weeks after that, and as much as you hated to admit that you missed him, you did. Mostly because the sex was addictive, but also because every time he came around, you could just see that something was off.

Something ate at him, but whatever it was, you’d never know. And it was better that way. Converging demons never ended well for anyone. Two fucked up people doing more than just fucking and leaving would benefit no one and harm everything.

That sexual tryst also occurred in your vehicle, but the two of you were more creative that time around. You played around with different positions, testing your both your flexibility and comfortability.

You finally told him your name.

He was mid-stroke when you blurted it out, his pace slowing as his eyes met yours. You swallowed and repeated it, louder. On the second round, he used it, quietly mumbling it into the sheen of sweat on your neck, but you heard it, and he knew it. That was all that mattered.

He didn’t tell you his.

That was a few weeks ago, and no matter how busy you get, your head still turns every time the welcome bell chimes. You know better than to eagerly await for a stranger who you’ve fucked on several occasions and know nothing else about. It’s stupid, but in the litany of stupid decisions you’ve made over the years, this ranks pretty low.

And that’s saying something.

Exactly one month since your last sexual tryst, as you dig in your purse for your keys while walking to your car, you look up, key between your index and middle finger when you jump upon hearing your name.

Spinning around with the key lifted high, ready to be used in a defensive manner, your heart rate settles when you see it’s him. He’s leaning back against the brick, arms tucked in his pocket.

Closing your eyes, you place your hand over your chest and scold him. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me—“

“Your place.”

A couple of things cross your mind in that moment, the main one being that this bastard is insane. You don’t know shit about him, except for the fact that his stroke game is impeccable and his tongue is the 8th world wonder. Other than that, he is a complete stranger.

Him knowing where you work is one thing, him knowing and visiting where you lay your head at night is another.

There are some lines that you just cannot cross, and this one is bolded, italicized, underlined, and in red.

You can’t.

—

The door shuts, forcing the cheap wall key holder that you’d picked up from the local goodwill to shudder against the peeling wallpaper. In the distance, you can hear something else fall, no doubt breaking, but none of that pulls you off of him.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes you against the wall, his tongue dancing with yours. His hands move to your ass, tugging you into his crotch. You moan again, eyes fluttering sporadically.

How the hell you went from telling him to fuck off to having him minutes away from fucking you is beyond you. It’s also above you now.

Just how he’ll be in five minutes.

“Bedroom,” you murmur against his lip, waiting for him to loosen his grip. His shirt is scrunched in your hand as you lead him to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long, your one bedroom, one bathroom apartment can be explored in its entirety in less than five minutes.

You’re thankful that evening approaches and the light dims by the minute. Just as shining a light into your life would ward off any buyers, so would the light into your apartment.

He tosses you on the bed, and in seconds, you’re on your knees, helping him to pull his shirt off. Naturally, your hands roam his chest. As lighting has technically never been in abundance during the sex, you’re only able to feel areas of his skin that are raised. Scars. They tell a story. His story.

One you’ll never be told.

His hands are against your shoulders before you’re flat on your bed. He pulls your legs from underneath you and spreads them. Your fingers grasp at the button of your jeans as you unbutton them. Lifting your hips, you move quickly to slide them off, but he’s already ahead of you. They’re already tossed to the floor.

You sit up and remove your shirt when he once again shoves you back.

Looking down your body, you realize he’s already nude, dick rigid and leaking precum. Stomach coiling with anticipation, you lick your lips and close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips and tugs you down the bed.

“Fuck.” Your back once again arched off the full sized mattress as he grabbed your thighs, holding you against his mouth. Your hands grasped at the wall behind you, nails scraping as his tongue danced against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Once thing you’d learned was that he was a man of limited patience, when he wanted something, he wanted it now. Immediate gratification was his dominant preference, and you had zero complaints, because right about now, you wanted the same thing.

Your body wormed as a natural reaction towards his tongue exploring every bit of your pussy. Your clit attracted him the most, but he was generous in the regards that nothing was left untouched. He sucked with skill and hunger and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

Eyes rolling in the back of your head, however, there wasn’t much you could focus on expect for the man between your legs, even if you tried.

At times, you became too frisky for him, and he’d move one hand to your core, holding you steady. His strength was inhuman. You hated when he did that, though, because your stomach would cave as your insides twisted. It was impossible not to shift away from him, especially when he expertly circled his tongue around your nub.

You could have sworn you felt him spelling something, perhaps your name, maybe even his.

Again, questions you’d never receive answers to.

You weren’t certain, but you got the feeling that he was motivated to continue to push you based on how your body responded to him. And every tryst had shown that you responded almost perfectly to the slightest of his touches. Everything he did wound you up, he got off to that. Maybe that’s why he never wanted you to reciprocate what you did for him, no matter how badly you wanted to.

He preferred to please, not be pleased.

Stars filtered the vision of your ceiling, and even those became blurred and grainy as that familiar feeling bubbled from the deepest part of you and exploded in a majestic display of pants, moans, and breathy profanities.

You were barely coherent as he trailed sticky kisses up your body, past your pupa, over your tummy, both breast, and finally, your mouth. Tasting yourself and him, you brought your hands to his cheeks holding him. You wanted to savor every second of this. He returned your passion, never breaking the kiss as he lined himself at your slick entrance.

You knew the question of readiness was nearing, and quite frankly, you weren’t for it. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

Lifting your hips to speed up his entry, you nearly screamed when he slammed into you. You weren’t expecting it, but holy fuck, you loved it. You weren’t prepared for the rapid and consistent snapping of his hips into yours or the way his hands pinned yours down above your head, but you cherished it.

You felt every inch of him, every ridge of his dick, his balls slapping against the bottom of your ass. All of it. And you loved every second of this. You missed this. You missed him.

The latter realization took you for surprise as your eyes opened, where you were again surprised to find that he was looking directly at you. He was studying you, searching your face for any sign of pain, discomfort, or even dissatisfaction. He would find none.

He never would.

Your thighs tightened around him, and you saw him grit his teeth, his eyes momentarily shutting as he lowered over you. You tugged against his hold on your wrists, thankful when he released you. Your hands immediately went to his back, pulling him against you, your breast against his broad and muscular chest. Every inch of him was chiseled and defined, and you always felt the strength he possessed barely reaching its peak when you two fucked.

This time was no different.

You waited for the moment where his thrusts slowed just enough for you to switch positions, and when it arose, you wasted no time. He was suddenly under you, with you on top of him. Your hands planted on his chest as you rode him. Unlike his rapid pace, you settled for a slow and meticulous pace, gradually working your way up.

You were confident there was no way that you could match his speed, but that didn’t deter you from trying.

Selfishly, you didn’t bother to search his face for any sign of pleasure, too consumed in your own fantasy. Your hands moved from his chest to the wall as you moved to your toes to access a better angle, one that emitted a prolonged mixture of a moan and a groan.

While he was vocal only in the form of occasional profanities and infrequent breathing patterns, you were determined to let the whole building know that you were getting fucked, and you were getting fucked thoroughly.

A letter from your landlord would surely be awaiting for you in the next couple days.

None of that mattered, though.

You’re not sure how long you go at it, but you recognize what’s coming. And so does he. You’re briefly caught off guard when he sits up and holds you against his chest. Both of your mouth are parted, and he never tears his eyes away from you, even as bliss overcompensates will, and your eyes shut. Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, and you close your mouth to quiet your scream when you reach your climax, as you both reach your release.

As his warm seed spreads insides you and yours coats his bottom half, along with your bedding, your heavy breathing and sluggish body alerts you to just how fast and how hard you two were at it. Completely spent and unwilling to move, you fall on top of him, uncaring of the mess that coats you.

Besides, you expect him to carefully peel you off of him. Instead, you receive the opposite, he brings him arms around you, holding you against him.

Your eyes shut. A few minutes of silence fill the void until he fills it with a proclamation.

“I’m not what you need.”

For some reason, his statement causes you to smile. This is the most verbal he’s ever been with you, and you recognize that. You appreciate it.

You appreciate his honesty.

“And I’m not what you need,” you speak into his slick chest while he rubs circles on the small of your back. “But this is what we need.”

He says nothing.

A few minutes go by when you finally gather the courage to ask what you wanted to ask from the minute you saw him standing outside the bar. “You staying the night?”

He takes a few moments to answer, but it’s long enough for you to regret even asking. And then, he speaks.

“I can.”

His answer takes you by surprise. It’s not a no, and it’s technically not a yes, either. However, you recognize the optional aspect in his voice.

You don’t provide a verbal answer. You simply cradle your face into his neck, sighing at the calming feeling of him still being inside you.  

You know he won’t be there when you open your eyes, and that’s okay. He’s here now, and while you don’t know for certain, but you’re confident that he’ll be back.

And that is what allows you to peacefully close your eyes and succumb to slumber.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Wild Child

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader

Summary: Miguel can’t control his free spirited wife.

Warnings: Its filthy. I tried to put some plot in it but its barely there lol.

WC: 4.1K

A/N: I hit a couple of birds with this one stone. First its a request from @darlingcherrybomb-Can I have 11 & 15 w/ Miguel Galindo plz??? thank you :) and this is also my submission for my 2K Follower Celebration and Bad Bitch Challenge. The song I’m using is Hood Rat Shit. Also shoutout to @starrynite7114​ for indulging me!

Prompts are bolded

When Miguel Galindo started dating you no one really batted an eye. They simply thought the businessman/cartel boss was going through a mid-life crisis and wanted some young pretty thing on his arm. But when he slipped that engagement ring on your finger and made an honest woman out of you, everyone had questions. You were Santo Padre’s resident wild child.

If it wasn’t the Mayans causing trouble, then it was you. Growing up the Reyes family was your next-door neighbors and that instantly made EZ and Angel your best friends. Even as a child Angel was charismatic and that easily made you look up to him. Everything he did, you tried to do. That earned you the nickname, Angelita. If you could’ve joined the club, you would’ve.

So how you ended up married to Miguel was a mystery. Sure, you cleaned up nice and despite your wild ways you had a respectable job, but you still were considered as riff raff, nothing but a damn troublemaker.

Where everyone saw a crazy party girl, Miguel saw an independent uninhibited woman. Someone unafraid to speak their mind and can hold their own in this cutthroat world. Someone who could handle all of him. Someone who humbled him and made him enjoy the simpler things in life.

Although, he loved you, you were a fucking headache. Your free spirit didn’t sit well with the confines of his lifestyle. Any chance you got you ditched the bodyguards. Upscale lounges? Nah, you loved the dive bars. There’s a Mayans party? You’re there. Dress like you’re a powerful businessman’s wife? Nope can do. You were allergic to designer and preferred jeans and leggings.  Being driven around town? No thank you, you were a speed demon. As you and your friends love to say, “You’re ain’t nothing but a hoodrat hoodrat, hoochie mama.”

Like tonight, he specifically told you he didn’t want you hanging out at the clubhouse because he heard some rumblings of trouble with another MC. But of course, you didn’t listen. It was EZ’s patch party and you were gonna celebrate with your boys.

“Run me my money, Medina!” You folded your hand in the ‘gimme’ motion.

“Aren’t you already rich?” He asked, slapping the twenties in your hand.

Angel busted out laughing and nudged Medina with his shoulder. “We told you not to play her. I told you she’s vicious. Don’t ever fall for the puppy dog eyes.”

Everyone joined in at Medina’s lost. At this point most Mayans in the Santo Padre charter and other charters knew not to play pool with you or at least not to underestimate you, so finding someone not privy to to your skills was delightful.

Throughout the night, your goal was to set EZ up with Gabby and not just for a one-night stand. He desperately needed someone else to focus on instead of Emily. Currently, you were outside at a table with your crew: Coco, Gilly, EZ, and Angel.

“Just go talk to her.” You urged your best friend.

“Yeah, for some crazy ass reason she likes you.” Angel slapped the back of his brother’s head.

Tracing your finger along his arm, you pointed out the evidence. “It’s this damn vein that always making an appearance.”

Coco sat back in amazement. “That shit really turn y’all on? Simple stuff like that? One time I had a chick obsessed with my fingers. She got turned on whenever I held a cig. I thought she was into some freaky ass shit.” The whole table erupted into laughter. For Coco to be so experienced, he was clueless.

Taking his hand in yours, you began tracing his fingers and inspecting. “Oh ok, I see you Coco Cruz. These shits are veiny, long, and thick as fuck. Yeah, homegirl was obsessed!”

“But why, chiquita?” Coco flicked you on the nose.

“Do you not finger bitches, Cruz? These are prefect candidates for fingering. Like dude, when I see, Miguel’s fingers wrapped around a glass, I get all wet and tingly inside.”

If you were paying attention, then you would’ve noticed how quiet all the guys gotten. It wasn’t until Coco slyly slipped his hand out of your grasp that you felt a presence. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Yup, Angelita!” Angel hooked his arm around your neck and ruffled your hair. A gesture that didn’t bother Miguel. He understood the familial dynamic you had with the Reyes brothers.

“Hey babe!” You smiled at him like you didn’t just disobeyed him by showing up at this party.

Miguel gave you a small smirk. It was his way of telling you he was pissed off, but he wasn’t going to show it in front of company. “Sweetheart,” he kissed you on top of your head. “I’m going to talk to Obispo and then we’re leaving.” His tone told you there was no room for arguments.

Miguel left you to go to talk to Bishop and give you some time to tell your friends goodbye. Marcus stood by you as he watched boss leave. “Angelita, do you ever stay out of trouble?” He patted your back and kissed your temple.

You held your chin as if you were in deep thought. “Mmm, nope. Its too much fun not to.”

“We should’ve nicknamed you little Diabla.” Gilly joked.

“Screw you, Gilly!”

“No, that’s your husband’s job and by the way you’ll be walking like Bambi for the next week will be proof enough.” You slapped Angel upside the head, but the only further his laughing. They all loved to tease you when you got in trouble with Miguel.

You didn’t have time to quip back, because Miguel came back done with his conversation with Bishop and from the looks of it, Bishop got some bad news. Hopefully, none of it had anything to do with you.

When you got in the car the partition was already rolled up, a big red flag that you were in trouble. “Sooooo, what did you talk to Bishop about? He looked upset.”

Miguel cut his eyes to you before he looked back out the window. “That other MC was on the way to the clubhouse to shoot up the place. I handled it when I was on the way. Just dumb luck we stumbled onto them.”

“Wowwww,” you blew a raspberry and widen your eyes as saucers. You hated when he was right, it knocked down all your objections. “Lucky that you were on the way then, huh?” You gave him a nervous smile and scratched the back of your head.

“Lucky?” He repeated the word with venom. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t!”

“You disobeyed me!”

It was true, you didn’t listen, but everything worked out in the end. “I know but-”

One of Miguel’s hand grasped your throat hard enough to make breathing a little harder, but not enough to hurt you. He pressed his face against to the side of yours, harshly breathing against your ear. “No buts- you deliberately disobeyed me and if it wasn’t for me coming to get your bratty ass, you would’ve been dead!”

“Miguel, I’m sorry.”

With his other hand, Miguel shoved his hand down your pants. “Oh, you’re about to be sorry, mi vida. I’ll show you what these fingers can do.” His fingers pushed your panties to the side and explored all your wetness. “Shit! You’re loving this, you dirty little slut. I bet if I wanted to, you’d let me finger you in front of all your little Mayan friends.”

You began riding his fingers as he fucked into you. It was too much not to move. Miguel was an expert in your pleasure and knew how to set you off in minutes if that’s what he wanted, and it appeared he wanted you to suffer. “Miguel, pleaseeeeee.” You pleaded with him, grabbing onto his wrist for support.

“Hmm, please what, querida?” He licked the side of your face then pulled your earlobe in between his teeth. “Dime que quieres. (Tell me what you want.)”

“I want to cum. Please Miguel.” You pecked at his lips giving him the chance to devour your lips. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.” Miguel murmured against your lips.

Miguel kept his fingers still as you rolled your hips. It wasn’t the same as him pumping his fingers in and out, but you knew there was one way you could get him to participate once again. Keeping your eyes on Miguel, you wet your fingers and let them find your clit. Not even one rub in and Miguel had his hand around your wrist. “Who told you that you could touch what’s mine?”

You bent down and whispered by his ear. “If it was yours, I would be cumming by now.”

Miguel growled and began furiously fingering you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Fucking brat! I better not hear any crying from you tonight talking about its too much. You’re taking everything I’m giving you.”

He wasn’t taking it easy on you anymore. Miguel pumped into you as fast as he could while suckling kisses along your shoulder up to his neck. “Te amo, mi vida. But if you ever do something that stupid again, I won’t have any problems locking your ass up.”

Your lips met Miguel’s for a searing kiss. “I love you too, Miguel.”

Taking some of your hair, Miguel moved it to the other side and kissed your neck. “Now cum all over my fingers.”

Your body immediately responded to Miguel’s command, making you leak onto the seat. That sight almost made Miguel unhinged, but he contained himself. The things he had planned for you couldn’t be executed in the back of a car. So, he allowed you to rest until you got back home, where he could teach you a lesson or two about obedience.

--

The thing about certain lessons with you was that they weren’t long-lasting. There was something that always drew you back to your rebellious ways. Tonight, was girl’s night and you were on your way out the door when you heard Miguel’s voice. “Go change.”

You stopped in your tracks and looked back at your husband sitting with Marcus and Nestor. “Excuse me?” Nestor rubbed his hand over his face and Marcus lowly chuckled. Looks like it was about to be an interesting night in the Galindo household.

Miguel put down the report he was reading and focused his eyes on you. “I said go change, mi amor.”

You knew this was a risqué outfit, but you thought if you walked fast enough, Miguel wouldn’t notice. “What’s wrong with this?” You asked, pretending like you damn well didn’t know what was wrong.

The chair scraped against the floor as Miguel backed out of the chair. He surrounded you as a predator inspecting his prey. A lion chomping at the bits to get to his meal. “You are not wearing that out. I will rip it off you. Now go change or you won’t see your friends until the next girls’ night.” He pulled the strap of your top, letting it slap against your skin. As you turned to go up the stairs, Miguel smacked your ass for his victory. It wasn’t very often that he easily won your compliance.

When you came back down, Miguel was much more appeased with your outfit. A simple flowy black tank top replaced the corset bodysuit you had on earlier. He genuinely wished you a good time as you left. Miguel knew that with a couple of drinks in you, you would be primed for some nasty sex later. Little did he know that you had your original top in your purse and had plans to ditch the bodyguards.

A little later that night, Miguel, Nestor, and Marcus went out to a restaurant to take a break from the tedious work. Nestor excused himself from the table when he got a call from the security team. Miguel flagged the waitress down when he saw Nestor pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the same thing he did when he heard you were up to no good. “She ditched the bodyguards?”

Nestor pulled out his phone to show Miguel a video. “Yeah and is having the time of her life.” Miguel grimaced as he fixed his suit jacket. “Let’s go get my wife before I have to fill my church pew.”

—

The lounge you and your girls went to was nice at first, but after the first round of expensive watered-down drinks all of you were ready to go. Especially, since the music wasn’t danceable to. It was $2 everything at one of your old haunts, so that’s where you went. They had the best mix of current and old hits, having everyone vibing.

With all the drinks being $2 and very strong, you were easily drunk enough not to have a care in the world. Unsurprisingly though you were the most coherent (drinking with bikers would do that to you). So, you knew that you shouldn’t have gotten on top of the bar, but you couldn’t give one flying fuck. What was Miguel gonna do? Put you on his church pew? Please, one bash of these eyelashes and you’d be out of trouble.

The dj began playing a set of Megan thee Stallion and you were in your zone. You and your friends were providing entertainment as y’all screamed the lyrics out.

I want to do it ‘cause it’s fun

It’s fun to bad things

(Hood rat shit)

Drive into a car (Ahh)

Didi you know you could perhaps kill somebody?

(Mwah)

Yes, but I wanted to do hood rat stuff with my friends.

Instantly, you and your friends got into your Megan squats and twerked just like the song told y’all. Its been so long since you did it that you almost got scared that your knees would buckle.

Hood rat shit (Huh) with my hood rat friends

(Ayy)

Everywhere we go (Ayy) we be drinking Hen

(Ayy)

Shake that ass, shake that ass, bitch, bounce that shit (Ayy, yeah)

If you weren’t so caught up, you would’ve felt the air in the room change. You would’ve felt the oxygen leave the room, making it harder to breath. You would’ve stopped making random people drive the boat while they had a great view of your cleavage due to your corset bodysuit that you secretly changed back into.

It wasn’t until you felt that overwhelming presence that you noticed your husband next to you. He rested his elbow on the bar and held his chin in his hand smiling up at you. “Oh, hi honey. Funny seeing you here.” You greeted him. Miguel couldn’t reach your hand, so he started rubbing on your ankle. “No, its funny seeing you here in that,” he nodded at your corset. “What happened to your other shirt?” There was no good answer, so instead you bent down and rapped the lyrics to Miguel, playfully having your fingers in his face.

You ain’t from my hood (Huh)

What you doing round here? (Hey)

Asking all them questions (Huh)

You must be the Feds (Ayy)

Better get from round here

Before you wind up dead (Yeah)

The corner of Miguel’s mouth quirked up as he patiently waited for the song to be over. Despite how mad he was, he enjoyed seeing you have fun with just the simple things. And it wasn’t from youthfulness, but from a good heart. That’s what made him love you. The only things you needed was your friends, family, and good times, and you reminded him that was important.  

“Terminada?”

“Yup,” you took his offered hand and jumped down from the bar. He draped your leather jacket over your shoulders and zipped it up. “Really?” Your eyes dipped down to your chest. Miguel cupped your cheek before he kissed it. “Yes, really. Now let’s leave before I have to shoot someone for ogling you too long.” Quickly, you exited the bar. There was no need for anyone to die because of you.

On the way back to your house, Miguel didn’t reveal how pissed he was. He just kept a possessive hand on your denim clad thigh and discussed his plans for the week. He didn’t go into gory detail, but just enough to prepare you for how busy he would be. That was practically a warning. With him being pissed about your activities tonight and pair that with his busy schedule, let’s just say your glad you’ve been focused on your flexibility and stamina.

Finally, at home, the both of you told Nestor and Marcus good night. You headed for your room, but Miguel gripped the back of your neck tightly and steered you to the playroom down the hall. Miguel specifically used this room when he planned to fuck you for hours. Dear lord, this was gonna be a long night.

You knew better than to speak as he sets up the room. Standing stark still you watched as he lit candles, turned on the fairy lights, and set the LED lights a mix of blue and purple. Miguel loved how the blue hue reflected off your brown skin. It highlighted every single thing he loved about you.

When he was finished setting the ambiance, Miguel circled around you until he was standing directly behind you. He said nothing as his hands went to the button of your jeans. His warm breath caressed your neck like a hug, his hands setting fire to your skin as he pulled down your jeans.

A yelp escaped your lips when you felt Miguel’s teeth scrape against your ass. Done with what you were for sure knew were gonna leave marks, Miguel ran his nose along your ass until he reached the crook of your neck. He dug his fingers into your ass while his teeth dug into your shoulder. The pain was welcoming, making you quiver all over.

“Hands behind your back.” Miguel ordered. Soon, you felt the cuffs around your wrists and then the sensation was felt around your ankles as well. “Stay here.” He whispered against your ear.

You watched Miguel swagger to what you called the ‘sex couch’, it was curved to accommodate your bodies, specifically for adult activities. He sat down, legs all wide and inviting while he loosened his collar. Crooking his fingers, he told you to come here.

The heels you were wearing made you the perfect height that Miguel’s face was directly at your navel. He pressed a light kiss there, then he reached up to your shoulders to push you down on your knees.

Unzipping his pants, he pulled out his cock and you were instantly hypnotized. Honestly, Miguel should just whip it out all the time when he wants you to do something. You’ll listen to him…momentarily.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your clothes?” You inquired.

Miguel wrapped his hand around your hair. “No, at least one of us needs to know how to dress. Now, suck my dick. It ain’t gonna suck itself.” Out of nowhere, he pulled out a cigar, lit it and began smoking it, his way of dismissing you.

There was no way you were gonna tease him. From the tension in his body you knew he would snap at any moment. Your mouth engulfed his length, only getting a couple of bobs in until Miguel roughly pushed your head into his crotch and pummeling your mouth with his cock. All of him took up the room in your throat, but it didn’t bother you. You loved that it was you making those moans come out of Miguel’s mouth.

He granted you a little reprieve and let you up for some air. He took one more puff of his cigar before putting it out. His hands went to your corset to pull your breasts out and for a moment he fondles them with interest until he slapped them and twisted the nipples. “Dressed like a fucking whore! Letting everyone see your tits. I should’ve fucked you right on that bar. No one would’ve stopped me.” Miguel’s hand was now around your throat and he pulled you towards his face. “Would you have let me fucked you there? Hmm, be my little whore?”

“Yes daddy! Whatever you want to do to me, you can.”

His other hand found your hair again. “Huh, you’re giving me permission? I know I can do whatever the fuck I want to you because you’re mines. The only one who seems not know this is you. Can’t follow simple fucking instructions. Is it that hard to listen to me?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you listen?”

The brat in you just had to jump out, you smiled up at him like a madwoman before responding. “Because it’s fun and I enjoy doing hood rat shit.”

Miguel finally snapped. With unknown strength he ripped your bodysuit off your body and threw you onto your stomach on the couch, securing your ankle cuffs to the locks on the couch. Miguel didn’t bother to take off his clothes, you could feel the fabric of his Armani slacks as he pushed into you.

Even though it was about Miguel’s pleasure, it was about yours as well. Every one of his thrust got you closer to your end, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch your husband, you wanted your lips to leave the same marks he was leaving, you wanted to look him in the eye as he called you a slut, whore, and everything in between. “Daddy turn me around. I want to look at you.” You pleaded.

Miguel hips stuttered a bit, he couldn’t believe what his ears just heard. Leaning forward, his clothed chest was against your naked back. “Did you just give me an order? You think you can just get what you want?”

He couldn’t see your doe eyes, but he could hear the sickeningly sweet babied tone you use on him whenever you want something. “Yes, because I’m your baby girl.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl.” Miguel flipped you over, his hand flew to your throat as he thrusted into you. He loved how you tightened around him when his hand found its permeant place on your neck. “So, fucking responsive to me. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it so much, daddy. I wish you could be in me every minute of the day” you gasped in between thrusts.

Miguel hovered over you and smoothed your hair. “How sweet, kitten.” He mocked you, then spat in your mouth and smeared it over your face, before shoving four of his fingers in your mouth. He chuckled at how your eyes widen. “What? I thought you wanted to look at me?”

You tried to say something, but your words were muffled by his fingers. “Hmm, what was that whore?” Miguel took his fingers out so he could hear you clearly. “Can I cum, daddy? Pretty please.”

Miguel couldn’t deny you anymore. “Since you asked so nicely, you can.” His thumb reached for you clit and rubbed on it until your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, but Miguel wanted your eyes on him. He grabbed the back of your neck and rested your forehead on his. “Look at me when you cum!” Once your eyes connected, Miguel reached his own orgasm and coated your walls with white hot cum.

In an instant, Miguel released the cuffs and carried you to the bed while giving you reassuring kisses and declarations of love. Despite your protests, he left to go get the both of you some water and towels to clean up. While he was gone you reached out for your phone that Miguel conveniently placed for you.

You: Sorry, guys I won’t be able to make it to our ride tomorrow. Raincheck?

Angel: I told y’all! I knew Galindo was gonna fuck her up for that outfit.

Coco: Damn! He broke you off that bad?

You: No, he broke me off that good!

Gilly: EARMUFFS!

You: Blame Dumbass #1 and Dumbass #2. Now am I gonna get a raincheck?

EZ: Yes, you will, Angelita. GN.

Knowing that the guys weren’t going to be mad at the fact that you weren’t going tomorrow, you silenced your phone, ignoring whatever argument they would no doubt get into. Instead you waited for your husband to return to continue breaking you off for the rest of the night.

Tagging: @starrynite7114​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @chaneajoyyy​ @angrythingstarlight​ @sadeyesgf​ @teakturn​ @dearsamcrobae​ @strawberrywritings​

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 308 Spoiler Thoughts: Beat His Ass, Young Midoriya!

Chapter leaks are out!  Full chapter hasn’t been revealed yet (and take what I say with a grain of salt until the official translations come out), but I think I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.  Nothing super heavy, but it’s an action-packed chapter that shows us how much of a badass Deku has become since he left UA and went all vigilante on us.  So, let’s do this:

Before we get into the chapter, I need to mention our mangaka, Kohei Horikoshi-sensei’s comment this week.  He’s basically apologizing for taking a break last week, calling himself a “small-fry”, and promising to pick himself up.  Horikoshi deserved a break last week and he is by no means a “small-fry” for creating one of the best and most popular pieces of fiction in the last few years.  I hope that he knows that and that he shouldn’t blame himself for taking a break.  

So, the chapter picks up right where we left off!  Deku and Muscular’s battle begins and Muscular recognizes Deku’s voice.  He says that he’s been waiting for this moment as everyone else he’s faced have been weaklings compared to Deku.  As far as we know, Deku has been the only one to even beat Muscular by himself.  It took over 100% of his strength to do so, but Deku did manage to kick Muscular’s ass.  It makes sense why he’d want a rematch.

I need to take a moment here to talk about how awesome Deku looks in his Vigilante costume (as I’ve decided to call it).  The tattered clothing really works for him and the dark sclera around his eye adds to the effect.   Again, I love that he’s finally putting the bunny hood and metal mask to use.  I mean, he used them before, but not as a real part of his daily costume.  He looks almost like a completely different person with them on.  I’d be scared of Deku tbh.  

As the fight continues, he gives the injured Yo Shindo to his GF, Tatami.  Tatami can’t see Deku’s costume because of the smoke surrounding him, but she does kind of recognize his voice from somewhere.  I do wonder if Tatami’s going to put the pieces together and find out that the vigilante is Izuku Midoriya.  And I wonder if she’s going to get the word about his actions spreading and if that will reach our UA kids.  Or the news stations will, that might happen too.  

Speaking of smoke, DEKU UNLOCKED THE 6TH OFA USER’S QUIRK!  The 6th user is the Tobio Kageyama-looking dude with the long collar (He’s cute btw 😳!) and his name is “En” which translated to smoke.  His Quirk is Smokescreen which explains the smoke surrounding Deku at the end of the last chapter.  Deku is using the Quirk too much, so he needs to calm down a bit and use each Quirk individually.  There’s actually quite a bit that Deku could use with a Quirk like Smoakscreen: He could hide himself for a sneak attack, he could use it as a distraction, use it if he needs to retreat, etc.  My mind immediately went to Pokémon (because of course it did) and how Team Rocket would constantly use moves like Smoakscreen and Haze to either distract Ash and Co. to confuse them or use a sneak attack, or run away from the protagonist.  It’s another support-type Quirk, but it’s a damn good one if used right. 

Edit: There’s a panel that shows the scale of how much Smokescreen Deku used and it’s A LOT.  Like, the smoke is covering several streets and it goes to the top of some buildings.  It’s hard for really anyone to see anything.  Deku’s really trying to keep himself in the shadows, I suppose.

To use all his Quirks well, En suggests that Deku think of each Quirk like a support tool.  So, Float is a jetpack, Black Whip is a long string of rope, Danger Sense is a radio, and Smoakscreen is a flare or some kind of smoke grenade (I don’t know the specific name).  This is a really good way of thinking for Deku since he’s been using object-focused metaphors for OFA before.  Remember the “Egg in The Microwave” and the “Turntable in The Microwave”?  Similar to that!

Edit: Fan-scans are out.  It seem like Deku is actively talking to En here as if he’s a little voice in his head guiding him on what to do.  My guess is that after his coma talk with the OFA Holders, Deku can now talk to the vestiges consciously.  He doesn’t need to enter a dream-like state to interact with him; it’s just a thing he can do willingly.

So, Deku uses each Quirk individually and finally ties Muscular down with Black Whip.  I can’t describe it, but it’s so cool to see Deku in action here absolutely folding Muscular.  He really has improved since their last fight. There’s one panel that has a close up of Deku’s masked face and he looks so damn cool!  I’m so tempted to color it when the official translations come out.

Deku is asking Muscular where AFO and Shigaraki are, but Muscular doesn’t know.  He also asks why Muscular is doing what he’s doing, but Muscular just responds that there is only blood and battle in his heart and  he doesn’t want to live a life where he regrets not fulfilling that (his name is revealed to be Gouto Imasuji btw.  Don’t know the translation behind that, but I assume it has to do with his Quirk and his violent personality).  So, this confirms that Deku is actively looking for Shigaraki and AFO.  He’s not just saving people left and right, but he is actively looking for the big bad on his own.  I can’t see that ending well without help unfortunately.  Deku’s also trying to reason with Muscular to see if there’s a different path for him similar to his fight with Gentle and LaBrava.  He’s really going for the “Save People’s Hearts” route and I can understand why.  That’s Deku’s character at its core.  It’s why he wants to try to save Shigaraki despite everything.  If there is a different path for a villain, then Deku will try to lead them to it.  Unfortunately, villains like Muscular don’t always have that path.  

Edit: Actually, you know what, how in the world did Deku know Muscular’s real name?  Did he see it on the news somewhere?  Did he do some research and manage to look it up?  Does he have someone to give him intel?  I mean, unless Muscular’s name was broadcast out there, his real name is some very specific information Deku got a hold of.  

Finally, as he remembers Shigaraki and Kota (the small boy Deku saved back in the Forest Training Camp), Deku runs towards Muscular with full speed and finishes him with one powerful punch!  Deku speeds past Muscular as we finally see his face again under the mask (Badass Deku🥵)!  One Punch Man has left the chat, my dudes.  For real, though, if Muscular really is defeated, it’s amazing how flawlessly Deku beat him.  Deku used every Quirk well and efficiently to dodge Muscular's attacks and pin him down so he could get a clean hit in.  Everything was calculated and executed perfectly.  This is not the Deku we knew back in the Training Camp Arc.    

Edit: Ok, it was explained that Shindo’s Vibration actually did effect Muscular’s Quirk.  Then tendons in his muscles were pulled and were starting to unravel.  That’s what made an opening for Deku to get a good hit in.  I think it would’ve been hard for Deku to knock Muscular out with one punch if that opening wouldn’t have been made.  So, Shindo wasn’t entirely useless.  

And that’s it from what I can gather!  Damn good action-packed chapter! A+ art and writing from Horikoshi once again!  This man just keeps bringing us 🔥.  I’m so glad to see Deku fight like the badass he’s meant to be.  I wish it didn’t have to take a war and several near-death experiences to get here, but Shonen gotta Shonen.  He knocked the lights out of Muscular, I almost feel sorry for him.  He got his ass kicked by the same kid twice in less than a year.  You should’ve stayed in Tartarus, my dude.  Really, all prisoners should’ve stayed in Tartarus.  If Deku can defeat Muscular, then none of them stand a chance against him now.  I can only assume Deku’s going to go after everyone who was associated with the LOV to find Shigaraki and AFO at this point.  Thankfully, we don’t have a break next week.  Will En teach Deku how to play volleyball?!?  I’m kidding!  I do want to know what our UA kids are doing, especially Bakugo, Shoto, and Uraraka.  This would be a good time to transition to them.  Like, they can see Muscular’s capture on the local news, put the pieces together, and go after Deku.  Or we could just keep focusing on Deku’s vigilante adventures, that works too!  

Me @ Deku:

[arambleaway]

Okay, so like Ace Attorney recently ate my brain. And I have never played any of the games. This is the true potential of the internet at work people. Anyway.

I keep thinking about my very specific images of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, and the relationship therein. This is gonna be a long one because I can't be assed to make it more coherent than the mess it is in my brain.

So. Phoenix is obviously from a very loving and supportive family except they absolutely loathe the law and law professionals. Phoenix is trans and his family is super supportive, allowing him to express himself even from a young age. Unfortunately, Phoenix's new teacher isn't so great. Is actually a bit of a piece of shit and has been isolating Phoenix and so the poor boy has spent the first couple months of being out being harassed by his teacher and classmates. And that is part of why the trial sticks with Phoenix so much. Because Miles stands up to not only the students, but the teacher and all of the vitriol they've been leaking as well. And he doesn't just drop Phoenix after. He still wants him around and as a little kid that shit sticks with Phoenix far longer than it does with Larry and Edgeworth. Also, unfortunately, if you've got one asshole teacher, you've likely got a few nearby, so Phoenix's family does their best to support him and they offer to transfer him and do what they can, but Phoenix as a child is afraid to move and never see Edgeworth or Larry again so he doesn't. And then when he starts writing letters, he finds he can't stop because they become confessionals of a sort and a place where he doesn't have to be on guard and can know that the person he is writing to is accepting of his identity even if he does wonder from time to time if maybe Edgeworth no longer accepts him.

Anyway, then canon, yada yada. Lets talk about Miles now. Miles is depressed, okay. And he writes that note (you know the one) completely literally. But here's the thing: Miles knows the trauma of finding dead bodies. Has probably seen the mess they leave, and doesn't want to cause more harm than he already has. So he writes the note and packs the pills/blade/etc into a suitcase and takes a flight to Europe where no one that knows him will have a chance to stumble upon him. The turnabout is this: on the plane over he gets into an argument with his seat buddy. Its no one important, but the key info on him is that he is in therapy and sort of off hand brings it up and Miles, who was not raised with a pleasant idea of therapists and such starts an unholy row with him, blatantly projecting his own insecurities and perceived weaknesses on this poor man. The flight attendants have to separate the two and the man spends the rest of the time in first class. Miles spends the rest of the flight getting dirty looks from everyone else. By the flight's end he is frothing at the mouth and the man's assertion that therapy is not something for the faint of heart has been burrowing under his skin. He gets off the plane and rather than immediately commit he thinks he might as well make the source clear and winds up at the empty von Karma estate. He spends the night with a blade on his wrist and voices in his ears. But he doesn't move.

He falls asleep and he wakes from a nightmare he can't recall and it is noon the next day. He doesn't eat, he doesn't move. He just lays there and thinks. He thinks about Phoenix, Franziska, His Father, von Karma, all the lives he's sent to prison after measuring them against a false scale, and he thinks of the man on the plane. He thinks of the things he said, the ring he noticed on his finger, and the husband that was brought up at some point in their altercation. He thinks a lot about what it means to be and Edgeworth and what it means to be a von Karma. He picks up the blade and he puts it in his suitcase. He starts to research Therapists. Because he is going to have the best therapist in the business if he is going to do this. (He just kinda goes for the one with the most academic accolades that is willing to do home visits or move of some shit, anyway) Miles Edgeworth starts therapy and it goes horribly. Miles hates it viscerally and he doesn't feel like his therapist understands. (Which they don't. They keep trying to convince Edgeworth to see and actual trauma specialist and find someone that he clicks with rather than coming back to them). His therapist is worth their name though, and Miles is actually hospitalized due to being a danger to himself. For all that he loathes this, it does eventually allow him to meet with an actual trauma specializing therapist and finally maybe understand what the big deal is. He still hates it, but he finds the therapist that actually suits him and things get a little better.

The first thing is he stops living in the von Karma estate. He admits its a bad place for him to be at the moment and so he moves closer to his therapist and gets a rental flat. Second he gets a new wardrobe. He's been using his stuff left at the von Karma home and all of it is his flashy very "von Karma" wear. So he goes and gets new suits tailored in his preferred style and he pays for them and wears them because he realizes he likes them and not because he is trying to emulate his Mentor. This step is especially a big deal because it is the first moment where he is able to really define who "Miles Edgeworth" is outside of the confines of the courtroom. In all this, of course, he is also figuring out who he is within the courtroom as well. After committing to his therapist and recovery, he goes back into Law in Germany and really tries to define why he still wants to be there. I like to think he spends some time in small courts as a defense attorney assistant while trying to redefine his place. Anyway, eventually Miles decides he wants to remove his old stuff from the von Karma estate. He might move in his new stuff but for now it is merely removing the old, giving him the space and option of a new start. In clearing his stuff he winds up in the storage space on the household and there he finds an old suitcase.

The suitcase is Miles's from when he first came to the household. Von Karma had told the staff to pitch it when they first arrived and apparently whoever was on duty that day was kind enough to save it for later. Miles has a bit of a breakdown on seeing it and has a rather sharp set back in his improvement. He finds himself staring at the knife again. Because he never put it away. He still doesn't. But he doesn't touch it, just looks. Miles fights his way back out of the hole and in doing so removes all of his things from the estate except that little suitcase. Its the last thing and he opens it to slowly deal with the contents. Most of it is children's clothes, some expired toiletries, but buried in the deepest part of the case, wrapped lovingly in an old bowtie is his Father's defense attorney badge. Miles doesn't have a breakdown this time (yay!) but he does spend the next week unable to sleep for the sheer intensity of his nightmares. He carries on though. He slowly and surely patches together who exactly Miles Edgeworth is and what he wants to stand for. And that little gold badge stays folded in the bow tie and tucked in the deepest corner of his latest suitcase. He throws out the knife.

Once again back to canon, he returns doesn't tell anyone shit, and slowly relearns Phoenix Wright and what that man means to him. Hazakura temple, all the gay vibes, until the disbarment era. Lets stop by Phoenix again, shall we?

Phoenix is disbarred and for the first so many years he is genuinely friends with Kristoph Gavin. None of this "oh i always suspected shit", he believes in Kristoph, because that's who Phoenix is. At this point Edgeworth is still in Europe and a large part of that is so that he can continue with his therapy. But he does drop everything to talk to Phoenix once he hears the news. He immediately knows that something is up because Phoenix would never and he believes in him more than anyone else and he is offering to do everything in his power to make this better because Phoenix is worth it and Miles love-- woah. that's a new emotion. what the fuck is up with that. So anyway Miles realizes that he has some less than platonic feelings and he wants to run back to Europe and his therapist and figure out what it all means, but above all Wright is his Friend dammit and he owes him so much. But on Phoenix's side, he sees how far Edgeworth is offering to go and he turns down all of the things that would cause Miles's life to be disrupted. He does accept the knowledge and shoulder to lean on that Edgeworth offers, but Edgeworth doesn't need to move continents or anything. Besides he has Kristoph here to help. And Miles kind of hates all of this situation, but he knows that he truly doesn't have the kind of knowledge and pull to really be of service not to mention his new discovery is not doing his health any favors. So he goes back to Germany and Phoenix stays with Kristoph.

Now Miles is in Germany figuring out how to manage complex emotions and romantic relationships, while Phoenix is working with Kristoph, who becomes Kris, who could maybe be more except Phoenix isn't sure it would be fair to him since he has become more than a little hung up on Edgeworth since he came back from Europe. And because when Edgeworth asks him to Europe he jumps with no forethought. He gets Kris to watch Trucy and jets off to spend time with Miles. They do their amazing duo routine and Edgeworth comes away from the encounter knowing that yes, he very much would like a romantic relationship with Phoenix. Okay. Now how to go about it. Meanwhile Phoenix gets back and sees Trucy and this is when he realizes that Kristoph is dirty. Trucy tells him about something she saw while she stayed with him and something clicks and Phoenix has a mild breakdown because of how much danger he just realizes she might be in. He calls Miles at some point during this and Miles talks him down. He falls asleep and in the morning he doesn't shave. He smiles and gets Trucy to school, then sits in the office and tries to figure out where he goes from here. That afternoon there is knock at the door.

Miles Edgeworth does nothing half way and has flown to Phoenix just to be able to help him figure out the next steps and comfort him. Phoenix is officially gone for this man. The two talk and scheme and eventually hatch their mad plan to rebuild the entire fucking system. Miles will use his distance to research and provide information, Phoenix will keep an eye on Kristoph and start building what he can here. In all of this Trucy's safety comes up. Phoenix actually considers sending her with Miles. Miles puts that idea to a stop real quick, though he does mention doing more visits and such. Trucy is very happy to hear about this and demands to go every time. Phoenix says something along the lines of it being more expensive for two people to fly and joking that it would be cheaper if they just let him keep her in his suitcase. This is how Miles Edgeworth returns to Germany with a solid plan for the future and one Magician more than planned. Trucy obviously sneaks into his luggage and somehow makes it with him to Germany. In doing so she finds the badge in his bag, and despite the intense scolding she gets, the two are finally able to really connect and bond as Miles opens up to her a bit about his Father and what he has gone through.

Eventually Trucy gets back where she belongs and despite a few more hijinks over the years things progress via canon. Edgeworth and Phoenix have both accepted their feelings but have yet to act on them as neither is in a position to properly be with the other as they wish. So they flirt and argue and love each other intensely as only the best of friends and trauma buddies can. It all pays off and Kristoph is arrested. Phoenix is innocent, but he is unsure about going back into law. In this case, Kris was kinda the last proof of where blind belief will get you and it isn't just a façade, Phoenix is a lot bitter at the larger world and himself. So he isn't in the greatest place mentally, and Edgeworth sees it. And for the first time he thinks about reaching out to someone. Especially because this is Phoenix not just a random stranger on a plane. Then he finds he has the option to take the Chief Prosecutor position, and he finds himself staring at his Father's badge. He thinks on the years and his growth, and he talks with his therapist. And he decides to move. He takes the new position and seeing Phoenix struggle so close he finally shares about therapy. Not all of it. Nothing really just that he goes and has since the year-they-do-not-speak-of and that he is looking for a new one in the city and maybe Phoenix would like to help him. Because he values Phoenix and his opinions. Phoenix does eventually wind up in a therapists office and it is a mess, but it helps.

The two reconnect more strongly than ever and shortly thereafter Phoenix agrees to take the Bar again. Miles supports him in this and watches as he struggles and groans but makes it through. And at the same time he watches him heal a bit from the atrocities of the past 7 years. When Phoenix passes he is over-joyed and that night finds him holding his Father's badge and slowly thinking. Turning the idea over and over he can't bring himself to ignore it. He walks up to Phoenix in the office the next day and with all the drama of a marriage proposal give Phoenix his Father's badge. Apollo starts to realize exactly what sort of shit he signed up for. Especially when Miles turns up a couple weeks later and attempts to strangle Phoenix with his own tie and demands having the badge back because What The Fuck. An Orca. You Absolute Dumbass.

This is the point where my ideas dry up. Because where I leave them is pining idiots that are actually doing pretty ok. I figure they eventually get their shit together, but only after inflicting immense suffering on their co-workers and the legal system as a whole with their obvious pining and flirting. I barely know Apollo but watching him suffer is just more amusing than it should be. Also Miles is Autistic and it actually is part of what allows him to bond with Trucy.

[traincat]

Hi Train! I don't know how extensive your marketing knowledge is, but you seem to have a better grasp of it than most people on this platform, so I wonder if you could help me out. When it comes to movie trailers, particularly MCU ones, how far back are they usually released before the film premieres? I ask because the Spider-Man fandom is getting antsy over the lack of a trailer for No Way Home, and I wonder what this supposed delay signifies. Is it normal to have a later release date? Is this just a hype marketing ploy? Or is this an indication of something else going on behind the scenes that could spell trouble?

Everything I know about marketing I learned from my dad, who used to work in advertising, ironically for Disney. (Now he participates in Airbnb and green card scams, which I guess is basically the same thing.) So I wouldn't say it's that I have a particularly nuanced grasp on it so much as I just generally don't buy what Disney sells. But I do think the Spider-Man No Way Home trailer delay is interesting, as far as the MCU's Spider-Man marketing has gone. I can't speak to whether it's normal or not -- I think given the understandable delays and pushed back movie release dates due to the pandemic, it's understandable that things are working a little differently right now. (I'm guessing they don't want to keep releasing things simultaneously in theaters and on Disney+, and that was before Scarlett Johansson -- rightfully -- announced she's suing them for breach of contract.) But I'm not by any means an expert on the MCU's marketing, specifically in regards to how and when trailers are released, and I wasn't even back when I was actually watching the movies.

If I had to hazard a best guess, it's that they're trying to intentionally keep the mystery surrounding the movie -- specifically about certain highly rumored but not confirmed aspects involving actors who have denied being in the movie -- afloat for now, to dramatically reveal one way or another. I think it'd definitely be funny if it was an indication of trouble behind the scenes, because I like when Disney gets in trouble, but I don't think just a weirdly delayed trailer on its own is enough to call that. They definitely seem to waiting for something, because you'd think you could just cut a trailer to build the hype without revealing much of anything at all, but it's hard to say without going on a deep dive as to what that might be. It's possible someone on Reddit might know -- I know there were some leaked spoilers (that were hilarious) floating around there a few weeks ago.

[savagetrickster]

Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler SMUT 

| Ciel x Wife!Reader

Note this: This is actually a smut spin-off from my BB fanfic which had ended, that's why it is in third PoV. But no worries, I have crafted this piece so that people who hasn't read the fanfic, could also read this. Enjoy!

Summary: It had been four years since they won their freedom to live life together. Nineteen and married, the guilty indulgence they shared had always been performed with restraints until now. In this cold winter, none of them thought they would be heating themselves up in the confines of his study. This time, he was no longer holding back.

Warning: Extremely kinky.

Themes: breeding kink, pregnancy, penetration

[  Heated Winter  ]

.

The scattered papers on the desk had been shoved aside. Some had fallen to the floor in the heat of their passion.

Their lips were all over each other. Wild hands were roaming across naked skin.

His warm, swollen cock was slick and drooling against her inner thighs with pre-cum.

The thighs under her bare bottom were coated with her arousal which wouldn't stop leaking.

She didn't exactly know how they ended up like this.

What felt like a minute ago, she was just standing behind him, her hands trying to knead those stiff shoulders.

His hands were still on his desk then, his fingers flittering through the paperwork spread out in front of his scowling face.

She knew Ciel had been stressed these recent days. Ever since he decided that he wanted to revive her family's dead business and let it flourish alongside his Funtom, he became even busier.

It did not sit right with her how he would sometimes end up working at it till the nights despite her numerous attempts to get him to rest. He had been adamant about doing this, and she knew he was doing this for her even though he would deny it every time she told him to forget about it.

Somehow recently, nights falling asleep without him beside her extended to two weeks. Oh, how she wished she could retract the casual, wistful thinking she voiced that one night. She had never thought her mere words would spurn him to attempt it.

It had been months since their wedding and there hadn't been enough windows of time to indulge in the guilty pleasure they both grew addicted to. Their desire to have kids was made known even before their big day but their inactions made it seem like they were mere afterthoughts.

She couldn't exactly figure out how they ended up discarding their respective tasks on hand. She could have sworn she was just giving him a shoulder massage while he remained focused on his work a minute ago.

Nothing more, nothing sexual to lead them to their current position.

There was no in-between.

Things happened so fast, driven by lust and sexual frustration. The pent-up stress and negligence for their needs seemed to be the culprit.

.

A trickle of saliva ran down her chin as soon as he released her lips from their desperate kiss.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders as his lips traveled down her neck, sucking and attacking at the right places. The moans breaking free just wouldn't stop at every point of pleasure.

She wasn't too worried about being heard, for everyone else was two floors below.

A hand slid up his head, burying her fingers into his soft dark hair as she felt him envelop her breasts in the warmth of his palms.

Her lips rested upon his shoulder blade, her muffled moans humming against him as the warm hand cupped to her left breast rolled her sensitive nipple between its fingers. Jolts and jolts of tingles shot through her as he tugged and kneaded the flesh.

Lost in the heat, his teasing lips left her neck before she could register.

A gasp found its way out of her mouth when the hand over her right nipple was suddenly taken over by his hungry lips. Her fingers buried in his hair tugged on as his hot tongue licked and rolled her pebbled nipple while he worked his mouth on the perky mound in a heated suckle.

The hand on the other was as busy as his lips.

The continuous sensations on her chest made her heated core ache even more.

Aching for the cock situated so deliciously near her tearing wet entrance.

Aching to be filled.

Aching for the release she had been waiting for.

She could sense a similar ache in his throbbing cock from the way it stood prodding against her stomach for attention.

Her free hand which had slid down to his back in the heat moved to attend to its weeping needs.

A hiss rushed up to her ears the moment she wrapped her fingers around his restless erection, her long, slim fingers instantly splaying across the slick tip, coating his entire length with his hot leaks. Her hand slid back up to the tip of his cock with a playful tug, increasing her grip with a squeeze.

Ciel tore his mouth away from her breasts with a groan at the delicious clench of her hand.

The carnal desire to shove his cock into her was starting to win him over.

Ciel had been straining against the overwhelming lust since the start because he wanted to give her the foreplay she deserved for his negligence of her needs.

He could feel himself starting to weaken against the crushing urge.

All it took was a daring, intricate tracing of the protruding veins on his needy, swollen cock to break his self-control. She knew that little action was more than enough - he was going to make sure she took responsibility for that.

The smirk on her smug, panting face faltered when his hands flew to her hips in an almost bruising grip.

Her eyes snapped to his, wide eyed. The raw hunger and intense lust in his reflected back at her as she felt him lift her off his lap. The descend down was guided by the hand on her hips and the other which had switched over to hold his yearning cock still.

His tip greeted her hot entrance with a kiss, the slit pushed apart with a wet squelching sound as soon as their juices met.

An eager push down, a strangled cry rang out of her mouth as his cock shot up into her, the whole length completely buried in one go.

"...You feel too good." Ciel clenched his eyes close with a growling moan, relishing the tightness wrapped around his cock.

He had to hold back the burning need to let himself go right now.

He lifted her up again, until only the tip of his throbbing cock was the only part left inside her. The muscles in the bruising grip on her hip tightening was the only warning before he slammed her down with an almost equally bruising force.

But there was no pain, only a shot of electrifying satisfaction at how his cock filled her completely in that one swift entrance.

The pace he started was faster than he usually would. He was desperate; he knew he couldn't hold himself back any longer. His cock rammed into her, delving in deep every time he pulled himself out to his tip before thrusting back in harsh, urgent snaps.

The sensations she was feeling was overwhelming. Even in the winter, the study felt so hot.

Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her senses were alarmingly high - she could hear and feel everything so clearly.

The broken whimpers leaving her lips at every thrust.

Slapping skin.

Wet squelching sounds.

His grunts and growls at every snap of his hips

Her sensitive nipples brushing over his chest at every bounce of her perky breasts.

All these filled her overheating senses.

Oh oh, and she missed this.

The amazing, addictive stretch of her cervix each time his cock was shoved into her.

And when he did this, she couldn't help but be aroused by the intensity in his gaze - the same one she noticed whenever he was focused on accomplishing his duties as the Queen's Watchdog.

Sometimes the intensity was even more. As though, he was bent on something.

Like now, it was there again.

The razor-sharp focus in his eyes triggered her walls to give a hard clench.

Just as responsive to the clasping pressure, the swollen cock right up her overstimulated hole swelled up even more in size as a groan fell from the tenacious Earl's lips.

A similar sound from her accompanied his as the burst of pressure made by his increased size stretched her walls even more.

Every nerve was screaming for a release.

So caught up in ecstasy, she didn't realize he was moving her to his desk until she found herself staring up at the ceiling.

The pace of his thrusts did not falter at all even as he moved them to his desk.

His items on the desk were pushed off onto the cushioned carpet below in his haste to get them in a better angle.

But all that fell past his concern.

The sight of her flushed face, slacked lips and her bouncing breasts from his towering stance was a powerful distraction from the mess around them and ignited a bigger flame in him.

Pulling her legs to his chest and over his shoulders, the slippery lubrication made from their mixed fluid made the change of his thrusting angle easy.

Her hands gripped hard onto his arms as she emitted a drawn moan at the mad rush of exhilaration the new position introduced itself with.

In this new angle, each dive of his cock was deeper and more precise, punching the right spot at every single thrust.

Her bruised nipples from his meticulous suckling earlier were not spared; they had been continuously rubbing against her knees ever since Ciel had curled her legs into her chest for this new angle.

"C-Ciel, I'm clos- Ahh!"

Her gaspy breath escalated into strangled cries when the snaps of his hips gathered speed.

"... Go ahead." Ciel murmured through gritted teeth.

The words she elicited told him she was ready. They were a relief to his ears, for her clutching walls were pushing him too close. It was hard to hold back any longer.

His chest expanded more rapidly as his hips began to stutter; the long-drawn thrusts descending into shorter rapid ones.

Tattered moans and hitching hot breaths escaped into the study as she felt herself drown in the erupting heat. His cock continued to hit the specific spot over and over again, relentless in its mission to seek hers and his release.

His whole body was perfectly lined with hers, chest pressed flush against the back of her bent legs.

His eyes stayed on her, drinking in the sinfully beautiful sight of her gasping under him. At the image of her struggle to keep up with his passion, a sudden thought of the consequence carved a deep hunger in him.

They already knew what they wanted even before their wedding.

Already far in their maturation years, they were ready long before this.

They have waited long enough.

This time, he was going all the way.

The furrow between his eyebrows deepened when the heat around his cock spasmed frantically in his haste to get her over the edge.

"Y-You..." He let out a shaky exhale,"...ready take it all in?"

The subtly powerful meaning in his question made her gasp. She wanted this.

"Y-Yes, p-please...!"

At her words, her body and the desk beneath shook more vigorously to his demanding, urgent thrusts.

She could feel herself coming undone; she was only a few more thrusts away from the edge. The extremely swollen cock dragging along her throbbing walls was making her see white flashes behind her eyelids.

"Ci-Ciel...!" A desperate cry of his name left her lips as her eyes rolled back at the starburst of her orgasm finally tearing through her for the release her body needed.

A sharp hiss reached her ears as her walls clamped down aggressively around him, sending an explosion of her release spilling over his diligent cock. Now coated with more slick, his thrusts grew even faster. His movements were sharp but unstable as he felt himself about to burst.

Still high on her intense release, she could feel another coming in quick as he charged into her.

Catching onto the breathtaking way the strong, tense look on her husband's face was quickly losing foot to the overwhelming passion of his own coming release, her second orgasmic wave was aroused to approach faster than the first.

His thrusts were desperate and frenzied until his hips finally jerked and buckled erratically into hers.

Face scrunched up at the bloom of ecstasy ripping through him, Ciel tensed with a grunt just as a broken moan tore out of her throat.

The broken moan rode through her throat as ropes and ropes of his seeds continued spurting from his twitching cock and filling her womb so much that a few trickles managed to slip out of her soaked cunt.

Her eyes wavered at the mind-blowing pressure that was jerking deep inside her from the relentless ruts of his hip into hers, not stopping even after he had released his load. As if every drop of his semen mattered to him.

Her chest heaved and fell fast as she tried to come down from her high. She could feel the quiver of her legs over his shoulders.

"Th-That was amazing. We- Ah!"

The sudden circling movement of their hips drew out a startled moan from her.

The warm fluid stirring inside her quieting walls made her look up at Ciel.

The satisfied glint in his gaze and the object of his focus made her blush.

Not yet pulling away, his cock still buried in her depth stirred in sync with the small jerks of his hip.

Her head fell back onto the desk with a shaky sigh at the small jolts of pleasure at every small touch of pressure.

The soft wet squelches every time a pressure was applied to her walls were clearly audible. The blush on her face intensified at how erotic they sounded.

Peering at him, she tried to understand what he was doing. He looked keen about something.

Ciel pulled away just as she was about to fire her question.

She sat up.

"W-What was that about?" She asked raspily, shuddering at the emptiness he left behind.

"I heard it helps." Ciel answered vaguely with a smiling glint in his eyes.

He pulled her into a kiss before she could ask more. Unlike the rough and desperate one that usually led them to sex, his lips were gentle as if he was caressing her. The touch on her lips was soothingly warm and tender with his affection.

When he finally pulled away, he had an unreadable glint in his eyes.

"Be extra careful from now on."

An air of silence followed her as she tried to understand those words.

Then it hit her.

"Oh."

The intense meaningful gaze watching the dawn of her realization made her look away bashfully.

A new forming blush bloomed across her face.

[nikkithebard]

Your Angel Ellipsis

Geraskier short fic, post S1E6, post mountain-break up, hurt/little comfort, fix-it-fic, angst, angsty thoughts, featuring HSK, open ending, 2.6k words

Rating: T (Mature language)

A/N: I am totally 100% open to fic ideas if anyone wants to share some. Feel free to send an ask with a prompt, I don’t mind in the slightest. (I have never uploaded my work here before)

The bard moved with about as much grace as a broken-legged turtle, holding his lute case close to his chest. It was the only thing around him that felt even remotely real. Everything else had faded into whispers across his skin. The wind, the dirt, the others who remained on the mountain still. The soles of his boots had been worn thin, slipping over the rocky dust of the ground. Jaskier ignored it. He was far too disinterested in anything that wasn’t the very person he was distancing himself from.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And all he had gotten was shouts, demeaning language, and a wish fit for a djinn.

Oh, how far he’d thrown himself into this wolf’s den. He feared he’d die of heartbreak--again--if he didn’t die from the hunger and dehydration that came with getting lost climbing down a fucking mountain. How far had he gone? Felt like he had been descending in circles rather than going straight down.

Jaskier heard his own words in his mind, reverberating.

You did your best. There’s nothing else you could have done.

Who would have known the words were better suited to him and not the witcher? But, it was true. There was nothing else the bard could have done to change the outcome of this dragon hunt. He tried to talk Geralt out of this, tried to convince him this was too dangerous a task. As per usual, Geralt cared little for Jaskier’s opinion and carried on. Was that his fault, too?

His foot slipped on a larger boulder and he fell. Catching himself before he could do any serious damage, Jaskier decided to take a seat, the sun beating down on his back. Rivulets of sweat pooled around the collar of his chemise. Opening the case, Jaskier made sure his lute was alright. Of course it was, but a peek wouldn’t hurt.

The lute, as it always did, sang back at him through its dark wood, enchanted to no end. Pointless to think it would ever break, really. He withdrew the instrument, strumming the melody he had been crafting for weeks now. It had started out as a metaphor for some sort of unrequited love. As of late, it had been slowly turning it into something much sourer. With naught but the help of a sorceress he watched portal herself away nearly an hour or two ago. Jaskier was still dumbfounded that Geralt was so entrenched in the most awful example of the fairer sex.

“The fairer sex,” Jaskier mumbled to himself, strumming to the opening melody of his latest tune. “How, when she’s as unfair as a thief? A bandit?” He tilted his head, pondering. “A crook?”

Very rarely did lyrics fall into his lap so perfectly, yet the poet learned early on in his life to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking out his pen and notebook, he scratched off the first line of his original ballad, writing in the better one.

Jaskier sighed, unable to keep his mouth shut even if there was no one around to listen, “Bollocks, there I go again, rewriting yet another love ballad. Not that it matters, when you spend over twenty years stooped in what others would refer to as a pile of shit, perhaps every tune comes off as identical, yeah? All the words collide and all the notes fall into unbridled repetition--” He stopped, his own voice crashing into his ears, “Twenty years? Is that right?” He scoffed, fingers absentmindedly moving over the strings of his lute, “Can’t be, I don’t even--I can’t be over forty, can I?” He tried to shake the thought from his mind, yet he simply couldn’t get away from the passage of time. The time he had spent trailing a witcher that threw him away like a tankard of spoiled ale. “What...am I doing?”

Over twenty years, Jaskier had spent chasing a man for nothing. For nothing, because there was nothing else he could have done. The years dripped into his mind, at first a simple leak. In seconds, a stream. In minutes, a broken dam of thoughts and images dancing across the landscape of his brain.

At first, he had only longed for a muse after a particular dry spell of wordless thoughts that had plagued him after he arrived in Posada all those years ago. Jaskier had been coming down from a small bout of fame he founded for himself and the money had run out too quickly. And it was then that he had caught sight of the White Wolf. Only, then, he had nary a clue of who the man was. Jaskier saw armor, swords, a very interesting shade of hair. He was intrigued. As the day passed and Jaskier crafted the song that shot both of their names into the stratosphere, he realized he cared little for the money, the recognition, the women. Yes, it was damn welcome, but he found himself missing something.

It didn’t take him very long to admit the thrill of the adventure--wanderlust, to be specific--was the answer to a question he asked himself too many times. And so, when he and Geralt found each other again, he made it a point to tag along. Geralt didn’t appear to care all that much and let Jaskier do as he pleased. Only when Jaskier droned on and on about any random crap that came to mind--which was purely to spur any sort of response from the silent witcher, he wanted to get to know him--did Geralt stir enough to shut him up.

As time went on, years apparently, Jaskier found himself caring less and less for the songs. He just wanted to follow the witcher. His friend, though Geralt refused to verbally reciprocate the fact. After a while, he only wished for his company, to hear the incredible feats and adventures that befell the witcher. It wasn’t until they started to become tight on money and ended up sharing rooms together that Jaskier realized his fascinations went beyond friendly. When they were alone, with a roof over their heads and safety in their minds, Geralt would always relax a bit. He would speak, joke, smile even.

Jaskier thought he was insane in the beginning. To think he could feel anything more than a curious nature. But, no, it became quite apparent.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And it had become his fatal flaw.

Geralt, it seemed, truly cared nothing for the troubadour that brought him fame and coin.

And it was painful. Of course it was. The two had fought a multitude of times in the past, but this was different somehow. To blame his own destiny on the bard that had only wanted to leave this damn mountain, to leave the witch to her inevitable demise, wanted the witcher to be safe.

Perhaps that was why he had very obviously confessed himself to the witcher. Using the excuse that he had to work out what pleased him when he had done so years before. All to stave off the knowledge that his confession had been viewed as material for his next song. That his love was nothing more than musings to be ignored.

Jaskier never thought he would be faced with his unrequited affection so harshly, though he figured it would come down on him eventually. He strummed the lute, an acute anger creeping up his spine.

The fairer sex, they often call it.

But, her love’s as unfair as a crook.

It steals all my reason,

Commit every treason

Of logic with naught but a look.

He had written a majority of it a night or two ago, when Sir Eyck had gone off to shit in the woods and Yennefer had gone off to “get her beauty sleep”. Scratching off lines and writing over them, as he had gotten so used to for a long time.

Never getting the chance to tell Geralt how he felt, what he wanted, what he needed. Came to a point where he no longer thought it was ever going to happen. Watching Borch, Téa, and Véa fall to their presumed deaths--and nearly watching Geralt follow suit--changed that. He knew there would never be such a delight as “the right time”, especially if this hunt had proven to be so deadly. Jaskier wanted to say his feelings outright, hoping a song would help him in that regard. Alas, nothing ever worked out that way.

Jaskier settled for asking Geralt to allow him the opportunity to prove himself as a worthy travel companion, stretching his tone across the word “companion” to give it a different meaning. Geralt did not catch on and if he did, made no move to show it. And he was shot down.

It made him upset, knowing he had lost the battle for the witcher’s affections long before the bard had even agreed to take part. Rigged and unjust, but he should have known better than to love someone he knew damn well now didn’t care.

A storm breaking on the horizon,

Of longing and heartache and lust

She’s always bad news,

It’s always lose, lose

So tell me love, tell me love,

How is that just?

But, Jaskier cared for the witcher before they had met the witch. And, still, he had lost. He had nothing else but their friendship, and even that was gone now. It wasn’t his fault. Not this time. All at once, everything had gone to shit, more so than it had before whenever Yennefer’s influence on Geralt made his vision turn red. Always lashing out at everyone, always angry, never ever good for him.

The lute was strummed harder, the instrument making the troubadour’s emotions known to anyone within range.

But the story is this,

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss.

The bard repeated the line, filling the melody appropriately. There was nothing else he could do but let the song continue. He was a bard, all he knew was to let the music escape him, else he might explode. Jaskier heard rustling behind him and chose to ignore it, too caught up in his emotions to stop the tenor of his own voice. If he could just finish the damn song, he would feel better.

He wouldn’t be so angry that he had completely wasted over twenty years of his life. Destroyed his own path whilst following Geralt down his. Getting them free rooms, free meals, making him famous, helping him scrounge up coin for better armor, making him hair tie after hair tie from the leather of old strappings. Fixing baths, cleaning and stitching up wounds, sleeping in the same fucking bed together. And he still lost to a lusty bitch with a hankering for destruction.

Jaskier had lost to a woman that never spent more than a few hours with the witcher at a time. A woman that caused him pain, not healed him of it. A woman that would outlive him and still cause Geralt heartache without respite. Melitele damn her.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night.

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool!

Better stay out of sight.

The troubadour's tune faltered, voice breaking as memories of the past flooded through him again. Asking Geralt a favor in bodyguarding him while being told he was not the White Wolf’s friend, which stung despite the bard’s nonchalance. Learning that Geralt needed nothing out of life. Jaskier telling the witcher that someone--the use of a gender-neutral pronoun had been a flirt, but still remained true to his heart--may want him. “I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting.” Jaskier’s tone changed, filling with longing and desire. He knew he had a penance for lofty things. Good clothing, fine wine, upstanding company. But, he steadily gave it all up, choosing a life of grime and dirt and blood. The rustling behind him came closer.

If this is the path I must trudge,

I welcome my sentence,

Give to you my penance,

Garrotter, jury, and judge.

And his chorus repeated over and over, driving home his emotional distress at losing the one person in this godsforsaken world that was still willing to deal with his bullshit. Jaskier knew, now, that Geralt had never truly been willing and was only ever acting in line with his morals. Geralt only saved him from the djinn because it was the right thing to do. Geralt chose not to harm Jaskier out of pure annoyance because it was simply wrong and unjust.

Yet, Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Geralt sometimes acted outside of his moral compass. The banquet, the event that had really changed the course of the witcher’s life, had been the only inexplicable act Jaskier could not explain. The witcher had helped him free of his coin, in the most minute way. Nothing in their initial understanding of the event had even the slightest to do with what was the textbook definition of a witcher.

Was it due to the fact that, even if Geralt would never admit it, they truly were friends?

Jaskier had little time to continue his reverie, a soft hum from behind breaking through his thoughts.

“I will never understand why I am oft referred to as a ‘garrotter’.” Gravelly voice, low toned, and calm. Jaskier froze, music stopping. How much had he heard? And even more, he caught on to the metaphor immediately.

Jaskier cleared his throat, refusing to look, “It also means ‘killer’ or ‘hunter’.” He said plainly. “Not to mention your name matches the sound of the word a bit.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

It was a wonder they were even speaking. Jaskier was always so quick to forgive the witcher, though. Yes, he was still hurt and angry. On the other hand, he would fight to keep their friendship and wouldn’t let their squabbles get the better of them. He would just have to bottle his pain, again. Well, maybe put the cork back on the bottle if he was being truthful. He’d let enough spill out of him over the last few days and the song didn’t help.

Geralt walked, moving in front of the bard, gear in hand, “The long way down is safer, but we have a lot of ground to cover.” Face emotionless, golden eyes stared down at the distraught bard.

The bard shook his head, not knowing how to proceed, “Geralt--”

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” The witcher cut in before the troubadour could make a long-winded speech. His name always sounded intimate when it crossed over the witcher’s lips. Never casual, always private and personal.

Jaskier gave a pained smile, blue eyes still rimmed red with sadness, “Good, that’s all I wanted.” No, it wasn’t. He kept that bit to himself. He stood, placing the lute back into its case and placing the strap on his back.

Geralt gave him another straight look, but his eyes always displayed the man’s thoughts and emotions. He knew Jaskier was lying, especially if he had been paying attention enough to know the truth behind the bard’s lyrics, “Hmm.”

They continued down the mountain together, both silent for once. It wasn’t until they had reached the bottom that Jaskier finally fell into a mindless chatter. His thoughts were becoming too heavy and it wasn’t appropriate when he had company.

They didn’t talk about the song, not for a long time. And when they did, there was no turmoil or miscommunication on either end.

There was only an understanding.

[abyss-in-machines]

PROMPT 3: ICE CREAM

AO3

The plan is simple. Actually work hard for once in this dead ass-job that he had mired himself into for ages. Do every possible job handed to them. He might also have to sneakily convince Baba to advertise the Yorozuya, cause work was always scarce. Maybe he could call in some favours from the Prime Minister, but that would be way to easy for something like this. He wanted to earn this, like he never wanted anything else. Maybe even ask Hinowa for work… that could be possible. His skills will never get rusty, and sword training has surprisingly revitalized since the war. Maybe, just maybe, he could get this one right.

Gintoki was a nervous wreck planning this. He usually didn’t plan anything at all, and had always swung with what life had gave him. But this time, the problem posed was truly a rigmarole that he’d have to navigate in the most careful of ways. He had to make sure that the scenery, the timing, the actions, and the object itself was as pristine and perfect as possible. Somehow, it had woken a perfectionist side of him that he never knew existed, and while he was happy about being motivated for an event like this, it was also nerve-wracking and emotionally draining. The fact that he had to keep it a secret from everyone but a select few didn’t help one bit.

Well, even if it all burns down to the ground, I’ll have strawberry ice cream to keep me company… oooh, shit. I have to budget for the ice cream too…

With that in mind, Gintoki got to work. To repeat, Sakata Gintoki actually started working hard for once.

*

Everyday, Shinpachi’s confusion grew. He couldn’t make sense out of what he had been witnessing for the past couple of weeks. The silver haired samurai was… working. Working hard.

Dedicating every resources he had towards the job, the man somehow morphed overnight, and the odd jobs business followed suit. Shinpachi had never seen more than two customers at a time requesting jobs in the headquarters, much less a line of people. He felt like he had seen some of them hanging around Otose’s bar. Now that he thought about it, most of the people frequenting the bar were Kabuki-cho working class people, local business owners and such, coming over for drinks and food after a long day of work. He did remember Gintoki muttering about trying to negotiate with Otose-san about advertisements, but he never thought that Gintoki would go through with it.  

They’ve never had work, let alone this much work. Shinpachi had to arrive earlier at Gingko’s place these days just to get everything in the place cleaned up. The first time he did show up early, he received the shock of his life, as he saw Gintoki up already, preparing breakfast for all three of them. Kagura had to be woken up grudgingly, but Gintoki had seemingly baited her with mounds of eggs on rice every morning. The man would never wake up any later than one in the afternoon, yet here he was, all ready and set by eight forty-five sharp.

For the first time, Yorozuya was actually making profit. The sheer number of requests from local businesses and the general public (as well as the unusual mob requests too, mind you) funded all the food and living expenses that they would usually incur as debt, and more. Gintoki actually paid the rent on time, as Otose happily exclaimed the first time he did. He was smartly utilizing the profits as well, somehow managing to fund advertisement and reach for the Yorozua over time. For the first time in ever, Gintoki managed to pay both him and Kagura with a consistent wage over the months. This wasn’t just uncanny, it was straight up a huge anomaly on the laziest man that Shinpachi ever knew in his life.

As he dusts the sofas, recollecting, he notices Gintoki busy peering over the account balances on the table. He seemed to be carefully scrutinizing all the numbers, before finally letting out a sigh and slacking back on the chair.

“Just a couple more to go, Patsuan,” Gintoki loudly exclaims, as he gets up and walks to the fridge, opening the door to look for his strawberry milk.

“Before what, Gin-san?”

Gintoki sniggers, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing.”

Shinpachi shrugs, and kept on dusting. Gintoki plops down back on the chair with the milk carton, happily indulging in the milk.

“Oh also, Gin-san, why do we have so much ice-cream in the freezer?”

Gintoki pauses for a while, slowly turning to Shinpachi with a dead stare.

“Urusai.”

*

“Shin-chan tells me that you’ve been awfully hard at work nowadays, Gin-san,” Otae said softly, her trademark innocent smile plastered on her face. Gintoki shuddered.

It was a hot, sunny day, and Otae had hired the Yorozua for house cleanup to fix up any possible leaks in pipes and structures. Since he had already assigned the other two into other jobs, Gintoki decided to attend to Otae’s job personally. And now here he was, checking up on the dojo hall, the last place remaining. Of course she was here, training with her naginata.

“How’re things going with Tsukuyo-chan, Gin-san?”

“Huh? Swimmingly, I guess. She’s finally starting to get my jokes, although I still get those random kunais to the forehead.” He rubs his chin, deep in thought. “Oh, I also got her to like parfaits! She’s slowly warming up to chocolate, but says too much sweets are bad. I strongly disagree.”

She smirks. “Planning to tie the know anytime soon then?”

Gintoki shakes. “Hmph.”

Otae laughs, figuring it out. She puts the naginata down and approaches Gintoki, holding a small parcel, with a wad of bills on top of it. She hands it to him, who slowly reaches out a hand, wondering what this was all about.

“A bonus for the job, and for what’s to come, if I’m not wrong.” She smiles, looking at him earnestly. “This arrived early in the morning, as per your instructions. Good luck, Gin-san. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Ginkoti shrugs, smiling.

*

“I know what you’re trying to do, Gin-san,” Hinowa grins, seeing Gintoki arrive at the porch, winded.

“If you do, then pray tell me why are you trying to murder me with all these difficult tasks, eh?” Gintoki snarls, peeved. Hinowa giggles, incensing him more.

“Are, calm down, Gin-san. If I do recall, you were the one asking for jobs, no matter what.”

“I know, but holy shit, the training regimen the Hyakka follow… it’s a miracle I’m in one piece after every one of those sessions. Tsukuyo really gets them all prepped up.”

“You know her, Gin-san.”

Gintoki shudders, taking a seat on the porch step, while Hinowa approaches closer.

“You know, Gin-san, she would never say no. You worry too much.”

“Easy for you to say…”

Hinowa laughs again. “I’m honestly surprised. You did put a lot of effort into this. As her big sister, I couldn’t be more happier for her.” She turns to Gintoki, beaming. “I wish you all the best, Gin-san.”

He grins. “Don’t worry. I got ice cream, just in case.”

*

The date went as smooth as possible, and yet she couldn’t help but worry about him. Gintoki had been acting… much more earnest the whole day. Treating her to a movie, getting parfaits, he had funded the whole thing. They had been out the whole night, to the point where he was walking her back home late at night. Even the Yoshiwara streets had gone quiet, for people had closed up early. Makes sense, as tomorrow was the beginning of a new week.

Even so, the date was fun. She had needed a break like this for a while. Work was definitely much more stress than usual, and age was slowly, yet definitely taking its toll. She wasn’t much old, mind you, but years of work and toil with the Hyakka took a toll on her body. Gintoki too knew it very well. He had definitely lifted her spirits in tonight’s date, even though she was pretty sure that she had been sleepy for most of it. However, he understood, and had kept on through it all. She was truly lucky, truly blessed to have had the privilege of having a relationship with Sakata Gintoki. Words fail to express her gratitude for his presence.

In deep thought, she realizes that they had reached Hinowa’s place in no time. The porch lights were on. She turns around to wish him goodnight, only to find him on his knees, with a hand reaching out, a small open box lying on the palm. Inside the box was a silver ring.

She gasped, hand covering her mouth, shocked. She couldn’t believe it. He grinned, and cleared his throat.

“Marry me, Tsukki.”

*

“You know,” he started, as they walk back to his place after exiting Hokuto Shinken. They’d been out on another date since then, both wearing their engagement rings. “I, uh, still have a lot of chocolate ice cream left. We could use that for desserts after the spicy ramen.”

“Why do you have so much ice cream to begin with?” Tsukuyo groans. “I specifically remember warning you about your sugar intake.” He does a double take.

“C’mon Tsukki, it was necessary, ya know,” he shrugs, looking away. “In case…”

Tsukuyo grins, gripping his hand tighter. “Fine, fine.” She holds up her right hand to catch a glimpse of the silver ring, and smiles serenely.

The things we idiots do for love…

[lizacstuff]

SCK / Edser Asks - mostly 31

(Asks under the cut, there are some spoilers and speculation in there so tread carefully if you don’t want to read that)

Anonymous said: Based on the photos of epi 31 that were released, I saw a theory online that said maybe Deniz bought Eda a star (picture she's holding a certificate paper). Gosh I hope not. That's an Eda and Serkan thing.

It seems to me that buying a star is so specific to Serkan and Eda it either can't be it, OR if is it then they (Eda and Deniz) are doing it to purposely troll Serkan and push at his jealousy buttons, since even if he doesn't remember it, he knows he bought her a star.  I can't imagine Deniz sincerely buying her a star and surprising her with it, because there is no way that goes over well with her, but who knows. I'm done pretending I know the limits of what this show will do, lmao.

Anonymous said: A lot of fans think that Deniz is proposing to Eda but that's one huge box for a ring! I feel like maybe he's been keeping things that are from their friendship over the years and is gifting her that. But I hope not, because I like to think of Serkan being the sentimental one over things related to Eda. Thoughts?

This scene may have to do with Deniz letting Eda know his real feelings, maybe, but why would he propose so soon, in public when they're already fake engaged, and when he knows Eda is still in love with Serkan?  And you're right, it's way too big for that, perhaps it's something from their childhood? idk. I'm having trouble working up any interest in what Deniz might put in a box, because zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  He's boring.

Anonymous said: Although I have no context for the situation that leads to Serkan asking if Eda is happy in the next episode, I still need her to answer honestly. Now that they both have calmed down, had time to adjust to the current situation and he is clearly interested in getting to know her, she needs to tell him exactly how she feels about everything. Heck, totally okay with a comment that “she would have fought for him and their relationship if he had ever given her a chance.” He remembers their kiss, he is having flashes of her and wants to spend time with her, her expressing interest & opening up has to hit differently this time. And if he still says he is going to be with Selin then I do not even what the point of this storyline was 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Yeah, I'm pretty in line with you on this. I would love it if Eda was completely, emotionally honest with him in a moment like that. But my fear is that Eda's pride, understandably wounded by his engagement to the psycho, will get in the way. Our girl doesn't like to appear vulnerable, we've seen it too many times. And being honest about their feelings is NOT how they fell in love the first time around, is it? Nope they were both too terrified to admit it, until push came to shove. 

As far as the point of the storyline, its to show us that Serkan will fall in love with Eda even when the circumstances are completely stacked against them. To that end they have STACKED everything they could against them. So I think the only thing we can do is have patience. There’s no doubt what the endgame plan is, in show time it’s only been a few days, we need to give Serkan a minute to let the war between his heart and brain play out.  I think this episode is going to show us a Serkan who is drawn to her and SHOOK by her. And Selin seeing all of that.

Anonymous said: yeah, i think the amnesia plotline is especially hard to watch rn because of selin's presence and her and serkan's "relationship" and that's where most of the frustration around current eps stem from. altho, i have seen ppl get mad that he's not remembering from "key moments" in their story and somehow it ruins a part of their story and idk.. i just disagree bc clearly there's a plan there for what triggers his memory and when it happens.. and i feel like something has to be coming soon there

Oh, yes, I completely disagree with anyone who thinks that he needs to be remembering moments to prove his love. What bullshit. HE HAS A BRAIN INJURY. It’s AMNESIA. It’s not a choice. It’s not a diss on their love. I’ve noticee that there are legions of fans out there who don’t get the, “If I lived 100 lives, I’d fall in love with you 100 times,” and keep thinking that him recovering his memories is going to be the silver bullet that fixes thing. I don’t think so. I do think he’ll get them back eventually, but seems to me he’s going to need to fall in love first.  Which hopefully will become more fun to watch, because that’s pretty damn powerful. 

Anonymous said: I was just thinking, it kinda sucks we never got to see what Serkan's other two wishes were. Obviously that's all gone and forgotten and the way the story is going now, Serkan may have to offer Eda 3 wishes for hurting her after the memory loss. It would be interesting to see how that would go (it could be for humor purpose or could actually be meaningful for their relationship). Your thoughts?

Oh, yes, I wish we could have seen what the rest of the wishes were. It was a really fun construct that they didn’t play out. Probably a victim of the change in writers around that time.  Since none of the wishes could violate the contract, I really don’t know what Serkan was going to ask for. I think when all of this is said and done, Serkan’s going to have to grant more than 3 wishes for Eda...

Anonymous said: Think I will take my lead from you and stay positive about SCK. And I am going to believe the next episodes is full of great moments between Eda & Serkan that are actual steps back towards each other. Totally get that it has only been 3 days in the show but the weakest part for me has been how tightly Serkan is holding onto his relationship/engagement to Selin...yikes! It makes me cringe seeing his arm around her. I get that was his defense mechanism but it left Eda heartbroken with nothing to work with. Now he has softened, acknowledged her talent and his interest in her and after realizing he is totally jealous about her being with someone else then he needs to put an end to his engagement with Selin.

Oh yes, CRINGE CITY. I can barely look at her. Ugh. The arm around the waist is the worst! But I think you’re right, it’s his defense mechanism. He’s using it to keep distance with Eda who scares the CRAP out of him. Poor dummy. 

Anonymous said: “the barnacle on the ass of this show” 😂😂😂😂 Thank you, I needed that laugh, and never has Selin been better described. Those spoilers I’m reading better not be right 😤

Okay, I'm loath to get into spoilers, but are you talking about the Selin fake pregnancy rumors? I think those are more speculation than spoilers (however the last two weeks the end of the ep hasn't been in the spoiler drops, but then leaked out as prevalent rumors, so.... maybe happening again?)

Anyway @echoapothecary and I talked this through with the spoilers yesterday and I think this rumor does work with the spoilers and it might not be so bad if it happens the way we speculated. Of course all of this is predicated on these spoilers being correct, and who the eFF knows. Spoilers:

The end of the episode is not in the fragman

The end is a bomb

The final scene is bad but it will come in handy because it will serve to unmask Selin (the start of her downfall)

So with those spoilers... I do think the cliffhanger bomb could be Selin telling Eda she's pregnant. But notice that key point... telling Eda.  

Selin is going to be freaked out after seeing Serkan's interest in Eda grow all episode, and she’s supposedly going to witness something that happens between Edser on the boat. So by the end of the episode she probably feels him slipping away and will be beyond desperate. So I could see her dropping one big bomb, a hail Mary pass, that she thinks might drive Eda away and even out of town.

So if she did that would definitely be a “bomb” and it would also be “bad” from the audience perspective.  Now to it “coming in handy because it will serve to unmask her.” I’m pretty sure she and Serkan have not had sex since the accident. The show went out of their way three times to show us they aren’t sleeping in the same bed. So once Serkan finds out what Selin said, he’s going to instantly realize she told one whopper of a manipulative lie to Eda.  And if that happens it suddenly calls into question every single thing she’s told him since he called her after the accident. Hence, unmasking begins. 

So if that happens, and Selin tries to manipulate Eda into giving up, I could see Eda deciding to leave town. Selin might even tell her Serkan doesn’t know because its too much right now on top of the amnesia, so it’s up to Eda to step back and so Eda won’t mention it to him and expose her lie. Who knows. If it happens I expect it would be resolved in 32 after some angst and some dramatic Serkan and Eda moments (imagine him going after her if she’s trying to leave and he finds out why from someone like Melo or Deniz). 

Anyway, is this what’s going to happen? WTF knows. Speculation is never correct, it could be anything, but it seems right in line with the melodramatics this show has been going for since the plane crash.  Selin is rumored to be leaving soon, so if this is how we get rid of her soon, fine by me. I just want her off this show BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.  

[siennahrobek]

Future Past

11 BBY

Luke didn’t remember a lot of specific events after his aunt and uncle were killed. Ben once told him that it had taken him near an entire week just for him to start speaking again. Anything he did recall, was mostly feelings.

Later, Luke would dream about it. Between the vague memories, the feelings and the dreams, he could piece together what had happened. It had made him rather depressed for quite some time, upon realizing and thinking about it, but Ben had made it into a lesson about the Force and how it makes up everything and they should celebrate the time that they did have, the bonds they shared. They were in everything now; all around them and in Luke’s memories. Luke had found comfort in that.

He had dreamed about being in his room, playing blissfully with his hand made wooden ships while his guardians made dinner and worked down the hall. There had been nothing specifically special about that day. It was warm and sunny; Uncle Owen had just come in from working on the farm to eat. Luke had played, blissfully unaware.

It had all been very unexpected and abrupt.

There had been no screams, nothing to warn Luke what was coming. Just a pounding on the door which resulted in the horrible rip that tore it off its hinges, a series of blaster shots and a shout of “NO!” that was followed by a horrible gurgle that died in the throat.

It was fast.

And it had caught Luke’s attention as his curiosity got the best of him, despite the painfearpanic that had been momentarily filling his senses. After that moment there had been nothing. Just nothing. He pushed himself up off the ground to see what was going on, only able to peek through the crack between the door and the wall. It wasn’t much, but he had caught the sight of some shiny white plastoid armor and blood pooling over the carpet in the other room – oh was Aunt Beru going to be so upset –

Luke’s tangent trail of thoughts had screeched to a halt as his eyes landed on a body that was sprawled over the floor, skin already paled and eyes glazed over, glossy and lifeless. An arm reached out towards his room; fingers nearly pointed.

It was Aunt Beru.

Luke wanted to reach back.

There was a sharp hiss, and a brilliant blue light illuminated the space. As shouts and screams filled the air this time, all Luke felt was painpainpain and no thoughts accompanied it, which was extremely odd. Even when his guardians got hurt – for whatever reason – there had always been other feelings accompanying that pain. He threw himself to the other side of the room, hiding in the corner under a blanket.

The noises had died down by that time in the world but in his head, they continued to echo.

Blamblamblam. Swishshrrr. Screamscreamscream

He ended up on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest as tightly as he could get them and his hands covering his ears, as if that would stop the sounds in his mind with his eyes squished closed as if that would stop anything.

“Stop, please. Stop. Stop. Stop.”

Concernfearanxiety. Wherewherewhere?

Those were new ones.

“Luke,” a voice greeted, softly, quietly. Luke knew that voice, he knew it like his own hand, but his mind could not place it. He has always known that voice.

Peacecalmsafe

Peacecalmsafe

Peacecalmsafe.

“I can’t feel Uncle Owen,” Luke cried in a whimper. “I can’t feel Aunt Beru.”

“I know, Luke,” the voice whispered, smooth and kind and sorrowful. Blindly, Luke reached out both physically and within himself for the voice.

Peacecalmsafe.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

The voice found him first and quickly wrapped him in a set of arms, bundling him up in a cloak? Blanket? Something both a bit soft and a bit scratchy but warm and well used. It ached of love and loneliness and grief. He still cried.

“We are going to leave, Luke,” the voice assured, subdued. Luke was moving then, tucked in someone’s embrace and under the fabric. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to stay under my robe and do not open your eyes. Can you do that?”

He wanted to look and he wasn’t sure why, but he knew that voice and he knew better than to not listen to it – the presence. He knew that presence. The one that hummed lullabies when he was young and in his dreams. The only thing he vaguely even could recall from his earliest year.

Luke nodded.

The voice moved and Luke reached out again. “My ship,” he whined.

“I have your ship, Luke,” the voice replied, kindly. There was a lot more moving and more sounds that Luke tried to ignore but Luke finally, eventually, got a hold of his little wooden ship. He cradled it tightly, rougher edges poking into him. It took a moment for him to understand the feeling. The carved toys he found felt like something. Something Luke knew – had always known. It felt of horrible grief and sadness, only rivalled by such warmth and undying love. Luke could barely fathom.

But he understood.

His carved toys and the voice felt the same.

**

Luke remembered mostly more feelings than real, tangible memories for some time after that. Ben was the same of the voice and he wasn’t just a voice or just a feeling. He was a person. A person Luke had often asked Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru about for years. He knew he existed, and he wanted him. It was that feeling he knew since forever and he had wanted that feeling bad. Luke remembered the pity from Aunt Beru and the near disgust and fury from Uncle Owen, which always left a little hurting throb in his mind. Luke had stopped asking for a while but kept wishing for him. The boy knew that presence, that person, was like Luke. And Luke loved him.

Ben was almost always soft and kind, but especially in that first couple of months after they left the homestead. Luke remembered burning and fire but little else. He remembered sitting in front of Ben on his Blurg, wrapped in his robe with bags and things jangling around as the animal had walked across the desert and into the city. He remembered the city, dusty and bustling and being kept wrapped up. They had been there for a bit and Ben often kept his eyes closed. There was little from that time, just a bit of a numb and sad feeling. Ben felt of grief too; Luke had never felt such sadness before. It was enough to choke on, but Ben kept it away, later he found out they were called shields, so Ben’s grief wouldn’t leak into Luke’s.

Luke wished he could take Ben’s sadness away.

Sometimes, even in the present, Luke would look at Ben and knew he wished the same.

Hyperspace was a horrible feeling the first time. It hadn’t been really his first time, as Luke would learn later, but it was the first Luke could really remember, but the chillness in his bones felt familiar. The child hadn’t left the confines of Ben’s robe, even though the cockpit seat wasn’t exactly big enough for both of them. The older man had just whispered to him, running his hands through Luke’s hair and projecting as many positive feelings as he could to get Luke through this. The first time was pretty bad but afterwards, he could deal with hyperspace a little better. It took some work.

It had taken weeks for him to push down the cold. They had been travelling constantly, with varying stops in between to gather their bearings and stock up on supplies. Luke, at the time, hadn’t known where they were going or even how they got the money or the ship.

Hyperspace hadn’t gotten any warmer.

Later, Luke would know that it would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for Ben’s shields and in time, he would learn to make his own so that the cold didn’t bother him so much anymore. And since he had more control over his emotions than the first time, that had helped as well. He just wasn’t used to this type of cold. Nights on Tatooine had been brutal with the chill but that was always just skin deep. This cold was something else. It was the kind of cold that buried into your bones and burrowed deep into your chest. The kind of cold no blanket or heater could ever fix, despite how much Luke tried.

“Are you still quite cold?” Ben asked tenderly, as Luke tried to move around their tiny ship, wrapped tightly in several blankets. There wasn’t much room on the ship, it was probably made more for one, but Ben and Luke made do. It helped with getting past unwanted visitors.

“Y-y-es-s-s,” Luke chattered.

“Come with me, I will get you some tea.”

Luke didn’t know how tea could help, even when a multitude of blankets and a blasting heater didn’t but the boy followed anyways. Ben usually knew what he was talking about.

He had to do something of a toddle to get to the tiny kitchenette at the other end of the ship, since his balance was still unused to travelling in space. A closed pot of some kind was on the burner and heating. Luke watched with a sort of hypnotized rapt attention as Ben slowly prepared the drink in a small glass. He quietly set two cups down in front of him on their makeshift table near where Luke had sat, bundled up.

Ben set his own down on the other side and took a seat. Luke watched as he took a sip and then, after the boy had situated himself, he mimicked the older man near perfectly, taking his own sip.

It was very warm. He had only taken a bit but that he had drank laid over the cold in his bones, washing over the hurt in his chest. Luke didn’t really have the right words to describe it.

He licked his lips and stared at the cup in wonder. What came out of his mouth had not been what he had intended. “Its… a little bitter,” he admitted.

Luke felt something from Ben, but he wasn’t sure what it was, as it had passed much too quickly for him to identify.

“I think I may have a bit of sweetener,” Ben hummed. Luke didn’t watch him rummage through their little belongings but instead stared at the tea, trying to figure out what he was missing.

Ben gave him a packet. Luke barely put any in, it probably wouldn’t have even changed the taste, but he didn’t want to taint the warm feeling. When he took another sip, slightly more this time, he reached and reached and reached.

Warmth bloomed in his chest, tingling down all the way to his toes.

“Oh,” Luke whispered. He knew that feeling, that was the first feeling. The first thing he could grasp and remember. “So that is what that is,” his voice was nearly inaudible.

From Ben, he felt a wave of pleasedcontentjoyrelief and Luke smiled up at him, brightly.

“I like this!”

Ben’s smile was soft and genuine. Luke’s just grew.

“I will endeavor to get my hands on others of more quality, if you would like.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “There are more???”

Did they taste of the deep feelings and warmth that this one did?

Ben nodded.

“Yes please!” Luke bobbed his head with a bout of enthusiasm. “Are there many?”

“Quite,” Ben replied. “I have not even tasted them all. They all taste different but have the same base.”

“I want to try them all!” Luke grinned.

Ben’s smile twisted into something sad and happy at the same time.

“Can I sit by you while I drink my tea?”

Ben nodded. “Of course, dear one. I’m sure we can make it fit.”

Luke abandoned his blankets and hopped from the seat. He had only taken two sips of the tea and he already felt better and warmer; he doubted he would need those while drinking this. Setting his tea next to Ben’s, Luke crawled up next to him and lifted his large cloak, tucking himself securely underneath it and into Ben’s side.

The older man watched in a mix of mild bewilderment and amusement as Luke settled under his arm and shifted as close as he could. Then Luke grasped his cup and took another, rather loud, slurp of his tea.

Ben chuckled, making Luke brighten. Ben didn’t laugh a lot. He was warming up and the child knew what was making the tea so warm and special. Something that smothered and chased the cold away.

It’s so warm and steeped in love.

Luke loves it.

10 BBY

One of Luke’s earliest, tangible memories about his time with Ben, at least, something exciting,was still a little fuzzy, as he wasn’t always paying attention to what was happening and, well, it was still early. They had a little ship that was good for sneaking out of places where they were not welcome – which was alive, as Luke found – and to avoid Imperials. Luke learned about the Empire early on and to keep away from it. Luke didn’t remember exactly where they were, but he knew they were running out of fuel – they couldn’t use the heater anymore – when they had come across a massive ship that was just floating in the middle of nowhere.

Ben had told him it was a droid ship. Luke had a hard time saying the other name, so he just called them droids. Luckily, they didn’t have any with them to offend. Ben told him that he used to fight them, back in a war. He wanted to ask so many questions about that because it was a war; old crazy hermit Ben Kenobi was a warrior. Months ago, that would have never been believable. Ben had been a wizard in the wastes, but Luke knew better now. Ben could fight and he was good at it. Luke hadn’t exactly been sure why they were there, going to look at this massive ship from the past war, but he had stayed on the ship while Ben went out in search of something.

Luke didn’t know what Ben was looking for when he came back but he certainly came back with something neither of them were expecting.

He hadn’t known exactly what it was, but it was big, and it barely fit on their ship. Luke didn’t like it much; they barely had enough room as it was!

“It is a stasis pod,” Ben explained, quietly, as if reading Luke’s mind. He liked that sometimes, when he didn’t have to try to put together words for Ben to understand what he wanted or meant. “People are put in there.”

“There is a person in there?” Luke yelped, jumping back.

Ben wiped some condensation off of the viewing glass. A face appeared, with darker skin than either of them and curly black hair cropped close to his head. Luke stared at him before sparing Ben a glance. Ben’s brows were deeply furrowed, and he looked rather worried.

“Can we get him out?”

“Not here,” Ben shook his head, his voice low and apprehensive. He leaked out paranoiafearworry. “It’s not safe. We will land and then let him out.”

Luke didn’t really understand, but Ben walked away towards the cockpit, so he didn’t get a chance to ask again. He just got up on his tip toes to look at their new, sleeping passenger, as the ship jumped back into hyperspace. The move to the nearest planet side wasn’t that long but Luke had spent a lot of his time watching the new person sleeping soundly in the pod. His curiosity was peaked, and he had so many questions!

Unfortunately, Luke’s excitement had a downfall as he seemed to forget to strap in as they left hyperspace and began to breach the atmosphere. Unable to keep his balance, Luke tripped and flew into the side of the pod and into the panel of buttons, pressing several.

“Kark,” Luke whispered, wide eyed. The pod shifted and let out a hiss, with condensation and fog being released from the inside. The viewing panel and door creaked as it opened up.

“What was that?” Ben called from the cockpit.

Luke frowned and glanced around. “Uhm…nothing?”

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Ben muttered so low Luke could barely hear him. The shaking got worse as they made their way through the most difficult part of the atmosphere. It would smooth out soon, enough for Ben to land, but the body hadn’t awoken yet, although Luke could see him shift. He was quickly stirring. Luke just tried to keep him steady.

And, as of course, things only got worse.

“We have company!” Ben called again as he turned the ship sharply. Luke threw himself to the window to look outside; it was easy to move with the turn. It was hard to see anything, but he could make out a few ships and they were shooting at them. “Pirates,” Ben growled.

“What is happening?” a new voice muttered.

Luke turned around. The man inside had sat up, holding his head before looking around. Oh, oh, he was in so much trouble.

The man’s dark eyes met Luke’s bright blue ones. “Who are you? What is happening? Where am I?”

“SHHHH!” Luke practically screeched as he shoved his hand over the man’s mouth. The man just stared at him, completely shocked before carefully moving away from him the best he could.

“…Luke,” Ben’s voice drawled out his name making the boy wince. The man didn’t respond so quickly to cause any pain, but he caught sight of Ben when the man had shifted his head in an effort to look back at the child. The man’s eyes practically bulged.

“General Kenobi?” he echoed.

Something shuttered from Ben. Panicworryfearpanicpanicnonono. “Luke, get away, right now!” he barked.

He tried but the man in the pod hopped out of the casin. Or at least he tried. The man had practically fell out, not quite having his space legs. He scrambled to the cockpit where Ben tensed so much Luke feared he would fall apart into pieces.

“General!” the man called as he got closer.

“Kix,” Ben replied, warily.

Luke didn’t remember a lot after that. He hadn’t been strapped in and therefore had been tossed around the room of the ship a lot, causing several bruises and a couple of small gashes on his person by the time they had escaped the pirates and landed. The two adults had talked a while and Luke waited away from them. He felt a lot of their feelings, mostly the man’s – Kix – due to his lesser shields. They weren’t bad, Luke was just strong.

There was a lot of feelings.

Pain, concern, betrayal, disbelief, panic, heartbreak.

Just a few Luke could identify.

Eventually they had parted briefly, and Ben explained there were some things he had to do, and that Luke should stay in or right around the ship. He had left him with Kix and when the man came to introduce himself, he had seen Luke’s state. There wasn’t a lot that he could do; as nothing was serious, but Kix looked around the ship for any medical supplies and came back with a small kit. He cleaned the small wounds, and then brought out the band aids to cover them. They were colorful with cute little green twi’leks on them.

“He’s got cute band aids,” Kix chuckled. “Where did he get these?”

“They came with the ship,” Luke shrugged. Kix seemed to find that amusing. He tried to ask a little about the state of the galaxy, but Luke was young and didn’t have a lot of answers. All he knew was there was a lot of bad people and they had taken away his aunt and uncle.

It had been hours later when Kix asked out of the blue. “Are you a jedi?”

Luke didn’t have an answer for him.

Ben came back fairly quickly after that with a few supplies and some paperwork. Luke was around when they started to talk again but he wasn’t really listening, rather his interest being taken by the outside nature and curious small animals that dared to venture around the ship. There was some more heartbreak and sadness and grief coming from Kix as they talked. Luke heard a few things that caught his interest including new life, Organa, and rebellion, but they didn’t make a lot of sense to Luke himself.

By the end of the day, Kix was leaving with a small pack and a bunch of paperwork. As they said their goodbyes, Luke walked up to him and pressed one of Ben’s gifted hand carved ships into his hand. Kix stared at it and then the both of them, but few words were exchanged.

That was the last Luke had saw of him.

Ben and Luke left the planet quickly after that, knowing a few pirates were stilling hanging around. Once they had gotten safely into hyperspace, Ben had sat down in the area near Luke. It was quiet until Luke thought of a question.

“Kix asked me if I was a jedi,” Luke noted, pushing around one of the toys had made for him. It was a hand carved land vehicle, with a bunch of legs. Ben told him that he used them in the war. He helped Luke paint it partially gold. Ben frowned and looked at him, a bit surprised. “Ben, what is a jedi?”

His smile was nearly sadder than any Luke had seen from him. He almost didn’t want Ben to answer if it caused him so much pain. “I think it is best if I tell you about the Jedi when you are a bit older.”

“Are you a jedi?” Luke asked, fiddling with his toy and picking up another.

Ben hesitated but he spoke the truth. Luke could feel it. “I am.”

Luke didn’t look up. “Then I want to be one too.”

The chuckle that came from the older man was hoarse and with little humor. He was trying. “You don’t even know what they are.”

“I know you are one,” Luke started. He sounded so sure of himself, like he actually knew what he was talking about. His determination and persistence pressed into the Force. He kept going, his words flowing into one another with unexpected grace. “And I know you are strong and brave and kind. You help people even when they probably don’t deserve it. And you protect people and me, no matter what. You feel things differently, like me, but better. You are calm and gentle and resilient. You love like no one else. I want to be just like that,” Luke’s explanation sounded reasonable to him, and he could feel something, something from Ben but the older man just tightened his shield.

“Perhaps but perhaps not,” Ben replied, calmly but he couldn’t help as his voice cracked. “You can be all those things and not be a jedi.”

“Was my father a jedi too?”

That certainly got Ben’s attention. “Why would you ask that?”

Luke shrugged, still not quite looking at him, his eyes and hands attentive with his task, messing with some parts on one of the toys he was working on. Or, at least, what Ben suspected was a toy. It was hard to tell. “I just feel like he would be.”

“Your feelings do you credit, young Luke,” Ben admitted, hesitant and quiet. He didn’t seem to want to answer this, like it would be dangerous. “Your father was a jedi-,” Luke’s head snapped up as he gasped, eyes widening and his fingers clutching the parts. He had thought so but hearing it admitted out loud was completely different. “And he was one of my closest and dearest friends.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes,” Ben nodded. “Quite well.”

Luke’s eyes had never shone brighter.

Present Past

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know how to explain it. He’s in a coma.”

General Anakin Skywalker had been driven to a few meters from the bed where his former master lay, now hooked to a few tubes and an oxygen mask for good measure. There wasn’t that much wrong with him as far as Kix could tell, aside from a nasty gash on the back of his head – he had probably fallen onto some rocks – and perhaps a concussion but there was nothing else. Luke stayed close to the bed, practically in it himself, watching the other troops carefully and warily. He didn’t relax much, although one could tell at least some tension did release from his shoulders when Kix was the only one around. No one was certain why.

“A coma?” General Skywalker’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t look that bad when he was found, even though we didn’t get a very close look at him,” he added, shooting a pointed glance at Luke.

Kix shrugged helplessly. “I am not sure, sir. There is no real reason he shouldn’t wake up. The wound on his head isn’t terrible. My guess is that it might be...you know, Force things.”

Luke frowned, looking back at Obi-Wan. He seemed to consider this for a moment, as if taking it seriously. Apparently, he was. “I suppose that may be possible,” the boy murmured. “Perhaps he just needs some rest.”

“Rest?” Anakin grumbled, crossly.

“Perhaps we should call the Council; they might have some insights,” Ahsoka suggested as she bounced on the balls of her feet, linking her hands together. She seemed a bit proud of her answer, even though her master didn’t appear to think so.

“Or come up with some bold-faced lie,” Anakin’s lip curled, a bit cynically.

“We can at least call Commander Cody,” Rex added, his tone careful. It was hard to miss the way Luke perked at the sound of the name, despite trying to subdue the motion but it was hard not to notice. Everyone had. Or, at least, he was sure everyone had. It was hard to miss. “He would want to know and if nothing else, he can organize the fleet temporarily in General Kenobi’s absence.”

The grumble under Anakin’s breath was one no one could quite interpret but the Captain and Ahsoka soon pried him away, very well near dragging him out of the medical bay. Anakin caught Luke’s eyes right before he left. “I will be right back,” he promised, although it sounded more like a threat.

Kix just sighed.

Even after Anakin and the others had left, Kix kept moving and working around Obi-Wan, checking and rechecking the General’s vitals and signs, trying to figure out what may be wrong and how to fix it. Luke sat quietly just out of the way, content with just watching. Kix did not like the silence. His med bay was rarely this quiet. “So, what’s your name, kid?” he asked, shooting a glance at the blonde-haired teenager.

The boy opened his eyes and looked up at him, evenly. “Ah, Luke.”

“Last name?”

“Depends. Ben and I take a lot of last names.”

Kix had been briefed but just barely. A few of the troopers that had brought General Kenobi’s body in had given him a few facts but not nearly enough for him to know what was going on. He wished he knew more. “You’re safe here,” he assured the boy.

Luke shrugged, crossing his legs. “That remains to be seen.”

Had this child been raised by General Kenobi? He had some similar mannerisms. Then again, General Skywalker had also been raised by General Kenobi and the two couldn’t be more different. “Skywalker?” Kix questioned. His general did have a habit of freaking others out sometimes, as he tended to be forceful and passionate. A force to be reckoned with. “Don’t worry too much about him, he’s just worried about General Kenobi. Usually is, considering how much trouble the High General tends to get in. How do you know General Kenobi anyways?”

“Pretty sure we are time travelers.”

Kix stopped everything at once and spun around to stare at the new teenager. “Pardon?” he sputtered.

“Time travelers,” Luke repeated with a cavalier shrug. “Unless, like I mentioned, I’m hallucinating. But the time traveling seems to be what I think is going on currently. It makes just a bit more sense than hallucinating people I haven’t met ever. And I haven’t been born yet.”

Kix did not know what to do with that. He racked his brain for any response. He wasn’t particularly proud of what he came up with. “I heard you requested me by name.”

“We met, briefly. Or we do, in the future. When I was young,” Luke shrugged again, setting his hands on his crossed knees. “I would have preferred the 212th but Ben’s ship wasn’t available, and I didn’t know how bad his wound was, so I had to settle. Not that you aren’t a great medic.”

The medic chuckled but he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. This was just so entirely bizarre, even with General Skywalker and General Kenobi in the middle of it. And they were in the middle of nearly all the bizarre happenings. “Thanks,” he replied, a bit dryly. He went back to work, figuring it would get more uncomfortable if he just stood and stared. “Why do you prefer the 212th?”

There didn’t seem to be an easy or sure answer to that, as Luke just shifted, a bit uncomfortably. “It’s a long story,” he confessed after a moment. “I don’t know a lot of it. It would probably be better for Ben to explain the future.”

As if he didn’t have a bad feeling already, Kix felt something in his stomach flip over. That did not sound good on multiple different levels. He changed the subject, perhaps he could get some different answers. Surely General Skywalker would want to know more. “You live in the Temple with General Kenobi?” It was rather a shot in the dark, as Kix didn’t really know what would happen, especially after the war.

“No. I’ve never been to the Temple.”

That was surprising, more than most things. General Kenobi did not make it a secret that he loved the Jedi Temple. Most Jedi did. A lot of clones even did. His face twisted as he frowned at the prospect. “What? Where do you live?”

“Lots of places. We were on the run. We are all each other has. It’s just us.”

“What about Skywalker?” Kix swallowed, he didn’t like where this was heading. He didn’t like any of this, really. There was virtually nothing in this conversation that he had enjoyed or found any good in. “I can’t imagine he would just sit back,” he added, cautiously.

“It’s just us,” Luke repeated.

He seemed unwilling to give up anything else. Kix just left it alone.

***

“He’s pretty mad at me huh?” Luke’s voice made Ahsoka jump a little. She had not expected that he had felt her presence. Quickly, she calmed herself and sat next to him. Obi-Wan’s breathing was steady, like he was asleep rather than in some unexplainable coma. She had followed Anakin and Captain Rex to the bridge and called Commander Cody. Even through the wavering blue holocall, Ahsoka could see his expression darken with everything that was listed off. It was a short call, and he ordered a rendezvous, suggesting a call to the Council. Anakin didn’t like that, even though he promised he would. Commander Cody didn’t particularly look like he believed him. Ahsoka didn’t really believe him either.

After the call, Kix had walked up, having left the medical bay, probably to give Anakin an update. Ahsoka had slipped away as Kix just said he didn’t have anything new and worked her way back towards the medical hall. Maybe she should talk to Luke. She was more his age, perhaps he would be more willing to open up to her.

She hadn’t been expecting being unable to sneak up on him. Usually, she was good at that. Either she was losing her touch, or he was just good. Luke had called her out, sitting cross legged next to Master Obi-Wan’s cot. Perhaps he had been mediating, he kind of looked like he was beforehand.

“Skyguy is just protective,” she assured.

Luke glanced at her with his brows furrowed in confusion. “I was talking about Master Skywalker?”

Ahsoka let out a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a little. Everyone was so dour. She supposed it made sense, none of the events or information they did know wasn’t exactly uplifting or positive. “Same. I just call him that. He calls me Snips.”

Although he was smirking, a bit amused, Luke’s nose wrinkled, unsure of that idea. Perhaps it was more the nickname itself that he didn’t care for rather than the concept of them. “If you like that I guess,” he snickered quietly. Ahsoka smiled, she was right.

“Does Master Obi-Wan have any nicknames for you?”

Luke caught on quick and took a moment to think about it. “Not many but a few. He used to call me Beacon a lot when I was a kid,” he admitted, touching his chin. “His beacon of hope.”

Ahsoka couldn’t help the dread that grew in her chest. It was a cute nickname, aside from the underlying implications.

“That’s really sweet,” she forced out with a strict smile. Keep going, keep going. “How long as Master Obi-Wan been with you?”

Pausing for a long time, he appeared to do some math in his head, his gaze flitting around the room with the thought. “I’m not entirely sure. Since I was eight or nine, I think. The time was a bit blurry. My aunt and uncle that were raising me had been…they were killed. Ben took me in.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry,” Ahsoka replied, genuinely, that was followed with a frown. There were a lot of orphans in the war and although Master Obi-Wan liked and was pretty good with children, it didn’t seem very likely for him to just…adopt one. It was likely that he was force sensitive; she hadn’t really checked or looked but even if he was, it made even more sense for Master Obi-Wan to take him to the Jedi Temple to petition him to be put in the creche like other younglings. Something wasn’t adding up. “Did you ever know your parents?”

Blonde hair shifted as Luke shook his head. “No. My mother died in childbirth.”

“And your dad?”

Luke did not respond right away, biting his lip. “…complicated,” he ended up with, trying to shrug it off. A touchy subject, she guessed. “But Ben is great. I’d be somewhere terrible or dead if not for him. He is my guardian.”

“You care about him.”

“I love him,” Luke corrected with a lopsided smile. “He does his best.” The teenager looked over where Obi-Wan was laying as he twitched, but just barely. It was the first real movement the body had made since he had been found. Luke took his hand, wrapping his fingers around the older man’s and squeezed gently. “We have each other. It might not be much, but he makes the best of it.”

Ahsoka wanted to ask him about the future. She had so many questions. Why was Obi-Wan, of all people, on the run, where were Skyguy and her? Where were the clones or the jedi? But it seemed fairly clear Luke wouldn’t give her those answers.

She tried a different approach.

“Was Master Obi-Wan teaching you to be a jedi?”

Luke smiled brightly and Ahsoka nearly felt blinded by the light in the Force. His nickname hadn’t been just a symbol, Luke’s force presence was so bright. And boy, was he force sensitive; powerful and brilliant, like Anakin. They weren’t the same but how much power they seemed to exude was on similar levels. “Yes! He is raising me as a Jedi. I wanted it.”

The repetition and change of her phrase niggled in the back of her mind.

“Do you have a saber?”

“Not yet,” his shoulders sunk a little in disappointment. “Illum has been…unreachable as of late. Ben has been trying to find a way or other crystals, but we are waiting until one calls to me. He has another saber, but the crystal doesn’t really resonate with me well. It has a history.”

Ahsoka nodded. She understood most of that, many crystals can be notoriously picky with their users. They were even known to fight sometimes. “Perhaps when Master Obi-Wan wakes up, you can borrow his and we can spar.”

Luke visibly brightened again. “I would love that. I haven’t really been able to spar with anyone,” he confessed, beaming clearer than Ahsoka had seen him. Her heart felt like it was melting a little; he was kind of adorable with his little dimples and enthusiasm. She had little doubt that Master Obi-Wan was teaching him, that look could probably placate entire planet governments.

Ahsoka grinned back, baring her teeth, as her stomach growled. It had been quite some time since she and her master had gone to the planet surface to find Obi-Wan’s ship as well as the man from the planet. “Are you hungry?”

Luke nodded. His grin had diminished but he still looked rather pleased, instead of the reserved protective and schooled nature he had been sporting previously. Ahsoka exhaled silently; it appeared as if she had gained some kind of rapport and trust with this mysterious kid. “Famished,” he answered.

“We can go to the mess for some grub,” she shrugged, hopping up to her feet from her seat. She swung her arms to stretch them out a little bit. It felt nice on her muscles, but it also bought her a few casual moments for him to answer.

Hesitating, Luke glanced over at Obi-Wan, his brow furrowing in concern. “I don’t think I should leave Ben,” he replied finally. His gaze flitted over to her in a bit of a silent apology.

She tried not to let it bother her. Perhaps Skyguy would have liked to be alone with his former master for a bit, but then again, he was probably knee deep in talks with the Council, or at the very least, Master Windu. “I’ll bring you back something,” she replied slowly.

His smile was softer and quieter but no less sincere. “I would appreciate that.”

“Anything specific?”

He chuckled slightly, as if he was remembering something. She wished she knew what it was, to be in on the joke. Luke was interesting and she wanted to know him better. “No. I can eat just about anything,” he replied instead. Ahsoka stepped out, ready to move and come back quickly so they could talk some more.

When she had come back barely ten minutes later, she almost got the drop on him. She had been in the doorway, peering inside. Luke had settled near Master Obi-Wan’s head, messing with the master’s hair a little bit. He appeared a bit amused. “Got some nice color in it at this time, huh?” he murmured with a smile. “Guess you aren’t under the twin suns of the desert for ten years, so it isn’t so bleached,” he added with a chuckle. “I really hope you came back with me; I hope this is real. I want to meet everyone you love but I can’t imagine doing it without you. But even if you don’t, I’ll choose you anyways, if you’ll have me.”

Ahsoka’s feet walked with her mind too far behind, which let Luke know that she was coming in. Disappointing, she would have liked to know more about Luke what was talking about. “I got some grub!” she declared as Luke looked up at her and smiled, cordially.

“Thank you,” he included, shifting a bit away from Obi-Wan. She proffered the container with his food in it, and they sat down on the floor next to the bed, the machines steadily beeping as they quickly dug in.

“So, if you’re from the future and you’re around Master Obi-Wan all the time, I’m guessing you know a bit about us,” Ahsoka pointed out, twirling her fork in the food. It was a guess, but she hoped that Master Obi-Wan would at least talk about her and Anakin, if nothing else. If they weren’t around. “You knew who Anakin was when we found you and you asked for Kix by name.”

Luke nodded, slurping up some of his. He glanced up at her, but his gaze was watchful, as if he had to be vigilant on what he said. Ahsoka wished he didn’t feel like that; they should be friends, especially with their connections to Master Obi-Wan. She wondered how Anakin would feel about a brother padawan. “Yeah. Ben told a lot of stories about pretty much everyone he knew well,” he conceded. “He liked telling them and I liked hearing them. I asked all the time.”

“Hope they were all good!” Ahsoka cheered, artfully trying to compel him to elaborate.

“I thoroughly enjoyed them,” he countered as a substitute. “Do you know where we are going?”

Ahsoka tried not to feel too disheartened at the shortage of information she was getting but then again, she didn’t want to push Luke away. She really liked him, he was sweet and charismatic, although a bit protective, at least as far as she had seen. Ahsoka could certainly see why Master Obi-Wan would like him. She knew he was training him to be a jedi, but Luke hadn’t used to the word padawan. Perhaps he was training him without the Council’s permission? That seemed improbable. Shaking off the questions in her head, she answered his as best she could. “Pretty sure we will head to Coruscant,” she started and barely caught a hint of Luke’s faint shudder. “But that will be after we meet back up with the 212th.”

This made Luke perk up, his shoulders rolling to make him look a bit taller. “The 212th? Ben’s old attack battalion? We are going to meet up with them?”

“You know them?”

“Of course,” Luke’s grin was back, and he was just about the most excited she had seen him yet, even more so than the suggestion of a spar. “Ben told me about them all the time. I’ve always wanted to meet them. Is Commander Cody going to be there?”

Ahsoka smirked at him, amused. “Yeah. Cody usually keeps with the 212th, alongside Master Obi-Wan, but he is the Marshall Commander.”

Luke nodded, his torso shifting in anticipation. “Yes, he and Ben led the entire Third Systems Army,” he prattled enthusiastically.

The Togruta padawan nodded a bit entertained by this turn of events. “Yes.”

Biting his lip, a bit Luke tried to hold back a grin. “Do you know when he will be here?”

“A couple hours I’d say,” Ahsoka shrugged, rotating her dish. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Luke just looked peculiarly ecstatic about that, beaming strangely at his food and dug in with a bit more gusto.

**

“How is he?” Anakin demanded, although he kept his voice rather low. Kix had come up to him as Ahsoka had slipped away. Perhaps she was going to try and gather intel. He felt a twinge of satisfaction at the thought. The more they knew about this mysterious child, the better off they would be. Turns out, Kix had the same idea and Anakin wasn’t disappointed.

“Physically, he is fine,” Kix answered, a bit helplessly. He didn’t have any more answers about General Kenobi’s condition than before, which everyone knew would irritate the medic. Perhaps the 212th would have better luck finding those answers. They knew General Kenobi better than most and Luke seemed to prefer them. “I’m pretty sure this is probably Force-related.”

“Did you talk to him?” Captain Rex inquired. “The boy? Luke?”

The medic just nodded. “Yes. Said he met me briefly in the future, and that’s why he knew my name. He wouldn’t give me a last name, mentioning that he and General Kenobi were on the run. I don’t know from who.”

Anakin scowled with his brow heavily creasing.

“From what?” Rex asked as his brows seemed to mirror his General’s. It probably would have been an humorous sight, if not for the reason and contexts.

“He wouldn’t say,” Kix replied with a small shake of his head.

“Where am I?” Anakin griped, mostly to himself. He mused about this, not appearing to happy because no one could imagine the answer would be one they would want to hear, much less be true. But Kix answered, as he seemed to have some semblance of a response. He didn’t look thrilled about it either.

“Sir, from the way he was talking, I’m pretty sure you are dead.”

The silence hung in the air like fog, suffocating everything with a looming presence and a horrible line of thought. No one could imagine what that would entail. Although the troopers had come to understand, better than almost anyone, that the Jedi were not invincible, that they were flesh and bone and blood like everyone else; that they could die, General Kenobi and General Skywalker always seemed to come out on top. Even with all the odds and problems stacked up against them, they always came through. If not with a victory, then at least with a survival. The notion that one of them did not and that the remaining one was on the run seemed impossible and unfeasible.

“We contacted Commander Cody,” Rex broke the silence, desperately trying to change the subject. No one wanted to think further about the implications of what Kix had learned. General Skywalker’s face had softened just a bit, like he had realized something that he hadn’t before, something about the repercussions of his possible death and the affect that it would have on the other General. No trooper could tell exactly what it was.

“I’m not happy,” Skywalker muttered. His voice sounded a little annoyed, which was no surprise to anyone, but his gaze was apprehensive and fleeting, almost deep in thought.

“We really should contact the Jedi Council,” Kix added, uncomfortably, as he watched General Skywalker’s expression go through a multitude of different phases he couldn’t pinpoint. Rarely did the medic really want to know what was going on in General Skywalker’s head. “They might know something.”

It took a long moment before Skywalker realized they had been talking to him and he jumped out of his thoughts. “Oh right, yeah, whatever. Let’s call them.

They had connected to General Windu. It was a bit of a busy time for the Council specifically which was probably why the Korun general looked a bit more irritated and tired than usual with Skywalker’s appearance. “Skywalker, did you retrieve Kenobi?”

“Is it just you?” General Skywalker replied, carefully. “Something happened, the Council should probably here about it.” It was fairly apparent that Skywalker didn’t really believe his own words, but they all just went along with it.

“This isn’t a great time,” General Windu replied with a frown. “Most Counselors are currently out of touch or in active battles. Master Yoda is briefing the Chancellor on the latest Ryloth campaign,” he explained, unequivocally. “I’m the only one with a momentary reprieve. Did something happen?”

General Skywalker frowned but explained the situation, from finding General Kenobi on the planet surface they had just come from to the person who was suddenly there out of nowhere, protecting him and his unexplainable coma. Kix had offered his two cents in with possible Force-related reasons. Windu seemed to take these seriously and into account.

“It is possible,” General Windu agreed. “There are several force-induced comas and reasons relating to the Force that could be applicable, although we wouldn’t know without an actual Jedi healer and probably some research. After meeting up with the 212th, come back to Coruscant so we can figure this out. I believe there is a knight nearby that can come within a day or two to assist.”

“So, you don’t trust me to lead the armies by myself,” Anakin suggested flatly, his eyes narrowing.

Kix wanted to groan. This was not the time to be creating problems and arguments. With a glance in Captain Rex and Commander Appo’s direction, it seemed the others agreed.

“This has nothing to do with you, personally,” General Windu replied, his own expression just as calm and schooled as it always was. A perfect picture of serious without condescending, although they were all pretty sure that he had to be a bit frustrated with the young knight. Most could relate, both jedi and troopers. Skywalker had a certain way of doing things that not everyone agreed with. “It is, however, protocol. As well, your specialty involves a single legion with specific missions. Obi-Wan’s is different. He creates plans, tactics and organizes an entire fleet. You will need help,” General Windu shook his head and clicked a few buttons. Commander Cody’s blurry visage appeared with a short greeting. “Commander Cody, have you been briefed on what has happened?”

“Yes sir,” Cody nodded shortly. “We believe we can meet up within the next couple of hours. It should not take long.”

General Windu nodded and Kix could have sworn he looked a little relieved. “Kenobi keeps promoting you left and right. Is it possible for you to manage temporarily, at least until you get back to Coruscant?”

The Commander nodded again and although no one could see it, most were a bit certain Cody was nearly shrinking at the underlying praise. “Yes sir. General Kenobi and I work together closely and often. All it is, at this point for now, is mainly paperwork which I can do, given the permission and authority.”

“You have it Commander. Requisite and take any help you need,” General Windu replied easily. Kix and Rex both shot Cody a smirk, which he had caught, but did not react. “We will do all we can. Meanwhile, there is a jedi who is a couple days out. He is the nearest we have that can help. Since this is your battalion, Commander, you are above him at this point. He will help you however you need. He’s not a General like Kenobi, but it will satisfy protocol for now until we can figure this out.”

“Yes sir,” Commander Cody saluted. He stayed online but stepped back, letting Skywalker to take point on the conversation as it swerved.

“What do we tell people?”

“This does not get out,” General Windu insisted, sharply. His frown deepened a little more, the thought seeming to disturb him to an extent. “Obi-Wan is one of our top Generals. No one can know he is currently indisposed.”

“What about the Chancellor?” Anakin challenged.

Windu’s expression flattened in a chilly, seriousness. The troopers shuttered faintly, unconsciously. “We have things in hand, as of currently. If Obi-Wan is more permanently indisposed, we can bother the Chancellor with this but for now, say and do nothing. Keep this within in the 501st and 212th.”

The younger knight just scowled but he nodded.

“Hopefully, he will awake, and duties can be resumed,” General Windu added. His hand had reached up a little, but he kept it down after realizing the movement. Kix frowned. He looked so tired. Every time he had seen a High General and Counselor, they always looked so exhausted. He knew they were leading most of the war effort, but he wondered what other duties they were being piled with. Kix caught Cody’s hardened gaze, which, to his surprise, looked a bit with a weird mix of furious and worried. It was faint but Kix wondered what he knew. He wasn’t angry at the General, that seemed apparent, but he knew something that Kix didn’t particularly have information on.

“What about this supposed time traveler?” Anakin pressed again.

Kix could almost see the migraine forming on General Windu’s face, even though the transmission. Everyone involved now just wished Skywalker would simply stop trying to cause problems. Whether he meant it or not, his tone grated. “He’s not causing any trouble, is he?” Mace asked with a slow blink. Oh, definitely a migraine.

“He won’t let anyone get near him except Rex and Kix,” Anakin replied with a small snarl, his lip curling. “Even then, he is jumpy and protective.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” General Windu muttered so quietly, Kix was sure General Skywalker had not even heard it.

“He cares about the General,” Kix added in, carefully. Cody turned to stare at him intently, as if Kix could give him answers telepathically. The Jedi had told them they weren’t telepathic, but it seemed like it sometimes. Kix almost kind of wished he could do that too, whatever they did, if only to give the commander answers and get Cody’s intense gaze off of him. Kix continued easily, avoiding eye contact. “Lives with him. Certain the General is raising him.”

“Raising another padawan?” General Windu mumbled but Kix could not pick up any other tonal cues to suggest what he meant by that. Once again, it didn’t seem that General Skywalker had heard him. Louder, he continued, “leave him for now. The Jedi coming to you may be able to help with his intentions.”

General Skywalker just bristled, not pleased with this answer.

“Time travel is not out of the realm of possibility,” he added, slowly. “I don’t know any specific case of it but there are plenty of readings, documents and research that support the theory of its ability. It is entirely possible that this boy is telling the truth, but I think we will know for certain when General Kenobi wakes up. For now, just rendezvous with the 212th,” General Windu ordered. “And get back to Coruscant.”

With a faint and defeated sigh that probably would not have translated through the call, he replied with a “Yes master,” and everything turned off. General Skywalker closed his fists and tightened them for a moment before letting the pressure go. “Estimated time of arrival?”

“Three hours and forty-three minutes for rendezvous with the 212th,” a soldier relayed. “Six days, eleven hours and twelve minutes to get back to Coruscant, approximately, if there are no other issues or setbacks.”

General Skywalker nodded, accepting this. “Alright, let’s get a move on. I think it is about time I go talk to our guest.”