#where a woman is hysterical or “over emotional” she gets slapped by someone

[allfr0gs]

does anyone else think it's just a little Weird that when a woman is hysterical (panic hysterical not funny hysterical) in a movie or show, the response to that is a slap to the face? 9 times out of 10 it's by a man, too. i understand in certain situations you have to make snap decisions and you need someone to be quiet or you need them to move along with you or you're trying to make them snap out of it, whatever. but surely there are better responses to hysterics than slapping someone, right? a calmer approach?

[sinner-as-saint]

You Were Made To Be Mine - 3.

Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Part 3 of this series.

Run-through: Bucky is one of the greatest pirates ever known. Living peacefully in his vast and flourishing archipelago; filthy rich and respected by all those around him. He is the leader of his people and his massive fleet, and is viewed as no less than a king by his crew and the people on his lands. He, however, has a secret that he keeps from everyone. The infamous and brawny pirate has lost his heart to one of the most beautiful creations he’s ever seen – you. Ever since the moment he saw you, he knew that you were meant to be his. But he belonged to the earth, you to the ocean. Could love and resilience somehow find a way to unite two worlds?

Themes: mermaid!reader, mythological elements, pirate!bucky, fluff, slight angst, smut

a/n: This will be the last part of this series. Thank you to everyone who loved this series, and pirate!bucky as much as I did! I love you guys so much!

One week in your absence felt like a thousand years to the heartbroken man you had left behind.

A tragedy of his own making, truth be told.

Bucky was miserable, torn and completely unable to function properly now with you gone. He could barely sleep. And spent most of his time on the shore of the small isle – where he used to meet up with you. Which used to be his favorite place but now the shore and the rocks only reminded him of his terrible mistake. A mistake which cost him the one thing he soon realized he couldn’t live without.

Sat there, on the rock where he had spent countless hours with you in the past just talking and learning about each other and falling deeper and deeper in love, Bucky looked down to see a shiny pearl in the palm of his hand. You brought him many pretty things from the depths of the ocean – shells, pearls, but this one pearl stood out the most to him. Mainly because the color of it reminded him of the many hues present on your tail.

“I miss you, my little pearl. Come back to me. Please.” He whispered under his breath. Sad and sulking, he hadn’t smiled since you were gone. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t lived at all before he met you and now with you gone, he was just… existing – void of any happiness and love and warmth.

As each wave crashed on the shore and on the rocks, it felt like someone was poking at a wound. Each day he returned back to his island, without any knowledge of your whereabouts, it felt like a defeat. Bucky spent the nights at the isle, then rowed back in the morning – where he slept and sulked all day inside his home and came out at night again to row back to the isle. He was a mess and only you could fix it, but you were mad and broken and gone.

His friends were worried sick but there was nothing they could do. It was impossible to even look for you because they would never find you from the surface. All they could do was wait and pray that you come back else they feared that their friend might die from a heartbreak. He was already in so much pain already.

 Bucky never gave up. Midway into the second week, he was hurting just the same but that didn’t diminish his hope. He would sit at the rock and wait each night. You never showed up, but he never stopped showing up either. He’d sit there at the shore or on your rock and just reminisce the time he spent with you. He’d smile to himself, laugh at the funny things, shed a tear or two whenever the realization hit him and reminded him cruelly that you were gone and it was his fault.

“I’m not gonna make it without you. Please come back.” he begged, looking towards the ocean as the gentle, cool and salty wind caressed his face, reminding him of your touch. Damp and cool but it brought him warmth like no other. And just like always, all he got back as a reply was tranquility and the sound of waves dying out on the shore – much like him.

Yet, just like the waves, he was resilient and he kept coming back hoping that one day you’ll show up. He had faith in the love he had for you, and he knew that you’d be reunited again one day. Sooner or later.

Lucky for him, that day wasn’t too far.

-

 One evening, Bucky felt much better than he had ever felt in the past two weeks in your absence. Which was weird because he’d only been sad and gloomy since the day you were gone. But tonight as he rowed to the isle he was almost, dare he say, excited and more hopeful than ever. He was confused but he felt tingly and warm – like how he usually felt whenever you were around.

And much to his surprise, he had been right. Because as soon as he reached the shore, he felt immediately more alive. And something told him that you were close by.

“Sweetheart? Is it you?” he called out, using the moonlight and the torch to look around as much as he could. He found you and his body froze to the ground.

He found you on the shore, not far from him. You appeared to be unconscious, and as though the waves had washed your body up to the shore. He ran to you, and as soon as he got close enough, his heart skipped a beat or two.

You were… human. With legs in lieu of your lovely tail and fins. Oh sweetheart…

Bucky fell to his knees beside your bare body and wedged the torch to the ground and pulled your body up to him. Bucky immediately removed his thick coat and wrapped you in it, sheltering you from the cold. You whimpered as he touched you, because even when not so conscious, you knew it was him. “Wake up, Y/N. Please wake up,” he cradled you against his warm chest.

He could feel your heartbeat as he held you against him, and that was the only thing keeping him from being hysterical due to all the overwhelming emotions he was feeling. Regret for letting you go in the first place. Guilt for being selfish. Heartache because he had broken your heart in doing so. Happiness for having found you at last. It all hit him right in the face like a harsh punch.

He felt like he wanted to scream and shout and just do something, but then the sound of your voice calmed him down instantly.

“Buck…” your voice sounded hoarse and it ended in a cough. You didn’t open your eyes but you felt him there, holding you. You felt safe.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here. Are you okay? What- I need to know you’re okay, please.” He waited, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he hugged you tighter.

You struggled to talk but you managed to mumble out some words, “It’s… I…everything hurts.”

Bucky felt like he was being torn apart limb by limb. “How can I make it better, sweetheart? Tell me what to do.” he sounded frantic and scared and hurt all at the same time.

Your next few words made him shed tears right there on the shore. “Take me home.” He held you, clinging to you like a child and he cried silently. Whispering and pleading and telling you he’s sorry.

-

When Bucky brought you home that night, his friends were surprised but they didn’t question him right away. Thor was the one who knew just what to give you for the pain. Okoye brought you all that a woman could need. And Sam and Steve worked on what to tell the rest of the people when they find out about you.

You were still slipping in and out of consciousness. And no one knew what happened in those two weeks, all they could do was wait for you to wake up.

“She’s alright. She’s here with you now, with us. Everything’s going to be alright, Buck.” Steve gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and Bucky nodded. “Get some sleep. I’m sure she’ll be fine by morning.”

His friends all left, telling him they were close by and to call for them if he needed help with anything. Bucky walked them till the front door then hurried his way back to you. He had cleaned you and dressed you in a light blue sleeping gown and placed you in his bed, you looked comfortable and at ease. But he wanted you to just wake up already.

There was so many questions he needed answers to, so much he had to apologize for, so much to make up for.

“I love you more than anything.” He whispered and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry, my love.” Bucky stayed by your side the entire night that night. He hadn’t seen you for two weeks, so each glimpse of you now was a privilege that he was more than grateful for.

-

You woke up abruptly in the middle of the night; panicking and panting. You felt warm, and something was clinging to your body. Your eyes were wide open and you felt so hot. Your chest was heaving and you thrashed around trying to reorient yourself and find out where you were. All you felt was dry, silky material wrapped all around you.

Your movements woke Bucky up and he opened his eyes and realized that the candles had gone out so hurried to light them up again. And once he did and turned around, he caught your stare. You were clearly disoriented and scared.

“Hey…” he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to touch your cheek and you closed your eyes and relished the feeling of his skin against yours. Oh how you had missed him. “Are you in pain right now?” he asked, there was so much you and him needed to talk about but right now your comfort and health was more important that anything. Besides, now you would plenty of time to discuss things.

You shook your head. You weren’t in any physical pain, not anymore. But your heart hurt. “How did you…” your voice trailed off, your throat suddenly feeling dry and itchy. Bucky figured you needed some water so he grabbed the nearby goblet of water and held it up to your lips. Reluctantly you leaned in, but then stopped.

“It’s just water. You’re thirsty, you need some. Drink,” he cupped your face gently and tipped the lip of the goblet a little, letting some water into your mouth. You drank half of it and closed your eyes and sighed, it seemed to have quenched your thirst.

“Thank you.” you mumbled as Bucky placed the goblet to the side and turned to face you. One look into his pretty blue eyes and your own started watering. It was all too much to bear. The separation had killed you, the heartbreak as well. And now here you were, thousands of unasked questions between you two acting as another barrier, although you had just overcame a major one.

Bucky spoke up after a few seconds of staring into your eyes. “I found you on the shore. You were barely conscious at the time.” He filled you in on the part which you seemed to have trouble remembering. You nodded and he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I let you go.” He scooted closer to you and caressed your cheek. “I love you. Way too much. It’s killing me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do.”

He sounded lost and vulnerable. Your tears fell, despite how much you tried to hold them back. You let out a quiet sob as you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back, tightly securing his arms around you. Your tears were incessant, but you broke into a faint smile as he cradled your head. Your hugs weren’t damp and cold anymore, but warm and comfortable.

When the tears finally stopped, you pulled away and filled Bucky in on what he missed. After you ‘broke up’ you were pissed and dove into deep waters without a care in the world. You made it to where the potion supposedly was, and after spending multiple days looking for it, you managed to find it.

Your memory was messy and scattered after that. You remember feeling pain. A lot of pain, and you remember passing out and feeling like you were being torn in two.

“I must have lost consciousness then. I don’t remember. But the waves thankfully brought me to the shore.” You finished. Bucky listened attentively. God, he felt awful.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” he apologized, looking down in his lap where he held both your hands in his.

You squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“I was stupid to let you go.” He argued.

You smiled and reached up to touch his face. “I wouldn’t be here, like this,” you pointed at your lower limbs, “if you didn’t let me go.”

“I love you.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “And I love you.” you mumbled against his lips.

Bucky spent the whole night just holding you close to him. You were still a little weak and unwell, but you promised him you would be alright in the morning. After all, you were way too excited to explore his island and meet his people and be one of them.

“Will they like me?” you asked, unable to fall asleep. Bucky chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“They’ll love you.” he replied.

-

He had been right.

As soon as his friends came by the next morning, they were all impatient to see you at once. They told Bucky that they would make up a story and tell the rest of the inhabitants of the archipelago that you were found stranded on an island, and that’s where Bucky found you.

“We have to hide the truth, for her sake.” Sam made sure everybody understood and were on the same page. Everyone nodded.

When Bucky came to get you, you wobbled on your feet a little before standing up. “I’ll have to get used to this.”

Bucky chuckled and came over to help you steady yourself. “One foot in front of the other. We’ll take it slow, sweetheart. Don’t you worry, you’ll get the hang of things in no time.” He smiled and led you out of the room.

You struggled to walk initially, but you were a quick learner. By the time you reached downstairs, you were able to walk on your own, but you still let Bucky keep his arms around you and you held on to him just in case. You met Bucky’s closest friend in the foyer. And the men all stared at you like they had never seen anything like you before. The woman however, Okoye – Bucky spoke of her often, gave you a polite smile.

“Welcome to our world.” She spoke, stepping closer and giving you a polite nod.

You smiled at her, her warmth rubbing off on you. “Thank you for the clothes.” Bucky had told you last night how she had made all the arrangements regarding your clothes. She smiled and said there was no need to thank her.

“You’re one of us now. You’re family.”

You almost shed tear of joy at her words. And something told you that you and Okoye would get along really well in the future. She just had that kind of aura around her; fierce and strong but also almost motherly and caring.

Bucky introduced you to everyone else. You recognized Steve from the swords fight. Then Sam was just as Bucky described him. Thor was much taller and broader than you imagined, but he was also the most gentle out of all of them.

Steve spoke up soon after you were introduced to all of them. “We’re so glad you’re finally here. Now someone,” he looked directly at Bucky, “will finally stop weeping and moaning in sadness.” That earned a round of chuckles and a giggle from you.

Bucky shot Steve a glare and had you not been there, he would have showered his friend with insults. You immediately liked them all. And even after they left, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I can’t wait to meet everyone!” you chirped as Bucky helped you sit down at the stone table for breakfast. He figured you must be hungry.

“I can’t wait either, but it’s time you eat.” His words made you a little nervous, but also excited. Bucky gave you a quick tutorial on how to handle cutlery and you learnt in less than a few minutes. “That’s really good!” he cheered as you took your first bite of food all on your own.

You chewed cautiously, then turned to him with wide eyes. He chuckled, happy that you seemed to really enjoy human food.

-

That was just the beginning, soon Bucky realized that you were no different than a child experiencing everything the world had to offer for the first time. Bucky really enjoyed walking you through everything; and luckily you learnt everything rather quickly.

By the end of the first week, you were able to walk around on your own, dress yourself up and wash and brush your teeth and do your own hair. Bucky was impressed.

Some days later, Bucky decided that it was time to introduce you to everyone. And he meant everyone.

You had always wanted to be part of one of Bucky’s feast but you had never thought it would be this grand, and crowded and loud and cheery. People gathered around the many tables; loud chatter, laughter and clinging of goblets – it made you happy.

Bucky managed to get everyone’s attention. And told them the makeshift story of how he once found you, stranded on an island far from here. He added to the story and told them that he had to keep you hidden for a week or so because you were injured and sick but you were all better now.

“So I’m glad to introduce you to Y/N, the newest member of our family.” He held your hand showed you off proudly. He didn’t have to say it, everyone present at the massive hall could tell that he was madly in love with you. It could be seen in his eyes as he looked at you in pure adoration.

Your introduction was followed by a loud roar of cheer and claps and merry. Everyone was just happy that their mass was growing, and they took pride in it.

All throughout the feast, Bucky couldn’t help but feel more powerful as he sat next to you. He felt like he was on top of the world, like there was nothing he couldn’t do. You completed him. And you were here now, here to stay. Forever by his side.

Bucky made love to you that night. He couldn’t hold back from touching you anymore. All those nights of sleeping beside you, and not holding you or pleasuring you like he so desperately wanted to, had been pure torture.

Not only for him, but you as well. Having to see him shirtless and having his arms around you almost all the time had been making you feel hot and bothered almost always. But you were too shy and inexperienced to initiate anything so you waited. Until tonight.

Back home from the feast, as soon as you walked into your shared bedroom, Bucky grabbed you and gently pressed you against the door once he closed it behind him. He had you trapped between him and the door, and you weren’t complaining.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was hungry and wild, and ready to ravish you all night long. But he knew he had to be gentle with you. He wondered how to ease you into it but you took care of that by reaching up and pressing your lips to his. You kiss was rough and needy, even Bucky was surprised.

Your body trembled in anticipation as he wrapped his arms around you and walked the two of you towards the large bed. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you let him. He stroked the top of your mouth and you found yourself whining and needing more.

Your body felt like it was on fire. One which could only be doused by his touch. Yet as soothing as his touch was, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you wanted him. Unrestrained, and passionately. You needed him so terribly you almost begged.

As soon as your back hit the soft mattress, Bucky pulled away and looked down at you. His body hovered over yours, and your hands caressed the back of his neck lovingly. “Make me yours.” You whispered.

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. “My little pearl…” he was feeling too much to talk. So he decided to let his emotions show instead. He planned on worshipping your body and make love to you until the sun came up.

Bucky pressed his body down against yours. Nothing had to be said, you could both see it in each other’s eyes; the love, the desire and the need. The feral need. That same tingle spread all over you again – the one you got each time he touched you even in the most innocent ways possible. You looked up to see his eyes had darkened a shade. His grip tightened on your body and he dipped his head and kissed down your neck – making you shiver again.  

“I will make you mine. Just promise you’ll tell me if it hurts or makes you uncomfortable. Yes?” he made sure you understood. You nodded and mumbled a ‘yes’.

Bucky took his time and got you out of the lovely dress you were wearing. As much as he liked it, he liked you better naked. So he didn’t stop undressing you until you were bare against his sheets. He looked down at you like you were a meal, and he, a hungry man with an insatiable appetite. You felt no awkwardness, no shame. You were his, entirely and his gaze only made you feel more confident and beautiful.

He went on to remove most of his clothes as well, leaving only his pants on. Bucky leaned down to kiss every inch of your body. Your lips, down your neck, your collar bones and your chest. He paid a lot of attention to your breasts; licking and biting and sucking, letting his hands cup your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and fondling. Instinctively, your back arched off the bed and you whimpered under his soft, yet needy touch. Bucky was eager to show you how much he loves you, but he knew he had to take it slow.

He dragged his soft lips up and down your body, making you tremble under his touch. His beard pricked your skin but it also tickled, making your whine end in a giggle. He smiled when he heard the noises you made, he knew it would be his favorite things to hear from now on.

Your body tingled and burned under his touch, and there was nothing you wanted more than have him buried deep in you. But you were also nervous for your first time together, but the pressing need inside you overpowered the nervousness.

His mouth found yours as his hand slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. The foreign, but very pleasant feeling caused a shiver to run down your spine; you shivered and moaned through the kiss. His knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you whimper. He chuckled against your mouth upon feeling just how aroused you were. Wet, and warm and ready – just as needy as he was.

But he wanted to take his time and savour you first. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. He poked at your entrance with his finger, “Is this okay, sweetheart?” he wanted to confirm. You nodded quickly, eyes shut and head thrown back.

“Yes… please Buck…” you were breathless already. Pulsing and hot, your body wanted him bad. So bad. He chuckled at your reply and pushed a finger into you and you shivered. He messed with you for a little bit; stroking your walls with his finger, then added another; making you whine.

You felt your hole stretch around his fingers as he was knuckles deep in you, slowly slipping his fingers in and out of you. He kissed the side of your face, along your jaw and down your neck as he sped up. Your legs spread further apart naturally, a sign that you wanted more. Bucky smirked.

“You feel so good around my fingers, sweetheart,” he whispered, nibbling at your jaw. “So warm, and wet…” he chuckled and the sound of his laugh was so hot it made your body clench around his fingers. He noticed and slowed down his pace, purposely teasing you. Oh he wanted to pleasure you so bad, but not so easily… “You’re dripping all over my hand,” he noted, seductively whispering and kissing the shell of your ear, “I wonder how you taste…”

You squirmed at the sound of his words, your heart racing in anticipation as he kissed his way down your body again. Quicker this time, impatient to reach in between your legs. You threw your head back and moaned once his lips kissed your inner thigh and his mouth latched onto your core in no time; his tongue teasing your clit softly. He had you squirming and moaning – a complete mess under him in no time.

He kept his fingers inside you, moving ever so gently against your walls. Your body welcomed the foreign feeling. You felt his rough beard scratch in between your thighs but that was the least of your concerns, all you focused on was his mouth on you. Shamelessly eating you out like you were his favorite meal. His tongue licked up and down your slit, diving in and out of your wet folds, occasionally running over your opening where his fingers were snug inside you.

You moaned and reached down to grip his hair. You squirmed and whined and cried out. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky lifted one of them and placed it over his shoulders, eager to taste you even more, pushing your core further into his mouth and making you cry out of pleasure. His hands locked around your thighs as the lower half of his face pressed down into your wet heat; his lips drenched with your arousal.

“Hmm,” his hum reverberated inside you, making you squirm. “You taste heavenly, my little pearl.” He whispered and placed a loud kiss right on your clit before getting back to eating you out like a madman again.

Your eyes were shut, but you imagine he must be quite the sight. Big and broad and muscular, knelt in between your legs, his face pushed in between your hips as he took your higher… and higher. A couple more strokes of his tongue and your moans got louder and louder, a strange but sweet pressure forming in your lower regions.

“Let go sweetheart, cum for me.” He mumbled. He had you coming in no time; gushing out all over his lips as he lapped up whatever you gave him. The wet sounds erupting whenever his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit were downright sinful. As the waves of euphoria washed over you, you felt him kissing his way up your body; leaving warm, wet kisses all over your skin until he reached your mouth again. Bucky kissed you deeply and his kiss was a little more rough and messy and demanding than earlier.

You were like a drug. And now that he had had a taste, he only wanted more. He needed more. Bucky pulled away from the kiss a few seconds later. Chest heaving, and recovering from your previous orgasm, you admired the man above you, as he lowered his pants, reached down and pulled out his cock; stroking it while he looked down into your eyes.

You lips parted in hunger. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your walls clenched around nothing as you watched him stroke himself. His size both startled and excited you. You were both nervous and impatient to just have him in you already. Bucky leaned in again to press his forehead against yours again. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and gruff as he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“You okay, my love?” he asked again, breathless as your walls squeezed him violently. Fuck…

“Yeah…” you were just as needy as him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you felt his body flex against yours. His back muscles felt taut and firm under your touch and his hard chest pressed down into you.

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. Slowly at first, testing and seeing if you could take it.

You moaned as your body welcomed him in, and Bucky got his answer.

He removed himself out of you entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and dipped his head into the crook of your neck. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulder and muscular arm; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He slowed down occasionally, then picked up the pace again; making you lose your mind. Yes… yes…yes. All you knew was that you wanted him there, forever if you could.

You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.  

“I love you so much…” he mumbled against your skin. But you were unable to answer, all you did was moan and whimper and squirm as he pounded into you. Your legs trembled and he lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you.

Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any louder noises while he fucked you. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to give you his all.

He was sweet and caring as he handled your body, caressing you and kissing you, but he was also animalistic and wild at the same time. His kisses were passionate and deep. His touch was tantalizing, and he didn’t hold back as he made love to you. And you knew you could definitely get used to this. The now familiar pressure was back again, hot and burning. You got louder and so did he.

As he pulled away and looked down at you, you saw in his eyes, the determination, the hunger and the need; matching your own. “You’re all mine.” he whispered as he made you cum again around his cock for the first time that night. Your moans were wanton as your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him fill you up again, with his warm load shooting at your walls. “Mine.” he growled and collapsed into your arms.

 At some point during the night, he took you again. This time he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips, your ass up in the air.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked again.

“Yes.” you replied almost immediately.

He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up just like he had earlier.

Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed his palm against your lower abdomen. He liked the wave of excitement which coursed through his veins each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you. He liked how he was the only one who would ever touch you like this, the only one who would own you like this, the only one who would ever fuck you like this.

You moaned at how wonderfully Bucky stretched you out and rammed his thick cock in and out of you rapidly. You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member. The sounds leaving his lips were sinful more than anything. And it sent shivers down your spine. He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face lovingly.

He didn’t slow down as your walls clenched around him violently, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came; hard. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and how perfect you felt around him.

Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your release approaching. Your legs were shaking, and your body moved along with his perfectly. You wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him. A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. He growled under his breath, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

You came again, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again. You noticed his irregular thrusts and the sound which left his lips; he came right after you; filling you up yet again.

After he was done, he fell limp into your arms, careful as to not crush you beneath his body weight.

He stayed like that for a while, and let you wrap your arms around him; with his head against your bare chest. He relished the feeling of being in your arms. Until he finally rolled over and pulled you into his side, tucking your head under his chin.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

 ---

Days went by in pure bliss.

“Do you miss it?” Bucky asked one night, as you laid your chest on his bare chest. Both of you worn out and tired after having made love to one another for hours.

You closed your eyes and sighed, pressing your face into his warm chest. His smell, his body heat, his soft touch – it was all pure heaven. You knew he was asking about the ocean.

“I do. But I miss it like one missed their childhood.” You explained further. “The nostalgia hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. Take yourself for example, you will always miss your childhood; the freedom, the fun and the lack of responsibilities. Yet at the same time, now you’re grateful for what you have now and who you’ve become. You’re wiser and better and surrounded by people who love you.”

You tilted your head up and found him staring down at you, looking lovingly into your eyes. You spoke up again. “It’s the same for me. I will always miss it, I mean I was born there. But this is where I’m meant to be. With you, till my dying day.”

He rolled the two of you over and hovered above you. His long hair framing his face, making him look so handsome and angelic you could cry. “I love you.” he said, his bare body pressing down on you under the covers.

His body heat wrapped around you like a protective cocoon. “I love you more.”

 -6 YEARS LATER-

 You stood on the beach, not too far from home. You smiled as you looked around; right on this beach is where you and Bucky got married 6 years ago. It was a beautiful wedding, and the celebration even more so. You turned around and caught a glimpse of the grand fortress. Stone and concrete, sharp and rough edges but still radiating a sense of warmth and security – much like the man who had it built himself.

Your smile grew at the thought of your husband. In just six years, so much had changed. For the better.

Your little reverie was interrupted by the sound of giggles and shouts of excitement. You looked straight ahead and found your three kids running around and playing close to the water, paying little to no attention to the beautiful sunset behind them. Yes, they were human but very much skilled when it came to diving into the ocean. You often took them swimming, and they all amazed you by how well they could hold their breath under water for surprisingly a long time. They definitely got that from you. And Bucky was proud of that.

You sighed in content at the sight of your kids. They were everything to you and Bucky. Speaking of Bucky, he caught you by surprise by coming up to you and wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, nuzzling your neck.

“Hello, my love.” he mumbled against your skin. You giggled. All these years and his voice still made you weak in the knees.

“Hi.” You turned your head to the side and beamed at him. “How did the meeting go with the rest?” Bucky and his crew were planning another loot soon, and they’ve been busy preparing and discussing these past days.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, his beard pricking your skin gently. But you had gotten used to the roughness of it, it was almost comforting now. “It was fine.” Bucky went on to give you some details about what they discussed.

Then you were both interrupted by the sound of your kids laughing and yelling in excitement. Apparently their sand castle was now complete, they’ve been working on it for hours. Bucky looked at them and a warm smile formed on his face.

“We should get these little monsters home and get them showered before dinner.” He smiled down at you. You chuckled.

“They won’t listen, and they won’t leave until their feet aren’t hurting from running around too much.” You knew your kids too well. “I’m afraid they’re just as stubborn as their father.” You added, teasing your husband.

He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Are they now?” he leaned down to gently bite your partially exposed shoulder. You laughed, tipping your head back and resting it on his shoulder. He tightened his grip around you and looked down at you in pure and utter adoration and smiled. His wife, at last. The mother of his kids. Entirely his, finally.

Then as he often did, he got emotional just thinking about that night all those years ago, where he was foolish enough to think that letting you go was a good idea. He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

You turned around in his arms and faced him. You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “What for?”

Bucky looked down, seeing your bodies pressed together. He let out a dry chuckle. “I almost broke us apart forever that night.” he said and you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I didn’t realize I would be hurting you too. I was so stupid to even think that I would survive without you.”

He often brought it up, whenever he was sad or upset. Or when he’s had a little too much ale. He’s even cried in your arms like a child all night once when you brought it up casually. The guilt had diminished, but it was still there in him somewhere. But you had faith the one day it’ll be gone entirely. You were both working on it.

“It’s been years, Buck. Let it go. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re together and we have a family just like we always dreamt of. That’s all that matters.” You maintained his stare as you spoke. He nodded. “I love you.” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. You pulled away and smiled, “Besides, if it weren’t for my fit of rage that day, I would’ve never found the potion. So think of it this way, we had to drift apart for a while, and it happened for a reason.”

He smiled and leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “I love you so much it hurts.” He mumbled, making you giggle. Then a thought popped into his head out of nowhere. “I never asked you this, but when you found the potion, did you drink all of it?” he had always been curious about that.

You smiled faintly, remembering the day you found it. “No.” you answered, deep in thought. “I took some, and then I put the rest right back.”

“Why?” he was intrigued. He wondered how come this conversation never came up earlier in the past years.

You pulled away and looked up at him. “I was scared. I saw it and I wondered, what if in the next life the roles are reversed? What if you’re born in the ocean and I, on land?” you chuckled, although your eyes watered a little. “I wanted there to be hope for us even then. I… I can’t imagine not finding you in the next life. Or the one after that, and the one after that.” you chuckled again. “It scares me, when I think about what if our paths don’t cross in another life?” You let the single tear fall, which Bucky caught as it ran down your cheek. “Or what if we can’t be together like this again?”

Bucky felt a weight on his chest at the sight of another tear escaping your eye. You wiped this one away quickly yourself. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss you on the lips, a gentle, sweet kiss to remind you that he was right here and there was nothing for you to worry about.

“My little pearl…” he whispered softly as he pulled away from you. “All of you, your heart, your soul; you were made to be mine. Don’t you worry, I’ll find you in the next life as well. And the one after that, and the one after that.” His words earned him a teary smile from you. “I promise you, my love, I will always find you. And you will always end up being mine.”

You threw your arms around him tightly and pulled him in for a kiss. You felt him smile through the kiss which lightened up the mood a little. “And I promise to love you just the same each time.” You whispered against his lips.

-

Although neither one of you recalled the promise you made to each other that day on that beach; in each lifetime, you both kept your promises. Bucky kept his word, somehow he always ended up finding you. And you did the same, you loved him unconditionally each time. It didn’t matter when or where you met. Or how your story began or ended. All that mattered was that in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that; you ended up together every single time.

Bucky had been right; you were made to be his. And him, yours.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 2

insomniac

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: insomnia, nightmares, (remembering) death, panic attack, cuddling, fluff

AN: Here she is!! I’ve decided to give oc a little ~tragic backstory~ and I really hope it comes across like I’ve intended. I wouldn’t go so far as to call in angst, necessarily, but there’ll definitely be some in the future. Also, I know I’ve painted Annie and Reiner in a really bad light so far in this particular fic, but please know that’s not how I view them in canon at all - it’s simply because someone had to be the bad guy:( Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and as always don’t hesitate to reach out via reblog/ask with any suggestions/feedback/questions!! ~valkyrie

(read Part 1.5 here)

Bodies jostle against you in the darkness to the beat of music you can’t hear.  The buzzing gets louder, drowning out even your own screams for them to stop.

Stop. Stop. STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!

“STOP IT!” You can hear yourself this time, your voice embarrassingly loud in the cramped room. You slap hands over your mouth but everyone’s already turned to look at you, disgusted at the display of emotion. Even they peel their faces apart to sneer down their noses.

“Why should we?” Annie’s voice rings with superiority, swirling around the space and nestling in the crook of your neck. You shudder away, but the faceless bodies shove you back.

“Don’t you know this is your fault, anyway? You weren’t enough for me.” Reiner jeers with a satisfied smirk. The whole room laughs, cackling and giggling spitefully. You can’t move, muscles frozen, as they turn back to each other and continue making out. His hand in her hair, her thigh hooked over his hip, obscenely wet noises from their joined mouths.

You scream and scream and scream, jaw wide and aching, and all of a sudden the scene shifts and you’re at your mother’s bedside. Your breath hitches and you’re screaming in a child’s voice this time.

“Mommy, Mommy, no, please, no, MOMMY, PLEASE--”

Your hand twitches towards her and its movement against soft sheets brings you back to consciousness.

You’re spread-eagled in bed, comforter kicked almost completely off, chest heaving.

“One. Two. Three. Four…” you count in a hoarse whisper to yourself, staring out the window at gently falling snow illuminated in yellow streetlights. It takes you to one hundred and twenty-seven before you’re calm enough to do anything productive. 

You reach out a blind hand to find your phone on the nightstand and raise it up to check the time. 4:47 am. Nearly three hours of sleep.

Eh, good enough for jazz.

You heave a sigh, then push up to sit on the edge of your bed and flick on the lamp. The sudden bright light makes you squint against sharp pain behind your eyes and turn away in search of a sweatshirt. Some sifting through the ever-growing pile of laundry later, you settle on a green university hoodie and pull it on over your ratty tank top. Your toes and fingers always feel like icicles after waking up from a nightmare, so you find faux fur-lined slippers as well.

As you push past your bedroom door and into the living room, a figure in the comfy armchair catches the corner of your eye.

You nearly jump out of your skin before recognizing who it is. “Christ on a cracker, Levi! Nearly scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry as he marks the page in his book and sets it on the coffee table.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Well that’s not ominous or anything,” you mutter with an eye roll as you cross to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil for coffee.

Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his elegant nose.

“Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I noticed you haven’t been sleeping much lately and I’m worried.” He crosses to sit at the kitchen table and speaks to your back as you shuffle around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? Of course I’ve been sleeping. Whaddaya think I was just doing?”

“It��s five am, and you were still up when I went to sleep at twelve. Optimistically, that’s four hours of sleep. And yesterday you went to bed after one, but Hange said you were texting her at five-thirty, and--”

“Jeez, what, have you been stalking me or something?” you ask with an incredulous glance over your shoulder.

“We live together. It’s kind of hard not to notice.” Levi’s tone is the usual dry you’ve come to expect, but there’s an undercurrent that you’re too exhausted to pinpoint. “And Hange also told me she’s been worried.”

“What is this, an intervention? Just because I break up with someone I’m suddenly incapable of functioning?” Your voice (and headache) rises with each phrase, cracking on the morning dryness in the air, and you spin to face him.

“I didn’t say that, I--”

“Am I just supposed to wallow in misery for the rest of my life? No. I’m not doing that, Levi, I’m moving on. I-- I’m a busy woman, I’ve got finals and, and internship applications, and I happen to enjoy waking up early. I like watching the sunrise.” Though your words are rushed and you’re gesturing animatedly, uncertainty seeps through the stuttered phrases in your argument.

Levi lets you finish, then returns in a measured voice: “Why are you so defensive about this? I know you’re busy. So am I. But I manage to get more than four hours of sleep at night. I just want to help.”

His statement hangs in the air like dust mites, swirling around you and clinging to the sticky after-effects of the nightmare in your mind. You frown and drop your eyes to the linoleum, guilt settling into the stickiness.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Your voice is much softer. “I just--” A deep sigh. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

The simple question makes your breath stutter and you scrub a hand down your face in an effort to ground your skin into reality.

“It’s so stupid.” It’s practically a whisper. “I have these nightmares. About my mom. I got them when I was younger, too, but eventually they just sort of… stopped. But now they’re back. And I can’t ever get back to sleep after, so I just stopped bothering to try.”

“You know, sometimes I get nightmares, too.”

The admission catches you off guard, your eyes widening. Levi always seems so… steady and sure, you wouldn’t have expected it.

“Really?”

He nods. “About my mom and the foster homes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you…” Your heart sinks, and you don’t know how to say you’re sorry for the heartbreak he must’ve lived through with any semblance of tact.

“Yeah. It’s not something I talk about much.”

“Right.” You pause and chew on your tongue thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you have...strategies for when you can’t sleep because of them?”

“I have sleeping pills from my psychiatrist and some meditation practices that work for me. I can send you some resources, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I’d really appreciate that if it’s not a bother.” You feel kind of sheepish now, for raising your voice, and so try to sound extra thankful for his help.

“It’s not.” He stands up and stretches both arms over his head, tipping his face up to the sky, lean body arching and twisting with the effort of it.  “I’ll send them to you later today. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Okay. Thank you, Levi.”

He nods and yawns, nose scrunching adorably. “Night, kid.”

“Good night.”

As his bedroom door clicks shut, you sigh yet again and turn off the stove. The first thing to avoid is probably coffee.

--

Your fingers flick off last rivulets of water as you step out of the shower. A shiver rattles its way up your spine before you can grab a towel to dry off. Bless Levi, he had done laundry today and the towel is still dryer-warm, smelling of his favorite fabric softener.

As you go through your evening routine (tooth brushing, face washing, hair drying), you can feel a quiet tension set into your shoulders despite the humidity of the bathroom.

The day had gone okay. You managed to resist coffee until 8 am and cut yourself off at 3. A lecture and a studio in the morning left the afternoon for library studying and a trip to the grocery store. 

You had actually seen Bertholdt there, in the cereal aisle. You hadn’t been too keen on having that particular conversation, but luckily he hadn’t seemed to be either. The pair of you exchanged sympathetically awkward smiles before turning back to the Cheerios. 

The evening consisted of ordering chinese takeout while obsessing over your latest architecture design project, followed by convincing Hange over the phone not to sleep in the mouse lab for extra credit.

“But Bean will be lonely!” she insisted hysterically. “And Sonny wasn’t looking too hot in lab today, what if he needs his mommy and I’m not there?”

“You’re not their mommy,” you reminded her. “They have each other to keep them company, and if Sonny dies, won’t it support your hypothesis anyway?”

She had eventually acquiesced when you promised to help her plan a memorial should they pass in the night.

So now here you are, skin slowly drying, as you psych yourself up in the mirror to go to sleep.

“It won’t be bad. Just use the meditations Levi sent you.” You try to inject confidence into your voice, but you only end up grimacing at yourself in the mirror. “Ah, fuck it.”

You tuck your towel in firmly around your chest and double check to see your things are put away before going back to your room.

As you pass, you hesitate by Levi’s door for a moment. His normal studying music, Chopin, is on and light creeps out from underneath. Another moment of uncertainty, then you gently knock and poke your head in.

“Levi?” He raises his head from where he’s hunched over an easel, paint brush in hand. Brow furrowed and body tensed like a strung bow, he doesn’t look happy to be interrupted.

Fuck.

“I, uhm, just wanted to say good night.”

He grunts and turns back to the painting.

You take that as your cue to leave.

Back in the sanctuary of your own room, you curse again and kick your desk chair, sending it rolling a couple inches.

Why had you bothered him? To say good night?

“Stupid, stupid, UGH.” Your dramatic outburst ends in flopping face-first into bed. Just because he felt concerned enough to stage a fucking intervention doesn’t mean he’s your fucking nanny. Idiot.

Eventually, you roll over and get up to change into pajamas. 

Settling into bed, you open your newly downloaded meditation app and start an audio.

“As you prepare for your meditation practice today, find a comfortable position sitting or lying down where you can fully relax….”

The cool female voice wraps your mind in a hazy blanket of fog and eventually coaxes your body into an achingly needed sleep.

--

This time the dream wakes you up whimpering into your pillow, arms flung above your head as though you’re skydiving. With a sucking breath, you lift your head to prevent imminent suffocation and instead settle on your side, staring unblinkingly into the darkness. Breath ragged in your chest, your mind can’t seem to move past the last image of your nightmare.

It’s burned into your retinas when you close your eyes and etched onto the moonlight-pale wall when they’re open: your mom’s pallid face staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on top of  her blue embroidered duvet cover, chest still.

A sob escapes your unwilling throat and you’re scrambling to sit up and reach for the lamp. The lamplight suddenly reminds you of your own existence in the physical plane, thrusting all your senses into sharp contrast.

Her greying, thinning hair, the frailty in her fingers, the cracks in her lips, the cloying scent of death.

“Nonononononononono,” you moan, hunched over your knees, fingers tangled in your hair. Your stomach is hollow, chest tight, tears now flowing in earnest. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, not since 7th grade at least.

Do something, do something, you stupid bitch, your mind is yelling at you, and so you force your body to move. Somewhere, anywhere other than here.

You practically fall out of bed and then lean heavily on your desk to compensate for shaking knees as you move to the door. Feet shuffle in the darkness and all of a sudden you’re sniffling outside Levi’s door, fingers in a deathgrip on your shirt. One, two breaths and you knock three hesitant raps.

Fuck. Shit. Instant regret bubbles up in your throat and you pivot away. Before you can get far, the door opens and you hear Levi’s sleep-ragged voice utter your name like a question. Damn.

You turn back sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve woken you up. Go back to bed.” Your voice is unnaturally breathy as Levi tries to make you out in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the living room window. 

He reaches for your shoulder to gently pull you out of the shadows, and realization crosses his face as he registers the tear tracks and haunting terror in your eyes.

“It happened again,” he states.

You nod hesitantly and wipe at your cheeks with the back of one hand. You try again to tell him that no, really, you’re fine and he should go back to bed, but the words get lost in the tangle of truths between your brain and mouth.

Instead, what comes out is: “Can… can I sleep with you?” Your eyes finally flick to his before you quickly follow up. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just- it helps to have someone close….”

Levi watches you for a moment before sliding his hand from your shoulder to your hand and tugging gently.

“Come on.”

You follow him inside and fidget awkwardly at the side of his bed as he climbs in. His room is impeccably neat, not that you would expect anything different from the man who once gave you a five minute lecture about leaving dishes in the sink to soak. It was the most words you’d heard him string together at the time, and he only stopped when he realized you were laughing.

“You sound like my Great Aunt Cheryl,” you said between hiccups of mirth. “Insufferable woman.”

He had looked at you scathingly, then made you promise never to leave the dishes for later again on pain of changing the wifi password.

Once he’s settled, Levi turns back the covers on your side and looks at you expectantly. You falter a split second before climbing in next to him, the familiar smell of his laundry detergent clouding around you as you fall back into soft pillows. He throws the comforter over you, then settles down and opens his arms.

“C’mere, kid,” he says with a tenderness that makes a sniffle catch in the back of your throat.

You roll into his arms, resting your head in the curve of his shoulder and breathe the first easy breath since you woke up. An arm flung around his middle means your whole body is against his, warming you up like a midafternoon nap in August.

Levi settles his arm around your back after tucking in the blankets and holds you like you’ve always belonged there. He gradually, gradually feels you relax into him as your breathing begins to match his own.

After a while, your eyes droop closed and Levi allows himself the indulgence of tucking his nose into your hair. A bouquet of lavender shampoo and you accompanies him softly into his dreams.

--

(read part 3 here)

[mimiwrites2000]

Legends

Chapter Thirteen ~

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie/ Eren x Mikasa/ Jean x Hitch (other pairings will be added as the story goes on)

Words count: 6966

* spoilers for chapter 127 and up

Summary:

an injury

a miracle

an understanding

and maybe 'everything happens for a reason' holds some truth in it, and all of it leads to that tingle of emotions with unsolvable maze that hypnotize its victims

~a story of broken hearts who are searching for a cure while mending each other’s wounds

The air was salty.

Armin licked his lips, and he tasted salt, as if he kissed the ocean.

Seagulls hunted for generous travelers who tossed bread crumbs, seeking nourishment.

The sun was hot on his skin, coated with a slick layer of sweat. Blonde strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead, he kept brushing them away, but the soft, salty breeze ruffled them back on his face.

It was a hot summer day, hotter than usual. He should probably get inside his rented cabin, but the ocean had him under its spell. Armin held a book in his hands, neglected. His eyes never wavered off the infinite blue laid in front of him, blending with the sky in the middle. The white foam made by the ship matched the fluffy clouds scattered upon the sky.

The ocean enchanted Armin, it did since the very first time he saw it, and every time he sees it, he has all these unexplained sensations trembling in his veins, and he completely loses himself in the vast blue around him, the endless waves, and the sun's reflected rays on them, adorning the blue with glimmering glints of white.

He floated on a canvas with a bucket of blue paint spilled on, and he was that one, marginal dust on it. He couldn’t see the end of the canvas, and he lost the starting point long ago.

The ship broke through the waves, making its way to the safety of the island, and a tingle of excitement tackled Armin’s lips into a smile. He suppressed it, shaking it off.

The rage from two days ago felt so foreign to him at that moment. He almost forgot about the clutched paper in his hand; the reason he was on a ship, on his way to the continent.

Connie, whom Armin left in his house, had promised Armin he would take care of the house. Even though it wasn’t that big, and it’s not like Armin had a backyard filled with plants or a pet to take care of, still, Armin had a strong feeling that when he comes back, he’s gonna be greeted by a heap of charred wood replacing his house.

If anything calmed Armin a bit, it was his certainty that Connie wouldn’t step into his office. Since their training day, Connie had this cold war with books and theoretical subjects, and Armin was sure that his friend wasn’t nostalgic for those days-

“Ha!” Someone screamed from behind Armin, and he jumped in his place, a gasp left his lungs as he turned around to strike whoever the intruder was.

His eyes landed on someone that he was perplexed - to say the least- how coincidence brought them together, on this ship.

“What the hell? Hitch?!” Armin cried out, hating his shaky tone. His heart was beating so fast against his ribcage, it might as well jump out his throat.

Hitch laughed out loud, clapping her palms on her thighs, attracting other travelers’ attention. The flowery-patterned summer dress she was wearing ended right above her knees, her hair pulled away from her face in a bun so messy that seemed it might break at any second. Armin couldn’t help but admire how pretty she was.

He swiveled his gaze back to the ocean he was lost in a minute ago, disappointed at his interrupted moment, but after the shock wore off, he realized that he missed Hitch immensely.

“Oh God,” Hitch choked out between hiccups of ceasing laughter before she dropped beside Armin, “you should’ve seen your face!”

“Ha ha, so funny,” Armin tried to sound annoyed, but the smile on his face seeped into his fakely-bent-up tone.

“What a great coincidence! What’s up, Brainiac?” Then she leaned closer to him, and whispered “can’t risk calling your real name, after all, it’s been three years since you died.”

Armin rolled his eyes at the nickname, conceded to ignore it, but he answered her inquiry anyway: “I was going to ask you the same question, what business do you have here?”

“The ship? Nothing, I don’t work here,” Hitch retorted, spreading her arms on the bench’s back, crossing her legs, and Armin rolled his eyes again, “ok ok, I just have some business on the continent, what about you?”

Armin unconsciously tightened his grip on the paper in his hand, overlooking that this unremarkable gesture didn’t get past Hitch, who immediately snatched the paper from Armin’s hand.

“Hey!” he tried to get it back, but Hitch slapped her palm on his face, stopping him as his hands flailed helplessly, trying to retrieve the letter.

“Oh, well isn’t this interesting.”

“This is really none of your business-”

“Dear Armin…” Hitch started reading out the letter, and Armin groaned.

Dear Armin…

We’re so sorry if we were too much trouble today… we’re just worried for you and want you to be happy…

So we may or may not have asked Hanji for a small favor

Mikasa and Eren, and little Ymir

A small stick figure with two ponytails was drawn at the bottom of the paper, beside Ymir’s name.

“Little Ymir… isn’t that the queen’s kid?”

After a struggle, he released himself from Hitch’s grip. He rolled his neck and crossed his arms, nodding.

“So the queen still trusts her kid with these two morons?”

Armin didn’t answer; however, he did wonder how she knew about that… but considering what Mikasa told him a few days ago, about Hitch and Jean…

“What are they talking about?” she asked, checking the letter’s back.

“Oh…” Armin reached into his pocket, there was no point in hiding it from Hitch anyway…

Hitch read through the formal letter, her eyes scanning over it so quickly Armin thought her eyes would roll to the back of her head.

Her eyes lingered at the bottom of the letter, where the official cof the Survey Corps was.

“This is…”

“Ten official days off from Commander Hanji…”

Hitch gawed at Armin, before she lobbed the paper, giving Armin a second to catch it before it flew with the wind.

Hitch scoffed: “And I thought your dog died or something.”

“I don’t have a dog-”

“And what are you so upset about?”

Armin bit the inside of his lower lip. He trusted Hitch a long time ago, since the old days of spending sleepless nights at a certain cold basement, staring at a bulk of clear crystal, a girl floating in the middle of it…

Armin shook his head. He wanted to lie about the letter, come up with any excuse, but he couldn’t. Maybe the heat affected him, but... he suddenly had a foreign impulse to talk and talk, to let it all out…

“You know I didn’t ask for it…” Armin started, he was hesitant for a moment, but when he glanced at Hitch… she was listening, giving all her attention to him.

He took a deep breath and continued: “I never asked for a break, and they acted on their own, and I hate when they do that and it makes me feel pathetic and I’m so fucking done with them looking down at me like I’m still the weak nine years old kid- ouch!”

Hitch flicked her finger at Armin’s nose, he winced, wishing he could glare her to death.

“Yeah you are so pathetic,” she conceded, not stopping a second before saying it, “you never leave your house, you’re failing at relationships-“

“It was just one fucking relationship-“

“-and you developed a temper.”

“I didn’t.”

“You sure as hell did.”

“Ok so what?” Armin turned to her, frustration flailed his hands in front of his face.

Hitch raised an eyebrow at him, before she clicked her tongue: “You’re hopeless.”

Armin swallowed, he was thinking of any retort, any snarky comment that would throw her off, a remark that will make her as annoyed as he was.

It hit him, and he knew exactly what it was.

He leaned back on the seat, and with as much calmness he could muster, he said: “Well, it looks like you and Jean are much closer than I remember.”

From the side of his eyes, Armin saw the muscles in Hitch’s forearm clinch, the edge of her eyebrow uptick.

Armin fished for another comment: “I never thought he was your type-“

“Oh shut it, don’t mention that fucker’s name.”

If Hitch was trying to throw Armin off with her comment, then she vastly succeeded; it felt as if she kicked him off the deck and into the ocean. He flinched and shook his head, stared, trying to decide whether Hitch was joking or not, but she looked so serious, and Armin found himself speechless.

Guilt surfaced up his throat, because he knew exactly what it was like to be teased about this exact same topic.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought you and him… you know, maybe you’re right, I’ve probably grown a bit impulsive through these…”

Armin forgot the rest of the sentence when he saw Hitch shaking… with laughter.

She bursted out in cackles and Armin touched his face, checking if he grew a third eye.

“You’re-” she snorted, “unbelievable!”

“I’m so done with you,” Armin got up, taking his suitcase with him. Hitch was dying of laughter as she clinged onto his wrist, splattering pleads for him to stay but half of her words were gibberish through laughter.

“No no no please please wait!”

“I’m so fucking done with you-”

“No no I promise I’ll explain!”

Armin plopped himself back on the bench, suitcase falling beside his jittering feet.

He tried to keep his eyes on a seagull as the hysterically-lost-it-all woman beside him gradually got herself together.

Hitch wiped a tear away as she said: “I knew I have it in me.”

“You’re not explaining yourself.”

“You’ve developed a temper alright,” Armin started to get up again, but she anchored him down with a hand to his shoulder, “no no please listen,” he sat down, but didn’t look at her.

“I’m going to the continent because I’m auditioning for a movie.”

“Uh… a what?” Armin heard that term somewhere before, he couldn’t put his finger on it…

She turned to him and elaborated: “It’s like… a play, but not really, it’s just… a bunch of pictures…” then she stopped, gesturing with her hands, as if the movement would compensate for her non-existent, poor explanation.

“Oh…” Armin remembered what she was talking about, it was these movies that are shown in places called cinemas… motion pictures.

Actors, directors, screenwriters… he read about these in one of his books.

“And… you want to become... an actress?” Armin asked, his eyebrows scrunched together. He would certainly be the happiest for Hitch if she became a big star, but he couldn’t imagine a soldier choosing that path after years of serving in the military….

“Well, after the war, the whole Military Police branch was wiped out. I thought, why not?” She retorted, shrugging her shoulders, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh right…” of course the Military Police was terminated in the aftermath of the war. There was simply no point in dividing themselves into three military branches. The same goes for the Garrison. All the soldiers were given the option of transferring to the Survey Corps or retiring…

Armin might be the only one from the original corps still serving in the military, beside Hanji of course… even captain Levi retired and opened a small coffee shop…

“You have that look on your face,” Hitch commented.

Armin raised an eyebrow.

“That look,” Hitch pointed at Armin’s face in circles,”it’s like that… that face you used to make when you stared at Annie.”

“Oh…” Armin went silent.

“It was that look… like, you were just absolutely out of it, like you’re dreaming or I don’t know, but very distracted,” Hitch looked at Armin, the seldom look in his eyes stopped her.

He looked away, pressed his lips, his eyelids fluttering,

“I…” Hitch softly shook her head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s ok.”

“I know she meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence, seagulls’ cooing puncturing it. 

“Do you…” Hitch muttered, “still think of her?”

Armin’s jaw clenched.

A beat of silence.

Hitch clicked her tongue: “and by the way, I wasn’t lying about Jean.”

Armin’s jaw relaxed a bit, glad she changed the subject.

“I can’t stand him, and he can’t stand me, and I don’t even know if what we had is even considered a relationship,” She said casually. Armin didn’t know how to reply; should her offer comfort? because apparently Hitch wasn’t that close to Jean after all, and the break up -if it’s even should be called that- didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest…

Armin gazed back at the ocean. A thin line of land was steadily boldening as the ship cruised towards it. At that moment, Armin wanted to freeze the boat for eternity, to stay in the midst of this vast, bottomless blue.

“I…” Hitch said, and Armin turned his head towards her. He was taken aback by the soft look on her face, she was being genuine, but she didn’t continue her sentence, she merely looked in Armin’s eyes, and he understood everything she didn’t say.

I’m sorry about her.

“It’s fine, it really is fine,” Armin said, a smile on his lips, it didn’t reach his ears.

Hitch’s lips pressed into a thin smile, before her face brightened up, a light bulb flashed above her head, and she suggested: “You know there’s this place that I heard off, it’s some sort of a village, or maybe a small town, anyway, it has some really interesting places, besides, it will be holding a massive celebration for the third anniversary of the end of the war.”

“….and?”

“And? Seriously?” Hitch rolled her eyes, but Armin didn’t fidget. She smacked her lips before continuing: “I can meet you there, in two days, I had other plans, but I can delay those, I can get you a room at the same hotel I’m staying in, we can have fun, yeah?”

After that, Armin found himself standing at the harbor, a small piece of bagel-brown paper in his hand, an address scrabbled on it, as Hitch waved off to him.

At least, he had plans.

~~~

Armin had two days for himself to discover the city he was staying at.

He mooched around the town, his suitcase dragging beside him. Just like the first time he visited Marley with the survey corps a few years ago; the same overwhelming jitters of astonishment rushed through his body. Enthusiasm of unveiling-the-unknown awakened in his heart, pumping quivers in his veins.

The mid-day sun overhead, shedding light on gray-tiled streets meandering between similarly-gray markets, contouring the sides. Puffs of smoke emitting from chimneys, blending together in a whirl of a gray before mounting up, the sunlight filtering through it, softening, adding a touch of haziness to the atmosphere.

In contrast to the gray-dull blocks, people clad in rainbow-palette charades, a flurry of liveliness, carrying singing instruments alongside it, its harmony a blend of melodious laughter, rhythmic chatters, nostalgic uproarious kids’ squeals, and the shopkeepers howling offers.

People spoke different languages. He recognized his own language spoken here and there, but in completely different accents that he didn’t understand parts of it.

One cohesive symphony delicately orchestrated. 

Melodies from afar punctuated the coordinated harmony, adjoining another layer of ecstasy. Armin thought that it was his ear putting together all these overwhelmingly-pleasing sounds and making up this melody, but as he snagged his way through the sea of colors, the music source got louder, the notes in sync with Armin’s heartbeat, pulsating in his ears.

His feet led him to the sound, and it was close, so close. Armin broke out of a curtain of people, and-

A guy sat on a carpet woven from the rainbow beams, his fingers strumming strings effortlessly, on an instrument that resembled a guitar, but its neck thin, its body a hollow swelling of light brown wood. He played it like it was second nature to breathing, the notes compatible with the thudding of boots and chatter, merging in congruence. He faded with his surroundings, his gray unfamiliar-clothing matching the jagged bricks of the building behind him, only a few eyes glanced at him or at the colorful carpet beneath him. 

When he saw that Armin was staring, he winked at him.

Unexpecting it, Armin backed away, accidentally stepping on someone’s foot.

Armin tumbled but didn’t fall, he stuttered out: “I’m so sorry!” 

A man, the man Armin stepped on his foot, was babbling in a language Armin never heard before.

Armin flailed his arms around, trying to apologize somehow, but he stopped; the man smiled, bowed his head, and put his palm on his heart.

Dumbfoundedly, Armin found himself tentatively mimicking the man’s gesture.

After that, the man beckoned Armin to follow him, and started down the street. After a hesitant moment, Armin nodded and walked side by side with the man.

Their walk was interrupted constantly by the man stopping every few steps to greet someone. Armin wondered if everyone knew each other in this town… then it dawned on him that you don’t have to know someone to wish them a good day.

The town itself was a decaying skeleton of bricks and stone, but the souls occupying it blew life into every crevice of it, blooming as those souls grew older, their bond solidifying like bricks within walls.

They jostled their way through the current of colors. With every step they took, a sweet aroma wafted through the air. Armin sniffed, spotting a coffee shop down the street. The man invited him in, offering a hot drink and a weird dessert that Armin had no idea what it was made of, except for the flower petals adorning it.

The man refused any payment, doing the same hand-on-the-heart gesture from earlier.

A few minutes later, Armin resumed roaming with a warm cup in his hand. The burnt-brown mixture was not different from any other coffee, but the smell and the taste had a unique twist to them, accompanied with the flowers-infused dessert; an addicting taste that he could get used to. Armin couldn’t pinpoint the different ingredients, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Beside the coffee shop stood a thin tall construction with a pointy head, like a pencil. Armin saw exact replicas of it scattered around the town as well; different colors and sizes, but same embellishments. He didn’t know its function; it reminded him of a lighthouse, but it certainly wasn’t; no lighthouse is in the middle of land.

A marginal part of Armin found it hard to admit it, but he felt… happy, or more like relieved. He surprised himself by the sudden feeling of wanting to go out, to see people and walk through crowds, not interacting with them, but merely watching from afar. 

He was caging himself in a shell, forbidding himself from this very primitive liberty for so long. 

A new yet rudimentary form of freedom.

He regretted treating Mikasa and Eren badly a few days ago. When he first read the letter, he boiled with anger. Ignoring Connie’s shouts, he sprinted out his house, taking the shortest route to Mikasa and Eren’s place, and when he reached it, he barely held himself back from denting the door with knocking.

Eren cracked the door open, and when he saw Armin, he slammed it shut in his face.

That was when Connie stepped in, and after tedious tirades and three cups of coffee, he convinced Armin to take this vacation and ‘enjoy his time’.

Armin bought a postcard and an envelope, intending to write to Eren and Mikasa and apologize to them.

He spent the rest of the day walking through town, taking in as much detail as possible, collecting memories to tell, and when his legs were numb enough to stumble upon, Armin decided to get something to eat.

He sat on a bench at a square, a spacious square with a fountain centering it, kids splashing water, as their parents shopped at the markets surrounding the place. A mouth-watering aroma allured Armin to a traditional restaurant where he got a sandwich with a drink, both have foreign names that were too hard for him to pronounce.

As his muscles relaxed, he realized how tired he was. He didn’t rest after the long boat trip, captivated by the charming spirit of that town, besides, he had been walking for hours with a suitcase as an extra weight. He needed a place to stay for the night.

A small girl with unruly red locks flailing around her face jumped around, her green, flowery dress swirling with every step she took. A stack of newspaper weighing in her hands, obviously a burden.

Armin waved his hand, catching her attention. With a smile on her face, she approached him, handing out a newspaper.

“Thank you,” Armin said, but the girl skewed her head at him in confusion, she probably spoke a different language.

“O-oh, um… thaaaa….nnnkkk….yooouuu…” he repeated it again but slowly, only to realize it wouldn’t make her understand. But then, she pointed at her ears, and it dawned on Armin; she was deaf. He remembered the hand-on-heart gesture from the coffee man before, so Armin bowed his head, and put his hand on his heart. The girl smiled, and did the same. He paid for the newspaper, and the girl trudged back to the middle of the square, holding the newspaper stack tight to her chest, keeping it dry with the kids splashing water around.

Armin opened the newspaper. He sighed when he saw most of it was written in the language he spoke.

The first title made him choke on his sandwich.

As the third anniversary of the war is nearing, the world is wondering, is it really over?

Armin scanned through the rest of the page, his mouth inching wider with every word, a crumb of chewed bread fell out his mouth. 

Is it really over? Are all titan shifters actually dead?

Or is it just another trick from the devils of paradise?

The world demands proof that the Eldians are unable to turn into titans anymore, and it won’t rest until the truth is out.

Armin couldn’t believe his eyes, and suddenly, the sandwich in his hand was no longer appealing.

~~~~

The hunting for an affordable inn started. Armin roamed the streets again, instead of keeping his chin up and reading signboards, his gaze was fixated on others; he felt every pair of eyes on him, only watching him, somehow knowing that he was the colossal titan, with one, unremarkable scratch, he could blow this whole city, charring it into dust, as if it never existed before.

Fear shoved the ruthless joyfulness into a far, abandoned corner, cackling. Sweat broke on Armin’s forehead, his heart beating fast in his chest.

For the first time in three years, Armin felt unsafe.

All he knew for the past three years was living for his own self, safely. He was still stuck with the military, and he had troubles sleeping the first few weeks he moved alone into his house, but it was as if he was reborn, turned a new page, and started a brand new life. Even if the whole world declared his death, for him, it was a new beginning.

Armin needed a quiet place, as fast as possible.

He entered the very first inn he laid eyes on.

The inn was in the middle of the town, with an affordable price and clean rooms. Not big but not small. It wasn’t crowded nor was it empty. He booked a room closest to the emergency exit, hastily snatched the key from the concierge's hand, throwing a trembling thank-you over his shoulder as he scuttled as fast as he could up the stairs, reaching his room, checking the number engraved on the key twice, before going in and locking the door.

He flopped his suitcase on the bed, closed the curtains, then double checked that the door was locked.

Stepping into the bathtub, he stayed under the warm spray of the shower longer than needed, all the while checking behind the curtains.

He snuck under the blankets, unexpectedly cold after the warm shower, slept with one eye open, as light gradually faded behind the curtains, denoting the end of his first day of this unforeseen vacation. 

The last thing he thought of before drifting into an uneasy sleep- was buying a ticket back to the island, first thing in the morning.

~~~

Light crept into the room as the sun rose up in the sky. Armin didn’t see it, he was under his blankets, speculating the closed curtains, his heart thudding loudly in his ear.

His ears perked up for any sound.

His throat was dry as a desert.

His water bottle was across the room.

Armin observed it, unmoving. He closed his eyes for a long second, hoping that when he opens them, the water bottle would be right in front of his face.

But it didn’t move an inch.

He should get going, get up, gather his stuff, and leave.

This is ridiculous, Connie himself would be ashamed.

He got up, a shiver went up his spine the moment his toes touched the carpeted floor. Even though he was aware he was being an idiot, he couldn’t shake off this paranoia. Tiptoeing to the water bottle, he reached to it, his mouth getting dryer, his fingers were an inch away from it-

KNOCK KNOCK!!!

Armin hit the water bottle, knocking it off, water spilling on the floor, splashing the curtain.

Freeze.

He didn’t dare move a limb.

His brain went through every possibility of who could be at the door. Angry people with torches and swords? Maybe men in black with guns in their hands? Or it was the government on a mission to arrest him? Or- 

KNOCK KNOCK!!!

Armin flinched. He took a deep breath, and approached the door with inaudible steps, as light as he could. It felt like ages before he reached the door. He spied through the peephole, it was blurred with dust, but it was enough to see a figure of someone standing there.

A woman.

A blonde woman.

No way no way no way-

Short

Petite

Armin leaned against the door, squinting, trying to decipher her features, his heart involuntary beating faster in his chest-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!!

Armin fell back, tumbling on his ass, a grunt escaped his mouth. He slammed his palm on his mouth, the pain from the fall momentarily vanishing, but it was too late.

“Alright if someone is in there, for God’s sake just answer the fucking door, I got other businesses to do!” a gruff voice called from the other side of the door, impatient, their tapping foot could be heard from down the hall.

That’s not… her...

“Y-yes?” Armin squeaked out.

“Towels? This is room’s services, do you need extra towels?”

What? Room service? I didn’t ask for-

“Just answer the goddamn question-”

“N-no!” Armin half shouted, trembling, “th-thanks I don’t need t-towels please.”

“You got a letter,” the gruff woman added.

A letter? Wha-

“Hello?! Can you stay with me for one fucking minute-”

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, “f-from whom?”

“Do I look like I would know?” A very loud sigh, “are you even gonna open the goddamn door? Actually nevermind-” 

Armin heard rustling, before the tip of white paper sneaked under the door.

“Next time answer the door faster, just wasting my Goddamn time, as if I had any more time to waste…” the complaints faded down the hallway.

Armin layed on the floor for extra few minutes, energy drained out of him.

Another letter.

Armin feared what could be in it.

He slit open the top of the envelope with trembling fingers, shook it, a small piece of wrinkled brown paper fell out.

He held it so close to his eyes, rereading the few lines over and over again.

Ayyooo Armin!

I hope you enjoyed your free time!

Just a reminder about our meeting tomorrow, oh and I already got you a train ticket and a room in that hotel

See ya there!

Hitccchhh~

He didn’t leave his room for the rest of the day. Plans of leaving to the island seemed way far off reach.

~~~

At night, Armin took the train to the town Hitch told him about. Keeping his eyes down, his movement unnoticeable, dissolving within the train’s car.

It was barely dawn when he arrived, the sky a dark blue, the moon absent.

It was one of those nights where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face; the surroundings plunged into darkness. The only available light coming from fluorescent street bulbs with vague halos, fireflies zipping around them. He barely got himself to the hotel Hitch told him about, the process of checking in all but blurry. Paranoia substituted by exhaustion. He flopped on the bed, only able to kick off his shoes before he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up at noon.

Sweaty, hot, tangled in the sheets, the sun glaring through the window.

Sleeping at dawn and waking up at noon was one of the things Armin avoided for the past three years; he was an early bird who liked mornings. When he woke up with the sun scorching in the middle of the sky, it was as if he fell off a cliff and all his bones were broken, muscles from head to toe aching.

Of course, the morning buffet the hotel provided had long ended, (now that he was aware of it, the hotel Hitch recommended was rather nice… pricey as well, he noted to talk about this with her, he couldn’t let her pay for it). Armin could no longer ignore his stomach walls clamping on each other, so, with caution, all his senses fully activated, he left his room, making sure to hide all his personal stuff underneath the mattress and behind the closet.

Only then did he have a chance to look around the town.

Frighteningly astonishing, it looked as a bucket of rainbow splashed on it. The silent buildings decided to grow non identically; each one sprouted from its roots in fortuitous angles, frozen mid dance on inaudible tunes.

A canvas of a bored artist and a brush, spontaneously drawing strokes wherever and however. And what was a mere boredom act had become a masterpiece others marvel at.

It was quiet for such a colorful city, even though people zipped up and down the streets, but for Armin’s eyes that were still adjusting to the light, it was all but a blurry gray-scaled lines.

After his vision cleared… he found out it wasn’t much different than when they were blurry.

People clothed in three colors… black, white, and gray. Striped, dotted, and squared. Their faces wore similar schemes; stoic, prosaic, blank. All busy and in a hurry, scurrying down the streets, everyone going on with their day, not glancing at one another.

Armin, with his blue shirt and brown pants, felt so out of the place.

Any sort of the modern technology Armin saw when he first visited the continent- were nowhere to be seen; there was not a single car on the streets, only black bicycles that passed by him like wind. The zig-zagging chimneys sprouting from houses didn’t blow gray toxics into the air, and the air tasted different; clean and refreshing. 

However, the fresh air didn’t seem to affect the people at all, either they were too used to it, or simply didn’t care.

Armin swallowed, thinking why on earth did Hitch recommend this city. Yes the place was nice, cheerful and pulsating with life, but its people were as emotionless as an unremarkable stone on the sideroad.

It wasn’t about the fanciness of a place, its color or its shapes, it never was and never will be.

it was all about the people.

They either spread life in town, or rob it from it.

Armin tried to not make eye contact with anyone, and not because of his dilemma of being exposed, but because everyone seemed intolerable to a delaying-glance.

He permitted himself to stroll the streets and discard his situation on the shelf for a while.

After all, it was ridiculous. 

Utterly ridiculous.

He took a turn right, a turn left, walked for some time, went through alleys and squares… it was too late until he realized he could no longer go back to the hotel.

He was lost and had no idea where he was, internally freaking out.

Do not panic don't panic do not panic

If his frantic thoughts showed on his face, he’d probably be an easy prey and get blindly robbed. He must stay sharp and focused.

Time passed, and Armin decided that he wouldnt find his way back if he didn’t move, and soon enough, he found himself walking through a traditional market rounding a vast square, traders wearing hints of color, intruding the greyness of the town-people, Armin realized that this market was attended by foreigners.

In the middle of the square, a small stage was being set up, almost finished. From people’s questioning stares and glances, Armin concluded that it was as foregin to them as it was to him.

But after fleeting looks, people would resume their life, running errands, their kids killing time waiting for their parents; playing and hopping around.

Armin forgot his hunger and that he was lost for a second, watching the kids.

Much like his younger days, with Mikasa and Eren in Shiganshina...

The atmosphere ignited nostalgia’s candle under Armin’s nose. He sighed, wishing that he invited his friends with him, maybe having company wouldn’t have gotten him in the mess he meddled in, why didn’t I even think about that?

Armin’s stomach grumbled in response, reminding him that he didn’t eat anything since… the day before...

The side market-stands with fresh fruits watered his mouth. He swallowed, approaching a stand where shiny apples were snatching glances from everyone at the market.

Armin picked two apples, one red and one green -he didn’t have a personal preference- and any food on an empty stomach is worth a fancy meal at the monarchy’s feasts.

Horns echoed.

Every head in the square swiveled to the center, where the stage was completely set up, a middle aged man standing on it, his chin up, beside him a younger man, a younger replica of him. Four musicians, carrying small horns that were a shame for real horns, standing behind him.

Classy 

“Attention, people of this town,” the old man with a round belly announced, hushed murmurs transpired, and Armin heard admirable words like it’s the Mayor! Or how humble he is!, which made Armin raise a confused eyebrow.

Everyone went quiet, and as if on cue, the Mayor continued: “As words had been going around, we’re holding one of the biggest festivals here, in memory of ending the big war. Three years ago, when the world saw peace again!”

Claps erupted, Armin grimaced at the Mayor’s meek wording.

The mayor’s chest inflated with pride (or ego?), the buttons on his gray-striped shirt threatening to pop off. He raised his hand, and the crowd, once again, fell into homage silence.

“And as I promise you, my dear people,” few people sighed, “I’ll make it worthy for your praise and admiration. People from all over the world are going to visit us, and from my place here, I ask you for generosity and hospitality, and to take advantage of this trade investment! It’s a great opportunity for your markets to flourish!”

The crowd clapped again. The Mayor half bowed, before he descended the stage, his younger look-alike following him.

Comments, squeals, and whispers spread rapidly, and the square was as alive as it was before the pause.

“Young man?” 

Armin turned to the seller, he almost forgot where he left. He reached into his pockets, but stopped when the seller whispered to him, his accent heavy but understandable: “Did you see what he did? He’s using the people, his people for money!”

Armin’s mouth opened and closed several times, taken aback, before he asked: “What do you mean? Isn’t this for their own good?”

“What? No young man, no. I take it you’re not from here?”

Armin shook his head.

“Well let me tell you something,” the seller leaned closer to Armin, his voice dropping to lower than a whisper, “that man owns this market, he takes 50% percent of the profit, from every single one of us!”

“...what?”

“Exactly!” the seller looked right and left, making sure no one was eavesdropping on them, “half of my hard work goes right into his pockets!”

Armin scrunched his nose; he had a bad feeling about the Mayor the moment he saw him. Armin didn’t know why the seller was telling him this… maybe he just wanted to let it out…

“His son looks no better than him… I’m sorry young man, I shalln’t hold you up any longer.”

Armin nodded with an apologetic smile, handing several coins for the seller, he turned around and-

He pumped into someone, and a paper bag full of groceries was dropped out on the ground, the two apples slipping from his hands and falling into the mix.

“I’m so sorry! I-I apologize!,” Armin knelt and started picking the goods and putting them back into the bag.

Armin wasn’t bothered that he picked up all the groceries by himself, their owners not doing anything; it was his fault after all.

When he was done, he stood up, glancing at the two apples which were no longer edible; one split in half and facing downwards, the other had a huge soft brown circle on it, contradicting how appetizing they looked just ten seconds ago.

“There you-” Armin’s voice stopped in his throat.

His eyes met a pair of familiar icy blue eyes, wide open, boring into his own.

“Annie…” Armin whispered, his eyes widening.

It was her, blonde hair in a bun, blue eyes- it was her.

No doubt.

Annie...

There is no way this is actually happening; she can’t just vanish for years then pop out of nowhere like this.

That wasn’t fair, it was ridiculous, the world had a plan, and Armin was a toy controlled by someone else, snickering at him as Armin couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t believe his eyes.

He spent three years trying to forget her, they can’t go through this again-

She yanked the paper bag from Armin’s hands, pulled a gray cape over her head and walked away.

Armin froze for a moment, but when he saw her figure fading into the crowd, he darted behind her.

“Annie! Annie, wait! Please wait!” Armin called, as he pushed through people, whose sudden purpose was hindering Armin from getting to Annie. He accidently pushed a guy who happened to be holding a basket filled with eggs to the rim. The guy staggered, squelching half of them on the ground.

“Hey! Watch out!” The man complained, but Armin didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

She didn’t slow down, she maintained her fast pace, ignoring Armin’s calls, pulling the cape further down her face when people started giving them suspicious glances.

“Annie! Please!”

More eyes looked at them.

Armin barely kept up with Annie, trying so hard to not lose sight of her. Until they reached an intersection, people double the number, bicycles zipping past Armin-

She turned right.

Armin sprinted, crashing into bodies, people throwing profanities at him. He turned right and-

She was gone.

She vanished.

Armin halted in his tracks, his breathing erratic, staring at the last spot he saw Annie at.

Was that… was that a facade? 

A hand clapped on Armin’s shoulder, he jumped, only to see that the hand belonged to a man.

An angry man, with a basket of half cracked eggs.

The man was shouting, complaining, cursing. But Armin didn’t hear him; his ears ringing, his mouth dry, and his sight swaying.

A few blocks away, a blonde carrying groceries bag was hastily leaving the scene, covering her head, not turning around to check if he was behind her.

Ignoring the awkward glances from passbyres, she kept going until she was out of the center of the town, where houses scattered over vast land, and it was more peaceful than the market, less crowded, less people.

She walked to a small, humble house, took out keys and unlocked the door. Discarding the bag in the kitchen. She beelined to her room, closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room, searching for anything to break, to smash, anything to let out her anger on, anything.

When she decided she mustn’t leave a trace of her rage, she sat on the ground, leaning against the door, and bit down hard on hand. Closing her jaw as hard as she can on flesh, until she tasted her own blood.

Sharp pain shot from her hand, she let it go with a hiss, watching blood dripping on the ground.

She watched her wound.

A labored, shaky sigh left her mouth, she rested her head against the wooden door as she eyeballed steam emitting from her wound, flesh forming and healing, accompanied with a murmur of a hiss.

“Are you done? Did you let it all out? Or you wanna bite your other hand?”

She looked up, a girl sitting on her bed, legs crossed, a smirk blasted on her face.

“What… what have you done, Hitch?”

.

.

AAAAAAAAAHHH Oh my GOD I didn’t update Legends in so long I’m so excited to finally post this dkgdlsajgkds Thanks for everyone who tolerated this story not being updated for some time, thanks for sticking around, I really appreciate it I know I haven’t been updating as much as I used to, I’m gonna graduate soon, so I’m a bit busy with university right now The thing is, I’m too attached to this story, and only recently I realized this. I started writing this story in April 2020, it was the beginning of lockdown and all the crazy shit we’re going through right now. It was my own escape, and I enjoyed writing every single word of it I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ll never abandon this story, because it became a part of me that I can’t live without So thank you guys for coming along this journey, I appreciate it. ALSO SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER I’M SO SORRY OH MY GOD Ok that’s all, feedback is always appreciated, here on tumblr or ao3 (or twitter uwu) OK THANKS AGAIN YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU MWAAAHH

[i-know-like-four-things]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Destiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s), Dean Winchester/Other(s) Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Meg Masters, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Modern AU, Sex Worker, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Prostitute Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: 
Dean is happy with his life as a hooker. He loves feeling the night air on his face every night, and he is good at his job. One day he meets Castiel, the handsomest man he’s ever seen with the ugliest car in the world, and everything changes.
***
Hey y’all! I’m finally posting the fic I was talking about! Im really excited for this, so please let me know what you think!


Dean felt alive tonight. It was a beautiful fall night in Kansas City, Kasas. The breeze was present enough that Dean didn’t feel like he was drowning in his own sweat, but it wasn’t enough to make him cold. Dean was wearing his favorite pair of shorts, – the jean ones that were obscenely short and tight – this little black tight mesh top, and these little black heeled boots. He felt hot, and like he could take the whole world by storm.


Dean was leaning against the building talking to his girls.There were plenty of people working the street, but Dean, Hannah, Jo, and Charlie all stuck together. Dean and Charlie mostly worked regulars, – Charlie the chicks and Dean the gay dudes– while Hannah and Jo picked up most of the stragglers. That wasn’t to say that Dean didn’t leave with a stranger from time to time; he was the only male hooker this side of town.


Dean was chatting with Charlie, trying to look sexy leaning against a building and laughing hysterically at something she had said, and failing miserably, when the ugliest car Dean had ever seen pulled up. Jo sauntered up to the golden continental, exaggerating the swish of her hips, and leaned in the passenger window, wiggling her booty a little bit. Dean could tell the moment Jo got rejected because she dropped the sexy dance and adopted some more practical behaviors, like bending at the knees instead of the waist. She tapped the side of the car and walked back to the group.
“You’re up, Dean-o,” she announced. Dean pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning on and walked over to the car, throwing a wink over his shoulder at his friends.


When Dean walked up to the ugly-ass car, he took up Jo’s original position, resting his forearms on the open window. He looked in and was stunned.
The man sitting in the driver’s seat was absolutely breath-taking. He had this thick, dark hair that was sticking up every which way, and Dean couldn’t wait to get his fingers in it. Even sitting hunched over like the man was, Dean could tell the man was built like a ton of bricks. He had these big, elegant hands that were shakily rubbing up and down his thick thighs. His bright blue eyes kept flicking between Dean and the road in front of him, and he kept liking his plump, chapped lips.


Dean looked a little longer that he normally would have before he spoke. When he finally found the air to form words, he said, “Hey handsome. Looking for some company?” It was a cheesy line and he knew it, but Dean didn’t really care.
The man looked up at him hesitantly, meeting his eyes for a second before nodding. Dean opened the passenger side door and slid in. He buckled up and was busying himself with straightening his clothes, and he heard the man put the car in drive.


“So,” Dean began as the man started driving off, “where to?”


The man cleared his throat and said “My place,” and Dean just about died. Fuck, that man had a voice that was like wiskey and gravel and honey. If this guy got any sexier Dean’s soul might just leave his body and ascend to heaven without preamble.


“Okay,” Dean most definitely did not squeak out, “my name’s Dean, by the way.” 


“Castiel,” the man growls by way of response.


“Castiel, that’s a cool name. Mind if I call you Cas?” Dean asks.


The man nodded and said nothing else. Dean suddenly feels awkward, and starts fidgeting with his hands. Dean never gets that way. If someone gives him a bad vibe then he can talk his way out of it, usually, and he can usually make conversation with everyone else, but this was different. Something about Cas was throwing Dean off his game; he felt like a teenager going on a date. And that was dumb because one, Dean was a professional, and two, he didn’t even know the guy or have any personal connection to him, so pre-date jitters shouldn’t be an issue. And yet, Dean’s mouth was as dry as the Sahara and his hands were sweating like crazy.


The two men sat in silence for the rest of the short drive. Cas pulled into a middle-class neighborhood, and pulled his ugly car into the garage of a much prettier house. Cas shut off the car and closed the garage door before he got out, and Dean took that as his cue to do the same.


Cas walked into the house, Dean on his heels, and they made their way to the kitchen. The house was a lot nicer on the inside than the outside. Every surface held expensive knick knacks and the walls were lined with framed artifacts. Some of the frames help pictures, and some held awards, while a couple had diplomas. There was not a speck of dust in sight, and Dean was very impressed. 


“Would you like something to drink?” Cas asked.


“Sure, man,” Dean responded, wringing his hands. He still felt weirdly on-edge with this man.


“So no offence, man,” Dean began, “but you’re a good-looking guy, and I imagine you don’t have any problem scoring. So why do you need me?” Cas handed him a glass of water.


“Frankly, I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Dean raised his hands in an “I surrender” gesture and drank his water. When they were done, Cas walked off and Dean followed. They walked to what Dean assumed was the master bedroom. Cas stood off to one side and waited expectantly.


“Okay, so I charge $150 an hour, anything fancy or not vanilla needs to be discussed beforehand, and we use Pretty Woman rules; no kissing on the lips. Sound good?” 

Cas nodded at Dean’s terms, and went to get his wallet. He pulled out $150 in cash and handed it to Dean. 
“I assume you want me to bottom?” Dean asked. Again, Cas nodded his head. Cas then started using his nimble fingers to unbutton his shirt.
Dean put the cash in the back pocket of his shorts for the time being, and pulled off his top. He was working on the button of his shorts when he caught a glimpse of Cas. His shirt was discarded and he was working on his belt, but his chest is what Dean focused on. The man had well-sculpted pacts and a firm middle. He didn’t look like one of those ‘roided up, dehydrated male models, but he looked like he was carved from marble. His shoulders were thick and well-defined, and they drew Dean’s attention to the man’s perfectly sculpted neck.


And now Dean was really confused. He was just starting to think that maybe Cas’ equipment was lacking, and that was why he needed to buy his pleasure, but then Cas pulled down his pants. He still had his boxer briefs on, but Dean could tell the man was hung.
Dean shook himself out of his trance and continued to undress. He pulled off his boots, then his shorts, and lastly the little g-string he wore. Dean walked over to his shorts and grabbed a condom and a little packet of lube that he always kept in his back pocket.


Dean was always prepared before the night began. He didn’t like to think of himself as a pessimist, but many of the guys he serviced were rough and inconsiderate, and he didn’t want to take chances.


So Dean laid down on the bed and pulled out his plug that had a big plastic jewel at the end of it. He set the plug next to him on the bed, and he lubed his fingers up just a bit. He was pretty stretched out, but he made sure he could comfortably fit four fingers inside himself, just in case. When he was done, he propped himself up on his elbows and saw Cas looking at him. The man’s eyes were dark, and he had a feral edge to his gaze. If Dean wasn’t turned on by Cas’ physique, that look would have had him rock hard. 
Dean didn’t like intimacy in these situations – he just wanted to get a good fuck and move on with his life – so he turned over onto his hands and knees, facing away from Cas. Cas also seemed like he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, because he grabbed Dean’s hips without preamble and lined his cock up with Dean’s entrance. Cas pushed in slowly but firmly, and stilled when he bottomed out. 

Even though Dean was used to this, he still always took a moment at this point to catch his breath. It was easier when he was turned on, but he still always tried to center himself.
Without warning, Cas started to slam in and out of Dean at a blinding pace. His hips slapped against Dean’s ass with every thrust, and for all of Dean’s efforts, he couldn’t breathe. Cas changed his angle slightly and he hit Dean’s prostate so hard that Dean cried out. Dean just sat there, panting and shaking after every one of Cas’ thrusts, only to be blown out of the water again and again.


Cas reached up and grabbed Dean by the neck and shoved his face into the bed. Dean’s breaths were stifled with the bedspread, and between that, the pressure on the back of his neck and the brutal pounding he was taking, Dean was just about in subspace. Dean almost never went there, partially through sheer will, but this was just too good.


As impossible as it seemed, Cas kept fucking harder and faster. Dean was limp at this point, just letting Cas do what he wants. He was so close; he could feel heat curling in his gut, and his toes following suit.
“Cas,” he choked out, barely audible over Cas’ grunting, “I’m close.”
In response, Cas picked up the pace yet again. With one adjustment of his hips, he nailed Dean’s prostate and Dean was flying over the edge. He moaned wantonly, spilling onto the comforter underneath him. As soon as the sensation passed, Dean collapsed under Cas’ weight. Cas just let him lay there, panting, and continued to chase his release. 
After several minutes of Dean feeling blissfully full and overstimulated, Cas’ hips lost their rhythm. He jerked, grinded, and then he stilled. Cas fell on top of Dean. The two men laid there, catching their breaths and coming down from their respective highs.


Eventually, Cas got off Dean. Dean heard him walk around, take the condom off, and throw it away. Dean laid there for just a moment longer, before he lifted himself off of the wet spot he had created.


“Bathroom?” he asked horsley. Cas pointed to an adjoining room. Dean went in there and washed himself off. His head still felt foggy, and he was trying to make all his faculties work again, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. It wasn’t that he was complaining; he felt fucking great, it was just different than what he was used to.


When Dean was done, he walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. He found Cas had removed the comforter, and was now laying underneath the sheets. Dean dressed quickly, and pulled some small bills out of his boot, where he kept them. Cas looked about as dead as Dean felt, and Dean didn’t see him moving any time soon.


When Dean was finally dressed and ready to go, he turned to Cas. “You’re a pretty good lay,” he said, “let’s do this again sometime.” With that, Dean threw a wink over his shoulder and sauntered out of the room, scheduling an uber on his way out.

[kenzieam]

About Last Night - Chapter Two

@jewels2876  @moonbeambucky  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123  @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt  @badassbaker  @pinknerdpanda  @oliviastan17 @mizzzpink​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev wakes up the morning after a wild night at the Compound and realizes she hasn’t spent the night alone. The fact that the man unconscious beside her is her most trusted teammate is besides the point, he’s also her best friend and

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE DO???

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Okay, this chapter is just shameless angst and self-pity, mixed in with a healthy dose of Lev’s incredible stupidity and my absolute favourite... cliffhangers.

You’ve been warned....

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Too late, sugar. He’s found someone else.

No. NO.

And there’s nothing you can do about it, her mind sneered.

A cold rush went through Lev and it was all she could do to not leap from the table and run.

She was becoming her mother.

She was letting love cloud her mind, dictate her actions.

No. She wouldn’t give in, she was stronger than that, baptized by the blood of the damned, literally.

If asked later how she managed to stay seated at the table and remain semi-functional, Lev wouldn’t be able to say. She’d become talented in hiding her emotions, stonewalling the therapist her father briefly tried sending her to, and disguising the true depths of her rage and sorrow as she grew from a teenager to hot-headed adult, but even she couldn’t kid herself into thinking she was successfully acting tonight.

Conversation continued without her, for if anyone noticed her discomfiture, they kindly chose to ignore it, not bringing up the fact that every single person at the table, with the exception of Bucky, Lev and Lilly, had fully expected and had in reality placed bets with each other on when their two friends would finally wake up to the attraction between them, knowing that something had gone down after the party, but not what.

Bucky’s new woman was questioned relentlessly, the guise friendly inquiry, covert ‘what the fuck, man?’ glances sent Bucky’s way whenever her attention was diverted with answering and he glowered back defiantly, refusing, with the exception of one scorching glance, loaded with too many emotions to sort out, to look at Lev.

And she felt her skin tingle every time he touched Lilly, rested his arm on her shoulders, brushed her cheek or tucked some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. If he was acting he was doing a hell of a job, there seemed to be a genuine draw between them, especially in the way Lilly would gaze at him, like he’d hung the fucking moon and, as soon as it was polite, Lev excused herself, the few bites of dessert she’d managed to choke down sour in her stomach.

Why the hell was she so upset? SHE’D WANTED THIS! SHE’D WANTED TO MAINTAIN DISTANCE, but not like this, anything but this.

And she hadn’t truly wanted distance, not really, not in the deepest parts of her heart. Once the static had cleared in her head, she’d heard the message loud and clear. Love was dangerous, love was terrifying and made fools of us all, but she would have been safe with Bucky. He wouldn’t have hurt her; he wouldn’t have let her fall. He wouldn’t have passed off lust as love and then thrown her away, driving her to insanity in the form of hysterical suicide.

He would have treasured her the way she always secretly wished to be and, at the first offering of that, she’d slashed with razor claws, wounding him perhaps permanently.

She wished for more Mead, but there was none and she instead spent the night cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, headphones secured to her ears, blasting her most angry and rage-filled death metal playlists, hoping to drown out the tears.

She shouldn’t have left her room the next morning, she wasn’t fucking hungry anyway. But she had, and the punishment had been swift and severe. Giggles preceded her arrival in the kitchen and, if she’d been listening instead of continuing to stew, she would have recognized the deep answering chuckles.

There had only been a few times in Lev’s life when she could honestly say she was breathless with shock. The first had been with her mother, slipping and sliding in her lifeblood as the woman screamed and slashed even more at her shredded forearms; the second had been when Lev had awoke disoriented under blinding lights, agony like hellfire crawling through her veins, a multitude of strange, lab-coat wearing men standing dispassionately above her, the sudden and cold realization that she’d been taken and changed, that her issues had blinded her to life’s bigger dangers and she’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, selected by HYDRA for an experimental program due to her lack of family and the extremely large chip on her shoulder and she was never going to be the same.

The third was when she had been discovered by accident and rescued by the team, half-mad in that underground bunker; her shadowy surroundings suddenly lit up and blinding her like the sun, fevered confusion and disorientation, dangerous-looking strangers all around her, their grunts of pain and surprise when she fought their hands, struggled to understand a language she’d not heard in so long. Fear and animal instinct to defend had taken over, her enhanced body too much for all but Steve and Bucky to restrain and her first real memories of freedom from that hellish cell where she’d languished, cold and slowly going insane had been of strong arms, gentle hands stroking her face and tangled hair, masculine spice and a deep, soothing voice, speaking words she no longer recognized but in a tone that calmed her nonetheless.

The forth, and final time was now, when she turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead, like she’d been slapped by the very hand that was currently caressing Lilly’s breast through her half-buttoned shirt, a shirt Lev recognized instantly, even in her shock, as the one she’d bought Bucky months ago because she’d loved how it matched his eyes. Lilly was gasping and mewling, their bodies moving in a sensual, unmistakable rhythm, Bucky’s eyes flaring with heat as they rolled upwards when her lips, hidden by her face tucked into his throat, nibbled in return for his touch and it was devastatingly obvious what they’d spent the night doing, what Lev had probably unintentionally spared herself from hearing all through the dark hours by keeping her headphones on.

What they were still doing.

Lev could smell it on them and there was no way two bodies could twine so close together if they weren’t already connected in the most visceral and primal way possible. His hand fell from Lilly’s breast, but only to drop to her hip, curling around the curve and pulling her closer still, lifting her thigh to hook around his. His eyes raised finally to Lev’s, banked lust making them look like a beast’s eyes, and his jaw clenched, teeth baring as he growled harshly. Lilly moaned as he turned his head to bite at her throat, eyes staying locked on Lev’s almost defiantly, returning the nips with an intensity that made Lilly’s hips roll against his, made her cling even tighter to his body and ratcheting up the sexual heat that was already so thick between them. Seeing Lev seemed to push him to move harder and faster, as if with each heavy thrust of his hips he was snarling at her ‘like what you see? This could have been you.’

Bucky was fucking her against the counter, her ass smacking the edge while he glared coldly over her shoulder, eyes locked with Lev’s, each heavy grunt as he thrust further driving the nail deeper into her heart and something inside her, something that cracked as she’d watched her mother die and had only continued to yawn wider with each successive hit in her life, shattered completely.

*************************************************************************************   “So, you’re volunteering to take this mission? The one I haven’t been able to bribe, cajole or threaten anyone else to take on?” Tony raised a brow at Lev, half his attention still directed to a tablet in his hand, feet resting on the edge of his desk, chair tilted back.

“Yes.” Lev waited until Stark reluctantly pulled his eyes from the screen and focussed fully on her. Understanding softened the quizzical lines on his forehead.

“You know, kid… what Barnes is doing, bringing that new girl around-”

“Doesn’t matter, he can fuck whomever he wants.”

“Yeah, but after that party we all figured you two would finally-”

“You know… that shit would have been a little more helpful before all of this. I didn’t realize Bucky felt that way, I didn’t realize I felt that way.”

“Is that why you pushed him away? According to Cap you broke his heart.”

Lev flinched. “I didn’t push him away, okay? I was scared shitless and thought we should stay friends.”

“A man doesn’t look at someone the way Barnes looked at you, if they just want to stay friends.”

And the hits just kept coming. “Again, might have been a little more helpful to me before.”

“Why were you so scared?” Tony changed subjects, tilting his head. “I mean, the Manchurian Candidate isn’t my cup of tea, but he’s never hurt you, even when you were trying so hard to kill all of us in that bunker; if anything, he’d be like a pain in the ass puppy, always loyal and trying to get in your lap.” Understanding dawned. “This have something to do with your parents? You told me their divorce was ugly.”

And then some.

“Nah, their divorce was the standard train wreck, it was what came after; when the guy left her, she uh…. Well, she didn’t take it well.”

Tony arched a brow, waiting patiently and Lev was so tired of holding the weight of her burdened past by herself she gave in and opened her figurative vein.

“When uh…. When the new guy took off, she…. I found her after school one day, blood everywhere and the razor still in her hands. I was trying everything I could to stop the bleeding, to stop her, but all she wanted to do was keep cutting and keep screaming into the phone at the guy, over and over again, ‘is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?’. She… she died in my arms, her last words for him, still yelling at him. I’m not even sure if she knew I was there.”

Tony stared, stunned silent, which was quite a feat for him, and Lev swallowed uncomfortably. She’d not told anyone the whole story, not even her dad or the therapist and she felt her adrenaline beginning to rise as the spectres from her past rattled their chains and threatened to break free again.

“Shit… Lev. You need to talk to someone about that-”

“I need to go on this mission.”

“You need help.”

“The mission.” Lev repeated stubbornly. “Just the mission, Tony, okay? If my mother’s suicide taught me anything, it’s that love is the most dangerous fucking thing out there and if I hadn’t learned it then I sure as fuck did when Bucky showed up with that fucking supermodel. That’s all the help I need. Let me get out of here, clear my head and still be fucking useful as I do it. Please?”

Tony gazed at her, such pain and sympathy in his eyes that Lev was forced to look away, chew hard on her lip to keep from breaking down.

“Okay,” he finally murmured. “I’ll send you out on this one but we’re in on this together, you and me, got it?”

Lev squinted at him, not understanding.

“I’m not going to tell anyone else, but you and I are going to talk, regularly, while you’re out there. I’m keeping an eye on you, kid and when you get back… you gotta talk to someone trained in this, okay? That’s not anything anyone should have to carry alone.”

Lev snorted, trying to disguise how touched she was with more sarcasm. “I’m not carrying it alone; it can haunt your nightmares now too.”

A faint smile, but Tony’s eyes stayed troubled.

“Okay,” Lev conceded. “Now can I go?”

Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I got everything set up, if you’re ready now, let’s go.”

“I’m ready now.”

***********************************************************************************       Lev exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to doodle on the notebook in front of her and closed her eyes until the itch passed, then opened them again, squinting as she peered through the scope mounted in front of her.

Forty-three days now of reconnaissance, observation, stakeout…. Boring.

Although it had been in the back of Lev’s mind as the reason why no one else wanted to take this mission, meaning Tony had been about a day away from volun-telling someone they were going, it hadn’t truly hit her until now how epically draining this was.

She had nothing but time now, to think, to analyze and consider.

The communication was iffy, limited, hence the need for someone to stay here and watch the comings and goings of the suspected HYDRA affiliate; setting up remote surveillance simply wasn’t possible, nor feasible to complete the set-up of without drawing suspicion. And rotating teams wasn’t ideal either, so Lev was stuck here, admittedly exactly where she’d asked to be, and she was getting a lot of thinking done.

She had been wrong to push Bucky away, that thought was clear as crystal now after weeks of distilling in her mind while she observed and noted each movement of her quarry.

Even if she’d genuinely wanted to simply stay friends with him, wrong, she had gone about that completely ass-backwards too. There had been happiness in his eyes that morning, the smile on his face hopeful, and she’d squashed it like a bug, squashed his heart like a bug, according to Steve; no wonder he’d returned her pain so cruelly, so harshly. He’d been open and vulnerable in front of her, thinking they’d turned some corner in their relationship, holding out his heart to her that morning and she’d clumsily slapped it to the floor, stomped on with her curt announcement that the magic that had passed between them the night before was a mistake.

God, did she wish she could go back in time.

She’d slap her past self silly in that bathroom, grab her shoulders and order her to not be so fucking stupid and scared, to be the fucking hero she played at being and take that leap of faith, knowing Bucky had already taken the leap and was waiting to catch her on the other side.

It’s too late now, her inner voice whispered.

“Shut up.” She hissed back.

9:32 am – subject takes out the garbage…

************************************************************************************     “So, how’s it going?” Tony asked from the monitor, head tilted to the side. The connection wasn’t the greatest, static crawling across the screen and pulling at his outline, but his voice came through clearly enough.

“I’m bored.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Dude, why do you think everyone else passed?”

“I know, I know, it’s just…”

“Too much time to think?” Tony offered quietly.

Lev exhaled heavily. “Yeah.”

“I know all about that.” Tony continued softly. Usually at this point he would lead Lev into talking about her issues, not start baring his own demons.

“You too?” Understanding hit her like a truck. “Wait, your parents too, right? I forgot about that.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t walk in on my mother having a psychotic break, but they’re both gone.”

“And Bucky…” she couldn’t finish, shocked that she’d managed to put away this detail and forget it for so long.

“No, The Winter Soldier.” Tony clarified. “I’ve made my peace with that, HYDRA killed my parents, not that lovesick sap I see dragging his sorry ass around the compound all day.”

“Wait, what? Dragging his ass around? He’s got Lilly now.”

“Not anymore. Not sure what happened, but she left a couple weeks ago… not long after you took off, actually.”

“Huh.” Lev pondered this, her confusion deepening. What the hell did that mean? Was it just no fun fucking his girlfriend anymore without Lev standing there watching? “And you just decided to mention it now?”

Tony smiled faintly. “Today’s the first time you’ve even mentioned his name too, kid.”

“Touché…. Wait, you just needed me to stay here and finish the job!”

“Why? Would hearing about Lilly leaving make you want to come back and talk to the guy?” Tony challenged evenly; brow raised.

Shit… it did, didn’t it? That’s exactly what she was steamed about, wasting her time here instead of falling on her knees in front of Bucky and begging for his forgiveness. Still, she hated to let Tony know he was right, he could be such an arrogant prick sometimes. “So. What if it did?”

Tony snorted again, chuckling. “You two, Jesus Christ… Still, I’d appreciate if you could stay a bit longer out there.”

“You owe me, Stark.”

“I do? You volunteered, and now you’re trying to bail? Tough, kid.”

Lev stuck out her tongue, chafing mildly at this responsible adult nonsense.

“Brat,” Tony commented mildly. “Another week, Lev. Please?”

“It’s good to hear you say please.”

“It’ll be even better if you stay there like I asked and then come back and talk to that therapist I set up for you.”

Lev clenched her teeth, debating her response. Knee-jerk told her snarl and tell Tony off, to mind his own business, she’d made all sorts of progress just talking with him, but a deeper part of her knew it was time, she needed to confront and drain this wound, she couldn’t let it’s poison taint her life any further. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t sound so damn happy. I’m paying top dollar to keep the best grief counselor on the East Coast on retainer.”

“Thanks.” Lev injected true appreciation in her tone and his expression softened.

“Brat.” He repeated fondly. “I gotta go, talk to you in a couple of days, alright?”

“Yeah,” Lev replied softly, offering a real smile.

*************************************************************************************    Lev tried not to hurry, jostle the pack on her back and maybe make too much noise. Nobody was following her, that much she was sure of, but she’d managed over fifty days of surveillance without being discovered and didn’t want to disrupt her streak. Nearing two months in a depressing tenement in a dying Eastern European town had been all sorts of boring, staring out through faded old curtains to the building across the narrow alley, but she’d managed and now it was time to go home. Tony was waiting, with a quinjet, at a site a dozen miles out and Lev was eager to see the man again.

He’d passed on her messages to the team, for Lev had left so furtively and quickly that she hadn’t told anyone else, not even Steve, and he’d relayed their messages back due to the constraints in their communications, but she was eager to see Stark, hell, anyone, in the flesh again. There was only so many games of Solitaire you could play on a dingy tabletop as you kept one eye on the window and Lev had discovered that limit long ago.

But… Bucky.

She still hadn’t spoken to him.

She’d not told him she was leaving; hell, he probably hadn’t even pulled out of Lilly yet by the time she was heading for the jet and there’d been no message from him in the ones Stark had relayed, not that Lev had expected any.

He probably hoped she didn’t come back, and a part of Lev was tempted. But no, she was a part of the Avengers, whether he liked it or not, and she could function as a member of said team even if she no longer had any meaningful contact with the Winter Soldier again. She’d have to figure out a new strategy for when her nightmares tore her from sleep and there would be no more Bucky to save her, as well as what she was going to do now when his nightmares echoed down the halls and she wanted to run to comfort him, but that could be solved easily enough. She could switch floors, sleep with earplugs or just plain gut it out, go cold turkey until the impulses faded, until Steve or Sam or, most likely, nobody’s presence took the place of comfort and support when their mutual nightmares grew to be too much in the dark.

But she’d miss the softness of his voice in the dark as her heart raced, miss the gentle way his hand would stroke across her forehead, thumb rubbing at her cheekbone; his bright, earnest eyes locked on hers as he talked her down, helped her match her gasping breaths to his steady ones.

She’d miss the way he’d cling to her when he was trapped in his own hells. The faint tremble in his massive frame that would start to cease, begin to relax as soon as he sensed her touch, the way his arms would band around her and hold her close, his body wrapped around hers like a shield but his face buried in her neck like a child’s while he grounded himself again. The way he’d murmur her name over and over again like a mantra, soothing himself back to sleep or, more likely, to the faint drowsy, dreamy, pillow talk stage, laying next to each other for hours as night died, talking about everything and anything that seemed too fragile to hold up and not shrivel under day’s harsh glare.

How had she thrown all that away? How had she not seen what everyone else apparently had? Actual physical love and sex had been about the last boundary they’d had, they’d been intimate and close in every other way possible and yet Lev had deluded herself into thinking, no… into telling herself stubbornly, that it was only friendship, that the way she’d sometimes catch Bucky gazing at her were nothing, only projections of the way she sometimes would watch him.

What a fucking idiot.

Christ, she was going to take a hellacious long bath when she got back to the Compound and compose a doozy of an apology to match her depths of remorse.

She glanced at her GPS, saw the jet was mere dozens of feet away now, in a clearing so well hidden she, even so close, still couldn’t see and picked up her pace. Hopefully, Tony brought some of those Cow Tales caramels she was such a whore for like she’d asked.

Pushing through the last break of trees, Lev paused, just admiring for a moment the stark (tee hee) splendour of the sleek jet amidst the woods. With a muted hiss, the ramp descended, and Lev turned her attention to the pilot.

“Tony-” her voice died in her throat.

[lennox-levin-little-lilith-did]

Hello people who follow me

For people who haven’t been following my blog all that much, I have Dissociative Identity Disoder, more commonly known as Spilt Personality, or Multiple Personality Disoder (which it’s no longer called this, the shortened version is DID)

DID is a disordercharacterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality states. A reaction to trauma as a way to help a person avoid bad memories.

Symptoms are;

Behavioral: impulsivity, self-destructive behavior, or self-harm (check, check, and check)

Mood: anxiety, feeling detached from self, or mood swings (check, check, and check)

Psychological: altered consciousness, depression, or flashback (check, check, and check)

Also common: amnesia or blackout (huge check)

Let’s start this my early childhood-

I never had a dad, he was in and out of my life constantly. So I was always looking for a father figure.

It didn’t help my mom was hopping from man to man at the time.

However I had one man in my life that never left and loved me like his own. That man was my uncle. I loved him so much, I still do, but by no means was he a good role model. He was in to drugs, never took his medication, and I think was in a gang (that if he hung out with some really bad people). One memory I have of him is him letting me help him make a roll (weed roll) when I was three or four.

I had a been diagnosed with ADHD by the time I was five. It was severe when I was younger, I couldn’t sit still or focus on anything, including school.

Anyways, one day, I come home from school, like any other day. I was happy because my grandmother had picked me up and said she would be staying with me for a while. (Mind you, this is what I’ve been told, I have zero recollection of this month). I come home to strange people and cars around my home, but I go about my greetings as usual. My mom had a boyfriend at this point, his name was Angel, he was nice (we’ll get back to him later). I was told to stay in my room with my kitten, Ella (yes the same cat I talk about to this day) and my dog, Sassy. My grandmother would come in to make I was okay, which I was. The next day was even weirder, a lady in a police uniform watched me get dressed for the day. My teachers treated me differently and I had to leave school early. I was confused, I also hadn’t seen my uncle in two days without communication. I was asked multiple questions about my uncle and I answered them honestly. I later learned that he had buried a woman’s body, had he killed her or not is a mystery as there was someone else with him that day he buried her.

My uncle had schizophrenia, and he had just revealed to me that he had an episode when everything was happening and he was off his meds.

We had moved in December of that year due to people screaming slurs at me whenever I went outside. I don’t remember this, again I have no recollection of that month.

I developed severe emotional issues, including bottling things up and exploding in violent outburst. My ADHD made it hard to focus on schoolwork, specifically reading. I alway spaced out while reading, and heard a small distracting voice, telling me to play with my stuffed animals or watch TV (I didn’t tell my mom this and I still haven’t). My mom didn’t understand why I was like this. She thought I was acting out for attention. So first through third grade I suffered and started to hate school. I started to hate my classmates. So I started to let that little voice speak for me. Eventually I started blacking out during school.

I didn’t know this wasn’t normal.

I didn’t know that when my mom asked what did I do at school, she thought I just didn’t want to talk about school.

Time skip to sixth grade (the worst year of my entire life)-

I was eleven at the time. I had friends, I was a social butterfly. Yeah, sure I had people I didn’t like, but I didn’t let them effect me.

Until November 29, 2016 (yes I remember the exact date)

The weekend before I had slept over at my bestie’s house, then I went home because I had 4-H on Sunday. I got my phone taken away Sunday night because my ‘friend’ wouldn’t stop texting me. I saw on my google docs I had a new document, shared with my teachers. It was nice, complimenting them on their teaching skills. But I didn’t write it. It wasn’t my typing style.

I went to school on Monday like any other day, happy and cheerful. Around second period, I got called to the office. I was asked if I wrote the doc that was under my email. I said yes because it was nice, I didn’t think anything was wrong with it.

Boy, was I wrong... (holy shit I’m about to cry writing this)

I got called down a second time, this time my principal was saying I hacked into others school accounts and wrote a threatening letter on google docs under another student’s account. I started to deny that I wrote anything, that I thought the doc was written on a spur of the moment.

The third time I was called down, it was with my best friend, Angie. We both didn’t know what was going on and denied any and all accusations.

The fourth and final time I was called down was at the end of the day... my teachers were there. They wouldn’t listen... they didn’t care what I said... I was a sweet girl with dreams and passions. I loved my teachers with all my heart... it didn’t matter to them. Nothing mattered to them (here come the waterworks).

I said I did it to protect my friends from getting in trouble...

In the end, I got three days of in school suspension and a beating from my mom that I don’t remember.

The first day, they forgot I was there. I was in a little white room, with a chair and a desk. The social worker came in and asked me if I had really done it. I had a good relationship with her, I really liked her... I shouldn’t have trusted her.

The second day... the second day, the principal, vice principal, and social worker of the school came into the room and I was confused. Then the screaming started... the banging on the desk. They thought on Monday I had written another doc to my teachers, saying they didn’t scare me and they could go fuck themselves and I changed a student’s pfp to a bloody knife.

Then the principal came around behind me, still screaming her head off, and slammed her hands down on my shoulders and squeezed, hard, resulting in bruises later that day. After that, the little voice took over and started crying. Sobbing for them to leave us alone. They walked out leaving a broken child in their wake.

I had curled up under the desk and continued to cried, repeatedly saying, “I want to die, I don’t deserve to live...” the social worker came back in and tried to calm me down, but I looked at her and said I wanted to die. This was the first time of so many, that I had a suicidal thought.

211 services were called and I told them I felt bad about everything I’ve ever done, continuing the lie I’ve been dragged into. I can’t tell the truth... They wouldn’t believe me anyways... I had thought. I went home and stayed home for the rest of the week. That night I walked into my kitchen and opened my knife drawer and pulled out the biggest knife, mind completely blank. I gently slid it against my wrist, thinking about cutting. I didn’t. I put the knife away and went back to my room, empty. I felt lost, and like I was drowning.

A third voice slowly developed. It was a boy this time, he was sad and hated talking to others (I’ll get to my second voice development in a bit). He took over during school, all though I could think on my own and speak, he had main control. I had a mental breakdown later that week after my class had been too loud, I told my music teacher it was because I had sensitive hearing (which was part of the reason). I stayed hidden during recess, and I sat in the back of the lunchroom with people I didn’t like or know. My outbursts only got more violent and more frequent, to the point where I would push my mom and stepdad (remember Angel, yeah him), resulting in more beatings from my mom.

My aunt got a lawyer to extinguish the suspension from my permanent record. The lawyer didn’t want to help all that much because he thought I was hiding something, which I was, but I refused to tell. The suspension was extinguished and I was allowed to use the school computers again.

I went to a new school the next year and transferred to where I’m located now...

First-seventh grade (the second voice’s development)-

My stepdad (Angel) was nice the first year my mom dated him. Then everything started to change. He started coming home drunk. After my little brother was born, things only got worse (and no, I don’t blame my brother for the change, it was envitable). He started getting angry at my mom, and at me. He started calling me a bitch, a little shit, a mistake.

I started to have out of body experiences, whenever I violent towards him. Pushing him, slapping him, punching him, scratching him. One time he slapped my mom and my mom’s therapist called DCF on her. I’ve been told I had walked into the kitchen right when he slapped her. However I don’t remember, I just remember the feeling of uncontrollable rage spreading through my body.

I don’t remember there being a voice in the beginning, I remember being one place or doing one thing, get angry, and suddenly being somewhere else. Especially when Angel started calling me names.

Another time, right after my mom had carpal tunnel surgery, he left suddenly. I was in the basement reading and playing with my bunny at the time. I came back up when my mom started screaming for me. The front door was left wide open and my brother left in the living room. We had Max and Ella, it was the summer of 2016. My mom was hysterical, screaming at me, saying it was my fault he left, that everything was my fault. I left the house and stayed with my neighbors for an hour, waiting for my mom to calm down. I went back and was sent straight to my room. I remember being angry, so mad at myself for no reason. I hated myself. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression the next year.

There’s a shit ton of stories I could tell about Angel getting drunk or leaving the house and coming back drunk. I won’t. I’m not here to tell a sob story, I never will ask for pity. I’m telling you how small things to certain people can be huge to another. My mom didn’t think it affected my all that much, my therapists thought I didn’t need intense therapy despite everything. All because I didn’t know that hearing voices other than your own wasn’t normal.

I started looking up depression and anxiety to help manage it better, and stumbled upon an article about schizophrenia. I looked more into it and found out about DID when I was thirteen, two years ago. However I still didn’t tell anyone... I was scared.

I was a freak

I was unnatural

I had three voices, three other people, inside of me. They wanted control, they wanted a voice too. They became unbearable, and when I started high school, I broke.

I tried to kill myself. I started starving myself the previous school year and started cutting over that summer... I finally told someone about the voices but no one believed me, and still no does. They think I’m lying...

So I’m not diagnosed, but I know I have DID.

Who’s who-

Little was voice one- she’s a little, under the age of ten. Little isn’t her real name but I don’t want her name out there on the internet where people can manipulate her. She has ADHD and is incredibly hyper. This body doesn’t get much rest, so after someone else fronts, we usually have to sleep. She’s also a trauma holder, knowing what happened that month blackout. She has no interest in people romantically (obviously, she’s a child)

Lilith is angry blackout/voice two- she’s ageless, a prosecutor, and a secret keeper. She’s a trauma holder to the verbal and physical abuse I suffered when I was younger, really up until last year I was verbally abused by my mom. She has anger issues and severe mood swings. She rarely fronts, but when she does, Levi or I have to co-con with her so she doesn’t murder someone. She’s angry and is always aggressive towards me and Little. She leaves Levs out of her aggression though. Lilith is bisexual (no, not pan like I identify).

Levin/Levi/Lev(he goes by all of them however I prefer calling him Levi)- he has insomnia and major social anxiety. (Also is co-conscious with me rn) He’s apathetic and very neutral when it comes to opinions, but he’s humorous and super sarcastic when he’s comfortable. He’s a gatekeeper and he’s 18. He as food related anxiety, but no major eating disorders. He’s has no sexual desires, but is romantically attracted to girls.

Lennox(the writer of this)- they age with the body, so 15, and host/often front. They have social anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, and is the first alter, or first recognized alter. They are nonbinary and pansexual.

I’m going to start labeling who your talking to, or who’s out at the time, like this

-Lennox (Kay?)

Thank you for reading!

I’mma tag some people I think should see this-

@one-pissed-off-child @madame-ree @queenzie-xo @anon-nom-nom95 @liveto-100 @aleiakit @gogetyoselfsomesoup @nadia-saaaaan @mai-ki-000 @martinidrinkingmartin @scalybunnypapi69 @pumpkineiji @cristinaweeb @pikaweebo @siyarduous-lazyaf @reijishiki

And to lighten my mood and for giggles-

POWER WALK BEFORE YOUR LATE ZUZU!!!

🤣🤣🤣🤣

[prettycutebunny]

Everything black

Chrollo x reader

Tagging: @hisoknen @hunniehunterb093

Tw: blood , minpulative behavior, toxic relationship

His life was many things. It was tough, dark, filthy to name a few. Pure ? It was not. He never had any pure feelings in his life. Most of it was spent struggling to get out of the garbage waste that’s called meteor city and leading his group of thieves. They were his family, they shared a bound of mutual respect, but they saw each other as disposable as long as their group - the spider - lived. When he was ripped from them ? He felt the emptiness that ate him consume him as he headed to where the prophecy told him. East , where someone awaits him.

Shadows fall over my heart

I blackout the moon

I wait for you to come around

You got me dancing in the dark

(Dancing in the dark)

I've closed my eyes

But I won't sleep tonight

He walked for hours, he knew he should’ve stopped walking hours ago but he didn’t. He kept a walking approaching the city. That should itself to him like a mirage. Once inside it, he felt his exhaustion creeping in. He wanted nothing more than a warm bed to envelop him. Regretting not hiding to heaven arena’s first to enjoy his floor there he felt someone hit his shoulder. Feminine apology was ignore as he kept walking to the near hotel. Sending. Swift sound stopped him.

“Excuse me sir, is this yours ?”

He looked back and it’s like someone slapped him in the face. He lied when he said he never felt any sort of pure emotion in his life. Back in the dump when he was a struggling hungry child, a car of supplies arrived. The strong and older always got all the food, weapons, and medicine. He waited hoping something would be left when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. A girl with large eyes, soft hair, and the warmest smile held a box of lunch in her hands. He took it from her as she handed him a bottled water. He waited, nothing came without a price not in this dump. They sent them the supplies in hoping to recruit some of them. She didn’t ask for anything just whispered a soft enjoy as she ran to the car where someone - probably a parent - let her on.

Baby, you

Should come with me

I'll take you to the dark side

Me and you

You and me

Do bad things in the night time

He felt himself snap to reality when she repeated herself. His wallet was in her hands which he registered that it fall from him when he ran into her. His heart was beating so fast as that warm feeling in his chest returned. That same feeling that got over him as he was crying eating the food she gave him. He wanted to feel her so bad. His hands reached to cup hers that was holding the wallet.

“I apologize, your beauty took my breath away”

He put on his best charming smile as he assisted her blush. The way her other hand grabbed the skirt of her dress. Adorable, he thought. Bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss.

“I’m starving, would you join me for lunch ?”

Her eyes wondered as she took her hand from his hands. Missing the warm touch.

“I don’t know you”

She hesitantly. She wanted to, he could tell. He careful put his hands on her back leading her.

“We can always introduce at lunch”

Baby, you

Should come with me

And we can kill the lights, hit the lights

With a blackout, blackout

Hit the lights with a

Blackout, blackout, woo

Her soft body embraced him as he listened to her heartbeat. She was warm, soft, sweet. She loved to hug him and he let her.

“It’s just horrible”

“What is love?”

“Someone robbed that game ! They said it’s that awful group. The phantom tribe”

He felt his entire body stiffen. He was full of emotions rage, offense, also fear. If she knew who she was, would she still embrace him and love him ?

“Why do you think they’re awful ? Also it’s the phantom troupe not tribe”

“potato patata! Why? They steal and kill people !”

He stood from her embrace looking at her in the eyes.

“You steak and kill too you know”

He said looking her in the eye. She was offended he could tell. He felt amusement at how she strongly denied it asking him if he hs a fever.

“When you buy clothes that sourced from underpaid, overworked people abroad you’re killing them, when you took that job you had you stole it from who already worked in it. When you chose to vote for the ruler who enforce violence you caused it. They might do it in the most obvious way, but there’s no human who isn’t a thief and a murderer. The animals that are killed for their hunger. The earth resources that people steal it from it. Everyone’s a thief, they know it or not.”

Her face was speechless as she looked at him. He could see the gears working in her head as she started thinking about it. Then she said the most unexpected thing.

“Wow, you really talk a lot”

Black bird, black moon

Black sky, black light

Black, everything black

Black heart

Black Keys, black diamonds

Black out, everything black

Black, black, everything, everything

All black, everything, everything

All black, everything, everything

All black, everything, everything, black

It started simple, he remember her angrily talking about her rude coworker who took the last stapler. He suggested she simply take it. She wants it doesn’t she ? And she deserves it better anyway. It escalated to her taking a chocolate bar from the store. Then that sweater she always wanted under her shirt. He felt so proud of her. His pure angel was slowly turning to a dark one. Her wings slowly turning black. That’s when it happened. She called him scared and shaken. She was working overtime when she begged him to come. The whole floor was dark when he saw red stains. A woman dead with what seemed like a box cutter inside her chest. She’s still breathing he noted.

“CHROLLO THANK GOD. PLEASE HELP ME”

His hysteric crying sweetheart came to him covered in blood.

“I DIDN'T MEAN TO I SWEAR ! SHE SAW ME TAKING THE BOX CUTTER AND STARTED ACCUSING ME OF THE STAPLER AND SAID SHES GOING TO TELL EVERYONE AND HAVE ME FIRED ! SHE CALLED ME HORRIBLE NAMES AND I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF”

She sobbed as he hugged her. He was so happy, his angel finally joined him in the dark side. She didn’t excatly kill her but, there’s no need for her to know that.

In a nocturnal state of mind

Children of the night

But it's the only way of life

This black hole's pulling me inside

Of this black heart, the black soul

Underneath this black, black sky

Cleaning up was easy, he swiftly wrapped the body as she bleached the floor. The body and the box cutter where thrown inside a manhole. By the time anyone notices they’d be long gone. He got the message of the exorcist before she called him. He held her hands as she cuddled up to him still shaking.

“We should take a shower, but before that”

He added seriously making her looking at him in her tears eyes.

“I’m a spider love. I’m the head of them. You thought of us as such a horrible people but you are one of us after all”

He said smiling seeing her shocked expression. She held into him tighter as she shakes harder. He felt the smile getting wider. There’s no escape, she’s too weak and dependent now. She knows he saved her, she knows how awful the things she done. It doesn’t matter on what scale she’s an outlaw who has no idea how to evade the authorities or anyone she can truly depend on.

“Come with me, they are my family and I’m sure they’ll be yours. I can teach you how to be strong. Together we will take whatever we want and be happy. You’ll have me, a family ,and everything you could ever desire. How does that sounds ?”

Her eyes looked at him. Her soft warm eyes that gave him that lunch box before. They were even more vulnerable as she slowly shook her head. She’s his black angel now.

[thefledglingdm]

so here’s another essay that maybe 0.5 people asked for? because i rewatched set it up and now someone great and in so many ways i think i arguably like someone great better???? so here is the long-winded rambly mess of me being emotional over this movie. info is below the cut, no pressure to read just bc i’m having rom com feelings this saturday night!!!!

for those of you who have never seen someone great (why are you reading this? i’m flattered but why), here’s a quick summary: when music reporter jenny gets an amazing new job opportunity, bad news comes with it: she has to move cross-country. to top it all off, her boyfriend of nine years breaks up with her because he doesn’t want to move with her. enter her best friends erin and blair, who decide to send off their best friend in style with a mind-bending 24 hours of partying and emotional catharsis.

a disclaimer: this movie also has a special place in my heart because it came out right as i was getting set to graduate from grad school. so many of my friends had moved on and moved away already, but i was about to do that, too, shucking off the safety blanket of school and entering into the “real world.” and this movie, i think, uniquely captures that feeling in a way no other film i’ve personally seen does? more on that later.

GOD where even do i start.

jenny so captures the feeling of being dumped. the anger, the ugly, loud crying, the messiness of it, the drinking, the up-and-down bevy of ping-ponging emotions. she belts lizzo’s “truth hurts” in her underwear, in her kitchen, drunk. her best friend then walks in and joins her. like yes THAT is what girls and breakups feel like.

(obvs not for everyone but i felt seen)

(the night of one of my college breakups ended with me on my best friend’s floor, wine-drunk and full of domino’s pizza, critiquing her presentation for an upcoming history conference.)

her best friends are there for her and love her and support her, taking the day off work to stay with her. but they also give her tough love when she needs it. and she does need it.

also that bond between women bc jenny is just bitching about her breakup to a random woman on the subway and she’s like, “yo fr???? he sucks”

this movie is also so hilarious???? these girls have been best friends since college and it SHOWS. they do all these goofy silly things together, they have in-jokes and references, they make fun of each other. they tease each other about their boyfriends/girlfriends. they smoke and drink and get high together. they SWEAR. they have foul mouths and my bffs and i did too.

god the LINES. like

“yo. i went to say hello to a chihuahua outside our building, and it was a fucking rat.”

“it’s... like a green juice smoothie. that’s kind of genius.” “she made me try it. it’s fucking disgusting. i am drowning out here.”

“we’ll tell them her mom died!” “oh my god????” “ugh, fine. her aunt.” “i don’t think you understand what is fucked up about this suggestion.”

“ooooh, you gave me my favorite mug, you do love me!!!” and the mug is a mini-toilet.

“blair, watching you take down all those carbs has been the highlight of my whole, entire life.”

“what happens next???? i turn thirty and then i probably die.”

*sobbing* “and like.... i really want to go to the farmer’s market with you. that sounds really nice.” “great fresh produce.”

the representation is so good??? jenny is Latina; erin is a Black lesbian; erin’s girlfriend is a South Asian designer.

no i’m gonna go into my thesis now which is that this is the only movie i’ve seen that actually serves as a “coming of age” movie that is not aimed at  teens. it’s not about finding yourself in high school or college or coming to terms with your sexuality (which are all important!!! but as someone in my mid-20s, who has graduated and is comfortable in my gender and sexuality, those movies aren’t for me. and i hadn’t realized how much i needed a movie like this for me until i saw it for the first time). 

this is a movie about looking around at your life and realizing that you’ve outgrown it. this is a movie about what it’s like to keep growing up, because you don’t graduate college/grad school and suddenly you’re an Adult and it’s all Figured Out. it’s not!!!!! and that’s okay!!!!!! you may think you have a Life Plan but then it goes off the rails and things change and it’s hard and it’s scary and it’s okay because we all feel it. we all grow up.

like.... people fall out of love. relationships change. people get jobs and move away. it’s scary. and the way that it’s described.... jenny’s realization that her breakup with nate was a long time coming, because they actually hadn’t been happy in a long time. when blair breaks up with her boyfriend in the single most amicable, polite breakup scene i’ve ever watched. they’re not angry or hurt, they’re relieved. and it’s so refreshing to watch an example of a breakup that is a relief, because two people are being freed from their own expectations, of their lives, of each other, of themselves.

and this also talks about the fear of really, truly falling in love for the first time. the vulnerability, the recognition that now everything in life is changing.

when jenny holds her best friends and confesses, “i don’t know life without this.” when erin screams that she is afraid of everything about growing up, because that means that she needs to change. truly everything about jenny’s goodbye letter to nate.

god i just. “i don’t know life without this” hits me in the fucking face because that’s exactly how i felt about living with my best friend and moving out to move in with my partner, about my eboard group of besties splitting and moving all over the country, about my group of friends that supported me through the worst moments of my life and encouraged me to embrace myself, my healing, and my sexuality? and there was something Terrifying about the notion of moving away, about all of us separating and growing apart. and to see a movie that showed that that fear was natural, and it was okay, and there were some friendships that last forever? and even if they don’t, that doesn’t mean they were without love and meaning? it was something that i needed at the end of my education career.

also jenny and erin joke about apparently facetiming each other on the toilet and that made me scream bc my best friend and i literally do text each other each time we shit, and also it’s usually at the same time. you know you’re besties not just when your periods sync, but when your shit cycles do, too.

yeah i feel like we’ve all gotten to know each other really well in this post.

also the soundtrack FUCKING SLAPS. the intro to lorde’s “supercut?” jenny singing along to selena’s “dreaming of you” in her bodega? jenny’s realization that things are truly over between her and nate, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be, and it’s okay, to jessie reyez’s “great one?” jenny cry-singing to “truth hurts” by lizzo? the super-fun scene of the three getting ready for their hedonistic night out to lil kim’s “the jump off?” cinematic brilliance.

also the cameos??? jaboukie young-white and rupaul are in it. they’re hysterical, especially jaboukie young-white oh my GOD

tl;dr this is the coming-of-age movie to women in their mid-20s when we feel like Death Is Coming at age 30 when really life is just beginning. life is about change. sometimes we outgrow our lives, and that’s okay. 

anyway please watch this movie look how ADORABLE and CUTE and BEAUTIFUL THEY ALL ARE

[ladyautie]

get to know me more!

@funyasm​ tagged me and I’m bored after writing my chapter, so here it is!

✨ what do you prefer to be called name wise?

My name’s Sophie. My friends call me Spencou or Spence. We met on a Role-Playing game forum where I played a character named Spencer. We’re used to call each other by our characters’ names and nicknames, most of the time. My brother calls me Sis’.

✨ when is your birthday?

15th november 1993.

✨ where do you live?

Paris, France.

✨ three things you are doing right now?

I’m watching an episode of AT4W on youtube, scrolling on Tumblr and I’m drinking a coffee.

✨ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Definitely It and especially Eddie Kaspbrak and the ship Reddie. I’m kinda obsessed right now, writing fanfic, reading fanfic, daydreaming about it and all.

I just played the Last of Us 2 and I’m currently watching a let’s play from my favorite youtubers, Mari and Stacy from Geek Remix. I’ll probably read a few fics as well.

The tv show Barry (HBO) is a definite special interest for me. I’m probably going to watch it all once again real soon and I’m planning on writing a fanfic or two in the future. I’m dying for the third season to come.

Finally, I’m probably going to be super into The Umbrella Academy once again, when the second season will be released. I’m just really into Vanya, Klaus and Allison and I can’t wait to see more of them.

✨ how is the pandemic treating you?

None of the people I know have been contaminated, so I’m lucky about that. I’m not quarantined anymore, back to work, and the transition is not easy. 

I feel like I’m more openly autistic than I used to be and that I can’t stand the rest of the world for a long period of time. I’ve experienced multiple meltdowns and shutdowns and I have real difficulties to socialize with most people or to focus on my work.

I feel incredibly naked and vulnerable whenever I’m leaving my flat without my mask on, so I think that’s definitely something I’m gonna have to work on in the future.

Leaving Paris and meeting my folks for my mother’s wedding, I found myself surrounded by people who mostly didn’t care about the virus, kissing each other on the cheek in true french fashion to say hello, hugging, not wearing a mask, not respecting any kind of social distance. 

I was quickly overwhelmed by all of that, plus the noise, and I had to isolate myself in my parents’ car, sobbing hysterically and willing to suffer in a overheated car if it meant having a bit of peace.

There are definitely going to be long-term consequences. I can only hope that my physical health will remain okay, though.

✨ song you can’t stop listening right now?

Keep On by Sasha Sloan. I just really love the lyrics and the message.

✨ recommend a movie.

Whenever I have to think of a movie to recommend, Frank by Lenny Abrahamson is the first one that comes to my mind. This movie is an obsession for me since the first time I watched it and I often find myself watching it again and again. Despite its heavy subjects, it’s definitely a comfort movie for me.

Too often, movies featuring mentally ill characters will aim for the characters to “get better”, which doesn’t mean for them to find healthy ways to cope with their issues, but usually for them to look more “neurotypical-like”, if you know what I mean. Frank  doesn’t go that way at all. On the contrary, it pushes the viewer to empathize with the main characters and to understand their point of view, their way of being.

It’s so incredibly comforting to watch a movie featuring mental illness realistic and not romanticized and to have the movie say “you’re different and you have issues, but you’ll find your tribe someday and be able to find your own happiness, even if it’s unconventional by society’s standards”.

I don’t know, I just have so much feelings about this movie. Plus the music slaps, the humor is hilarious (kudos to the random French guy who can perfectly understand English but refuses to utter a single word if it’s not in French) and the actors are truly on point (I can only salute Domnhall Gleeson, among everyone else who is also worthy of praise, because he definitely managed to make me hate his character in a way I almost never hated a character before).

Watch it!

✨ how old are you?

I’m 26 years old.

✨ school, university, occupation, other?

I used to be a librarian, but I couldn’t find a stable job in this field, so I passed an entrance examination and I’m now working in the tax administration. Yeah, not really glamorous, but it pays the bills and I’m accommodated for my disability, so it helps. 

✨ do you prefer hot or cold?

Definitely cold. When I was a kid, I used to swim in mountain lakes, at temperatures close to 13° celsius, and I still take my showers mostly cold. I can’t stand heat, I get headaches very easily when it’s sunny and I’m getting confused easily whenever it’s too hot. I recently had a nosebleed at work so intense that I found myself spitting blood (it went better once I got a fan, making the temperature bearable).

✨ name one fact others may not know about you.

I used to be allergic to my own sweat when I was around 18, until my early twenties. Whenever I was doing a mild physical effort or getting stressed out, I would get hives and itchy skin rash all over my whole freaking body, which was so exhausting that I would fall asleep immediately as soon as the rash was gone. 

It disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, without me ever doing something about it. I still don’t know why I experienced that and if I’m going to experience that ever again. I hope not.

✨ are you shy?

My autism makes social interactions complicated, but I’d say I’m mostly impaired by my social anxiety and the various traumas I’m dealing with daily.

Traumas I got after having been bullied pretty badly by kids and teachers during my school years, my stepfather being borderline abusive and different traumatic experiences, including my childhood crush dying from a ski accident when I was 15 or so (and me never being able to tell him that I loved him) and people betraying me so many times that I can’t even recall every little thing.

As a result, I find myself doubting constantly that I’m worthy of love, affection and respect and I often wonder when I’ll do or say the “wrong” thing that will cause me to lose everyone I care about. I also have a hard time knowing who I am and, as a result, allowing everyone to know who I am as well. 

I often don’t know what to say and will find myself keeping my mouth shut, even on topics I’m knowledgeable about, because I’m scared of people shutting me down, among other things. My friends make it easier for me to talk about things I like and all, but I’m still heavily doubting myself.

I try to challenge myself regularly. I’ll force myself to take part in events that are taxing or that are forcing me to perform in front of people. That’s how I found myself taking part in the casting part of the french equivalent of “American Idol” (I merely met the pre-judges, but I did manage to sing my whole song in front of them). I needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

✨ do you have any preferred pronouns?

I’m using she/her, but I don’t mind people using they/them to talk about me if they don’t want to be gender-specific.

✨ any pet peeves?

I hate how people can freely and openly be homophobic, racist, ableist, transphobic, sexist and so on, but as soon as I open my mouth to let them know that what they said/did wasn’t appropriate, I’m labelled as one of those “hysterical feminists” or a “party pooper”. s/ Sorry if your antisemitic joke isn’t making me laugh, my “dear” colleague... /s I hate whenever people infantilize me, especially my mom. She’s still keeping an eye on my bank account, despite me telling her that I didn’t want her to do so again and again. I don’t dare to block her out, because I’m scared of her emotional reaction.  I hate the ugliest parts of fandom, notably the obsession with “who’s topping / who’s bottoming” whenever there’s a gay pairing or the racism / ableism / transphobia / homophobia I’ve witnessed again and again.

I don’t dare to engage in the Last of Us 2 fandom because of that and the way some people describe the character of Abby (a very muscular woman), focusing on her physical appearance and calling her awful names (being downright transphobic when they thought that she was the transgender character that Naughty Dog announced there would be in their game). 

✨ what’s your favorite “dere” type?

I had to google it, because aside from Yandere and Tsundere, I didn’t know a thing about it. I guess you could say I’m a Dandere (someone who is quiet and asocial. They are afraid to talk, fearing that what they say will get them in trouble.). 

My favorite type is Kuudere though, when it comes to anime in particular (someone who is calm and collected on the outside, and never panics. They show little emotion, and in extreme cases are completely emotionless, but may be hiding their true emotions. They tend to be leaders who are always in charge of a situation.). 

My favorite anime character, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji from the anime Classroom of the elite, is the most extreme case I can think about. He’s completely expressionless for most of the anime, talks with a very dull voice and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about at all times or what’s his overall plan. His hidden depth makes him all the more fascinating. He managed to keep me interested in a mostly meh anime.

✨ rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

It’s a bit hard, but somewhere around 5 or 6? I went through tons of crap in my life but I’m still here and able to live on my own, even if my quality of life isn’t all that good. I live with nearly daily suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager and have to compose with my meltdowns and anxiety attacks as well. I feel “other” most of the time and I can’t relate to most people I’m meeting and interacting with, which can sometimes feel very lonely.

On the other hand, I have wonderful friends who are willing to put up with my trauma crap and are overall amazing to talk to and be around. I have a cat I love dearly. They’re the reason why I’m still alive to this day, giving me a reason to say fuck off to my suicidal thoughts. 

✨ what’s your main blog?

My main blog is Ladyautie and is about autism. I have another blog, reddie-4-more, focusing on the It movies and Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier.

✨ is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

So, uh, don’t be weirded out by the kind of things I can tell you about my past. Even if it seems a lot, all of it is definitely true. 

For example, I was almost kidnapped when I was around 8 or 9 by a random guy, while I was camping with my father. 

My father and my paternal grandmother actually kidnapped me and my brother when I was around two and I stayed with him until the social workers determined that my mother had to raise us again because our well-being and overall life were threatened. 

Lots of events of my life seem far-fetched or out of a movie / a book or something and I had people telling me that I must be lying or that I’m over-exaggerating, something that always hurts deeply.

I’m terribly awkward and more or less openly autistic, so you’re definitely going to notice something different about me. I can’t change for you and I’m not willing to hide my traits only to make you feel more comfortable about frequenting me, so if you can’t handle my socially anxious and disabled ass, then just leave.

I need people to actually tell me what they think or feel. I’m very “first degree” and I’m pretty bad at guessing what people are thinking about. Don’t be afraid to be frank.

Finally, never, and I mean never, infantilize me. I’m a 26 years old woman. I’m not a kid.I’m fine with my friends offering to help or making sure that I’m okay or so, but never assume that I don’t understand something and don’t force your help on me if I say that I’m okay.

That’s it, those who want to take part in this exercise, don’t hesitate!

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 8

Warnings: slight language, domestic Tyler (is that really a bad thing?)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud

“You know, sometimes it is still weird seeing you like this,” Ovi remarks, as he sits at the kitchen table with Declan standing on his lap; tiny hands tightly gripping his shoulders as surprisingly strong little legs dig into his thighs as the baby bounces up and down.  

“Like what?” Tyler’s at the stove, making lunch for himself, Ovi, and the twins. The girls have gone out for the day; hair cuts, manicures and pedicures, lunch.  Millie was in one of her ‘ girly girl’ moods when she woke up. Pulling on a princess dress over her pyjamas, donning that plastic tiara, ordering her brothers to refer to her as ‘your highness’.  

“Extra,” Esme had said. “She’s a little bit extra today.”

After five years he’d thought he’d have the being a girl dad gig under control.  He’d (somewhat) mastered  the pig tails and braids and the ridiculously small elastics used to hold them together, gotten used to the splashes of pink in every room and the glitter that seemed to magically appear on rugs and couches and nearly every other available surface.  But the moods. And the sass.  Going from sweet and loving to she devil in the blink of an eye. Boys are easier. He can relate to them. They didn’t have the up and down emotional swings and weren’t nearly as mouthy. They were either running at full speed ahead or were down and out. There was none of this guessing what would set them off. Was the good-natured teasing going to make them cry or laugh hysterically? They didn’t come to the breakfast table with the biggest bitch vibe because they felt as if someone spoke too harshly or looked at them the wrong way.

Testosterone was running rampant in that house, but there were days the women clearly had the upper hand and the guys just had to tow the line or there’d be hell to pay. He’d long ago learned to pick his battles. Especially with his wife. A well placed ‘yes, babe’ or a smile and a nod during an argument over stupid shit could avoid being banished to the couch for an indeterminate amount of time.

And that was ninety percent of their fights.  Dumb shit that just escalates into something bigger; both ferociously stubborn and neither willing to admit defeat.  The other ten percent was over the job. Other his growing obsession with feeling as if he had to prove something to other people. And to himself.  Nearly losing his life in Dhaka and the months of recovery had taken their toll. Especially on his mental health. He saw his struggles as a sign of weakness. He hated that she’d seen him at his most vulnerable. That he’d had to surrender his control over his life and everything in it.  In turn, she thought he was being ridiculous.

“That’s what people do when they love each other, Tyler. They take care of one another. No matter what that entails. You don’t abandon someone because they need you to help with things. Who cares if I had to help you get to the bathroom some days? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. What’s going to happen if I ever get sick? Or if when I’m old and gray you have to do things like that for me? Are you just going to say fuck you and the past forty years and just walk away?”

He had tried arguing that that was different. She was his wife. And it was his job as a husband to take care of. Not the other way around.

“Fuck your stereotypes, Tyler. Can you not just stow your damn stupid foolish pride long enough to let me love you?”

They’d never had that argument again.

“This side of you,” Ovi says, as the baby grabs at his ears and nose. “The domestic one. Sometimes I just remember the other side, know what I mean?”

“That’s a side no one should have to remember, mate.”

It was a side he didn’t even like to think about at times. While the brutality and the killings were for the most part justified, there were times he’d come home after a mission and look at himself in the mirror and the reality of what he’d done would hit him. And he’d feel sick; disgusted with the knowledge that he was capable of doing the things he could and not even think twice about it.

“It just seems weird,” Ovi says. “To see you one way and then you see this way.”

Tyler smirks. “What? You didn’t think I knew how to cook or do laundry? I wasn’t always a bachelor living in a shack. I did have a wife before the one I have now.  And now I’ve got four little humans to help keep alive, so I best be doing my part,” he loudly wraps his knuckles against the widow above the sink, waving the twins inside when they glance towards the house.  Having to help strip them of muddy rain boots and dirty jackets, scrubbing hands and faces in the kitchen sink before they can even think about sitting down.  Arguments ensuing over who gets to sit beside Ovi; he is their older brother in their eyes, and they’ve been seeing him less and less now that he has a woman in his life.

“I like when it’s just us,” TJ announces, after everyone is settled and digging into their plates of food. “All boys!”

“I miss mommy though,” Tanner admits. He definitely is a momma’s boy. He wears his enormous heart on his sleeve when it comes to his mother; sticking close by her side at all times, always willing to help her out when she is doing things around the house, requesting to tag along whenever she went into town to run errands.  As far as he’s concerned, mommy can do no wrong and is the one who hung the moon and the stars. Even now he has tears in his eyes, not liking the realization that she isn’t close by. “Maybe I can call her.”

“She’s out with your sister,” Tyler reaches out and tousles his son’s hair. “Girls day. Give Millie a chance to spend some alone time with her, okay?”

 He totally understands where the kid is coming from. There’s not a second that goes by when he’s on the job that he isn’t missing home and wishing he could be there.  Where he’s missing the way she smiles at him, or the way she runs her hands through his hair, or even just the sound of her voice.  Or how when he’d lie awake beside her and watch her as she slept; listening to her breathe and thinking about how much he’d miss her if suddenly she wasn’t there anymore.

Those were the thoughts he hated the most. That what if’s. What if something happened and he was left alone with four children to raise? What if she got tired of him always being away and being addicted to the job and she took off with the kids? What if she woke up one day and realized all along what a mistake it was to get mixed up with him in Dhaka?  He never brought those things up to her.  Most of his demons she was aware of and helped him battle. Others he kept to himself.

“Why do you care so much?” he can hear Gaspar’s voice plain as day. “Why are you holding on so tight to some girl you just met? Save yourself, Tyler. Get rid of the kid, take your part of the ten million, and just ditch the girl in the street. Save yourself a lot of heartache.”

He’d thought of attempting to explain it to him. How that ‘girl’ had come into his life when he’d least expected it and had shown him what it was like to feel alive again. That she’d managed to begin the dismantling of the walls he’d built up around himself and was reminding him what it felt like to be wanted. That she didn’t give a fuck about his past and vice versa and he was feeling confident that things would lead to something more.  

There was no way he was just leaving her in the goddamn street.

Instead he’d just told his old friend that it was none of his business.  He didn’t need to know what was going on and Tyler sure as hell didn’t owe him an explanation.

“Just don’t come crying to me when she destroys you. Because she will. You’re already putting your all into this and for what? Because you like getting your dick wet and keeping your bed warm? This won’t end well, Tyler. Trust me. Two broken people can not and do not make a whole. They just make a mess of things.”

Five years have come and gone since that conversation. Since Gaspar had betrayed him and tried to kill him. And since Ovi turned the tables on the man and took his life.  Sometimes Tyler wishes that Gaspar was still around solely so he could spite him, that he could sit him down at the kitchen table and make him look at the beautiful little faces gathered there. See how their eyes sparkle when they smile and hear their laughs. These tiny beings made up from the very best parts of their mother and father. Who know they’re loved without question and live in a house where they see love and respect between the two people who’d come together and created them.

Maybe things had started out in a less than perfect way.

But what they had now was perfect for them.

 ****

“So this girl…” he address Ovi, as they lounge together on the front porch; the baby spread along his thighs as he drinks a bottle of milk, an eye on the twins as they play together on an old tire swing dangling from the branch of a towering willow. “...you see her again last night?”

The kid nods.

“You spend the night or…?”

“No. I came home. This time I didn’t lose my key. I still feel horrible about that. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“You realize how close I came to shooting you, yeah? I thought someone broke into the house. My wife and my kids were there. And I’ll do anything to protect them. You know that.  Definitely wasn’t your smartest moment.  But this girl…whatever you said her name is…”

“Chloe,” he sighs it with a long, content sigh and Tyler is tempted to slap the shit out of him.  But he knows what it’s like to get caught up in a whirlwind; to be unable to catch your breath or even think straight.

“What’s the deal with you two? You seeing each other or sleeping together or…?”

“I guess we’re seeing each other. We like to spend time together.  But we haven’t slept together. I already told you about that. That I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And what about her? Is she ready for that?”

Ovi shrugs.

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation right now. Part of me wants to avoid it altogether and another part of me is just surprised we haven’t had it sooner.”  And yet another part is grateful his own sons are at least eleven or twelve years away from needing the same talk.  “So you know to be careful, right? You know how to be careful?” Fuck. It sounded lame even to his own ears.  

Ovi looks offended. “I know what condoms are. And how to use them. I did take health class in school.”

“Well just make sure you use them. If it comes down to needing them. Use them no matter what. Even if she says she’s on the pill. Unless you want to get the burn. Do you want to get the burn?”

“The burn? What?”

“It’s just a nickname for a STD. You know what those are right?”

“I learned about those the first year here.”

“Well make sure you don’t get any. Be safe. All the time. Take responsibility for wrapping your shit up.” He feels like a hypocrite for even saying it. Seeing as he and Esme had never used a damn thing during those five days in Dhaka and she ended up pregnant.  “Look what I’m about to say, don’t take it the wrong way. Because I love my daughter. You know that. But she wasn’t exactly planned, know what I’m saying? Things just happened between Esme and I. We barely even knew each other. And in hindsight, we should have been more careful. But we weren’t. And Millie is the result of that.  She wasn’t made out of love. It was two strangers who couldn’t and wouldn’t stop fucking each other. Understand what I’m saying?”

“But if it didn’t happen, she wouldn’t be here,” Ovi points out.

“I’m just saying that we should have known better and been more careful. What would have happened if I got Esme pregnant and in the end it turned out we couldn’t stand one another? It would have been a big fucking mess.  Don’t get yourself into a big fucking mess. That’s all I’m saying. Understand?”

The kids.

“Just take your time and get to know her. Really know her. That’s my best advice. Other than wrapping shit up. And if you want to bring her here, that’s fine. But she doesn’t spend the night under my roof. I don’t want that shit going on with my kids in the house. Probably sounds old fashioned, but I’d just rather you didn’t do shit like that. Okay?”

“So everything came back fine? All her background checks?”

“Other than an uncle that likes to beat up women, things are clean. Now that’s not an invitation to just go crazy and propose to her and all that shit.  Just take your time. You have your whole life ahead of you.  You’re way too young to be thinking about marriage and keeping a wife happy and having kids.”

“Do you ever regret it? Marrying someone so soon? Having a baby so quickly?”

“Do I regret it? No. Hard to regret it when you end up loving someone as much as I love my wife. I’d die for her. In a heartbeat. And I have an incredible little girl. So no. I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t go back and change things if that’s what you mean. But I’m lucky. Things worked out. How many people do things like this happen to where it doesn’t work out? Don’t be one of those people.”

****

The sound of tires on the gravel driveway brings their conversation to a halt. Tyler gets to his feet and checks his watch; way too early for Esme and Millie to be returning from their girls day. Very few know where they live; all mail rerouted to a post office box, all deliveries picked up at the outlet at the pharmacy. His clients for his side business only have a cell number to contact.  Extra measures that had to be taken considering the job and the many toes he’s trampled on in the nearly ten years he’s been in the game.   And he frowns at the first sight of the unfamiliar vehicle; a Lexus SUV with tinted windows and all terrain tires.

“Who is that?” Ovi asks.

“Take the kids out back,” Tyler hands him the baby, puts two fingers in his mouth and issues a shrill whistle to capture the twins’ attention. “Boys…come here..”

“Who is that, daddy?” Tanner inquires, watching over his shoulder as the Lexus glides to a stop alongside their own vehicle and the driver kills the ignition.

“Go out back with Ovi,” he instructs. “Stay back there until I either come to you guys or I call for you. Understand?”

The twins both nod and he tousles their hair and presses a kiss to the top of their heads.

“Maybe I should stay here,” Ovi nervously suggests.

“Everything’s fine. I doubt a guy driving a car like that can do much manage. Just take them out back. Keep them busy. I won’t be long.”

Ovi reluctantly agrees, carrying the baby on his hip, a twin on either side, holding onto his shorts by the side pockets. Tyler watches them go, making sure they’re well out of ear shot before stepping down of the porch, hitting the middle of the front walkway just as the driver throws open the door and steps up.  Fairly tall and quite stocky, with pushed back brown hair that’s graying at the temples and receding slightly at the crown. Glasses, dressed conservatively in a blue blazer, white golf shirt and khaki pants.

“Nice piece of property you have back in here,” he says, as he shuts the driver’s side door. “Hard to find. Beautiful though.”

“That’s how we like it. Lots of privacy. No one just coming back in here unannounced. Well, until now anyway.”

“How many acres?”

“Little over five.”

The stranger gives a nod of approval. “Very nice. Esme always wanted a place like this. In the middle of nowhere. Where she could have a whole bunch of goats running around. Whole bunch of kids. You must be Tyler,” he offers a hand.

“I am,” he confirms. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mark. Esme’s…”

“Ex husband,” Tyler finishes for him. “Yeah, I heard my mother in law told you where we are. I’m just surprised you actually showed up. That something told you it was a good idea.”

“Michelle said that there shouldn’t be a problem. That neither of you would mind.”

Tyler smirks. “We mind. What are you doing here? Just one day woke up and decided you weren’t quite done tormenting your ex wife?”

He sighs. “I seen you’ve heard the stories.”

“I have. Which makes you being here a really bad idea. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t appreciate people just showing up out of the blue. Especially when my kids are here. And especially when I do know all the stories. So it’s probably best you just get back in the car and leave. You won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

“She said that you’d probably be combative. That you’re a tad possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrects. “I’m protective. Of my kids. Of my wife.” He stresses the word ‘my’, noticing how it instantly unnerves the other man. “Why are you even here? It’s been what? Seven years? Eight? And suddenly you just decide you want to see her again?”

“Is she home?” Mark attempts to step by him.

Tyler moves to block him. An easy feat considering he’s wider. Broad and solid and definitely not a push over. “She’s not.”

“Are you just saying that because you don’t want me talking to her, or…”

“I’m saying that because she’s not here. And because you shouldn’t be here either. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’ve got the wrong guy to try and play it with. She’s out. With our daughter. So just get back in your car and…”

“Ex army, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Marine,” Mark boasts.

Tyler smirks. “Mate, I honestly don’t give a shit. Navy, Air Force, Army, Marines. I don’t give a fuck. So don’t try that bullshit with me. I’m going to ask you again. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to talk to Esme.”

“Why?”

“Well to be quite honest, that’s business that is between her and I.”

“Your business became my business when she became my wife. You show up at me house, where my kids are, wanting to see my wife and I’m supposed to be okay with it? What do you want? I’m not going to ask you again. I won’t think twice about dragging your ass down the driveway and throwing your ass in the road.”

Sighing heavily, Mark removes his sunglasses and slips into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I was warned you might be a little…hostile.”

“You don’t want to see me when I get hostile. So unless you want me dropping you on your ass..”

“I’m in a program. A twelve step one. I’ve just gotten to the step where it comes to making amends for the wrongs we’ve committed. That’s why I’m here.  I know some of the blame can be placed on me when it comes to Esme and I splitting up.”

“Some? Because from what I heard, it was pretty one sided.”

“I wasn’t the best husband, I agree. I had my faults. But you probably know for yourself that she’s not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“It must have been something to do with you. Because I haven’t had any problems living with her at all.”

“You know how she can get. She’s moody. Irrational. She likes to pick fights. Nothing is ever good enough for her. I’d even go as far as unstable but…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Tyler interjects, attempting to keep his cool.  “So I’d stop while you’re ahead. Just admit that you were a fuck head, mate. That you cheated on her. Multiple times. That you bullied her. Put your hands on her. Make it easier on yourself and just admit it.”

“Like I said, I know I’m partly to blame. But she wasn’t one hundred percent innocent.”

Tyler smirks. “We’re done here. I don’t need to hear anything else. You might have gotten away with gaslighting her, but you won’t get away with it with me. I’ve dealt with bigger and better, mate. I don’t care about your twelve step program. I don’t give a shit that you’re looking for absolution. Esme owes you nothing. She never deserved what you did. No one deserves that. So you need to just leave. Because I’m just about out of fucking patience.”

“Daddy,”  TJ is at his side, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “Ovi said to come and check on you.”

‘Yeah? Well I told Ovi to keep you in the backyard. So go on. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey there, little man,” Mark greets, and crouches down so he is eye level with the child.

Tyler puts a hand on the top of his son’s head, moving him away from the unwelcome guest.  

“Hi,” TJ says in return. “Who are you?”

“An old friend of your mom’s. Which one are you? Tanner or Tyler?”

“I’m Tyler. Like daddy. That’s his name too.”

“And you’re how old? Three?”

“Almost four,” TJ confirms. “I have another brother too. Not just Tanner. A baby brother. Declan. And a big sister. Amelia. We call her Millie though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tyler runs a hand over his son’s hair and gently nudges him towards the backyard. “Go back to Ovi and the others. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees, then adds  a cheerful ‘bye!’ in Mark’s direction before running off.”

“He’s a cutie, huh?” Mark grins as he stands up. “Twins. And two other ones. She always wanted a big family. Wasn’t in the cards for us, though. We weren’t on the same page when it came to wanting a family. I’m honestly glad she found someone that wanted it as much as she did.  I bet she’s a great mom.”

“She’s an amazing mom. And wife. Are we just about done here? Because I really need to get back to my kids.”

“It really did a number on her when she lost the baby. She was never quite the same after that.”

Tyler frowns. “Baby?”

“She was only a couple of months. We’d just found out. Didn’t really have a chance to get used to the idea. You didn’t know about that? That there’d been a baby?”

“First I’m hearing about it.”

“I wonder why she wouldn’t tell you. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she let on it did. If she didn’t even tell you about it, maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal after all.  Look, I’m not here to cause problems with the two of you. I’m not here to try and win her back. That ship sailed a long time ago. I just want to talk to her. I just want to apologize and make amends for the things I did. The things I said. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

Tyler nods.

“Can you at least ask her to give me a call? I don’t have to come back here. I know when I’m not welcome. But it’s really important that I do this. And I think she deserves to hear the things I have to say. Can you do that for me at least? Get her to contact me?”  he pulls a business card from one of the pockets on his blazers and offers it. “I really am happy for her. That she moved on. That she found someone that’s crazy about her and was able to give her what she wanted. She’s a great girl.”

“Yeah,” he plucks the card from Mark’s hand. “She really is. Your loss is my gain.”

“It definitely is. When she loves, she loves with her whole heart. You’re a lucky man. I hope you realize that.”

“Sometimes I have to be reminded,” Tyler admits, and this time when Mark offers a hand, he shakes it.

“You’ve got a beautiful family,” Mark says, as he heads for his SUV. “I hope you and Esme are happy. She deserves to be happy. That’s all I want for her.”

“That’s all I want for her too,” Tyler responds, then shoves the business card into the back pocket of his jeans. Hands on hips as he watches the other man climb into the SUV and drive away.

***

“Daddy!” Millie bellows the moment she steps through the front door, hastily kicking off her sandals and then scurrying down the hallway that leads to the back of the house.  “Daddy! You have to see! Daddeeeeee!”

He’s at the kitchen sink, up to the forearms is water and dish soap, and he dries his ands on the thighs of his jeans just as she races into the room and hurls herself towards him. Effortlessly catching that little body in large, strong arms and scooping her up.  

Esme drops her purse on the counter and watches them together; a precious, trusting five year old and a tall, strong man who is capable of inflicting so much pain and punishment. His entire demeanour changes when he’s in ‘daddy mode’; features and smile softening, eyes sparkling, tone gentle and patient. It’s phenomenally sexy; a man that big and powerful with these innocent, precious lives who idolize him so much. Two very different sides in one person; one is merciless and savage and takes lives if he needs to. The other nurtures and loves and helps create life.

Millie proudly and excitedly shows off the pampering that she’d received: sparkly pink and purple polish on her fingers and toes –“Just like mommy’s”- and her hair curled into tight ringlets.

“Why does it sparkle?” Tyler asks. “Why is there glitter in your hair?”

“Daddy…” she sighs dramatically. “…it’s not glitter. It’s unicorn dust.”

“Unicorn dust? What’s that? Is that what comes out of a unicorn’s butt when they fart?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, and then giggles when he nuzzles his face against hers; effectively and purposefully tickling her with his beard.

“Why don’t you go  outside and show Ovi,” he suggests, pressing a kiss to her cheek and setting her down. ”He’d like to hear about a unicorn farting all over your head.”

“It’s not farts, daddy!” she argues, as she skips towards the sliding door and throws it open.  “It’s unicorn dust!”  And then she’s gone, bounding across the deck and jumping from the top step without a single stitch of fear. Hitting the ground running; shrieking about painted nails and glittery hair and elbowing anyone in the face that dares try to mess her curls up.

“And you say I’m the one giving you the gray hair,” Esme smirks. “It’s definitely her.”

“You’re the gray hair. She’s the ulcer,” he places his hands on her hips, and kisses her in greeting. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she runs her hands up the back of his t-shirt, then rakes her newly done nails down his back.

“What the fuck? Like fucking talons.”

“They’re not that sharp. And you’re the one that always says it’s a turn on when I do things like that.”  

Many a time he’s woken up the next day with his entire back, shoulders, and even rib cage carved to shit; long, bright red gouges that mar the skin and sting like a bitch.

“I wasn’t complaining. I’m just saying they’re…” he winces when she gets him right in the middle of the spine. One lonesome finger nail dragging all the way down to just under waist of his jeans.  “…fucking sharp. You need to stop…” he kisses her once more and then backs away. “…quit trying to seduce me all the time.”

“Like I have to try,” she snorts, as he goes back to the sink full of dishes and she plucks a bottle of water from the fridge. “I think you’re the one that’s doing the seducing,” she says, as she leans back against the counter next to him. “Doing housework while I’m watching? There’s nothing sexier than that. Seeing you all domestic and shit. What’s next? Laundry and vacuuming?”

“Already did the vacuuming and the last load of laundry is in the wash.”

“Baby, you are making me so wet right now. I might actually jump you right here and right now if you tell me that you remembered to take something out of the freezer for supper.”

“I did remember.  But as much as I wouldn’t object to being jumped in all the right ways right now, it is definitely not a good time. Too many little people running around. And Ovi is still traumatized from almost being shot the other night. Seeing us fucking? That would be years of extremely expensive therapy.”

“Or, it would be great experience for him to take back to Christine or Cathy or whatever her name is.”

“Chloe. And he says they haven’t had sex. Actually, he says he’s never had sex at all.”

Her eyes widen, bottle of water pressed to her lips. “Get out of here. Seriously?”

“That’s what he says.  He’s told me that twice now. And I had to have the ‘talk’ with him today.”

“I can only imagine how that went,” she gathers up a dish towel and steps alongside of him.  “I love you, but open communication is not one of your strong suits.”

“What are you talking about? We communicate fine.”

“That’s different. You and I know each other intimately. Once you start seeing one another naked and doing the things we do together and to each other, I think it means we can pretty much talk about anything. I mean, we’re at the stage where I can pee while you’re brushing your teeth and you don’t think about it. But you talking to a teenage boy about sex? That doesn’t seem awkward at all.”

He frowns. “I’m not exactly a rookie when it comes to sex, you know.”

“Baby, you are so far from being a rookie it isn’t even funny. But I mean talking about it. With someone who isn’t me. Someone who is practically your kid. And Ovi’s shy and sort of awkward so he was probably mortified that you were talking about whatever you were talking about.”

“I just told him to be careful and wrap his shit up. That the last thing he wanted was knocking her up or getting an STD.”

“Kind of ironic,” she grins. “You talking about condoms considering…”

“Yeah, I thought about that too. Kind of makes me a hypocrite.

“Well in all fairness, we were adults who knew exactly what we were getting into. It’s not that we didn’t know the risks. It’s just that we didn’t seem to give a shit about them. Which just means my blow job game is strong enough to temporarily wipe you of all your brain cells.”

Tyler smirks. “Temporarily? It’s five years later and we’re married with four kids. That’s a permanent loss of brain cells.”

Frowning, she smacks in across the ass with the towel. When she tries it a second time, he grabs a hold of the fabric and pulls her into him, covering her mouth with his in a long, slow kiss. The kind that has her standing on her tiptoes and her arms sneaking around his waist as her body curves into his.  And she breaks out of the kiss with a laugh when he slides one of his soaking wet hands down the back of her shorts. Struggling against him as he chuckles and holds her body against the counter with the full weight of his and proceeds to suck and nibble at the side of her neck.

“And you talk about me trying to seduce you?” she laughs, trying to use her elbows in his chest to push him away. “You’re like a fifteen year old. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration. Which makes no sense considering how much you actually manage to get laid on a regular basis. Oh shit!” she  curses, when his teeth grab a hold of that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. “That’s going to leave a mark. What’s wrong with you?”

“Like you said. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration,” his palm slides down do her ass; tightly squeezing it through her shorts as his tongue soothes the bite mark he’d left on her skin.

“If this is your version of a midlife crisis, I’m totally okay with it,” she says, her hands pushing their way into his hair as his mouth moves across the neckline of her t-shirt.  “By the way, I bought one of those test things today. You know the ones that tell you when the best time to get pregnant is? You know, just in case I give in to your idiotic idea of another baby.”

“Just one more.”

“What if one turns into another two at once?”

“We’ll deal with it. And why do we need a test to tell us that? We just keep fucking like we do and it’ll just happen.”

“It will tell us which days are best. You know, the days where we have to put a little…extra…into it…”

He grins against her neck, beard scratching the tender skin. “I think I have extra I could put into it.”

“That’s the spirit. You never disappoint me.”

“Ever?” his lips travel along the side of her throat, his breath warm, tip of his nose tickling the skin as he moves up to just below her ear.

“Ever. I had high expectations you know. Of what you’d look like naked.”

“You actually thought of what I looked like naked before I got naked? When did you think about that?”

“My dirty little fantasies pretty much started when I walked into your place. Hard not to have sex dreams about a guy that looks like you do. I wasn’t even put off by the fact you had a chicken as a significant other. I think it was the eyes. And the big arms.”

“And the voice.”

“Yeah…” she sighs, fingernails digging into his scalp as he places a trail of kisses along the outer edge of her ear. “…that too….”

“So  you thought of me naked? When?”

“Of you know, when a girl is lonely and horny in bed at night.”

He chuckles. “That’s a turn on. Knowing you actually thought about me when…”

“I still do. When you’re away. Just so you know.”

“That’s pretty fucking hot. Not gonna lie.”

“I would have been so disappointed if you’d dropped your pants in that hotel room and you were a short dick man. That would have been it. I would not have let you anywhere near me. The disappointment would have been too great.”

“Well it’s a good thing for both of us that I lived up to your expectations.”

“Oh you did. And then some. The thing about a man having a big hands and feet is very much true.”

Both his hands find her ass now, drawing her tightly against him as he kisses her. Long. Deep. Slow. His tongue pushing its way into her mouth and finding hers.  And she willingly reciprocates, both hands sliding down to his shoulders. 

“Okay…” she pushes him away, fanning her face with her hand. “…you need to stop and take about five steps back or I honestly will jump you and not care who comes in and sees it.”

“They all have to learn sooner than later,” he reasons, and puts a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into another toe curling kiss.  Feeling her hands slide down his back and then in between them, hands slipping under the front of his t-shirt, finding the buckle on his belt.  One of her fingers slipping just under the waist of his jeans and teasing the skin there.

The sound of the sliding door being drawn open causes both of them to jump.

“Sorry,” a bashful Ovi says from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your baby making but…”

“We weren’t making babies,” Esme says, as she clears her throat noisily and moves to grab her bottle of water. “You stopped that before it could happen.”

“In the kitchen?” Ovi sounds horrified.

Tyler  returns to the task of washing dishes. “Kid, there isn’t a place in this house that hasn’t been christened already. Might want to think about it every time you sit down somewhere.”

“Or not think about it because I know how distressing the thought of Tyler being naked can be,” Esme teases. “ Trust me, don’t think about it. It’s really disturbing.”

Her husband smirks.

“The kids just wanted something to drink,” Ovi says. “They were thirsty, so…”

She fetches a sleeve of juice boxes from the fridge and hands it to him.

“Did Tyler tell you?” he asks. “About who came to visit you today?”

“No, Tyler did not,” Tyler replies for her. “Because Tyler was busy trying to get laid first before telling her the bad news.”

“Who came to visit?” she glances between the two of them.

“You can go back outside now,” Tyler says to Ovi, who blinks at the force in his eyes and then gives an apologetic smile before slinking back through the sliding door.

“Who came to visit?” Esme asks again. “Oh God, please tell me it wasn’t my mother. Yesterday she called you a tall, cool, drink of water and I haven’t been the same since.”

“It wasn’t your mother. I would have actually preferred if it was your mother. As fucked as it is that I’d admit that.” Unplugging the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel and then reaches into the back pocket of his jeans in order to pull out the business card that her ex had given him. “He wants you to call him.”

Arching and eyebrow, she plucks the card from his hand. Immediately frowning when she sees who it belongs to. “He actually gave you a business card? Who the hell does that? And why does he have business cards? He’s retired for Christ sakes.”

“He likes to throw it around that he was a Marine. Expected me to be impressed.”

“He thinks it’s some kind of power move,” she rolls her eyes. “No one actually gives a shit. Did you kick the shit out of him?”

“No. But not because I didn’t want to. He’s kind of an arrogant prick, yeah? Thinks pretty highly of himself. You didn’t tell me he was that much older than you.”

“Eleven years is not that much older.”

“Older enough. So what was it? Daddy issues?”

Her eyes narrow. “Please tell me you’re joking and not being serious when you say that. Because you know about my father and what happened and I will kick you in the nuts. We’re not going to fight over this. Over my ex husband.”

“I don’t want to fight,” he assures her. “But he is a fucking asshole. You weren’t wrong about that. He definitely doesn’t understand that what he did was wrong. Kept trying to tell me all this bullshit that you had your own role to play in it and you were partly to blame to.”

“And you believe that?”

“I told him it didn’t matter what you may have said or did. He didn’t have a reason to do the things he did or say the things he said. There’s no fucking excuse for any of that.”

“He’ a narcissistic. I told you that. He loves to gaslight people.”

“What I don’t understand is why you never told me that you were having a baby with him.”

She blinks. “What?”

“He told me that you guys were having a baby. Which I was kind of surprised to hear about because you never once mentioned it yourself in the past five years.”

“There was no reason to tell you about that.”

“I’m your husband. How much more of a reason do you need?”

She taps the edge of the business card against the counter top. “It was way before you. Before I even knew you existed. You would have been still been married to your first wife at the time. Austin would have been a baby. Why would I bring up something from that long ago?”

“I talk about my life from that long ago,” he points out, as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s totally different and you know it.  You lost a child. You have every right and reason to talk about him. Why wouldn’t you tell me about him? He’s still very much an important part of your life.”

“And this baby wasn’t? The one you were having with your ex?”

“It was never a baby, Tyler. Not in the true sense of the word. I’d only known for a week when I lost it. There’s no comparison between that and what you went through.  I didn’t see a reason to tell you about it because it wasn’t that serious.”

“So my wife, almost has a baby with her first husband but there’s no reason for me to know about?” he scoffs, and shakes his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Why are you making a big deal about this? It was a long time ago. And I didn’t almost have a baby. I didn’t even come close. It wasn’t meant to be obviously. Could you imagine having a kid with that guy? It would have been a fucking nightmare. Things happen for a reason. You say that all the time.”

“You just would think it would come up in a conversation, yeah? You’ve been pregnant three times and not once did you think of bringing it up? Like maybe you were worried it might happen again?”

“I was worried. I just kept it to myself. All pregnant women worry about things like that.”

“Sure. And they probably tell their husbands about it. And you know why? Because they weren’t the only ones who made the goddamn baby in the first place. Last time I checked, it took the two of us.”

“Don’t be so goddamn condescending,” she huffs, and tosses the business card onto the counter. “I hate when you get that way. That fucking tone you get when you think you’re somehow morally superior.”

“I have never…ever…thought that.”

‘Bullshit. You do it all the time. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.  Every time you don’t like something I have to say. Or you don’t agree with some decision I made back in a time where you didn’t even exist in my life yet. I may not agree with all the decisions you’ve made, but at least I support you. I don’t have this fucking chip on my shoulder.”

“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I…”

“I didn’t tell you because that part of my life didn’t matter any more. Because I just wanted to forget about it and put it behind me. Because once you came into my life, everyone and everything before you ceased to exist. I didn’t want to remember all of that. And then Millie came along and I had everything I wanted. I had this amazing guy and a beautiful baby and all that other bullshit was left in the past where it belonged. So I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from you. I was keeping it from myself.”

He grabs a hold of her wrist as she tries to stomp off. “Don’t do that,” he says.  “You do that every time we get in fight.”

“Only because I’m this close…” she holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “…to punching you in the face. You know I hate when you pull that self righteous bullshit with me.”

She struggles against his grip, but he only tightens his hold on her.

“Not everything is about you, Tyler. My past is just that. You didn’t need to know. And I’m sorry if that pisses you off or hurts your ego or…”

“Stop,” his voice is surprisingly tender despite the power in his grasp. “…just stop.”  And when she opens her mouth to speak, he pulls her into him, speaking in between pecks to her lips.  “…just…fucking…stop…”

“You fucking stop,” she retorts. “Stop it with those stupid eyes and your stupidly good-looking face and that stupid voice of yours.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first time he’s ever surrendered first. There’s been arguments that have gone on for days because neither of them wanted to admit defeat.  “I didn’t mean to be a condescending asshole. I don’t mean to be that way and you know it.”

She reaches up and runs her hands along his beard, cradling his face in her hands, thumbs brushing over his lips. “Sometimes I worry we’re not doing this marriage thing very well.”

“Why? Because we fight? All couples fight. We don’t fight over things that can’t be fixed.”

“I worry I’m a shitty wife. That I’m just like you’re ex.”

“You are far from being anything like my ex. Trust me. And you’re not a shitty wife. You’re an amazing wife. And an amazing mother. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I know that. Why do you think the chicken shit everywhere? It was definitely out of spite.”

She can’t help but laugh at that.

“But I love you. And I love our life together. Fights and all.”

“You just like the making up.”

He grins. “I’m not going to deny that.” His eyes never leave hers as her fingers gently trace the various scars that mar his face. Her touch is soft, soothing. And he feels it to his very soul.

She stands on her tip toes and kisses him. Short and sweet. Yet powerful all at the same time. Feeling so much love and trust and forgiveness in the simple press of her lips against his.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you as much as I do,” she admits. “So it would be easier to be angry with you. And I know I’m not easy to live with either. That I test your patience. A lot. I’m not perfect. Far from it.”

“Neither am I. But you’re still here.”

She smiles, presses her lips against his forehead. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

And it’s the truth. He’s her happy place. Where she feels safe. Protected. All the things she’s never even known she’d been desperate for until she’d walked into that little shack in the Australian outback.

[palmviolet]

hii! may i just ask you why/how the mom steve meme is sexist?

thank you for asking so politely!! i’m happy to talk about it (and i think it ought to be discussed).

okay, so let’s talk about mom steve.

steve is a teenage boy. the foundations of his character were set as the stereotypical 80s high school douche, a kind of foil to jonathan, whom nancy was always ultimately going to choose over steve - regardless of how steve’s character developed later on. then the duffers met joe keery, and decided to take his character in a different direction. he starts the series as your high school bully, though the take on the trope is more nuanced than it was originally, but by the end of season 1 he’s starting to redeem himself.

this is all good. it’s more interesting, actually, than the more typical archetype fulfilled by billy in season 2. the duffers are all about nuance.

so let’s go to joyce in season 1. joyce embodies another archetype - the stricken, frantic, hysterical mother. the narrative could easily dismiss her, but instead a large proportion of the series is from her perspective: we see her use of the christmas lights not as a delusion but as a rational, logical experiment. we as the audience are desperate for the others to believe her. so here, too, there is another subversion of a trope - and when her beliefs are validated by hopper, literally part of the institutions that dismiss her (he is ex-army, the police chief, a man), she is still a fundamental part of uncovering the mystery and finding her son. he doesn’t take over. without her, they never would have succeeded.

all this she does in aid of her child. she gets called crazy, delusional, a mess even by her own son, jonathan - but she doesn’t give up.

to summarise so far - in season 1, both steve and joyce subvert tropes. joyce overcomes institutional sexism by her strength and belief as a mother.

onto season 2. the crisis - the monster du jour - isn’t so glaring this time, but creeps up on the narrative. will is present and for a while joyce can be more relaxed. she has a boyfriend now - bob - and they seem happy together. we learn than she and hopper went to high school together. we discover she - and the other characters - are still heavily traumatised by the events of season 1. nancy is too, and she’s struggling in her relationship with steve. but instead of framing their breakup around her trauma, around how they simply don’t work together anymore because they’ve both grown to be different people, the show seems to favour steve and make it less than amicable. we are made to feel sorry for steve, poor, dumped steve, instead of placing the two on equal ground.

@jancys-blue-bayou made a good post about this a while back, when the teaser for s3 came out. in it they discuss steve in season 2; ‘they began […] by making him “a loser” through his relationship with nancy ending in a way that humiliated his frail male ego and then king steve losing his crown to billy, so he’s not popular in high school now. just like jonathan’s never been.’ essentially they begin to shape steve into what jonathan used to be - a loner, an outcast, someone the audience should sympathise with. the kind of character stranger things has always been about.

meanwhile the whole mess with will begins, and joyce has no other focus once again - her relationship with bob falls by the wayside, unless he becomes relevant to will again (calling him up about the tape, inviting him in to help them solve the map). within the narrative this is perfectly understandable - her son is going through something horrible, again, of course he’s all she cares about - but we lose any sense of joyce the person, again. she’s just joyce the mom. contrast this with hopper, who is treated very differently by the narrative. he has multiple plotlines, emotional beats. as @nancykali puts it, ‘the duffers didn’t want to deal with their only main adult female character having a storyline outside of will and hopper. oh but wait - hopper could get his storylines as joyce’s love interest, a support for will, and an adoptive parent to el though, couldn’t he? that’s unbalanced and sexist storytelling.’

so, to recap - while joyce is reduced down to just the Mom (which was fine in s1, because of the urgency of the situation and the fact that this was a new show, none of the characters had been developed much yet, but starts to become alarming in s2) which by default makes her less relatable, less of a figure for the audience to connect with, steve is deliberately cast as a multi-faceted, sympathetic character. joyce’s ‘story is no less than hopper’s but it’s treated as lesser by the canon because she’s a woman and her role is Mother First, Human Second. but if a man decides to be a father he deserves to be lauded, where for a mother to adopt a little girl, that’s too predictable to some people.’ this last bit is in reference to hopper, but it works for steve too. steve giving attention to the kids and acting protective over them for what amounts to one afternoon is celebrated far beyond anything joyce has done, because it’s breaking type. and sure, that can be a good thing. when the series first came out i really enjoyed babysitter steve.

but that’s all he is. a babysitter. joyce is a real mom, and yet because she’s a woman, that’s her job description. but because steve is a teenage boy, who used to be something of a bully, he gets praise far beyond what he might deserve.

being a mother is what drives joyce’s narrative arc - and that’s wrong, and misogynistic, because she deserves to be fleshed out and given other plotlines too - and her character would literally have nothing without it. it feels like a slap in the face, then, for it to be steve who is labelled ‘best mom’ - steve, who has multiple facets to his character, steve who is a teenage boy, steve who is affluent and male and up until recently embodied the trope of 80s highschool bully. joyce is quite literally a single mom and we are shown that she often struggles to make ends meet. she’s had nervous breakdowns in the past, she works weekends and nights and holidays, she relies on jonathan almost as a co-parent to will. she’s a flawed mother, but she does her goddamn best because her life is hard - and despite all this she finds time to actively know and engage with her sons’ interests, to play with them, to have jokes with them. this is being a good mom.

‘mom steve’ is perpetuated by fandom, but it is rooted in the show. take the first s3 teaser: ‘they have him work a menial job that has fans of the mom meme write stuff like “steve got a minimum wage job to take care of his five kids”’. both joyce and jonathan work/have worked menial jobs to support their family, possibly both at minimum wage - while steve is very notably and explicitly affluent. in fact if any character in the show who is not a mom deserves to be called one, it’s jonathan, who is in all but name a co-parent to will. i think @jancys-blue-bayou and @nervousalligator have written on this in the past.

however, applying the term ‘mom’ to these male characters at all is sexist by itself. it promotes the idea that only women can be caregivers - that parenting is only the duty of the mother, and is nothing to do with men. this is highly misogynistic, links back to age-old gender roles that it’s high time were erased, and yet the meme perpetuates them. steve is male. if anything, he should be called ‘dad steve’ - but people won’t run with that, because it’s all a joke. because motherhood is a joke. joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

it’s actually a manner of woobifying him. he’s not a perfect character, not of them are, yet this ‘mom’ caricature somehow strives to paint him as such. it’s the same with hopper, in his parenting of el - his obvious flaws are dismissed across the fandom because of sweet father-daughter moments. i love hopper as a character, and i can appreciate steve, but often people simply don’t understand them. as @paris-geller-was-straightwashed puts it, ‘y’all will soften the males of this show all the way down until they literally don’t have any sharp edges anymore.’ the male characters become perfect, can do no wrong, while the women are criticised for their every mistake (see the treatment of nancy post s2).

it’s a cycle. the show began it, when they tried to promote steve the best way they knew how - by shaping him into a prototype of jonathan, except without any flaws and much, much richer - and the fandom picked it up and ran with it. this led to fanservice, with the scoops ahoy teaser and the stranger things twitter (don’t think i’ve forgiven the mothers’ day tweet). with any luck the fandom will wise up a little or the creators will stop pandering to them, but we’ll have to see the outcome of s3. regardless, it’s time to stop calling steve a mom. if anything, he’s a big brother to dustin - yet another role that was somewhat snatched from jonathan (see the scene at the end of s1 when jonathan comes down to mike’s basement at the end of the d&d game - he’s a big brother figure to all the boys). people call steve a mom because he gave dustin advice - horrible, sexist advice (‘treat ‘em like you don’t care’) - and put a tea towel on his shoulder. that’s it.

so maybe appreciate steve as his own character, a babysitter at most, because you’re doing him a disservice by woobifying him and calling him a ‘mom’. appreciate joyce, who is an actual mom, and maybe start lobbying the duffers for more development for their female characters rather than for more sexist memes.

TLDR; joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

[writethiswaymaam]

The Last Goodbye

Author’s note: This does not really follow a particular timeline of the show, but refers to events that have happened in both SOA and Mayans. 

Summary: Marcus reunites with his estranged wife and daughter only to find out that some mistakes can be forgotten, but never forgiven. 

Warnings: Angst, Death

   Tessa sat quietly, holding her mother's hand. Her mother was crying, hysterical. She begged to see her husband. She begged to see her son. She didn't understand why they weren't here with her. She was hurt. She was mad. She was terrified. Alzheimer's was like a rabid coyote. Picking apart the flesh, and leaving a hollow version of the person who once was. Tessa had no words for her mother. There was no way to reason and no way to comfort a woman who couldn't remember what led her to this moment. There was nothing she could do short of breaking every rule she had made for herself. Tessa wiped the tears from her mother's face as she wept, and paged the nurse. She needed to make a phone call.

   It was a late Saturday night, and Bishop was nursing a whiskey as the boys blew off some steam. His phone buzzed in his vest pocket, and the caller ID showed a number he didn’t recognize, "Hello?"

   "Obispo?" the voice was hesitant.

   "Tessa?" Bishop sat up straighter and Tank turned abruptly with a questioning look on his face, "Are you okay?"

    Tessa sighed trying to hold back tears, "I need your help."

    Bishop motioned his head to Tank, and they headed into chapel closing the doors behind them.

   "Who's Tessa?" EZ asked. 

   Coco exhaled a smoke ring, before saying, "There are some things that are just way above our pay grade, hermano." 

   Angel echoed his sentiment, "Yeah, that phone call is only going to lead to trouble. Trust me." 

   Angel and Coco walked away to go back to the party, while EZ kept restocking the bar with Chucky. "El Padrino, Marcus Alvarez, has a daughter, Tessa, but they haven't talked in years after the whole Esai thing," Chucky offered EZ another crate. 

   "Who's Esai?" questioned EZ.

   "Marcus' son. The one he agreed to let SAMCRO kill as a peace offering. Tessa and her mother left after the funeral." Chucky said as he headed back to the storage closet.

   EZ stared after him before resuming stocking the shelves.

    It was no surprise when Bishop and Tank emerged from Chapel, grabbed Tazo, and headed out to an unknown location without much word to anyone else.

 --------

    Emily Galindo was hoping for a quiet night at home with her family, but while she and Miguel sat on the floor playing with Cristobal, the door bell rang, and she knew that her hopes were probably dashed. Especially, when the three elder members of the motorcycle club were there looking for Marcus. As they quietly discussed something amongst themselves, Emily gathered Cristobal in her arms, kissed his heads, and headed off to his nursery.

    "Primo," Bishop greeted Marcus, "Tessa called me tonight."

    "Tessa? Is everything okay?" Marcus brow furrowed.

    Tank interjected, "Gloria's health has declined. Late stage Alzheimer's. The way Tess describes it is that she has lost a lot of the past, while living in it, and she is confused most of the time."

    "Gloria's asking for you, primo," Bishop placed his hand on his cousin's shoulder.

    Tazo spoke, "Tessa thinks that maybe if you come it will help Gloria's soul be ready to leave from this world to the next one."

    The air left Marcus' lungs, as he tried to process everything. He looked at Miguel, "Of course, you should leave as soon as possible, " Miguel agreed, "take whatever resources you need."

    After grabbing a few things, Marcus got into the back of a black SUV that pulled onto the highway surrounded by motorcycles. He closed his eyes. He wasn't sure where this road was going to end up taking him, but he had a feeling it was going to hurt like hell.

 ---------

    A long winding driveway lined with cattle pastures where the sunken stomachs and hooked long horns could be seen meandering in search of an approvable area to graze, led to a spacious white stoned ranch house. As the cars and motorcycles pulled into the circular drive, a woman stepped out onto the front porch. Her long dark hair had the wild wave of someone who had spent too much time running their fingers through it. She wore an oversized sweater and ripped black jeans, and her feet were bare. She leaned against the porch post, crossing her ankles and her arms. Bishop approached her first, arms out stretched for a hug, "Hola, princesa."

    She broke the hug quickly, wiping her eyes and readjusting her dark rimmed glasses. "Hola, its been a long ride. There is food in the kitchen, and the guest rooms are made up if anyone needs to rest."

    The small crowd split as Marcus approached. Tessa's arms crossed back over her chest. They assessed one another with the same dark and calculating eyes. While Tessa had elements of her mother's beauty, her coloring and mannerisms were a deafening echo of her father's much to her chagrin. Marcus made to say something first, but Tessa cut him off, "I'll take you to mama, if you're ready now."

    She didn't wait for an answer as she turned and walked through the open door. Marcus and Bishop exchanged looks, and they followed her inside. The house had a fairly open floor plan, the entry way connecting into the kitchen and a living area. The kitchen counters were lined with appetizers and a bucket of iced drinks. "Make yourself at home gentlemen," Tessa motioned to towards the kitchen as she turned down an hallway that led past a formal dining room and office. She made a left and headed toward the back of a house stopping short of the doorway, "Before we go in, did Obispo explain about her condition? That she doesn't remember things? That the past and the present get all blurred for her?"

   "Si, " Marcus looked intently.

   "So if she begins to not make sense or starts to get upset, don't try to argue or reason with her. It will only agitate her more, "she started to open the door but stopped short, "also, if she mentions Esai just say he'll be here soon, and don't get emotional in front of her. It will only upset her more."

   With that Tessa opened the door. A nurse sat reading a book next to a hospital bed. There were monitors and machines, beeping. It looked like a hospital room, except for the warm coloring of the room and an entire wall made of windows showing the majestic landscape of desert and mountains. "Mama, " Tessa walked over to the bed placing her hand on her mother's shoulder, "there is someone here to see you."

   Her mother's blank stare slowly morphed into a smile, "Are you a new nurse? Oh my, you are so beautiful. Your hair reminds me of my daughter's. She and her brother, Esai, went out to play, but I am sure they will be back soon."

   Tessa reached for her mother's hand and kissed her palm before bringing it to her cheek, "We have met before, but its okay that you don't remember me, mama. Because right now, there is someone here to see you."

    Marcus shuffled forward. There on the bed, was the woman he had spent most of his youth and adult life loving. The woman who had agreed to marry him despite her father saying he was no good. The woman who gave him two beautiful children. Her stare remained blank at it met his, her eyes searching his face expectantly, until something click, a small spark of memory ignited, and her eyes became bright with tears, "Mi Amor. You have finally returned to me."

    She held out her hands to him, and without hesitation, he walked up to sit on the side of her bed. Her hands cupped his face, as she cried in delight, "It has been too long, mi vida. I have missed you so much."

    "I have missed you, too, preciosa." Marcus held her hands to his face. Not breaking eye contact until he heard the click of the door. Tessa had gone.

   Tessa walked back down the hallway heading toward the kitchen, but stopped suddenly to lean against the wall. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, a myriad of emotions boiling over. Strong arms encased her from behind, turning her and bringing her head to rest on a leather covered chest. She clung to Bishop as her body shook with sobs. When she finally got control of herself, she pulled back wiping her face, "Sorry, I'm a mess. I guess I forgot, too. What it was like before…." 

   Before her father killed her brother. Before her father chose the club over his family. Before her father broke their hearts. Bishop looked at her with a pained and worried expression. Marcus was his cousin, his mentor, and the club was his life, but he understood Gloria and Tessa leaving. The club life was a difficult path to navigate, especially for the women who loved these outlaw bikers.  He pulled Tessa back in for a quick hug and a peck on the top of her head, "You don't have to apologize. I love you like you were my own daughter, princesa. And I know that going through this alone can't be easy, and that reaching out like you did wasn't easy either. Now come on, let's go get a drink. Tank and Taz want to say hi."

   They headed back into the kitchen where Tessa was quickly enveloped into separate bear hugs from Taz and Tank. Tank even lifted her up off her feet, to which she giggled, "Don’t throw out your back, old man. I am not as young and skinny as a I used to be!"

    They talked, laughed, ate, and drank like time had never passed. Tessa hadn’t felt this much at home in a very long time until a large crash was heard from the back of the house. Tessa sprinted to her mother's room. A vase was shattered on the floor, with flowers floating in a small puddle of water and glass. Her mother screamed, "WHERE IS HE MARCUS? WHERE IS MY SON? WHY ARE YOU HIDING HIM FROM ME? YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME! WE MADE A PROMISE ON OUR WEDDING DAY TO LOVE ONE ANOTHER! YET, YOU TAKE MY BABY FROM ME? BRING HIM HOME, MARCUS! ESAI NEEDS ME! HE NEEDS HIS MOTHER!" she sobbed as she hit Marcus over and over again.

    Marcus stood like a statue. Taking every hit from Gloria. One right after another. The disease had made her feeble. They punches and slaps barely made an impact, but he would take the worse torture from Hobart all over again not to feel this pain.

    "Mama," Tessa ran to her mother as she and the nurse each grabbed an arm to restrain her. The nurse digging into the bedside drawer for a needle, "Mama, I promise you will see Esai again. He's on a trip remember? He went on a long trip," the nurse injected the sedative into Gloria's arm, "but, he'll be back soon. He wants to see you again. He wants you to go with him this time, mama. He never wants to leave you again," Tessa kept talk as her mothers anguished sobs slowly began to quiet.

    "He wants to see me," Gloria repeated, "He'll come for me soon."

    "Yes," Tessa whispered tearfully, "He loves you so much, mama. We both do."

    "Oh, my beautiful, Tessa. I missed you so much," Gloria pet Tessa's hair.

    "I missed you, too, mama. I missed you, too." Tessa said with tears running down her cheek.

    "Your father is here! Did you know? He wants to marry me. My father says no, but we are going leave Mexico. We are going to go to America and get married and have the most beautiful life, isn't that right, mi amor?"

   “That's right, mi cariño" said Marcus, "we had the most beautiful life."

    The full effects of the sedative finally overtook Gloria, and she drifted off to sleep.

    "Do you want me to call the doctor?" the nurse asked.

    Tessa still silently crying, shook her head no. There was nothing else they could do, but wait for the end.

 -----

   Three days later, Gloria whispered her beloved son's name one more time before taking her final breath. Marcus holding her left hand. Tessa holding her right. Marcus quietly reached for his daughter's other hand, but she pulled it away, "Please leave me alone with her," Tessa said without meeting his gaze.

    When the coroner and funeral home officials came to take Gloria's body, Tessa emerged from the bedroom following her mother's corpse until it was placed in the back of the hearse. She turned back toward the house, to the men of her past, her face splotchy and eyes red-rimmed, she looked at Bishop. "You all are welcome to stay until morning, but then I would like you to go home."

    Tank was the first to protest, saying they could help with funeral arrangements, but Tessa silenced them, "I took care of my mother myself. Her funeral is already planned and paid for.  I appreciate you coming, but I need to finish this on my own." Then she grabbed a bottle of Tequila and headed toward her bedroom.

    The next morning as Marcus and the others got ready to depart, Tessa came out of her bedroom. She was freshly showered, in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. She looked tired and small, but also determined. She walked up to the Mayans, the men of her past, and gave each of them a hug farewell. "Are you sure your okay?" Bishop asked. "We could stay, and help you, or you could come back with us for a while."

    "I'm going to be okay, Obispo. I promise you that, "she hugged him again, "Thank you so much for everything."

    "Of course, Princesa. I am only a phone call away if you ever need anything," He reassured his, stepping back towards his bike as Marcus approached.

    "Mija--" Marcus began, but Tessa interrupted him again.

    "Stop. I want to say thank you for coming. Thank you for being there when Mama needed you. It was a great comfort to her in the end, " Tessa kicked the dirt.

    "Mija, I loved your mother very much. I love you, too." Marcus stepped closer, but Tessa took a step back.

    "Don't," she held out her hands defensively, "mama may have forgotten the past, but I haven't. I can't. I don't want your love. I don't want you. You are nothing to me. My brother and mother are dead. My family is dead. Go back where you belong El Padrino. You have no family here." Tessa walked back into the house closing the door behind her.

   Marcus climbed back into the back seat of the black SUV and let the pain overwhelm him as he silently wept.

[reluctantrenegade]

365 Day Writing Challenge,  Day 238 & 239

Kill a character./Save a character. 

(6x13 redux) 

Bonnie is drunk, but she wishes she were drunker. She’s never been the type. Never blacked out, never done anything she’s forgotten the next morning. She wants to get there now. She wants the alcohol to run its course through her brain: first her frontal lobe, where it will take away her ability to make rational decisions. Then to the parietal lobe, where it will take away her speech, her feeling. Then her hearing and her eyesight. And then, if she can just keep drinking, it’ll reach back to her brain stem, take away her breath and her heart and then she’ll finally have nothing left to give. 

She studied the brain in psychology 101. She’d been thinking about majoring in it. It doesn’t matter now. 

She knows that the alcohol won’t be enough, that she’ll have to do it properly. 

She’s crying. It’s stupid. It’s expected, she thinks. 

“Well...” she says to an empty room, empty house, empty world. “I think it’s time that I cut...myself off.” She wants to laugh at her non-joke. The word ‘cut’ catches in her throat. 

She feels Damon’s bourbon in her hand, not even half empty, but she can’t bring herself to drink the rest. The bottle of weighty amber liquid sloshes in its bottle, and she can barely lift it. She’s so tired all the time. She picks it up and smashes it on the ground, and the silence afterward nearly kills her right then and there. 

She thinks she sees someone standing before her. Dark hair, dark clothes, like they’re dressed for a funeral. The image passes before she can process it fully.

Good, she thinks. I’m hallucinating. That might make it easier. 

--

“Kai! Kai, come on, you asshole, wake up.” 

The dark kitchen comes back into focus--dark, dark, why is everything in this damn house so dark?--along with Jeremy’s face. It’s looking down at him with those serious, set eyebrows of his. His hair is dumb, Kai thinks idly. And oh yes, that’s right, I’m bleeding out. 

He remembers why he passed out in the first place now. He’s slumped against the counter, blood blooming all over his white shirt. The fabric is sopping wet. Doesn’t seem good. 

“Jer, first thing’s first, all right? Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman would always apply pressure to the wound in a situation like this...” 

“We don’t have time! Bonnie is going to kill herself!” 

Jeremy’s voice bangs like a cymbal inside Kai’s head. He just wants to go to sleep. That’s probably bad. 

“Fine. Fine fine. But look...I can barely make a candle go out right now. Much less carry your meaty body between dimensions.” 

Jeremy, who has been grasping Kai’s arm to keep him semi-upright, tightens his grip. 

“It’s gotta be me,” says Kai. “Just me.” 

Jeremy doesn’t say anything, and Kai watches his panicking mind work furiously. 

“You can trust me,” Kai says. 

“No I can’t!” says Jeremy.

“Mm. Yeah. Probably not,” says Kai. And he performs the spell, feeling Jeremy’s grip, the cold kitchen tile, the screams from one door down all fade away. 

--

Bonnie’s got the keys in her hand. They’re jingling in an almost merry sort of way, which is funny, she supposes. They’re jingling because her hand is shaking so badly. The sound starts to irritate her. She twists her wrist, and the car growls to life inside the closed garage. 

Good, she thinks. That was the hardest part. Now I only have to sit and wait. She slumps on the floor, her head against the driver’s side door. I’ve been sitting and waiting for so long. What’s another few minutes? 

She toys with the camcorder in her hand. There’s no point recording anything. If she’s lucky, nobody...except maybe Kai...will ever come here again. 

Kai appears then, though she doesn’t realize it. He staggers as he finds his feet in this dimension, his hand instinctively going to press against the wound in his stomach. The bleeding has slowed now. 

“Bonnie,” he says, pointlessly. “Hi.” 

She stares into space, as she had been doing for the past few minutes. There are tears rolling down her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice them. Kai begins to notice the plumes of exhaust swirling around the room, the gentle hum of the engine running. 

“Bonnie!” he runs to her now, crouching down to meet her. His hands pass through her like a bad dream. “Bon, come on, stop it. Get up. This isn’t you. You’re too stubborn for this, right?” 

She blinks slowly. 

“HEY! I’m talking to you! Bonnie, come on! Can you listen to me so we can get out of here please? You know I hate it here.” 

Nothing. She opens up the lens on the camcorder idly. 

“And you hate it here, too,” says Kai. “Don’t you?” 

“Hey everyone...” she says. Her voice is thick with unshed tears. “On the off chance you ever feel like stopping by this hell dimension sometime...long after I’m gone...thought I’d leave you this little note.” 

“Don’t...” Kai begins to say, though he doesn’t know how to finish. 

“Um...” Bonnie says. She pauses for a long time, unable to speak. “Just wanted to let you guys know that I love you. And...it’s not your fault. I know you did everything you could. And I know...I know you were counting on me to wait...to hold on until you could find something. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do that for you. It’s just...this place...the loneliness...it’s too much. This isn’t living anyway, you know? I haven’t been living, really, for a very long time.” 

She pauses, a sob overtaking her body. When she draws breath again, it’s shaky and heaving, and Kai wonders if it’s the exhaust beginning to do its work. He swears he can feel it taking the air out of his lungs, too. 

“So. Don’t worry. This is on me. But it’s okay. I’ll be okay. And I want you all to be okay, too. I want you to live your lives...and be happy...” 

Bonnie’s hearing her breath coming in and out now, a harsh rasp. She turns the camera off. 

“Oh, so what, you weren’t gonna mention me in your little speech?” Kai says sharply, standing. “I’m the one who left you here, Bon-Bon, or is that gas making you stupid? ‘This is on me’?” 

He tries to kick the car door beside her head, but it’s as insubstantial as air. It makes him angrier, the lack of anything to hold, to push, to hurt. “Bullshit, Bon. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m the reason you’re here, okay? You believed me because you’re a decent person and I left you for dead.” 

He stoops down again, tries to grab at her shoulders. He feels hysterical, teetering on the edge of some emotion that is too big for a name. It’s all new to him, this emotion thing, and he’s starting to hate it. “It’s on me, okay? It’s on me.” 

She starts to cough, small at first, and then very quickly turning to heaving gasps that wrack her body. Kai watches, feeling himself growing cold. “Bon? Bonnie! Come on, listen to me! You need to get out of here! You’re not dying in this shithole dimension, you hear me?” 

She’s curling up on herself like a burnt page and Kai struggles to reach for her hands. He can feel his magic growing weak, but he can be stubborn too, he’ll prove it. He’s not leaving, not yet. 

“Bonnie, come on! You were always fighting me. Always getting in my way. So fight back!” He slaps her face, his hand fading into her like she’s nothing. “Fight back!” He hits again, and he hears the sound of flesh against flesh before he feels it, the coolness of her cheek, the resistance. She slumps over from the impact, holding her face. 

She braces herself against the cement floor, still straining to catch her breath. She turns to look at whatever it was that just hit her. There’s nothing there. 

“Kai,” she says. It isn’t a question. 

Something steels inside her. She staggers to her feet. Leans against the car for support. She’s half-delirious. 

“Leave me alone, Kai,” she says, and she slowly moves her body against the door, into the passenger seat again. She turns the keys, and the hum of the engine dies.  

“I can’t--” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper. “Can’t do it...” 

The garage is still filled with carbon monoxide, and her eyes are closing. Kai races to her. God, he wishes he could fall asleep, too. 

“Bonnie, no no no, don’t. Come on, you can’t--” 

He tries to reach for her. It won’t work. He thinks he could, maybe, for a second...

He can feel her breath on his hand. He touches her shoulder and it’s there, she’s still solid and present and alive, still alive. 

He doesn’t think. He’s so tired. He just wants them to go home. 

“Phasmatos reditus.” 

There’s a flash of nothing, of darkness and soundlessness, and then the feeling of the kitchen tile against his back again, the blood getting cold against his chest, and Bonnie-- 

Bonnie’s hand in his. 

Bonnie, coughing and gasping for dear life, and Jeremy backing away like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Oh my god. Bonnie!” Jeremy rushes at her, wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes are wild, taking in the scene before her. She’s not alone. She’s home. She’s still holding someone else’s hand...

“Bonnie, oh my god, I never thought--Elena! Damon! Get down here!” Jeremy rushes off down the hall, and Bonnie looks to her left. The hand she’s holding is very cold. 

“Kai?” she croaks out. 

He’s lying with his head awkwardly set against the counter. She sees that he’s soaked in blood, his own. He opens his eyes, just barely. 

“Hey, Bon,” he says. His voice is weaker than hers. “Bet you missed me.” 

“What happened?” she asks. “What are you--” 

“I feel weird,” he interrupts. His voice is slower than she remembered. “You ever use a lot of magic and then feel all cold and weird?” 

“You’re bleeding,” she says. She doesn’t know whether to call for help. She barely knows where she is. She knows that a minute ago she was dying, and Kai did something to pull her out. 

“Oh. Yeah. Ugh, sisters, am I right?” 

She can feel his pulse with his wrist against hers. It’s slowing. 

“Kai, we need to get you--” she starts to get up, call for someone. 

“Wait, no, just wait here a second, okay?” He pulls weakly at her hand. “Don’t leave me alone.” 

“Kai--” 

“I’ll be fine in a second, okay, I just...I really want to fall asleep...” 

She hears his breathing slow like a soft tide, and then it stops altogether. 

“Kai,” she says. “Kai! Wake up!”  

He doesn’t stir. His hand has gone slack in hers. 

She wants to cry, wants to scream at him to come back and explain himself. She doesn’t know where to begin. But he’s on the other side of a different dimension altogether now, and there’s no reaching him. 

[chaptersinprogress]

the prank wars  |  the start

At that point, his legs gave out from under him. Sliding to the floor, Tsuna let out a hysterical laugh. Why had Grandpa thought that this would be safer? He’d rather take his chances with the Italian police!

For the resident chief of police, Superintendent Hibari Kyoya, was more famously known as the Demon of Namimori.

Rating: T

Warnings: NIL

Pairings: NIL

Prompt: The protagonist is a prankster, who’s dared to prank the local police station, only to get into a prank war with the local police chief - by @short-story-slam

“Gah! This is all stupid Reborn’s fault!” wailed poor Tsuna.

His troubles had all started the day his father had come home after disappearing for nearly 5 years.

“My darling Nana, I’m home!” sang Iemitsu as he entered the Sawada residence.

As Nana exited the kitchen wondering what was going on, he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around joyfully. Giggles burst out of her as she embraced him. Her husband had come to visit!

“Mom?” yelled Tsuna as he thundered down the stairs. “What’s going - oof!” he yelped as he slipped and tumbled down the stairs to land in a heap at his parents’ feet.

“Tuna-fish!” said Iemitsu joyfully, opening his arms for a hug. “Come say hi to Papa!”

The 14-year-old frantically scrambled away.

“No way!” he cried in shock. “You’re back?!”

“Tsu-kun,” scolded Nana. “Is that any way to greet your father?”

“Aaah, it’s ok. Tuna-fish just hasn’t seen his papa in a long time. Besides, I have good news for you darling! My boss has got the company settled permanently, so that means we can be a family again! He’s even arranged for us to move near the work site, so we’re all going to Italy!”

Nana gasped. Her husband would be home again, and they would be moving to an exotic country too!

“But darling, what about Tsu-kun’s studies?” she said frowning. “He hasn’t been doing very well lately. We can’t afford to pull him away from school now.”

“I told my boss about that too,” Iemitsu said. “He’s kindly arranged for Tsuna to stay with his family at his place, and he’s even got a tutor for him!”

A dark figure dressed in a finely-tailored suit stepped out of the shadows and loomed over the shivering boy.

“Chaos, No Good-Tsuna,” the man said, glittering black eyes shining out from the depths of his fedora’s brim. “I’m Reborn. I’m here to make you the new leader of the next generation.”

And that, was merely the beginning of his pain.

“Happy birthday No Good-Tsuna,” said his tutor with a cheerful grin, his eyes lit with mischief.

‘Oh no,’ thought Tsuna helplessly. ‘He’s got that look on his face again!’

“For your 15th birthday,” Reborn continued mercilessly. “I have brought you a present that will make you into an even better person than you were last year.”

The door crashed open.

“Kora where’s the brat!” demanded a man in military fatigues with a huge rifle slung over his shoulder.

A woman, similarly dressed, whacked his head, “Stop being so loud, idiot!”

Reborn’s eyes gleamed.

“Meet Colonello and Lal Mirch,” he gestured dramatically at the couple. “They’ll be your fitness trainers starting from today.”

Tsuna could only let out a pathetic whimper.

It only got worse from there.

“So you’re 16 today huh, No Good-Tsuna.”

Tsuna gulped. He had a bad feeling that he knew where this was going.

“Looking forward to your surprise?” Reborn asked evilly.

The beleaguered teenager shook his head frantically. As if he had any hopes of changing his demon tutor’s mind.

“Well, too bad,” he said as the door crashed open in a parody of his 15th birthday.

“Voiiii!” screamed a long-haired man with a sword for a left hand.

“Hieee!” Tsuna shrieked in return, jerking backwards in his seat. The chair toppled over from the force, sending its occupant crashing to the floor with it.

A hand grabbed his shirt collar, and Tsuna found himself face-to-face with the scary man. A large shark-like grin filled his vision. The teen felt liquid splatter onto him as something crashed into the man’s head and shattered.

Tsuna slowly looked past the scary man’s shoulder and meet ruby eyes set in a heavily-scarred face which advertised “DANGER”.

The weight supported by Squalo’s arm increased considerably. The long-haired commander turned back to his prey, only to find an unconscious limp noodle hanging from his grip. Tsuna had fainted clean away.

And his torture culminated on one fine day.

“Tsunayoshi, I believe you have almost finished your training to take over as the next boss of Vongola Corporation,” said Timoteo as he and Tsuna sat on a park bench enjoying ice-cream.

The elderly man had been like the grandfather he had never had. He spoiled Tsuna dreadfully, always looking out for him and treating him to things whenever they met. There was also the fact that he was the current boss of VongCorp.

“Well, Reborn seems to think so,” was all Tsuna said, chasing the sticky trail of ice-cream that meandered down his arm with his tongue.

Timoteo nodded before adding, “There’s still the graduation task.”

Tsuna paused his chase. Graduation task? How come he’d never heard of such a thing till now?

Seeing the look on his successor’s face, the boss laughed.

“Well,” he started sheepishly, the emotion foreign on his elderly visage. “It’s something my mother had started when she was about to take over as boss, and I wanted to carry on the tradition with you.”

“You see, as the only female boss in the history of VongCorp, she faced a lot of backlash. People said she was not fierce enough or that she did not know to let loose and stuff, contradictory I know, but it was unfortunately something that came with the time.”

“So she decided to show them up and shut them down. She proceeded to wage a prank war against the brutal chief of the police, and get away with it without being identified. No one dared question her afterwards. She let me try my hand at it before I was about to take over. And I want you to have the same experience.”

Tsuna gaped. Pranking the Italian chief of police was not something he wanted to do. Especially since they had recently started a bloody campaign against the mafia. He did not want to get on their bad side, thank you very much.

As if reading his mind, Timoteo said, “It’s too dangerous to prank the Italian police at the moment. So I thought maybe you could prank the Namimori chief instead. I know it’s been a while since you went back to your hometown.”

Tsuna thought about it. He didn’t want to disappoint Grandpa, and he’d had enough experience around Reborn to pull off a decent prank or two. Yeah, he could do this. If it made Grandpa happy.

When Tsuna nodded in agreement, Timoteo clapped his hands. “Well then, you should probably get introduced to the judges scoring you! I think you already know them quite well.”

The bad feeling was back.

Tsuna despaired. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. When had anything in his life been easy?

Timoteo waved at someone behind him. Tsuna turned slowly. A group of familiar figures made their way to the two.

“Your judges are Reborn, Colonello, Lal Mirch, Xanxus, and Squalo.”

Reborn pushed the brim of his fedora up with his handgun. With a damning smirk, he said, “You’ll have to impress each and every one of us to pass No Good-Tsuna. And you only have 7 days, so make each one of them count.”

Which was why Tsuna was now trudging through the streets of Namimori in the dead of winter, bemoaning his fate. He glanced back longingly at the direction of his hotel where he had left Hayato. He’d rather be in the toasty warmth of the hotel too.

Sighing, he slapped his cheeks and muttered to himself, “Get it together Tsuna, the sooner you find out who you’re supposed to prank, the sooner you can get back to bed.”

It took him a few tries, but through a combination of his memories and begging for directions, he finally managed to stumble into the police station. As the blast of warm air hit his face, he released a grateful exhale. At least he was no longer in danger of losing his fingers or toes.

He took two steps towards the reception desk, and promptly stopped short. The policeman manning the desk had his hair styled in a familiar pompadour. Tsuna let out a disbelieving chuckle. That sure brought back memories. It looked like even after leaving the Disciplinary Committee, the former member still retained the hairstyle. Shaking his head, he approached the officer.

“Ah, excuse me sir?” Tsuna ventured.

The policeman looked up from his report. “Yes? How can I help you?”

“Erm, I’m quite new here, just arrived actually, and I was wondering who the chief of police is?”

“Oh,” the man blinked. “Well, the chief of police is Inspector Hibari Kyoya.”

Tsuna froze. He must have heard the officer wrong. Surely he must have.

“Hibari...Kyoya?” he managed to gasp out.

“Yes,” the officer replied. He narrowed his eyes at Tsuna. “Is something the matter?”

“Ah, nothing! Nothing!” Tsuna stammered, waving his arms frantically in front of him. “I just wanted to confirm the name that’s all!”

He backed away with shaky legs, and once he had made it out of the station, ran back to the hotel and slammed the room door shut. At that point, his legs gave out from under him. Sliding to the floor, Tsuna let out a hysterical laugh. Why had Grandpa thought that this would be safer? He’d rather take his chances with the Italian police!

For the resident chief of police, Superintendent Hibari Kyoya, was more famously known as the Demon of Namimori.

[your-high-lady]

Realisation

Summary: This story is about Feyre. She has a couple of small dreams she wants to achieve but turns out it isn't as easy as she imagined it would. Trust me, the story is better than the summary. Modern AU. Feysand.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3

Chapter 4: Injustice

Opening the lock on the main door, I crossed the threshold, into my—and Mor's—apartment. Mercifully, Mor had already retired to her bedroom. I went straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Slowly lifting my head, I looked at myself in the mirror and let my hands drop to my sides.

I sighed. My hair was dishevelled. Mor's dress hung, ripped, showing off my breasts(my bra had fallen into a pool of something that smelled distinctly like urine). I wasn't smiling. But of course, I wasn't. No one would smile after a night like this. I had often noticed a dot of light, sort of like a star, in my eyes. That light was winked out now as if it was connected with my emotions. As if darkness had overwhelmed the light.

I didn't know how I would explain this to Mor. I wanted to tell her what had happened, but I also didn't want to burden her. If I told her, I knew what she would do. First, she'd tell me "I told you so", then hug me tenderly, but quickly, before storming out of the house. Out in the wild, she'd first go to Tamlin, give him a mean scolding, a couple slaps on each cheek, ask him where Dagdan lived and then chop him up and feed the pieces to the pigs. Then she would go to Dagdan and repeat the whole process before coming back home and having a giant cry session with me.

I could imagine all of it. I knew she'd do all of that just because of how much she loves me. But I didn't want her to do any of it. I knew I should probably tell someone, if only so that Dagdan didn't rape someone else. But I just couldn't bring myself to think about it right now. I just wanted to soak myself in water, get rid of the feeling of his hands off my skin(though I didn't think that would ever happen), and go to sleep, hopefully forgetting the whole night. Peeling off all the bits of the dress, I filled the bathtub with scalding-hot water. After nearly an hour, the water had gone cold, so I put on some shorts and a t-shirt before getting into bed.

The memory of black hair, bony fingers and wet lips haunted my dreams the whole night.

—

The next morning I was woken up by a loud gasp. I opened my eyes to find Mor standing at the foot of my bed, her hands covering her mouth. I'd kicked off the duvet sometime in the middle of the night putting on show bruises, in the form of handprints, on my thighs and arms. I'd seen the first traces of them last night, in the mirror, and had expected them, just not to be so prominent. "I can explain, Mor." I hurried to tell her, getting up on to my knees. She just shook her head and said, "Was it good?"

I frowned. "What was good?"

"The sex, of course."

I just stared at her. I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I wanted to tell her all about yesterday, but then I also didn't. Partly because I didn't want to burden her, but also because I was... embarrassed. I just couldn't help thinking that this was all my fault. Had I just listened to Mor or paid more attention to the signs indicating Tamlin to be like this, none of it would've happened. I wouldn't have been out with him last night, he wouldn't have taken me to meet his friends, and I wouldn't have gotten... raped.

I'd been raped.

Raped.

Rapedrapedraped.

"Feyre. Feyre! What's wrong?" I looked up her, blinking the tears away that had grown in my eyes. I felt my lips quiver,—my whole body quiver—as the memory of Dagdan pushing himself into me, kissing my lips, biting my nipples, came back.

"Feyre! What happened?" Her voice was stern, pulling me out of my stupor.

"He raped me." My voice was so quiet, even I didn't quite hear what I said.

"What?" A verbal cut in the haze that had taken over my mind.

"He raped me." My voice sounded so foreign then, but at least it was louder this time.

Mor just said two words, "Tell me." And so I did. I told her about Tamlin taking me to the bar, him introducing me to his friends, Tamlin letting Dagdan take me away, knowing what he had in mind. Because I knew he did. I was sure that Tamlin was aware of what was going to happen that night when he let the Bastard—as Mor and I had taken to calling him—drag me away. All his friends knew and they still let it happen. The Bastard's sister let it happen to me.

And now, she was going to pay for it. They all were.

When I finished, Mor did indeed threaten to go and kill Tamlin and Dagdan, despite the red nose and eyes she had from crying, but I stopped her at the last minute.

"Killing them isn't going to help. But going to the police will." I told her calmly, though I had tears marking my own face from sobbing hysterically after I finished narrating last night's events. And so that is what we did.

Both of us agreed that going to the police was more important than going to school. So once we were both ready, we left for the police station.

There we had to wait for a minute or so before a policeman called us to his desk and asked us what's wrong. "Hi, my name is Officer Cameron Smith. How can I help you." My throat closed up. I'd been so confident and sure about this before, but the second he said those two sentences my brain started screaming at me: Don't do this! You're going to embarrass yourself! No one will believe you anyways. DON'T DO THIS. But that was just the evil side of me screaming. Now the good side of me wanted to speak: Do it, Feyre. You have to tell him what happened so that others don't get hurt. So that you don't get hurt. Tell him. Tell him what happened. Tell him.

The good side won. But I still had that lump in my throat. I nudged Mor, silently asking her to speak for me. She nodded at me, smiling encouragingly and said to the Officer in a small voice, "Last night, my friend here, Feyre, went out with her boyfriend. They had gone to the movies, but afterwards, he took her to a bar, called the Ale House. There he introduced her to some of his friends. But then one of them, Dagdan is his name, took the permission of Tamlin, her boyfriend, that asshole, sorry, and dragged her to a secluded alley behind the bar. As if she's an object, you can do anything with." That last bit was whispered angrily to herself. "She tried to stop him but he didn't listen. Out there he… raped her." Until now, he'd been writing stuff in his notebook, but at that, his head snapped up to look at me. There were sorrow and disappointment in his eyes. Unable to look him in the eye, partly because of the pity mingling in his eyes but also because of his… gender, I looked away. I didn't think I would be able to meet eyes with any male for quite a while. "Were there any witnesses of it actually happening?" His voice was hard, teeth gritted, but I knew the anger wasn't directed at me. I was glad he found this to be a serious matter. I shook my head. "Do you know Dagdan's last name or address." A shake of the head. He exhaled hard. "Did he hurt you?" I looked up. Nodded. A fire entered his eyes, causing a spark of hope to appear in me. Maybe this will work, maybe he'll be able to catch Dagdan and maybe even Tamlin. "Where?" I'd worn a turtle neck, specifically to hide the bruises on my neck and arms. I took that off now, putting my arms out and pushing my head back a bit. He was trembling with rage now. Though I didn't want to add to his fury, I added with a small voice, "There are bruises on my legs." A pause. One where I contemplated telling him about the pain in my groin, which had only increased since last right. "And it hurts there too," I whispered as softly as possible. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's eyes widen, then her mouth tightened with barely restrained fury. "Did you try to fight him off?" I opened my mouth, but he interrupted. "Physically." I slowly shook my head, fearing his reaction. I was right to be scared. Some of the fire extinguished in his eyes. "What were you wearing?"

"A dress." My voice got meeker.

"Describe the dress to me."

"Blue. Lace. Short… shoulderless." He sighed. I could see where this was going. Oh, how I wished I didn't. I saw him open his mouth, and close it again. He did this a couple more times before Mor finally lost it. "Speak!" She snapped at him, thumping her hands on the table as she shot to her feet. Officer Smith flinched before saying to me, "You have to understand. Women come in all the time saying that they've been raped. But what's really happened is that they've put themselves in this position. They purposely wore a revealing outfit and went out, just so that they get raped. Some women like that—having sex forced upon them. I'm sorry but we can't go to court with this. Not if you didn't physically try to hurt him. Not if all the evidence points towards you putting yourself in that situation. Your injuries aren't serious enough to even cause the judge to consider punishing Dagdan. Your bruises could've just appeared after a hard night of sex with your boyfriend. Often women ask their partners to go hard with them, just so that they're reminded of their partner every time they hurt. Some couples find it erotic, or purposely do it just to show a claim on each other in public. I'm really sorry, I really am, but I can't do anything. Not in your situation. Though I wish I could." I flinched. I wanted to scream at him that being sorry didn't solve my problems. It didn't make women safe out there. I didn't know what to do. Dagdan was going to stay out there in the open, possibly even rape another woman. Tamlin was going to get away with this.

After about thirty minutes of Mor trying, and failing, to convince Officer Smith to at least go and check the bar out or do a house search of Dagdan or Tamlin's, Officer Smith gave us some pamphlets and phone numbers that I could contact if I wanted help, mentally.

Thanking Officer Smith, Mor and I left, soon after that.

Noticing the turns Mor was taking, I asked her, "Where are you going? We have school."

"There is no way, I'm letting you go to school, when Tamlin the Tool, is still there. I'll talk to the teacher, make up some kind of excuse so that he lets you take the exams at home or after school." She said, breathing deep and fast with anger. "You are not taking another step inside that school, you hear me." Her voice was stern. I smiled faintly, thanking all the gods out there for giving me such a good friend. "Fine," I told her.

AN: Please review, I'd really appreciate it.