#where does one get the fucking audacity to even COMPREHEND DOING this

[kennahjune]

The fic thing you guys are so adamant about:

Steve knows— KNOWS— that Eddie Munson is not weak.

Eddie Munson threw him against a wall the moment he laid eyes on him— it was safe to say that Steve was aware of the strength his boyfriend possessed.

And the thing was; Steve found it hot.

He found it so fucking hot— Robin was so tired of hearing about it.

Steve didn’t think he’d be into it, figured he’d enjoy being the strong one in the relationship. But /man/ he loved watching Eddie haul around that band equipment like it was basically nothing.

So yes, Steve was into Eddie’s not-so-hidden strength. What of it?

He just hadn’t realized /how/ into it he was.

It was hot outside, like— blistering hot. Everyone was gathered at Steve’s house as per usual. All the kids and most of the adults and older teens were outside in the pool or on the patio. Steve himself was in the kitchen with Robin and Argyle, enjoying the AC and a fabulous conversation.

A conversation that was immediately ruined by the glass door flying open so fast Steve was scared it would’ve shattered.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie! Careful with my door, man!!”

Eddie had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Told Dustin and Max I’d get them drinks from the fridge.”

“What about the whole ass cooler me and Jonathan dragged out for them?”

“Dustin wants Fanta and Max wants apple juice. You know how vicious they are, baby.”

Steve groaned, shoving Robin’s shoulder and kicking lightly at Argyle’s leg when they had the audacity to laugh at him.

“Ungrateful little fuckers.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah they are.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Whatever. I think the apple juice is in the fridge downstairs.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie kissed him on the forehead on his way through.

“No problem!” Steve yelled after him, ignoring the snickers from Robin and the smooch-y noises from Argyle.

When Eddie came back upstairs with the apple juice to get Dustin’s Fanta, Argyle, Robin, and Steve don’t even notice. They’re much too absorbed in their new fabulous conversation.

“Yeah but that’s what I’m saying, Rob! If I were to shoot you just as you stabbed me it’d probably do more damage!”

“But /why/, Steve? Why?” Robin asked back.

Argyle answered for Steve. “Probably because he’d be shooting you point-blank. More internal damage that way.”

Steve snapped his finger at him. “Exactly! See, Robin? Argyle gets it just fine!!”

“That’s cause you guys are smoking the same shit!”

“Bull! Jonathan does to!”

“Your point is?”

Eddie chose not to intervene on that conversation.

But Steve was right in front of the fridge.

Eddie’s two brain cells made a plan.

Eddie set the apple juice container on the island, still going unnoticed by the other three in the kitchen with him. He moved swiftly to Steve and put his hands tightly on his waist.

Before Steve had a second to say anything or even comprehend the hands that were suddenly on him, Eddie was lifting him up and setting him on the counter by the fridge.

“Excuse me, sunshine.”

Eddie opened the fridge but kept one hand on Steve’s knee. With his head in the fridge looking for the Fanta can, Steve’s totally and utterly flustered state went abruptly unnoticed.

When Eddie closed the fridge, he leant in and stole a small kiss from Steve’s lips before leaving back out the patio doors with the drinks.

“I-“

“Shut it, Buckley.”

Steve went outside to drag Eddie back in. Later, if anybody were to have asked Argyle and Robin where either went, they both answered with shrugs and claims of “I don’t know”, despite watching the boyfriends run upstairs together.

[nothing0fnothing]

NEWSFLASH for abusive parents: NO Pussy is that good.

Exactly no one in the history of ever has had a happy, healthy, loving relationship with their mum and gone no contact with them for seven years, just because their partner asked them to.

OP knows this better than anyone, because she knew to tell her son not to get involved when she found out the girlfriend was no contact with her own toxic parents. She gives no other reason why she didn't want her "genius" son to meet the "very smart and nice" Law undergrad girl he was in love with, because that was the only one. She didn't want her son to connect with other adults who are healthily and happily no contact from their own abusive family members, because she didn't want him to see it was possible.

She really wants us to beleive that she is such a victim, because her son picked an "outsider to the family" over her. Her sons girlfriend is the person she's decided is going to take the blame, and hell will freeze over before she considers blamimg the relationship breakdown on literally anyone else. Note how she breezes past telling us about her sons "accusations" of her. She's stressing that he'd never brought the issues up before he met the girl when he was in college, but never actually denies them. Considering her son and his girlfriend described her as a "criminal", I'm gonna just assume that if it was trivial, she'd have told us what she's been accused of. He didn't choose his girlfriend over his mum at all. With all the pot stirring and projecting she's admitted to doing in this post alone, it seems to me he chose himself over her. With the way she's deflecting like it's her job and rents due, I don't blame him.

Here's a take that might be controversial: stalking... is bad. Even.. if you get someone else to do it for you.

"I had to use one of those search services" (What these psycho parents call private investigators, because it sounds more like they were searching for someone missing than that they paid someone to stalk their target.) as if her being out of pocket, paying for someone to seek out a person who clearly does not wish to be found, was super fucking inconvenient for her. I just want to scream "No babe, you didn't "have to" do anything. You chose to do that because you can't comprehend the fact that your now 30 year old son isn't your property." This dude is just young, free and living his best no contact life with his super cool, lawyer girlfriend. Literally nobody reasonable was concerned for his safety.

This is a woman who doesn't know how to apologise because she genuinely can't conceive of a scenario where she could be at fault. That snide comment "lord forbid I care about him" actually infuriates me. This woman has admitted to running her own son out of his hometown after attempting to ruin his relationship, using his father and sister as informants against him till he had to cut them off too, and paying a stranger to stalk him. This poor guy has had his life absolutely torn apart by this bitter hag of a mother. He had to orphan himself from his entire family when he was barely 20 years old to protect himself from this utter nutcase, and she has the fucking audacity to say "God forbid I..." as if she has experienced any consequences for any of her own truly unhinged behaviour.

I don't care if she's old, if I see this twat, it's on sight.

The "Poor me" angle she's trying to run at this with is pretty pathetic and really transparent. I'm not sure who beleives she's an innocent victim, but this "I text him every day and they bounce because I've been blocked for seven years" shtick is boring and over dramatic. Especially when even the fact that the girl has a law degree is enough to provoke some weird, barely related attempt at a smug remark. She's clearly not too sad to be salty. When she's not coming off whiney and sad she's just coming across as bitter and jealous. It's not a good look and it's clearly not worked for her up till now, but she's committed to the bit and she's not gonna turn it around.

Her son is happy and she's just so mad about it.

Womp womp.

[cosmicjoke]

no cause anon seriously has issues and needs to step back a little and think about their actions💀 because doing all of this and harassing so many people all over FICTION, PIXELS!!! is literally so embarrassing but also concerning like😭 anon, you call every levi stan or levi x reader/oc shipper delusional, but what are you? aren’t you also delusional? literally look at all the asks you sent and think to yourself if this is what a person that is not delusional acts like💀 just fucking enjoy your ship in peace for fuck’s sake, no one that you harassed hates eruri and if you took your time to actually read and comprehend what these people told you, you would see how stupid you are because you are literally attacking people that explicitly told you they LIKE eruri😭😭 being aware that a ship doesn’t exist in canon does not make these people homophobes? isayama had all the time in the world to confirm any levi ship, the manga ended in like what, 2021? he could’ve easily added an extra scene in the final episode too, like he did the levi one with the kids, where levi’s focus was only on erwin and erwin alone or them having a final last scene, but he did not bc that’s not what levi’s story is about😭

i am sorry that you and everyone else keep getting these asks but this anon really pisses me off💀 they need to live in the real world more and see actual homophobia, not shipping a fictional queer ship does not make you homophobic. and also, anon, you should check on your internalized misogyny a little bit because you hate levi self-shippers because… most of them are women? i don’t have any other explanation for your deep hatred for self-shipping💀

the audacity of this person is insane😭😭

They're living in a world of delusion. It truly is pathetic. That's all they have. To say we're all homophobes, because they have no actual arguments to support the notion that Levi is gay, or loves Erwin, or whatever. It's school yard tactics. A half-witted child could come up with something more creative. Like you said, everyone they're attacking actually LIKES eruri, reads eruri fanfic, draws eruri fan art, etc, etc... But it's not canon. Apparently acknowledging actual canon makes one a raging bigot.

But as you also point out, the real bigot is them. They hate women, apparently. Why else would it give them such a rage boner, every time anyone ships Levi with themselves? Why is that so awful? They accuse self-shippers of being delusional, but no self-shipper I've ever spoken with has ever proclaimed their fantasy to be canon, unlike them, who can't accept the reality of eruri not being an actual thing within the story, even as that reality punches them repeatedly in the face.

[santaclausdeadindian]

so... and feel free to correct me if I got this wrong:

First solution is to go and fuck over my mom who had the audacity to own two apartments after fourty-something years of work and selling grandmas house by forcing her to have expensive licences and/or having to get agreement from a fucking bank of all institutions, for reasons I cannot for the life of me comprehend.

The second is to put a rent ceiling on properties, once again fucking over the ones who own like one extra property, while not really bothering those who already have a hundred, though this might compel these to sell some or all of them. Which would result in a temporary lowering of house prices and ironically, the opposite in the l;ong term, because now those who can afford it to build houses as an investment will not do so, making both the rental and the purchase market less saturated, which then increases the prices.

If i get the third right, it is the government paying 20% or some other arbitrary percentage into the deal, which sounds great until you realise where the government gets that money and how easy this would be to exploit at every turn. Unless you combine it with the second one, with all its downfalls added.

the fourth would be to give better, bigger housing to those who own rental properties if they are willing to sell those... Which sounds to me you want the government to build said bigger and better properties and I assume for cheaper than the market, because it would not make a lick of sense otherwise, but it does in fact makes none, for the obvious reasons that no government ever going to be able to pull that off, let alone when you consider that said housings are going to be paid from the money the state takes from its constituents.

So you have so far four solutions that does nothing to make the housing market any better, in fact works in the opposite direction, but they do all empower the government even more...

Not a fan of any of this socialist economying.

How about my idea: flat out eliminate all and every taxes, dues and fees related to the production, trade and import of building materials and power tools related to architecture. That would make the government have less money to waste and building houses cheaper.

[sneezemonster15]

why do u think sasuke apologized to sakura at the end? it's not like she apologized to him after all that she's done... he shouldn't have

I couldn't agree more anon. He shouldn't have, Sakura didn't deserve an apology from him.

My sense is that he did it because of Naruto. Don't get me wrong. Naruto didn't force him to do it or anything. But after chapter 698, Sasuke came over to Naruto's side and committed to adapt to a new life where he pledged to assist Naruto to reach his objective of uniting the shinobi world, and he wouldn't make Naruto's life unnecessarily difficult.

It's not that black and white, it's a little more nuanced. Naruto always urged Sasuke to treat Sakura and Kakashi better, because Sasuke was so irreverent towards Kakashi and contemptuous towards Sakura.

After Sasuke learns about the truth of Uchiha massacre, he sees Kakashi's very evident hypocrisy and gives him a good dressing down in the kage arc. Which I really enjoyed btw. Sasuke just hits the pressure points, that's one of the things I like about him. He says very valid shit that others either dont see or are unwilling to see. Naruto is led by the light side, Sasuke is led by the dark side of their world, which is why they work well together, evidenced by their symbolism, the yin and yang, perfectly balanced and attuned to each other.

Anyway, Sasuke attempts to kill both Kakashi and Sakura in kage arc and it becomes very clear that he doesn't owe Kakashi or Sakura any consideration. Kakashi who conveniently uses Sasuke's clan's Sharingan to further his own interests or objectives and then has the audacity to lecture Sasuke about things, the enormity of which he doesn't even begin to comprehend and Sakura for the more obvious reasons, her egotism, narcissism and self absorption to the exclusion of everything else.

Sasuke doesn't give a fuck about team seven in Shippuden. But he tries to remain tactful as much as he can. In the war arc, where you see team seven gathered again, Kakashi tries to find about Sasuke's intentions and Sasuke meaningfully remains quiet. He doesn't want to be distracted from the battle, he who is so anal (no pun intended) about keeping an eye on the enemy, and he doesn't consider Kakashi or Sakura significant enough to satisfy their queries. And I like him a lot for that. :)

All he has to say about team seven's teamwork is a succinct and insouciant 'hmph'. Lol.

He really cannot give a fuck. And Naruto is trying to be the peacekeeper. So he chides Sasuke, like a mum, to behave. Lol. I find it cute.

Sasuke would grudgingly relent and answer Naruto but he still won't really address Kakashi or Sakura.

Naruto mum - Sasuke, did you say thank you to Obito and Sakura properly?

Sasuke - ......focus on the enemy Naruto (dobe!).

I mean c'mon, they are in the middle of a war and Naruto is trying to correct Sasuke's manners, lol. In a good humored way, of course, but it's very funny. Naruto was obviously very happy and relieved to see Sasuke was unharmed and brought back to the current dimension safely. Sasuke does tell Naruto point blank that for him, Naruto is the only priority because he has the seal and the rest of the players are pretty irrelevant. Naruto agrees but Naruto can't help his nature, ie, protecting people he cares for and urges Sasuke to understand since there was a time when Sasuke did the same for Naruto.

So at the end of vote 2, when Sasuke apologizes to Sakura, as compared to how other apologies went, like Obito to Naruto and Kakashi, or Itachi to Sasuke, or even Kushina to Naruto, so eloquent and emotional, Sasuke's apology is trademark tokenism, like seriously it has five words in total in it, lol. Sasuke's apology is not even specific, it's deliberately blithely vague, and immediately after his attention latches back onto Naruto.

And truth is, neither Sakura nor Kakashi were condemned in the narrative for their ways of thinking. Kakashi, with his well established faulty perception goes on to believe that everything has gone back to the way it was before, and Sakura, having not changed or learnt at all, acts like she deserved the apology so damn much, like it was due for so long and she is only getting it now. As if it really was Sasuke's fault and not hers. Lol. Some nerve.

But the point is, Kishi could not have made Sasuke ask for it, because harking back on it would have meant revisiting/rehashing the issue all over again, which would have given the impression that Sasuke wasn't over his bitterness and resentment, which would go against the climax where Sasuke just got his resolution. Ideally, this condemnation should have come from Naruto. Naruto should have held Sakura and Kakashi accountable for their third grade treatment of Sasuke. Which is one of the reasons why I hate the ending. Well, first of all, I don't think Sasuke should have been written to completely give over his ambition to adopt Naruto's but Kishi had to finally 'resolve' (I use the term with a pinch, nay, a fistful of salt) the problems of the current shinobi world, even if he had to do it forcefully while breaking storytelling rules, so as to move over to the upcoming plotline, Boruto ie, which had to do with aliens and shit as the shinobi world in it is sans shinobi problems, as Naruto has erased them. That and he couldn't have brought about any more discussions on issues that were related to democratic dissent or more nuanced ethical dwellings on the individual vs collective. It's not for SJ. Kishi did his best to imbue the narrative with it anyway, giving Sasuke the revolutionary, the role of anti hero, and painstakingly making his character narratively equal to Naruto's, under the aegis of SJ. But he could not have taken it any further. Sasuke's story itself was the allegory. But well, SJ celebrates Japanese sensibilities and so it would not have been possible. And Kishi had already fought quite a few battles for his manga. Revisiting certain things would have potentially opened a can of worms for him. Kishi got away with a lot to begin with. It was also important for Kishi to portray Sakura, as per her consistently written character as a self absorbed and self important wench who only cares about her own ego and needs and not Sasuke's, but wants Sasuke as her trophy anyway. It was necessary for them to be put together for the sake of Boruto (to sire Sarada), and with a person like Sakura, Sasuke could get away with not being emotionally attached at all, giving her meager and so obviously half hearted scraps and yet, she would rejoice in them. She is shallow like that. Heh. So this apology, and Sakura's reaction to it, is yet another indication that Sakura is so addicted to Sasuke that she would happily ignore and dismiss Sasuke's honest feelings for her as long as she finally gets to marry an unwilling and unloving Sasuke.

Anyway, apart from that, it obviously makes Naruto happy to see Sasuke adjusting to new circumstances and from how it looks, apologizing to Sakura doesn't make much of a difference to Sasuke because Naruto just confessed his love to him. Sasuke doesn't feel alone anymore, look how much lighter and relaxed he looks with Naruto, watching Naruto smiling and laughing, visibly relaxed. The rest of the people, including Sakura, don't matter half as much to him, which is proven by him flicking Sakura's forehead later, a certified Itachi move repurposed for her, signifying deliberate distancing and obfuscation/lies.

He also knows that Naruto tries to avoid conflict as much as he can and when he needs to confront, he tries to deal with things with as much empathy and genuine consideration he can garner. So Sasuke doesn't want to make it any more challenging for Naruto, who is leading the gargantuan task of bringing all the shinobi nations together. Sasuke's job is now to assist him in his objective and make it easier. Sasuke has already clearly been shown to hide information from Naruto so as not to cause him any worry, like he did when he made Sakura promise not to tell Naruto about the curse mark. Sasuke is wholeheartedly devoted to Naruto and he takes his position as Naruto's best friend, work partner, soulmate (implied), shadow hokage etc very seriously. So he would take on things himself and endure them, because he knows if Naruto knew, he will not sit quietly. He would go one step ahead and demand to share Sasuke's burden, he would not allow Sasuke to be alone or hurting, he would make it his life's mission to relieve Sasuke, just the way he did. That's just how they are.

Which is why the ending really hurts. Sigh.

[bluemoondust]

((I have seen a bit more of your character interactions. I shall enlist my own for future writing. @The absolutely fucking psychotic pokemon scientists, Colress, Faba, and Maxie. And yes, preferably a yandere interaction.))

“You don’t actually love me, do you? I’m just a toy to you at this point..”

Oh, that's great! :D *rubs hands* Ah yes, my favorites to be honest (what is it with me and men in lab coats/scientists/doctors???).

Colress

A sigh escapes his lips. Colress doesn't show much hint of anger on his face, just slight disappointment. He thought you were better than this; better to not assume this was all for such a reason as that. Though, it can't be helped... It does not seem like a farfetched accusation to make, given his passion to bring out the power of pokemon as well as science. He wasn't miffed by your statement as he turned to you with a soft smile.

"I can assure you that what you claim is not the case. Admittedly, in the beginning of our encounters, I was very fascinated in all the potential you can bring out as a trainer." He gently places a gloved hand on your shoulder, smile never leaving his face.

"But now I see that this fascination has grown into something much more. You may see it as me using you for my own gain, but I see it as admiration for your entire being." Colress studies your face for a moment before chuckling, "I'll one day get those false accusations out of you head, so you can finally see that all of this is because I adore you so much."

Maxie

Under the surface, Maxie is in a bit of shock to hear you say this, but on the outside he shows indifference. He cannot allow you to see that words had affected him after all, but they do stick with him as he ponders on how to respond. You seem to be genuine with your remark, so he guesses that this isn't a trick question...

"What makes you assume so? Have I not offered enough to crush such an accusation?" He may sound insulted by your words, because they really do. Maxie isn't deeply crossed where his tone is more harsh, but he can't let this go.

He makes you face him, ensuring he's at eye level with you with exact eye contact. His figure almost cages you as he allows his hands to be at both sides of the desk you're sitting in. "I can give you so many things your little mind couldn't comprehend. It is ensured when Team Magma's goal is complete. Even before then I made sure you were given the utmost care."

Maxie's voice doesn't waver as he keeps staring you down, taking in every reaction you show as he speaks. He doesn't wait for you to respond, as he knows what to do.

"Shall I educate you further? It seems you still have much to learn."

Faba

The absolute audacity you had to accuse him of such heinous behavior. Are you blind or not comprehending his affections for you? (No, he just sucks at expressing them.) No matter. Obviously he was smart in his decision to take you away since you're so ignorant. He'll need to put more work into you than he'd thought, but that's absolutely fine. Now he just needs to deal with this... Inconvenience.

"Now, where in the world did you hear that? It couldn't have been from myself since I never uttered such a tasteless statement. Or are you putting words in my mouth?" Faba glowers down at you. "Don't misunderstand my intentions, darling. I put in so much effort to get you here and this is what I get?"

A sigh escapes his lips, "You're lucky, you know. The title isn't for nothing after all, so it is apparent that your other options for a so called 'partner' would be lacking. I simply put in the effort to make the decision for you, because I value your ethics and you overall." His frown morphs into a smirk as he grazes a gloved finger against your cheek.

"Now, I would love to hear some appreciation come out of that mouth of yours. Go on. I'm waiting."

[pockydays]

unravel me

⤷ characters: tsukishima x gn!reader

⤷ synopsis: in which you notice tsukishima struggling to peel the tape off his fingers during study hall. what you didn’t notice, however, was how much he had the ability to find his way into every aspect of your life, until it was too late.

⤷ word count: 6.3k (longest fic to date woohoo!)

⤷ contains: fluff, slight angst, acquaintances to friends to lovers (?), mild language, my (insanely) wordy writing

⤷ a/n: i’m not even lying this took me weeks to write and it’s my baby :] most of the dialogue in this is probably hot shit but if you enjoyed please leave a like/reblog :3: mwah mwah ily all thank you for being patient with my slow ass <3 and thank you to my dear friend abby for beta reading the first chunk of this story, if you read this ily <3

You've always considered yourself as someone who wasn't especially generous. But you weren’t incredibly selfish, either. You were in some sort of grey area, too indifferent to care about what society says about people who aren't willing to go so far as to sell their souls to the devil for the common good. But you weren't heartless, either. You cared, usually out of mutual convenience. Isn't that what everyone does? Ninety-nine percent of the time, helping others (undeniably) involves genuinely good intentions, but they coexist with selfish motives as well. Then what about that one percent?

That one percent, in fact, came to you in the most inconspicuous of times: during mid-day study hall.

You found yourself going through the motions of your everyday routine: walking into the classroom, saying hi to your friend in the third row, putting your bag on the desk, pulling out your chair, sitting down, taking out your notebook and pencils, and waiting for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a (supposedly attractive, or at least according to whispers among your female classmates, which was bold of them to assume that he even liked girls in that way — you weren’t one to burst their bubbles) tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave.

And after that, if he responded with a slightly snarkier tone than usual, you knew he was having an especially bad day (more likely than not, it was because of the volleyball teammates he often complained about). But as for the real reason why, your guess was as good as anybody else's. He probably had piss in his Cheerios every morning and his trousers in a twist until the end of time for all you knew.

But today was slightly different than usual. For one, a full minute had already passed after you took out your pencils and yesterday’s chemistry notes, and there was still no sign of him. For some unknown reason, you couldn't stop the worry gnawing its way into your conscience. You rested your chin in one hand and drummed your fingers on the desk with the other, trying not to think about your classmate with a sharp tongue and a glare that could kill. Of course, trying to not think about something is a form of thinking about it, so that didn’t exactly work out.

The bell suddenly rang, jolting you out of your thoughts as well as your seat. Tsukishima Kei was now officially late, according to the school rules. Thankfully, your study hall advisor was lenient and understanding enough to not mark anybody late if they arrived within a reasonable time as to not tarnish their transcript, but you knew Tsukishima well enough to know that he wouldn’t care about a single unsavory comment that would only have the slightest potential to alarm admissions officers in those money-hungry institutions.

That was one thing you admired about your classmate. His ability to judge what things to put his effort into and selectively choose what he could get away with doing half-assed was unparalleled. As far as you could tell, volleyball was something he didn’t deem as worthy to put his all into. You weren’t usually wrong in such judgements about people, but then again, you’d only been right, let’s say, a total of three out of three times. You weren’t sure if it was considered a really good or really bad track record, so you’d always kept those sort of assumptions to yourself.

“Not going to say hi to me today? That’s awfully rude of you,” a voice said, out of the blue. You tense, wondering who had the audacity to call you rude.

“What?” you asked incredulously before you could realize where the voice came from. “Oh, it’s you,” you said, recognizing his inhumanly tall frame and the pair of white headphones around his neck. I should’ve guessed; of course only he’s brash enough to say something like that. 

You rested your chin in your hands again, the tension in your body visibly dissipating. You were glad that it was just Tsukishima and not some other person, because they would be a pain in the ass to deal with. Plus, he was just about the only person you allowed to speak without a filter; one, because it’s fun verbally sparring with him, and two, it makes his stunned silence after you counter with an especially witty phrase all the more satisfying.

This time, though, he sat down at the desk to your left without a word. Usually, he would never pass up the chance to have another round of firing tasteful insults at you. Today was indeed slightly different than usual. 

As he clicked the top of his mechanical pencil, you couldn’t help but notice a flash of white one his hands out of the corner of your eye. Did he always have that on his hands or was I just horribly unobservant before?

Leaning over to his seat at a dangerous angle, you asked, “Hey, what’s up with your fingers? You have leprosy or something?” in hopes of lightening his supposedly gloomy mood.

“Shut up,” he muttered irritably. “If I had leprosy, my fingers would’ve fallen off by now and I would’ve put one in your lunch as a keepsake,” he added. Shifting away from you in his chair, he tried as much as possible to make his (in your opinion, unconventionally lanky) body as far away as possible from your general vicinity.

“Okay, okay, geez! At least tell me, because now I’m curious and it’s all your fault.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bothering me?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Maaybee...?” you replied slowly, trying to find an answer when a simple “yes” or “no” didn’t suffice.

“If you’re not going to stop bothering me, then I don’t have a reason to tell you, so no,” he frowned, crossing his arms self-righteously.

“Alright then, keep your secrets, mister. I don’t care whether you tell me or not.” Which wasn’t completely the truth, since some tiny part of your conscience thought that wrestling the answer from him was for the better. “But just know that I’ll continue to be my annoying self, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you turned your attention back to your chemistry notes.

A few silent minutes passed before you leaned back over to his desk on the left.

“Hey mister, do you have some pencil lead? I think I ran out,” you whispered to Tsukishima.

He heaved what you thought was the biggest sigh in the universe before responding, “Point-five or point-seven?”

“Tsukishima, you wound me! I thought you knew that I write exclusively in point-five!” you exclaimed with a hand over your chest, feigning offense. 

He rolled his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him count out three pieces of lead. Three, that’s generous, you think to yourself as you suppress a small smile.

“Thanks, mister,” you whispered as you plucked the delicate sticks of graphite from his fingers. Taking a quick glance at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were wrapped in some sort of adhesive tape. Before Tsukishima could catch you looking for too long and make some snarky remark about how absolutely positively beautiful his hands were for you to be staring, you abruptly turn back to your notes and refill your (actually already lead-filled) pencil. If he wouldn’t answer your question, it wouldn’t hurt to take things into your own hands and figure it out for yourself, right? 

You looked back to the notebook in front of you, but with your curiousity still unsatiated, you couldn’t help the thoughts bouncing off the walls of your mind, competing for your undivided attention.

Ask him about it! a voice yelled.

Mind your own business, you creepy fuck! another (particularly foul-mouthed) one screamed.

At this point, you’d probably read the first line of your notebook about thirty times without comprehending a single thing, so you decided to give up and resort to banging your head lightly on your desk.

Apparently, 'lightly’ was an understatement, because a voice on your left hissed, “What’s your problem?!”

Oops.

“Nothing,” you replied softly with your head still on the desk.

Tsukishima sighed in exasperation. “Well, now I’m curious and it’s all your fault,” he scoffed, using your own words from earlier.

Now it was your turn to sigh. Stubborn person number one meets equally stubborn person number two: one of life’s most aggravating experiences. 

“C’mon, let me see your hands,” you demanded, your own hand outstretched. You’ll say ‘no’ no matter what I ask.

“No.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and turned away.

Point proven.

You had always considered yourself to be somewhat generous when circumstances permitted, yes. But being yourself around others was something you considered yourself to be quite good at, as well.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if people’s hearts had metaphorical layers of thread surrounding them, winding, twisting, wrapping, and sometimes tangling around and around the ugliest, scariest, or most precious parts of themselves. The people you met would either unravel a bit of your heart, even if just a little bit, or they would cause you to wind the threads of your heartstrings even more tightly. 

You had strings that were (sometimes laughably) effortless to unwind, but once someone got to the last layer of thread, they refused to unravel any further. In other words, you weren’t afraid to be ninety-nine percent yourself around everybody. But that one percent? You’d keep it safely tucked away behind the impenetrable fortress of that last previous layer of thread — for both the good of yourself and everyone else.

Sometimes, you also wondered what the threads wrapping around Tsukishima’s heart was like. Not because you particularly had more of an interest in him than your other classmates, but because he was a sort of enigma to you. You had countless questions: How hard is it to unravel those threads? and What lies beyond those tightly wound strings? and What did he have to hide that is so unsightly? et cetera, et cetera. He was a puzzle you wanted to piece together, although you weren’t sure what the finished product would look like, or if there even was a finished product. 

You had a lot more questions about Tsukishima than you did answers.

You must’ve been deep in thought for a while, because it took an utterance of some rather coarse language to bring you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Tsukishima muttered, fiddling with the tape covering his fingers. It was evident, after about ten seconds of observing him, that he was getting nowhere. At this point, you were presented with two choices: to help him or to leave him to wallow in his own frustration and suffer. Admittedly, the latter option seemed rather entertaining, but for some unknown reason, you opted for the former.

“Here, let me help,” you said, hand extending in front of you as an offer. “You obviously aren’t getting anywhere, so let me put you out of your misery.”

“You better get it all off then,” he grumbled, outstretching his arm, letting it limply dangle in front of your face. Huh, I didn’t expect him to actually agree so easily.

You gently took his hand, and starting with his pinky finger, you worked your nails under the end of the tape. As the tape unraveled further, you couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were. They were long and slender in ways that yours weren’t — the magnum opus of all things relating to hands. If God played favorites, he certainly did when it came to Tsukishima’s hands. Geez, knock it off, you cringed inwardly. You’re literally worshipping his hands at this point.

“So, uh, why are your fingers covered in tape?” You hoped to break the awkward silence between the two of you, and asking him questions that he probably wouldn’t answer (especially to plebeians like you) seemed like the last resort.

“Volleyball practice,” he responded simply. 

Oh. I didn’t expect an actual response.

“This morning? You guys sometimes have practice early in the day, right?”

“Last evening,” he corrected.

“You had these on your hands for that long?! I see you’re finally getting serious about volleyball, my dude, but you have to be able to ask other people for help." People other than me, but if I’m your last resort, then I’d be happily obliged to help.

Tsukishima scowled, which, thankfully, you missed, busy undoing the tape around his fingers. At least you didn’t criticize him for being hypocritical regarding his attitude about volleyball, which was relieving. 

There was a substantial (and slightly awkward) pause as you peeled the white adhesive strip of cloth off of his fingers, working slowly enough so that it wouldn’t hurt, or so you hoped.

“There we go!” you exclaimed proudly as the last of the tape fell away from his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally, not unlike a newly hatched butterfly would flap its fresh new pair of wings. 

“Thanks,” he responded curtly. 

As if on cue, the bell rang, marking the end of study hall. It was time for chemistry class.

Over the course of your next class, your mind with occupied with thoughts that weren’t even remotely related to chemistry. You almost had a close call with the teacher when he called on you to answer a question, but thankfully, your friend sitting next to you whispered the answer in your ear — though not before giving you a quizzical look. You were too embarrassed to say that you were actually thinking about why the hell you actually agreed to help the guy sitting the next seat over whom you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

I did not just touch his hands no no no — I did not just hold hands with Tsukishima Kei — It wasn’t really of my own volition and he looked like he really needed help and I was feeling generous and it conveniently benefited the both of us, right? He got to finally be free from his misery and I— I got to touch his hands—

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you buried your face in your hands, and perhaps some of the threads around your heart unraveled themselves that day.

Thus, after that day, your everyday routine changed in more ways than one. You would into the classroom, say hi to your friend in the third row, put your bag on the desk, pull out your chair, sit down, take out your notebook and pencils, and wait for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave. If he still had tape around his fingers (which was quite often), you’d ask him if he needed help; he’d say yes, and you would spend the next however many minutes undoing the adhesive strips of cloth.

Today was no different. You carefully eased the tape away from Tsukishima’s fingers. When you got to the base of his ring finger, he hissed in pain. The skin there was red and raw as if it had been recently injured. Not as if, it had been.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wincing as if you were the one in pain. “How’d you get hurt?” This time, you were genuinely concerned for him, which was rare for anyone, especially him.

“The one time I put some more effort into volleyball as if it were actually worth something, it comes back to bite me,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

You looked up from his hand. 

“What?”

“I said, somehow I always give the things that I swear off from my life a second chance, it never, ever, works out,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can’t get better out of sheer will? You’re bound to slip and fall on your butt at least a few times. Or a lot,” you responded. 

“Nobody told me that falling would hurt this much, though,” he replied. He looked off to the side, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“It’ll get better, trust me. You just have to get back off your ass and stand up.”

You left the conversation at that and continued undoing the tape on his other hand. 

I want to kiss his hands like I’m greeting the crown prince of a foreign kingdom, you thought, lips twitching, fighting back a small smile.

Oh my God, stop it! you mentally slapped yourself. You had to restrain yourself from actually slapping yourself in the face. Meanwhile, the uniform you wore began to feel a bit too warm — it was quite convenient that Tsukishima couldn’t see your face at that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Tsukishima's thoughts weren’t nearly as calm as his cool and collected exterior. 

After all, what was he supposed to do when he could feel your breath fanning on his hands (could he tell you were desperately trying to keep them steady?) and your meticulous fingers on his?

I must be going crazy, he thought.

He imagines holding your hand, and not because of that dumb finger tape-

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the idea from his memory. No, I’m definitely going crazy.

“So, do you like him or something?” your best friend asked out of the blue during a sleepover, the both of you laying in the darkness on your sleeping bags.

“Who?” you asked, though you had an idea of who she was referring to. 

“Tsukishima. That guy who sits to your left during study hall.”

“No, why would I like him? I mean, how can you even tell if you like someone or not. It’s not like there’s a radar that detects crushes and blasts ‘OH MY GOD YOU’RE HOPELESSLY IN LOVE’ on speaker,“ you replied dryly.

“Do you feel different around him?” she asked.

“As in the cliché symptoms of love that you read in romance novels? Like you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest and you have to clutch your shirt like it’s gonna pop out onto the floor if you don’t? If that’s what you’re asking, then no.”

“I mean that could be a sign, but you don’t have to feel like that to like someone. I mean in the way that you’re willing to show them who you really are, including all the ugly parts of yourself that you wouldn’t show to other people.”

Of course not! you thought to yourself. There’s no way I would fall in love with someone that I argue with for fun, right? 

“Why do you always complain about those tryhards on your volleyball team? You can always quit, you know,” you asked after Tsukishima was in a particularly bad mood about something, presumably about volleyball (as it usually was). As per your daily schedule, you were unraveling his finger tape during study hall once again.

“Don’t they know that the more effort they put into something, the more it’ll hurt when they find out everything they believe in is a lie?” he asked.

You paused. Oh, it was an a genuine question, you realized. And he wants a genuine answer.

“Such as?” you asked, your mouth acting quicker than your mind. I probably shouldn’t have pried deeper into something that’s obviously his business.

He went ahead and responded anyway, but not before taking a deep breath.

“When I was little,” he began, “I looked up to my older brother a lot. I really respected him, you know? He was my idol; he was perfect and infallible in every way. He played volleyball in junior high, so it was only natural that I played the same sport he did. And he continued playing throughout high school, or so I thought.”

“Or so you thought?” you repeated.

“He lied to me.” With those four words, you heard years and years of resentment and bitterness through his shaking voice, barely above a whisper. 

“To be honest, I should’ve expected it,” he continued, laughing humorlessly at himself. “I was too enamored to realize that when he was trying to stop me from watching his games, he was also trying to stop me from finding out that he was a liar. He wasn’t even a starting player. Instead he was on the bench, cheering for the team he was supposedly on.”

As those words left his mouth, you realized how little you understood Tsukishima. No, it was honestly ridiculous how you could consider yourself his friend when all you did was unwind strips of tape from his fingers for a mere few minutes every day.

Despite that, you held his hands a little tighter.

“If you don’t mind, I had a similar experience in junior high as well. This girl that I was really close friends with apparently had a huge circle of friends outside of school, and she would tell me and my other friends about all the rich guy friends she had and how well they treated her and shit. But I found out years later that they were probably all made up so that she could have something to tell us. So that she could keep us in her friend group. I realized they were fake.”

You let go of his hands, your arms limp at the memory.

“And how are you two right now?” Tsukishima asked. “Your relationship, I mean.”

“Surprisingly, we’re still on good terms,” you said. “She still doesn’t know I found out. But despite her pretending to be someone else in front of us for all those years, I still don’t think she’s a bad person. I’m actually kinda glad she got the attention she wanted. But man, the past still hurts like a bitch,” you chuckled in an attempt to forget.

“I see,” he replied. With that, you picked up his hand once again, continuing to undo the tape around the rest of his fingers.

That day, both you and the once unyielding, stone-faced Tsukishima left the classroom knowing just a bit more about each other.

You didn’t know that day that Tsukishima had his first real conversation with his brother after ‘the incident’.

He didn’t know you gave that friend from junior high a call for the first time in two years.

And the threads around your hearts unwound themselves just a bit more.

“No, I don’t,” you finally responded after a long pause. “I don’t like him in that way. He’s just someone I can rant to about the shit that happened in junior high—”

“Say that again, but slower,” your friend interrupted.

“He’s someone that I can rant to about all the... stuff that happened in the past,” you repeated. Did she not hear me the first time?

“Exactly, that’s my point,” she responded. “You never talk about those things with anybody, and even when I bring it up, you just brush over it.”

The weight of what your friend was implying took far too long for your brain to register, but when it did—

“Oh shit, I think I might actually like Tsukishima.”

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart bit by bit through the conversations you had with him while unraveling his finger tape; it was where you opened your heart and he opened his. 

“You and Tsukishima aren’t a thing, right?” a voice asked you out of the blue in the hallway after the dismissal bell rang.

“What?” you asked, turning your head to see who it was. You recognized her, although you struggled to put a name to her face. “You sit in the back of our study hall classroom, right? And to answer your question, no, we are not a thing.” 

Such questions were becoming all the more frequent these days, and you had the same two-letter answer to all of them (although you secretly hoped you could answer yes, but how Tsukishima felt about you was a whole different story).

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure you two aren’t dating? Like you could just be going out with him and not know it,” she answered.

You held back a snort that almost escaped your lips. 

“No, I’m sure we aren’t,” you said with a sigh, trying to keep your tone remotely cordial. “Besides, I’m not sure if he even considers me as a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure he considers you as more than that,” she replied with a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. “Trust me.”

You barely knew her, so you couldn’t say how credible her statement was (though you desperately wanted it to be true). You glanced at the clock, itching to end the conversation.

“Alright, then. I’ll take your word for it. I have to get home now though, seeya.”

“Seeya around then,” she replied with a wave. Why does that sound strangely ominous?

“Bye,” you answered, too mentally drained from the conversations that began with the same question: ”Oh my God are you dating Tsukishima?” (Answer: no, no you weren’t). Nonetheless, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that you haven’t seen the last of her just yet.

She appeared the very next day, in the same spot at the hallway after school ended. That’s... strange.

You decided to ignore how off-putting it was. Maybe it was her wide smile — so much so that you could see her dimples and her blinding white teeth. Or maybe it was the way she spoke, like she was trying to get something from you. Whatever it was, you didn’t have what she wanted.

“If you’re asking whether Tsukishima and I became a thing within the past twenty-four hours, then no,” you said in exasperation. She was now walking by your side with an odd spring in her step, a bit too close for comfort despite the empty hallway.

“No, that wasn’t my question,” she said with a chuckle. “You keep denying that Tsukishima doesn’t like you, but I think he does.”

You had to scoff at that.

“In what way?” 

“In that way,” she responded with a knowing glance. “You’re already in the talking stage with him! He never talks to anyone other than that one friend he has, so I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

“And that totally means that he’s in love with me.”

“Please, don’t lie to yourself. You’ve gotten farther than anybody has, even if they tried for their entire life. How did you do it?”

But I didn’t do anything, you thought. 

“I just talked to him about stuff,” you replied slowly. The look she gave you said go on, so you did. 

“I just talked to him about myself and deep stuff and shi— and such. I really didn’t do much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. Why don’t you try and ask his friend Yamaguchi?”

“No, I think I’m good,” she said with an unreadable tone. “Well I gotta go, so see you tomorrow!”

“....Bye,” you replied halfheartedly. You tried to shake the unsettling feeling from your chest, but you couldn’t help thinking, What if he does like me back?

The volleyball made a resounding smack against the court behind the middle blocker instead of his hands. Tsukishima clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Another ball that I couldn’t block?

“Hey, use your smartass head for once and pay attention!” Kageyama yelled across the court.

Tsukishima ignored his taunts. 

“Oh, the smart mouth finally doesn’t have any words left to say? Finally some peace and quiet,” Kageyama muttered. 

Practice continued for far too long, but the whistle finally blew, signaling everyone that it was time to go home. Finally, Tsukishima thought. I don’t have to listen to the King spew nonsense anymore.

He and Yamaguchi gathered their belongings and made their way out of the gym.

“Something’s on your mind,” Yamaguchi commented as they walked back home side by side.

“No there isn’t,” Tsukishima replied a bit too quickly to sound convincing.

“Right.”

A long silence ensued, the two of them kicking pebbles on the road and twiddling their thumbs in the cool night air. The buzz of the electric street lamps felt much too loud, feeding off the tension in the air. 

“How can you tell that you like someone?” Tsukishima was the first to break the silence, but it was the question, not the fact that he was the one that spoke first, that was more jarring.

“So I was right,” Yamaguchi responded after a slight pause. He fought back a small smile and added, “I thought something bad happened that I didn’t know about, but it turns out that you’re just in love.”

The taller one of the two sighed. 

“I’m asking you to tell me if I... like someone in that way, not for you to tell me that I am, Tadashi.”

“I can’t make a judgement if you don’t tell me anything. Tell me.” Yamaguchi lightly punched his friends arm.

“There’s this... classmate of mine. They asked if I needed help peeling off my finger tape during study hall and I said yes.”

“I figured as such.”

“What?” 

“You always come into first period with your fingers still wrapped but it’s gone by the time practice starts. I always wondered why but I never got around to asking you. But I’m even more surprised at the fact that you actually agreed.”

“Yeah, I surprise even myself sometimes,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Especially the fact that it would become something that they would ask pretty much every day, and I would say yes every time. I just don’t know whether I have feelings for them in that way or not.”

“Well, do you look forward to talking to them everyday?” Yamaguchi asked.

Yes.

“Do you want them to know you for who you really are instead of what people think you are?”

Yes.

“Does your mind wander to them all the time?”

Yes.

“If you flipped a coin to decide whether you do like them or not, would your gut tell you the answer before you looked at whether it landed on head or tails?” 

Yes, Tsukishima answered silently, knowing he’d finally have to accept the truth: he was in love and there was nothing he could do about it.

One thing you didn’t know about having a crush on someone was that you suddenly realize how often they appear in your life. You knew where you’d cross paths with him in the hallway before and after school, where his locker was, and worst of all, every goddamn love song reminded you of him. 

Even all the little mannerisms people had circled back to him: your friend would push her glasses up her nose the same way he did. Your mother would furrow her eyebrows like him when he was thinking about a particularly annoying math problem. Your English teacher would spin a pen between his fingers, just like him (although you had to admit that you preferred watching the latter do so; his hands were prettier). 

Maybe this was just some twisted manifestation of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, but your brain couldn’t recall enough content from psychology class to be sure. Either way, you were going insane.

That is, until one rather unremarkable day; there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything came and went according to schedule — the same time spent with Tsukishima during study hall and the same boring class lectures. But as soon as the dismissal bell rang, you were surprised to find that the girl who would pester you in the hallway asking about you and Tsukishima’s relationship status (you still didn’t know her name) as if anything had changed (which it had not, of course). 

Apparently, her presence had already become routine enough for you to notice her absence. 

It was a welcome change, though; it wasn’t like you wanted her to be around. No, you absolutely didn’t need her nosy questions. So you just shrugged it off and made your way to the school’s exit like you normally did.

But a very familiar voice from a nearby classroom made your ears perk up — coincidentally, from your study hall classroom. You peered into the room from the doorway.

“Um, I think I like you, Tsukishima! I’ve felt this way for a long time and I just had to tell you!” The same boisterous girl who only had one topic of conversation with you (Tsukishima, of course) now had her hands coyly clasped behind her back, in all likelihood holding something meant for him.

As soon as you heard those words leave her mouth, the world around you seemingly ground to a halt — and so did you. As if your body stopped functioning for a moment, your heart stopped and your brain took much too long to process what she said. 

What did it matter anyway? You didn’t take your chance and look where that got you.

You turned on your heel and half-walked half-ran outside the school.

The second thing you didn’t realize about having a crush on someone, you realized as you laid in the darkness in the middle of the night, is that it physically hurts. Someone might as well have put your heart in a jar of acid and screwed the lid shut — no matter how hard you tried, it still hurt. And hurt it did.

You felt a stray tear slide down your cheek, and you angrily punched your pillow. You didn’t even have the emotional capacity to be angry at the girl who confessed to him. It was too obvious that she liked him, from the way she would stand a bit straighter when you mentioned Tsukishima’s name to the way she seemed a bit too satisfied when you said that you weren’t dating him. Were you too much of an idiot to notice? 

But most importantly, you were angry at yourself. Why were you crying over someone who you knew wouldn’t like you in the way that you liked him? Maybe you were too much of an idiot to not think things through; you’d just assumed that your feelings for him were so intense that he had to like you back. In retrospect, that was a stupid idea. But then again, in retrospect, you were the idiot all along.

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart. It was in the same classroom where you got your heart broken for the first time.

The most annoying thing about the universe was that it was ruthlessly, unrelentingly cruel. The earth kept spinning even if your world stopped mid-orbit, too traumatized by loss to continue. 

This was the brutal irony that you came to realize in the classroom where it all began and ended, supposedly. The very next morning, you had to pick your sorry self out of bed after however many hours of sleep you were able to get and go to school. And now half the school day had gone by — it was study hall time once again. 

“Are you gonna help me get this off my fingers or not?” The voice that you wanted so desperately to get out of your mind after months of replaying in your head plagued you once again. Indeed, the universe was cruel.

“No,” you replied meekly with your head on the desk. “It’s been long enough for you to know how to do it yourself by now.”

“I insist.”

You hesitated. A second passed, then two.

“Fine.”

Ever since you realized your feelings for the other boy with a cold stare and an even icier glare, you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of yourself, and today was no different.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. Could he? (It wasn’t that obvious, was it?)

You could feel yourself getting warmer by the second. Could he tell? (You were too busy looking at his hands; so let’s hope not.)

You knew that your heart was tugging you in his direction, urging you to do something. Was his doing the same? (You scoffed at yourself — you went over this last night and came to the conclusion that no, there was no way he could ever like you back.)

But maybe you wanted to be wrong this time. Being proven wrong wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, but you would rather take the pessimistic point of view in this circumstance so you wouldn’t get hurt. And yet you still got your heart broken. 

That didn’t stop your erratic heartbeat and staggered breaths whenever your fingers brushed over his, though. While slowly unwinding the tape down his fingers, you wondered how many threads he unwound from your heart for it to hurt so much when it broke. Too many for your emotions to be left undamaged by something like this, you reckoned. Not that it was his fault, of course. It was your own for becoming so naïve and vulnerable.

But, the universe was full of irony. While you had your head down, too embarrassed and dejected to say anything else, Tsukishima was thanking whatever gods existed that you couldn’t see how flustered he was. 

Turns out, even people with hearts of stone can fall prey to the symptoms of falling in love. With a million thoughts collectively running through your minds, he was the first to blurt out:

“I think I’m in love.”

You let go of his hands, the loose end of the tape still dangling. There were too many questions raised at the utterance of a single sentence: With whom? When? How? Why?

Before you could organize your thoughts and form a coherent sentence — as if he could read your mind and peer into your soul — Tsukishima answered:

“With you.”

And as soon as the last two words fell from his lips, the last of the threads surrounding your worn, beaten hearts unraveled themselves, and fell away.

[joannasteez]

Hey lovely! Could I request a little something for Jax? It could be a headcanon or imagine, it’s up to you. But could it be about the reader is Angel and Ez’s little sister, and she’s in love with Jax?

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 {𝐇.𝐂}

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Jax Teller x Reyes!Reader

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: The emotional direction wasn’t specified so I kind of just went with what came to me, by the way, This is my very first request!!, so hope whoever sent it in enjoys ❤️

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Angst. Fluff. I also suck at simplifying things so this is another long head canon, apologies if that sort of thing bothers you all lol.

Credits to the gif maker @tragertrap

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @nutterbu @withmyteeth

If you’d like to be tagged for Mayans MC fics ONLY let me know!!

☠︎

It amazed Felipe at times, scared him even, at how similar you looked to your mother Marisol. The spitting image of her; a younger, but slightly taller, reincarnation. But you were your fathers child through and through. The toothless yet warm endearing smile, the sharp intuitiveness, placid nature, and just through the black center of your eyes, enough experience to cover a few lifetimes. It’s what the Reyes men feared the most, that uncanny familial trait that forces you to bury such soul crushing pain, to turn cold to things that warrant warmth. Your father has it, your brothers as well, Ezekiel more than Angel, and so do you.

You had it now, that calm, collected demeanor, as the guys brought in a bleeding Jax Teller through the entry doors of the lodge. He was barely conscious, eyes dim, limbs heavy, and blood staining all along his color drained skin and the aged leather of his kutte. If you were anyone else you’d be alarmed, startled by the amount of blood and frantic men, but you were you, having seen too many things that resembled such a scene to let even a shudder pass through you.

“Get the kit, we need you to sew him up but he’s lost a lot of blood.”, Bishop says briskly, filled with worry, and your feet move faster than your mind can comprehend, snatching the kit laying near by and pacing to the bedroom where they have Jax. His head elevated by pillows, Both Ezekiel and Angel hot on your tail waiting for you to give them directions.

There’s a poorly wrapped cloth that lays against the wound, and just as you peel it back you pressurize the wound with a gauze. “I need gloves”, you say.

Angel’s a bit taken back, the President of the Sons original charter is on the precipice of death and you’re talking about gloves. “We don’t have time for that”.

“Just get the fucking gloves Angel”, you clip. Tone harsher than it’s meant to be, but he takes no offense and moves quick for the gloves before coming back.

You’re cleaning Jax’s skin once there on, wiping away all the blood that pours from him. A needle in your hand, eyes steady. “This is gonna hurt”.

Jax is sweating, teeth clenched at the piercing sting of the needle. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Did he really just ask you that? “I guess we’ll just have to find out”, you deadpan.

“Y/N”, Ezekiel warns.

The situation isn’t funny, a man’s life is on the line but still, you want to laugh at the audacity. “What?! He’s got a bullet in his abdomen and he’s worried about if I know what I’m doing”.

There’s silence now, a heaviness that settles to suffocate the whole lodge it seems. A dread of existential proportions that looms like a phantom in the waning rusted gold of the setting sun. The stillness is calming as you work, slipping the fine needle through his paling skin with a frightening ease that forces a worried look to Ezekiel’s face, Angel’s as well. Mayhem has consumed them all, men who laugh in the face of death everyday are doubling over, overwrought with fear, and here you are, unaware of the dark silhouette that threatens to form over Jax’s body, inching over the walls, creeping slowly as they tease whispers of death through the wispy blow of the wind.

Your brothers leave after while, called out by Bishop and Chibs who are talking over possible scenarios for revenge.

“Can you stay after this......... please?” It’s barely a whisper, and it’s drawled, but you hear the need in his voice.

It compels you to say “Okay”.

When you’re finished you wipe at Jax’s skin again, fingers trembling just the slightest as your mind catches up with your body, or is it the other way around? You’re not sure, but the two have surely had a crashing reunion and now you’re exhausted at such a fast build and fall of adrenaline. You’re thinking now, at the side of the bed, of deeply buried memories because the blood reminds you, it always does. All you see is Marisol, and your vision is blurred, eyes glistening with warm tears that comfort your skin, thumb shaking as you push the wetness away. She’s so lovely in your mind, a bright silhouette framing her and she’s so beautiful, so light and gentle. The aura of her, just from a thought, it makes her presence palpable again, till you remember she isn’t really there. Because it’s just a memory. A timeless mirage of sorts that ungrounds you from reality.

You breath, looking to the clock to find that it’s been three hours already. Three hours of you looking through your memories for your mother, Marisol. It’s purposeful, must be, why the need to think of her is so strong in this moment of all moments.

It’s infuriating, that you weren’t there, you couldn’t save her, but you were here now and you saved Jax. That counts for something right? It had to.

He’s awake again, and you’re not sure how but he is. Must be the force of his will that has his eyes opening, fighting against a sleep that feels too much like forever. “You alright?”

His eyes are a near lifeless blue but still they’ve got shine to them. “I should be asking you that, you’re the one that got shot”.

“Why the tears darlin’ ?”

You’re not up for a personal deep dive, never have been really. “Don’t know what you’re talking about”.

He smiled, noticing your reserved demeanor. “They we’re probably tears for me, I saw how worried you were earlier”, he jokes sarcastically.

You roll your eyes. “Why’d you want me to stay?”

“Didn’t want to die alone, if I did”.

You shake your head, fully convinced of otherwise. “You weren’t gonna die”.

He gives a weak smile. “I know that now since we’re talking, unless this is a dream, or some purgatory shit then I’m screwed”.

You chuckle at his dazed rambling and it makes his weak smile a little stronger as it spreads. Amusement looks good on you. Pretty. “There it is”, he says. Talking about your little smile.

There’s a stretch of silence, and it’s contemplative for Jax. Flashes of the incident from moments prior running through his mind. He’d just met Galindo for the first time, shook his hand, exchanging pleasantries. They’d talked business and at the end all parties seemed happy with the results, but it made him wary. How well everything was going, something somewhere was bound to go wrong, and yeah maybe he was a bit too pessimistic in the moment but it proved him right. The Sons and The Mayans were riding back to the lodge when the Lobos attacked and he can’t remember much after that, just feeling more than alive and then a little ways from death. His father calling him and then his mother, and he almost answered. He’s glad he didn’t.

“I’m sure you know as much as I do, you see a lot of shit when you live this life. Seen more guys than I can count take a bullet, and more times than none I’ve been the one to give it to them”. He’s quiet, contemplative. On the rise of something that resembles an epiphany. “After a while they just become faceless y’know, nameless, just kill #52 on someone’s list. That’s what it felt like, I was about to be on somebody’s fucking list and that shit is scary”. He turns to you then. “And then the next thing I know I’m in here, with your pretty ass standing over me saving my life. I thought I was in heaven”.

You roll your eyes, it’s delirium from the blood loss, making him say things he doesn’t mean. “Even with a bullet wound, flattery gets you no where Teller”.

“Tell me what does”.

———————————————————

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 & 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

He’s warm under your skin, heartbeat a sweet song that pulses a quiet steady rhythm into your ears. It’s a comforting thing, soothing and mellow like the fiery cool blend of a setting summer sun.

You feel his hand, cool rings caressing the nape of your neck. “You awake baby?”

You move against him, to let him know that you are and a hand pulls gentle at your chin. “Let me see you darlin’ ”

Your body pulls up atop of his, bare chest moving along his and toward him so that you’re face to face, legs tangled together. His hands reach to caress your face, touch a gentle flame that burns to light your skin. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in the morning for weeks, the club stealing him away every moment it could, screwing around with the days you’d set aside to see each other. He grins, loving the dim set of your sleepy eyes. “Hi”.

“Hi”, you say. Tone rasped, sleepy.

There’s a glimmer in his stare, a dazzling sparkle that lives just over the grayish blue of his irises. You don’t identify it, what the warm glint means, for fear of being wrong, but somewhere inside, you know it’s love. It looks to pure to be anything else. He’s grinning again, all nostalgic like. “I was thinking just now, about that day when you patched me up. Best day of my life”.

You scoff. “You almost died”.

“But I got to meet you”.

You’re shaking your head at how lovey dovey he’s being. “Always with the flattery”.

“I’m serious, I fuckin’ love you. More than I ever thought I could”. He rolls you both over easy, his lean build on top surrounding you, fingers still caressing idly against your face and yours drawing along his tattooed back. He kisses you, patient and deep, as if to savor this moment. Staining his memory with the soft pliant flesh of your lips, the airy moan that resonates from your chest, and the lulling skim your nails give the gold of his hair. Forget the Irish and their guns, the Cartel and their H and everything that isn’t this. If he could, he’d stay with you here. Just like this. Forever.

He’s at your neck now, teasing you with tongue wet kisses and stingless nips, but something comes to mind. A wary thought that’s bugged you for a while. “When are we gonna tell my father about us. I want you to meet him”.

He looks to you, confused. “You don’t wanna tell your brothers first?”

“Ezekiel already knows. Found out the first time we met back up to see each other”. You’d thought you’d been sneaky enough that night, leaving after everyone fell asleep, but Ezekiel was always a couple steps ahead it seemed, following you out of Santo Padre a few hours to a bar where you’d met up with Jax. The conversation with him was easier than you expected, but still he was wary, and how couldn’t he be. You were his baby sister. He’d worry till his last breath. “... and I told Angel a couple of weeks ago. Couldn’t really get out of explaining how I had your rings laying around”. You couldn’t remember much of what that admission to him entailed, besides the look of disbelief he had, and then the screaming, and then eventually the forced calm of his expression when he realized that there was nothing he could do about it. It was still unbelievable to him, you weren’t that little girl anymore, no matter how much he wanted you to be.

You were grown, beyond capable of making your own decisions. But boy did it scare you having to tell Felipe.

“Whenever you want to tell him I’m ready”.

His sureness makes you smile, wide and bright, laying a kiss to his rosy lips. “I love you too Jackson”.

[jean-kayak]

Anon Request: Okay but the thicc black gf hc’s got me like 🥵

Can I request a pt. 2 with Atsumu, Daichi, Kyotani, and Kuroo saying “Let’s get married” after getting blessed with the Wap? 🥺

Characters: timeskip!Miya Atsumu, Daichi Sawamura, Kyoutani Kentaro, Kuroo Tetsurou

A/N: Lmao, I did not expect those to do so well lmao, so here you go

Part one is here

🏐Coming straight out the gate with hickies

🏐This man loves to cover you in marks, I mean, there's so much of you, how could he not?

🏐He spends a huge portion of his time biting and sucking at your skin, darkening the marks that are starting to lighten or putting more marks on an empty part of your skin

🏐He loves the feeling of your thighs squeezing his head when he goes down on you, and he does this a lot

🏐He also can't get over how soaked you get when he goes down on you, and he definitely feels like he might drown, but if that's how he goes out 🤷🏽‍♀️

🏐If he comes home after a game and you're just in his jersey, he'll fuck you wherever you are, this could be the living room, kitchen, bathroom, it does not matter

🏐He's a thigh and ass man so expect him to constantly give them a little slap and they're random too especially if they're exposed

🏐The only place you're allowed to sit is his lap, no exceptions

🏐Expect him to always have his hands on you no matter what you do, he'll rub all over your body, sometimes not even knowing he's doing it

🏐He promises that he already was falling in love with you after the first time you gave him head

🏐You just wanted to help him relieve some stress after a hard loss. And girl did you

🏐He's never cum so fast in his life, and he's pretty sure he blacked out in the middle of it

🏐The first thing he remembers is how amazing your mouth felt around him and the last thing he remembers is his orgasm literally feeling like he was hit by a mac truck

🏐The first time y'all fucked he thought he was being sent to another world

🏐He let you take the reins, letting you sink down on him, but he was so overwhelmed by how tight and wet you are that it didn't last long

🏐So, it isn't long until he's flipping you over so fast that you're almost dizzy from the movement, and he's gripping your thighs as he pounds into you like a mad man

🏐The only thing he can really focus on is how your slick is soaking him and the bed and on the fact he's about to cum embarrassingly fast

🏐He tries to holds back, but it's he swears it's impossible, and he cums so hard that he literally falls on top of you

🏐He's a little ashamed that he finished so fast, and this man has the audacity to act sheepish as he lifts his head up with a chuckle

🏐"So, how ya feel about getting married?"

🏅Always makes you sit in his lap after a long day at work, loves rubbing all over your curves

🏅And if he gets really relaxed, he gets really handsy 😏

🏅Having the comfortable weight on top of you always makes him feel relaxed, like everything that was weighing him down just lifts away

🏅So, you'll just be sitting there absentmindedly watching TV or scrolling on your phone, and he'll suddenly move you so that you're straddling him

🏅One hand'll be rubbing your hip softly while the other works its way into your shorts

🏅The lazy, tired look in his eyes goes dark because he still can't get over how wet you get in such a short time

🏅He instantly gets hard at the sight of his hand and his wrist shiny with your slick when you cum, his dick straining painfully against his pants

🏅And you can still see a hint of tension and stress in his shoulders, so you make it your job to get rid of it

🏅He's more than happy to help you get his pants and briefs down his legs, his dick slapping against his stomach

🏅And literally, all you do is swirl your tongue around the head, and he's already melting

🏅He literally hasn't been able to comprehend how amazing your head game is lmaooo

🏅Like it literally takes nothing, and he's already cumming down your throat

🏅His body is literally sunk into the couch like you sucked the life out of him

🏅And he still can't even get over you when he has sex with you

🏅He doesn't even know where to start lmao

🏅It literally takes a small amount of foreplay and you're already soaked, nearly no resistance when he slides into you

🏅And he almost cums from that alone

🏅He actually has to wait for a few before he moves, wanting to make sure that it's as good for you as it is for him

🏅He doesn't even try to fight the noises that come out of him when he finally does move and he can't help but be vocal at how warm and wet you are around him

🏅He cums after a few thrusts into your soaking cunt, his body going limp also

🏅"Yeah, I'm marrying you."

😠The first time he met you, he definitely was stuck in time for a little bit

😠When you guys start dating, he's petty and rubs it everyone's faces (mainly Iwaizumi lmfao)

😠And he couldn't help but stare at you, his mind distracted his whole game

😠Koganegawa finally noticed that he was staring at you so he introduced the two of you

😠He tried to tone down his angry persona that he gives off, and he was surprised to find that it didn't really scare you off

😠His favorite part about you is everything because there's so much of you, but if he had to pick, it would be your ass

😠You can practically feel his eyes boring into you when you walk around

😠He loves to lay on your ass, it's the first thing he does when he gets out of the shower after his games. He's actually fallen asleep multiple times 💀

😠When he's angry after a tough game, he'll take it out on you by eating you out like you're the last meal on Earth

😠He always groans loudly whenever he sees how ridiculously soaked you get no matter how many times he goes down on you

😠He also can't help how loud he is whenever you go down on him

😠It literally takes like a few bops of your head, sinking him further into your mouth and he already feels his orgasm approaching

😠His hands instantly grip your hair, fucking your throat

😠And you're surprised when it seems like he's pulling you off of him like a second later, his body tensing as he cums

😠He's a little embarrassed that he came so fast, but it's literally the best head he's ever had, and he tells you that as you have to tell him that there's nothing wrong with that lol

😠But then he had sex with you, and that's when he thought you would kill him

😠He was already in awe at how you seem to be soaking wet in no time, but when he slid into you, it felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs

😠He can't help but ram into you, not wanting to be away from the euphoria of your pussy for long, and he can't help but look down to see how you suck him back in every time

😠And he feels his climax coming faster than when you sucked him off, and he usually doesn't moan, but he feels like he can't do anything else but

😠He feels lightheaded when he cums, and he finishes so fast that he feels his face heat up even more as he hides it

😠He'll become so shy lol. "Wanna get married?"

🧪He had some event that he was supposed to go to for work that he did not want to go to, but he had to

🧪He's pretty bored, deciding that in the next ten minutes he's going to get out of there, but then his eyes land on you

🧪He's pretty sure his eyes are bugging out of his head, and he's already making his way over to you almost immediately

🧪He's more than ecstatic when you seem to feel the same way, feeling a lot better about coming to this stupid thing when he leaves with your number

🧪He's trying to be a smooth talker, but he finds it nearly hopeless as his eyes roam shamelessly over your figure while wondering why he's never heard of you before

🧪After you start dating, he's always coming home from a stressful day at work and flopping on top of you, burying his face in your boobs

🧪"Tetsu, can you breathe?" He only shrugs, keeping his face down. "Doesn't matter."

🧪He'll lay in between your thighs all the time, sometimes you'll wake up and he'll be between them either watching TV or on his phone

🧪He was already smitten with you and how you looked, but the first time you gave him head, he really was about to buy you anything you wanted for the rest of your life

🧪You had barely done anything but it seemed like you were doing so much at the same time, having so many things to focus on

🧪He didn't know whether to focus on your tongue swirling around him or how deep you took him, but all he knows is that he's cumming instantly

🧪You actually have to check on him because he's not really moving, claiming that you killed him 💀

🧪Another thing he has trouble figuring out to focus on is when he goes down on you

🧪He loves when your plush thighs squeeze his head, warming his ears, but he also loves how much slick you're producing, coating the entire lower half of his face

🧪Sometimes you don't know if he goes down on you for his pleasure or yours because sometimes he's louder than you are

🧪He also loves when your taste literally floods his tongue, and he could literally stay in between your legs for hours

🧪But he really thought you might kill him when you finally sleep together

🧪He already thought you felt amazing around his tongue, but when he very easily enters you, he lets out the loudest moan

🧪He can already feel his orgasm coming at how wet you are and how your walls are pulsing around him

🧪He cums ridiculously fast, and if you don't cum he will definitely make it up to you because of how good you made him feel

🧪"So, I'm gonna need your ring size for when I propose to you."

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 4

Four - Casablanca

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“ You dressed up! “

God damnit. He should’ve known. He really should’ve. Sam stands by his side, shit-eating grin splitting his face in two. He should’ve just worn a plain sweater and no one would’ve commented on it.

But then would she look at him with that joyful sparkle in her eyes and that gorgeous smile? Maybe the little dressing up that he did do, and all the teasing comments from Sam, are worth it if means she’ll look at him like that.

“I didn’t dress up.” Doesn’t mean he has to admit it. No now, not ever.

“ Uh, your jeans are cuffed. You’ve never done that!” (Y/N) points out to which Sam chimes in with a loud “that’s what I said!” words dripping with amusement.

“ It’s just my jeans, it’s not a big deal.”

“ And you quiffed your hair!”

Bucky glances towards Sam who stands beside him with the biggest smile any person has ever displayed in all the times humans have walked this earth. His joy at Bucky’s obvious discomfort knowing no boundaries and, if it weren’t at his own expense, Bucky would even find Sam’s amusement quite contagious.

“ You totally did! He totally did! I didn’t even notice. Hi,” he says and shakes (Y/N)’s hand “ I’m Sam.”

“ So nice to meet you, Sam. And you dressed up too! As a sexy Ghostbuster!”

Bucky can basically feel Sam’s ego inflate at those words and he knows, for a fact, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“ That’s right! I am a sexy Ghostbuster. Not a regular one. That’s exactly what I was going for, thank you. Man, I love her already.” Sam says, directed at both, (Y/N) but mostly at Bucky.

“ You look lovely too, by the way,” Sam points out and for the first time since they arrived, Bucky gives himself a moment to take her in entirely. Not just the little things, the twinkle in her eyes, the warm radiance of her smile. Her. All of her.

The blue and white checkered pinafore dress she’s wearing reaches down to her knees, her legs are covered by white knee-high socks and at her feet, a pair of ruby red heels sparkle as the light reflects against them.

She looks beautiful but what really makes Bucky’s heart skip just a tiny fraction of a beat is the fact that he knows who she’s supposed to be and, whether she did it purposefully or not doesn’t matter, he feels included for the first time in so long.

“ You’re Dorothy.” his lips produce words that his brain didn’t sign off on. They just slip out. They hold so much weight that even if he’d acted fast enough, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to hold them back. They’re so seemingly insignificant but they hold a meaning that Bucky isn’t sure anyone will ever fully comprehend. Steve would’ve but Steve is — not here.

He hopes (Y/N) understands even a small fraction of what it means to him. And when she smiles, he thinks she might.

“ I am. Do you like it?”

“ You look beautiful. “ And she does. She really does.

Sam is grinning away like he’s just heard the best news and Bucky isn’t sure if he prefers this to his outright laughter at his discomfort or not. This smirk seems like some inside joke Bucky doesn’t get. Like Sam knows something he doesn’t.

“ Can I get you guys something to drink? Beers? “

“ That would be great “ Sam replies.

“ Grumpy? “

“ Sure.”

He can’t get drunk, that’s one of the little things the Serum changed about him. It’s not like he’s here to get drunk anyway but to feel the enthusiastic buzz that alcohol can wash through your system, would be nice. He hardly remembers what that felt like.

He’s gonna drink some beer either way though. It gives him the feeling of fitting in, of belonging with the crowd. Even if he knows that’s one big lie. Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to keep your heart from breaking.

Kim isn’t a friend. Not really. She’s a friend of a friend who somehow always tags along whenever (Y/N)’s friend group gets together. She’s never actually invited but she’s always there anyway. Tonight is no exception.

She’s dressed in some kind of last-minute DIY deer costume, one of those that have been popular a few years back on Youtube, and the way she smirks at (Y/N) as she enters the kitchen already makes the metaphorical alarm bells go off in (Y/N)’s head.

“ So, I didn’t know you know celebrities. “

“ What are you talking about, Kim? “

“ Oh, you know! “ Kim announces and slides up next to (Y/N), casually leaning against the kitchen counter. “ Do you think he can do some cool tricks with his metal arm? “

“ Who are you talking about? “

Obviously (Y/N) is well aware of who Kim is talking about. There’s only so many people with metal arms and only one of them finds himself at this very party. Still, she doesn’t give Kim the satisfaction of reacting to her ridiculous comment. Maybe, (Y/N) naively hopes, repeating her question will make Kim realize just how rude and offensive her words really are.

“The winter soldier! Who else. That’s him, isn’t it? “

“ No.”

“ You sure? I’m pretty certain that’s him.”

“ His name is Bucky!” (Y/N) clarifies, fixing Kim with a stare that conveys just how serious this is to her. “ And he is not some kind of circus freak or entertainer or something. He is my friend. “

Kim shrugs her shoulders so casually that it sends shivers of red hot rage through (Y/N)’s body. The audacity of this woman. “ Okay sure but he is the Winter Soldier, right? I don’t know why you’re acting so sensitive right now. Chill, girl.”

“ Fuck you, Kim. You are so disrespectful towards my friend. He’s so sweet and genuine and wonderful and he deserves to be seen for all that he is. He is not here for you to stare at like a caged animal and he sure as hell ain’t here to be reminded of his painful past. If you can’t treat him like a normal person, please leave. “

There’s a look on Kim’s face that (Y/N) hasn’t seen on her before. One of utter disbelief. One that lets her know that this was the last thing Kim was expecting. And for a little moment, a huge wave of triumphant enthusiasm crashes over her.

“ Whatever.” is all Kim replies once the shock has settled. With a pout on her lips, she shuffles out of the kitchen and back into the crowd. (Y/N) can’t tell for sure if she’s leaving but there’s no doubt in her mind that at least she won’t be harassing Bucky anytime soon.

A bitter taste settles on (Y/N) tongue, as she thinks about Kim’s words again. About the sick and twisted thoughts that reduce Bucky to little more than a human animatronic. It’s disgusting and so so sad and she just hopes Bucky hasn’t heard her say those things.

As she steps out of the kitchen and rounds the corner though, her hopes are squashed. There’s the usual pain on his face, the one that’s perpetually etched into his features as Bucky leans against the wall. But mixed in between, there’s something else. A confusing mess of emotions she can’t quite place. She knows though. He’s heard every last word.

“ Robin came over, started talking to Sam about some band I don’t know. Thought I’d come see if you need some help. “

“ Bucky, I — “

“ It’s fine.” He interrupts her. (Y/N) doesn’t think it’s really fine. Sometimes people just get so used to saying they feel fine, they actually start believing it. Only fine is not something you want to feel forever, is it? Fine shouldn’t be a permanent state. Fine should be temporary. A path to good. To great. To happy.

“ You sure? “

“ Yeah. I uh — I appreciate what you said.”

“ Oh sure. And I meant it. You’re my friend and you deserve all the good things life has to offer.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees with that sentiment. No, in fact, he’s sure that he doesn’t agree. While he is free of the pain that bound him to Hydra, he will never be entirely free of the guilt his past has put on him. One, he thinks, makes him undeserving of so many things. Like friends. Like happiness. Like love.

And yet it’s nice to know that other people see in him what he may never see in himself.

“ Now let’s go rescue Sam before Robin ropes him into some kind of wedding preparations.”

She says, hands Bucky a bottle, and then grabs his free hand to pull him towards the other side of the room where Robin, dressed as Jessica Rabbit, gestures around wildly as she talks to Sam.

At first, (Y/N) doesn’t even realize it but then she notices that the hand holding hers feels different. It’s not as soft to the touch as a hand usually is. The glove is warm and smooth under her skin but she wishes she could touch the metal. It’s not some kind of weird, misplaced fetishization or some sensationalism. It’s the fact that the arm is a part of Bucky as much as his eyes or his smile or his perpetual grumpiness. And she wants to know every part of him for they make him who he is, and who he is is wonderful.

3 hours.

It’s been 3 hours since they arrived at the party. 3 hours of music he doesn’t get from artists he doesn’t know. 3 hours of staying painfully sober while everyone around him gets exponentially more drunk. 3 hours of pretending not to notice the looks he’s getting.

3 hours and then it got too much. He’s well aware that this isn’t his time. By all means, he shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Stuck in a body that doesn’t match his actual age. Forever reminded of the fact that he’s not meant to be here. Usually, he tries to ignore that. Tries to learn about new things, tries to understand.

This party puts a mirror right in front of his face though. Makes it painfully obvious that this is not where he belongs.

What a party pooper he is. He’d hate himself. If his old self could see him now, standing alone on a balcony because he didn’t like the music inside. His old self would think of him as a coward. His old self is probably right.

“ Grumpy, what are you doing out here, all by yourself?”

For a second the music from the inside spills through the doors and into the serene night, only to be cut off a second later when (Y/N) steps onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

“ Are you not having fun? “

“ It’s not that. It’s just —”

Just what? Bucky has no idea how to put it into words. It’s moments like this one where having Steve around would be so helpful. He’d understand and he’d know what to say. Steve always knew what to say. Steve just didn’t know when to shut up.

“ You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever.” (Y/N) says and bumps him with her shoulder as she leans against him looking out at the New York skyline.

“ I appreciate it.”

“ I was hoping you’d like my costume,” (Y/N) confesses after a moment. “ I feel like I tell you so much about all these movies you missed out on and I don’t know, maybe it’s silly, but I wanted you to feel in the know for once. Does that make sense? “

Bucky bites his lip for everything he wants to say is not something you tell someone you’ve only just befriended a few weeks ago. Never has he felt the need to spill his heart, with all his sorrows and fears and dreams, to anyone. Not until tonight. But it’s too much to burden her with. He can hardly carry the weight himself. To put it on her would be an awfully selfish thing to do.

So he just nods his head and smiles and he says “thank you” like it doesn’t mean anything when really it means the world.

“ Okay well, since I can’t bring you to the party — “ (Y/N) says and fumbles her phone from her dress pocket “ — I’ll just have to bring the party to you.”

For a moment she just types away on the screen before a familiar tune sounds from the speakers of her phone. A familiar tune, to Bucky. One he remembers dancing to when he was a whole other man.

Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Cocktail fills the air and Bucky’s lips unwillingly lift into a smile.

“ If I remember correctly,” (Y/N) says and reaches out her hand to him “ you owe me a dance.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, but grabs a hold of her hand anyway “That’s not how it works. You can’t just say someone owes you something simply because you want it.”

She’s so close now. He can see the lights reflecting in her eyes, can feel her chest lift with every breath she takes.

Here’s the thing about loneliness. After a while, you get used to it. It becomes a part of your life, of yourself, like breathing and sleep. You don’t even realize that you’re missing something. Until one day you’re chest to chest with a beautiful girl who thinks you’re wonderful and worthy of her friendship. And it’s then that you realize how lonely you were and how much it hurts and how much you’ve been missing the touch of another.

“ I’ve always wanted to dance through the night. Ever since I’ve first seen Moulin Rouge in the cinema.” (Y/N) says and they start to slowly but surely sway to the music. It’s tentative steps at first, shy and unsure. Barely there moves but there after all.

Sometimes it’s enough for things to be small. The big moments, the important ones don’t need to be big at all. Some of the most important ones don’t demand a lot of space and yet they take up all the space in your heart.

“ Do you remember your first time seeing a movie at the cinema? “ she asks, looking up at him with her starlight eyes.

It’s not a memory he can recall. It’s one of those that have been lost in the shuffle. Like a sweater you love that’s been lost in the laundry or a picture frame gone missing during a move.

“ I don’t. I do remember my last trip to the cinema though.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

This memory is so vivid, it could’ve happened yesterday. He remembers the old dusty velvet seats. He remembers the propaganda spot shown before the movie, the one that put a feeling in his gut as if he’d just swallowed a sack of bricks, now knowing what was to happen but expecting it. He remembers Ruth Dillinger and her gorgeous blond hair and the way it smelled like soap and flowers. And he remembers the movie.

“ Casablanca. Saw it on a date with a girl.”

“ Aw, you took her on a movie date? Lucky girl. “

“ I don’t know if I’d go that far. I wasn’t half as respectable of a guy back then. Was more interested in sneaking a kiss in the dark than taking her to see a good movie. “

“ Did you do the whole, yawning-arm-around-the-shoulder thing?”

“ Obviously.”

“ Oh, you were just a regular casanova, Mr. Barnes? “

“ For sure. “

New York feels alive with the power of possibility. Of a night being more than a night. Of small moments being big and big moments being so tiny and intimate and small. New York feels alive with emotions. Ones Bucky doesn't understand and couldn’t understand. But either way, he feels happier in that tiny insignificant moment than he had in a long time.

“ I’ve never seen Casablanca.”

At that confession, Bucky pushes away from her a little so he can properly look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“ What? It’s a classic. I have good reasons for not having seen most of your movie recommendations, what’s your excuse? “

She smiles bashfully and shrugs her shoulders “ I really don’t know. I just never got around to it. I feel like it’s such an important movie, it asks for a special occasion. Like seeing it at some fancy cinema or in concert or something. You know? “

Bucky only chuckles before pulling her close for another soft sway around the balcony.

Only the serenity doesn’t last very long as the aggressive drumming of some EDM song penetrates the quiet and Sam steps out onto the balcony.

“ Hi guys, uh — am I interrupting something ?”

“ No, no. That’s alright” (Y/N) exclaims, sounding a little flustered as she pulls away from Bucky and presses pause on her phone, plunging them all in silence.

“ I’m gonna get going in a moment. Need to catch an early flight tomorrow morning. “

“ Aw, so soon? Well okay but it was so nice to meet you Sam. You’re welcome at any future party or just drop in at the diner whenever you’re around.” (Y/N) says and pulls him into a hug.

“ I will don’t worry. Told you, I like you already.”

They share another quick hug before (Y/N) excuses herself to get Sam’s jacket from another room, leaving Sam and Bucky alone on the balcony.

“ Do not say a word!” Bucky orders as he notices yet another grin forming on Sam’s face.

“ I didn’t say anything.”

“ But you want to. I can see it.”

“ What would I possibly say, Buck? That you’ve got it bad? You know that yourself. “

“ It’s not like that.”

“ Okay, if you say so. “ Sam complies and lets another silence fall over them.

That’s until he speaks up yet again “ You dance. Man, I can’t believe it. Hey, can you waltz?”

“ Shut up! “

The party is slowly but surely winding down. A lot of people have left by now.

Some are asleep on the couch. On the floor. Against the wall.

A few are still lingering around, talking in low voices. Slurred words, tired eyes, light hearts.

Bucky tries not to step on anyone as he maneuvers his way around the apartment, trying to find the room where (Y/N) put all the jackets. It’s time for him to go, no matter how much he wants to hold onto the moment. He’s tired and the party is as good as over. And anyway, he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a while.

“ Psst, Grumpy“

(Y/N) peeks out from behind a door, beckoning him closer. As he steps into the room he’s embraced by a warm amber glow coming from a string of fairy lights that frame one wall.

On her bed, (Y/N) sits and leans against the headboard, balancing a laptop on her legs. The wall behind her is covered in photographs. Some of her, some of people he doesn’t know. There are pictures taken at concerts, theme parks, the beach. She’s smiling in most of them. Happy. Memories of a lifetime forever caught on film.

This, Bucky realizes then, is something he wants. Not right now but eventually. To make memories. Ones that last. Ones that don’t get taken away from him. And someone to make those memories with him.

“ Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” Bucky asks as she pats the blanket and he sits down on the bed next to her.

“ I’ve been looking for this movie and I finally found a decent copy we can watch.”

“ Now? “

“ Yes now. It’s supposed to be a really good one. I think you’ll like it. “

Bucky’s tired. He honestly just wants to go home and try to find at least a few hours of sleep. But she does it again, that thing where she smiles and his heart does the weird fluttery thing. And he can’t say no to that. Why would he ever want to say no to that?

So he scoots backward to rest against the headboard as well and his eyes take in the swirly white font on the screen spelling out Casablanca over the black and white image of a map of Africa.

His smile won’t be suppressed anymore. It takes over his face like it belongs right there.

"Thought you were waiting for a special occasion?"

“ I was and I found it. Now, what’s the romantic lesson I can learn from this one? “ (Y/N) asks as her head comes to rest on his right shoulder.

Bucky considers it for a moment, tries to recall exactly what happens. Some details are fuzzy, some lost altogether. But he remembers the core of it all. The love shared between two people.

“ It is about sacrificing the thing you want most in life to make sure the people you love are safe and happy. It’s about putting the one you love above yourself and breaking your own heart in order to keep theirs from breaking. Love is selfless, never selfish. And love is worth it. I think that’s what it’s about. “

“ That’s a lovely sentiment. But so sad too.”

Bucky only nods in agreement and as the title credits roll he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to really figure out love. To fall for someone and love them so much he’d give up everything to see them happy. Even himself.

Though they call it the city that never sleeps, New York seems to grow tired. It grows calm and quiet and maybe for a second it falls into a slumber in the same way that both Bucky and (Y/N) fall asleep, cuddled up on her bed, while Ingrid Bergman flies away on a plane and Humphry Bogard walks into the black of night.

Bucky hasn’t slept in a bed in months in fear of nightmares and terrors lurking in the dark corner of his mind.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. In fact that night he dreams. Of slow dancing on a balcony with only the stars bearing witness to the moment. He dreams of red slippers and fairy lights and black and white movies.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. Only sweet dreams.

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[pastorpresent]

Sam was really starting to despise bars.

It's like as soon as they entered one Dean would ditch him to chat up some hot blonde, leaving Sam alone to hunch over his beer and sit miserably as he watched Dean give all his attention to some bitch in a mini skirt.

He knew him and Dean weren't an exclusive thing. Hell, they were hardly even a thing at all. They hooked up here and there but Sam was starting to believe Dean only used him for convenience. After a long, gruelling hunt why would he waste energy trying to flirt his way into a girls bed, when he knows Sam will melt into him immediately?

It made Sam feel painfully pathetic for even feeling remotely jealous.

Tonight it was worse. Tonight it had been 2 whole weeks since Dean had even looked at him with lust in his eyes, nevermind fucked him.

He was losing interest and it hurt more than it should. It only hurt worse when they ended up in yet another bar, with Dean leaving him after a record fast time of 2 minutes to go sit with some long legged brunette a few tables over.

Sam sat in his seat, alone at the table picking at the label on his beer whilst trying his hardest not to fucking cry.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you another?" Sam's head lifted up to see a guy smiling down at him.

He looked a little older than Dean, but he wasn't unattractive whatsoever. He was built with plenty of muscle, and his face seemed kind.

Normally Sam would've declined, but his eyes flickered over to Dean where he had his arm around the girl and he found himself accepting.

A minute later the stranger was taking the seat opposite him, sliding over a beer and taking a swig of his own.

"So, does my angel have a name?" The man grinned, and Sam felt his cheeks burning up.

It felt like forever since Dean made him blush.

"Uh S-Sam. And you?" He was admittedly a little out of his depth. He had never flirted much in his life, especially not with strangers at bars, but the guy didn't seem put off by his stuttering. In fact, his smile just got a little bigger as if he found it endearing somehow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sam, my name's Adam. Any reason why someone so beautiful is sat alone in a bar on a Friday night? You're wasted in this place, Sammy." The familiar nickname almost sent a shiver through Sam, and he took a drink of his beer to hide it.

"Let's just say my date ditched me." It wasn't a total lie, Sam thought as he looked over to where Dean was saying something hilarious, if the way the girl threw her head back with laughter was any indication.

Adam moved his chair a little closer, and Sam felt a hand move slowly over his thigh.

"Well whoever your date is? I think they're certifiably insane." He grinned and Sam found himself laughing and blushing more at the guys upfront flattery.

Him and Adam talked for 30 minutes, and honestly Sam really liked the guy. He was sweet and funny, and even if Sam doubted he would end up going home with the guy, he was enjoying the attention regardless.

Adam squeezed his knee, sent him a small smile.

"Can I kiss you then, Sammy?" Sam's heart was going like a jack hammer in his chest, and he found his eyes travelling uncertainly to Dean for the first time in the last half hour.

The girl was gone. Sam wasn't sure why or when, but she was and Dean was still sat at the table with his eyes locked on him in such a way that he couldn't read. Dean's face was expressionless almost, fingers drumming against his bottle, and Sam swallowed down any sort of reservations he had with the last mouthful of his fourth beer that night.

He didn't answer Adam's request verbally, opting to instead lean forward and close those few inches until their mouths were locked together.

At first it felt... wrong. Maybe not wrong perse, just... odd. Sam wasn't certain when the last time was that he kissed someone who wasn't Dean, but he was willing to bet it had been well over a year.

Having someone kissing him who wasn't Dean just felt a little unnatural at first, but once Adam squeezed his thigh and nibbled gently at his bottom lip Sam felt himself relaxing into it and enjoying the feeling.

It was short lived, because very early into their make out session Adam was pulled - no, yanked - back and shoved to the floor.

"Stay the fuck off him, you creep!" Dean snarled, and it took Sam a minute to comprehend what was happening. Dean had his boot pinning Adam to the ground with ease, grinding it down with spite and making the man gasp for a breath.

"Dean! What the fuck?!" Sam demanded, standing up fast enough that his bottle tipped and the few drops of beer left dribbled out onto the table.

Dean didn't lift his foot, until he noticed shocked bystanders reaching for their phones to call the cops.

He spat on Adam, before turning and grabbing Sam by the wrist and pulling him out the bar and straight to the impala.

"Get in." Dean grunted, shoving himself in the drivers seat.

Sam rolled his eyes but did as he was told, dropping into the passenger seat. He barely had his door shut before Dean was speeding out the parking lot, and Sam felt his frustration flare even more.

What fucking right did Dean have to throw a guy off him, and how the hell did he have the audacity to be the one who was mad right now?

"That's was completely fucking unnecessary in there! He wasn't some creep, Dean. His name was Adam and he was actually really sweet-"

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"He had his fucking hand on your thigh."

"So?! That girl was practically giving you a hand job under the table and I wasn't trying to cut off her air supply for it!" Sam exclaimed, and Dean's expression tightened.

"That's different."

"How?" Sam questioned, but Dean remained silent and tight lipped. Sam wasn't letting it go that easily. No way.

"How is it different, Dean? It's the exact same and you know it, you're just-"

The car jerked so violently off to the side of the road that Sam very almost hit his head off the window, gripping the dashboard to steady himself.

Dean killed the engine.

"It's different because it was someone touching you, Sam!" Dean yelled, and Sam just stared, brows furrowed and confused.

"Fuck this." Dean muttered, throwing his door open and getting out, running his hands over his face.

Sam sighed, climbing out and going around the car to be stood beside him.

"I don't get it."

"Because- look. I don't know, ok? I know it makes me hypocritical as fuck, but I saw you kissing him and... God Sam. I've never felt so fucking furious in my life. It had me reaching for my damn gun." Dean puffed out a breath, staring at the ground instead of Sam.

"Dean." Sam said quietly, inching closer and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw line.

Some of the tension left Dean then, and he brought his hands around Sam's waist.

"You know we can't keep doing things this way. It's gonna get someone killed." Sam pointed out and Dean's face hardened again slightly.

"Yeah, whichever guy thinks he can touch you next." He said, his voice low with a possessive tint that made Sam roll his eyes.

"Likely. I think... we need to either end this all together or make it exclusive." Sam murmured, and Dean leaned forward to kiss him.

"I have no issue with being exclusive. You've ruined me for girls anyway... the last couple of weeks I can't even get it up for them. That may have been the reason we haven't fucked in two weeks, because I've maybe been trying to see if I can get hard for girls still. Turns out I can, but it takes far too much effort to be sexy." That send a flush of pride through Sam and he grinned, nipping at Dean's lips.

"Maybe it's the old age?" He teased, and Dean rolled his eyes but smirked as he grabbed Sam's wrist and directed it to his hard on.

"Nah, baby. All you. Always you, Sammy."

[angloie]

Rivals. Nothing more. (1/2)

> Percy is annoyed on how Annabeth always was. Her passion to win, to suceed, to be better than him. He hates that. It's totally not hot, or whatever.

> Warnings: swearing and kinda (?) suggestive undertones, my writing

> Genre: fluff, mutual pinning, Percy having a huge fat crush on Annabeth.

You can find the second part here!

Percy wasn't very fond of smartasses who talked back.

I mean, who wouldn't? They were truly insufferable; acting like they knew everything and spat out facts here and there, all high and mighty.

Annabeth fit that description perfectly.

She's such a stuck up nerd; always beating his spot just opened place higher than him. When they spar, Percy can't help but feel a overwhelming urge pushing him to win. Annabeth struck back with the same passion, every strike, slash, push, thrust, holds her need for victory.

And when Percy does win after a long match? It feels amazing. The refreshing mood when you get exactly what you want- for once beating enemy number one. Annabeth shakes hands with him after and it infuriates him all over again. Why can't she feel more embarassed? Devestated? Shame? She walks away from the training arena calmly like she won over him.

Oh, Annabeth does feel embarassed. Devestated, too. But the look in Percy's eyes when she acts all stoic- seated stop her high horse- is simply electrifying. No better feeling than antagonizing your rivals, right?

They first meet at twelve. Both still young and insufferable, being the natural rivals they were. After all, their godly parents were two of the biggest rivals between one another: Athena and Posiedon.

Then they’re thirteen. Rivals, yes, but they can get along better now. Much better, in fact. Annabeth just feels the tiniest bit of attraction. It's just platonic. That's what she likes to tell herself, really.

Fourteen and Percy and her still bickering and arguing like usual. They can respect each other's boundaries still, all while they make crude jokes about the other. People say that they might be best friends, but the two of them shoot their ideas out of their heads. Who would wan't to be friends with that loser, anyways?

The ripe age of fifteen. Same old Percy, and same old Annabeth. They grow stronger together, and even more stronger as they progress. It's such a heartwarming thing to watch. Annabeth becomes more aware of how Percy looks. His apearance. Once a couple inches shorter than her becomes level-height. And then Percy has the audacity to grow taller than her. 

He likes to tease Annabeth about it. Holding books above her head, or anything he can grab that's hers. It's more blood-boiling when you remember the fact that people in ancient Greece associated height with power. Percy? Have more power than her? Unaceptable.

Percy on the flip side becomes more aware of how his endearing his rival becomes. Annabeth puts him in awe sometimes, incredibly witty and smart. But the snobbish attitude from her makes him want to gag. Maybe not as much as it did in the past other years. Annabeth, (as much as he hates to admit it) is someone he can trust. After years of being partners in both battle and else, that was expected. Percy still can't trust Annabeth with his blue cookies though.

Sixteen, finally. A confusing year for Percy. It becomes a growing problem for Percy when his heart beats erratically when Annabeth is near. Her shampoo smells so heavenly from where he's sitting, which is at the end of her bed. Annabeth sits crossed legged from him, flicking the pages of a book. Percy just saw the lights on from her cabin and crawled through the window. That would make her annoyed, right? No other reason; just to annoy her. Totally not because he wants to see her again.

Annabeth doesn't have the slightest clue in her mind about why she let him in. Or why he opted to sit on her bed directly, instead of sitting on one of the very comfortable seats in the large room. Annabeth doesn't complain. The cabin is empty; her other guests singing along at the campfire or elsewhere. 

Percy gets up wordlessly as Annabeth continues to stare at her book. Words are flowing through, forming, but she can't seem to focus to comprehend the book.

She notices his arrival when the bed dips with his weight. Percy has a blob of water in mid-air, floating just above the palm of his hand.

“You better not get that on my bed,” Annabeth chides, “Or I'll make sure to kill you.”

“Really now?” Percy makes the water floating towards her, threatening to soak her face. It stops inches before her- stopping from wetting her clothes along with it. She doesn't flinch.

Annabeth gives a sticky sweet smile, but her eyes say otherwise. Something along the lines of 'You better be digging up your grave now'. Percy flinches back in surprise, hands braced in a defensive position. The water shifts and floats back to him... to only float around the room aimlessly.

It's times like this when he feels truly at peace. The air is tense, sure, but he feels calmer than ever before. It's liberating.

The water leaks a bit from the moving. Annabeth is amazed how it moves so effortlessly. It's Percy moving it, but that didn't matter. Sometimes Annabeth wished she had powers... Her smarts and wits were amazing, but she felt that she could achieve even more if she had them. It's a painful thought.

Percy sits back on her bed, staring at the white celling. Different coloured sticky notes and red strings are hooked together by flimsy thumb tacks. Talk about being a nerd.

Both lost in their thoughts and a good book, the water comes back around the room to splash on-

Just fucking peachy.

On Annabeth.

“Percy!” She screeches, hair damp with liquid and some finding it's way on her white shirt. Due to the thin fabric and cool water, he shirt becomes a little more. How do you put it? transparent. Translucent.

“Oh shit-” Percy jerks upwards, moving his hands around frantically. If he stares any longer, he might become more aware of the now visible uhm- undergarments. He also might notice that they are blue, his favourite colour, and how it looks so fucking good on her. 

Okay, he's noticed all of that in a matter of seconds.

“Quit staring!” Annabeth protests more, as Percy gets up to face the wall and cover his eyes. 

“I didn't mean to!” He says, still facing away from her. “I-it was a accident!” I swear!”

“Quit you're blubbering and get out!”

“Sorry!” Percy says again, and again. “I’m really sorry!” Until he finds his way to the large mahogany door and steps out.

“I- uh-" He tries to reasonate, tries to make up with her. But it's quickly shut off when Annabeth slams the door in his face. Leaving a very stuttering and blushing Percy.

Seventeen. It's a dreadful year for the two of them.

It becomes painfully clear why Percy had been a blushing, embarrassing mess around Annabeth. Clear on why he feels like he's on cloud nine when she pins him down in the sparing arena. And incredibly clear why Percy thinks about her eyes, her smile, her everything. Even the random facts he always thought was annoying and stupid leave marks on his brain. 

The oblivious son of Poseidon denies his feelings. Just some rivalry feelings! Some of which include him wanting to kiss Annabeth so bad sometimes, or even wanting to hold hands while walking along the sand. Maybe he does have the occasional dream of some less than appropriate things. Percy's rather embarassed about that.

It's when Grover, his reliable and trustworthy best friend finally makes him realize his true feelings. Ones hidden layers of sarcasm and sharp jokes.

“You think about her twenty four seven,” Grover starts, leaning back on the thick trunk of the oak tree. Percy had just came to him mid-spar to tell him how Annabeth was absolutely destroying him.

“And you also blab about her nonstop. I dunno dude, that sounds like a crush to me.” Grover sighs heavily. Percy blinks once. Then twice. And then three times.

“Do you get jealous when you see her with someone else?”

“Yeah! It's sickening! I feel all weird and stuff, so I-”

“You have a crush~” Grover teases.

“No? I think it's just-"

“Its a crush, Percy. You're so oblivious that it'll never progress more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Percy scowls at him. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead, caused from the hours of training.

“It means you have to confess.” Grover simply states, getting up. His hooves clomp down on the hard-packed earth as he trails away. “You gotta do it sooner or later, before someone else does it!”

That thought makes bile rise in his stomach. Annabeth? Go out with someone's else? Other than him? No way. Negatory.

But what if she declines? Annabeth is completely free to do that; but Percy would probably die of heartbreak. And if she started to date someone? Percy would explode.

It's settled, then.

He's going to confess.

-

- a/n:

(re-uploaded to fix some mistakes, lol)

[buckysbitch107]

An Unlikely Pair | Henry Cavill x OC

Requested: This is a requested piece. I lost the original request, but I still have everything they wanted. 

Summary: When Henry returns from set one day, he finds his girlfriend stressed and in need of a break. He decides that now is the perfect time to give her one. 

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking, degrading, spanking, just overall smut, fluffy ending.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I’M SO SORRY I HAVEN’T UPDATED!!! LIFE’S A BITCH Y’ALL! Hope you guys like this one! This is not your usual Y/N post, but it was a request and I will be back to the normal Y/N stuff after this. If you have requested something, please keep in mind that I have 19 others requests planned. Writing takes time!

As Henry walks in the door, the first thing he notices is the lack of greetings from the dogs. The second thing he notices is the muttered curses coming from somewhere inside the house. Walking through the foyer, Henry approaches the dining room table where his girlfriend stands, furiously holding money and cleaning from her last appointment. She barely even notices her partner standing in the doorway as she cleans up her acrylic powders and the small container of monomer sitting on her nail area.

“Molly?” Henry says, taking a step forward towards his girlfriend, the woman spinning around and letting out a loud sigh.

“Five hours and eight colors of acrylic, and she doesn’t even leave a tip?!” Molly exclaims, the dogs under the table intrigued at what was going on. “I didn’t have to make an exception for her! I could have made her go to the salon and do something else because of Corona! BUT NO! I let her into our house, I risk the fact that I don’t know where she’s been! I TAKE TIME OUT OF MY DAY TO DO THIS WOMAN’S NAILS AND SHE HAS THE AUDACITY TO NOT LEAVE A TIP?!” After a while of slamming cabinets and making frustrated grunts, Henry sticks his arm out in front of his girlfriend, stopping her in her tracks as he pulls her into him. Molly startles for a moment before she relaxes, returning the basically bear hug that he encased her in. 

“Hi.” He whispers, staring down at her. She lets out a small sigh before looking up at him.

“Hi.” Henry presses a kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and leading her upstairs. Molly’s small protests mean nothing to the man, still dressed in elements of his costume and makeup still on his face. Henry leads her to their bedroom, the dogs staying downstairs near the heater. Molly sits down on the bed as Henry walks into the bathroom, washing the set makeup off his face before joining his girlfriend on the bed.

“You know, there is a way I can help relieve some of your stress.” He mentions, lightly trailing his fingers up and down her thigh.

“And how could you possibly do-” She turns in the middle of her sentence and eyes the mischievous look in her boyfriend’s face, stopping as she puts two and two together. “OH. So how long have you had this on your mind?”

“Oh, awhile darling.” Molly smirks, running her hand up his chest before gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him in and pressing her lips against his. Henry chuckles before returning her affections, hands roaming around her to pull her on his lap. She lets out a small squeak at the movement, causing the man to let out a husky laugh in her ear. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She retorts, giving him a small glare before leaning back in once again. By this time, Henry had already managed to start pulling off her shirt, the fabric the last thing on his mind as things started heating up. The man quickly pulls off Molly’s clothes, leaving her in her underwear as he begins to take off his own costume from the set. Molly’s hands stop him from taking off his vest and tie. “You look hot in costume.”

“Do I? I hadn’t noticed. So are you going to make me stay in this get-up or can I get back to what I was doing?” Molly lets out a small chuckle before running her hand through his perfectly styled hair. 

“I don’t know, baby. I’m kind of liking the late 19th century Holmes look.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know that I get to keep the outfit, but now I’d like to get back to taking off your clothes.” Molly lets out a small chuckle before nodding. Before she can even comprehend what’s happening, Molly’s clothes are off and Henry is kneeling over her, his own clothes strewn around the room. She runs her hands over his chest and pulls him closer, kissing him once again and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Ah ah, darling. Not yet.” Henry whispers, sliding himself downwards. He reaches her thighs and slowly begins running his mouth up and down her hips. “I want to treat my girlfriend before she lets me use her how I want.” Molly nods and Henry smirks, pulling off her underwear and licking one stripe up her slit. Letting out a loud moan, Molly reaches to run her hands through Henry’s hair when he grabs both of her wrists in his hand, pinning them above her head while his free hand remains on her hips.

“No touching, dollface.” She lets out a small whimper and Henry chuckles before returning down between her thighs. It’s not long before her legs are shaking around his head and her core is throbbing in reaction to Henry’s mouth. 

“Henry. Please. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” He pulls away from her and she whines, making the man let out a soft chuckle.

“Come on, darling. I thought we covered what you call me while we’re in this situation.” Molly lets out a loud huff and squirms, trying to get Henry’s mouth back where it felt amazing.

“Sir, please-”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t make you wait for much longer.” He whispers, taking one last look at her some-what wrecked appearance before diving in once again as if she were his last meal. Still sensitive from her previous almost-orgasm, it doesn’t take long for the heat in her core to rebuild. Her back arches, legs clamping around his head as he holds her against him. He continues to eat her out as her moans grow higher and higher in pitch, until she gives out one last cry. 

“Sir!” She screams, her back arching painfully as Henry makes her cum. He holds her hips against his face as she writhes in his grasp, her body trying and failing to pull away from the stimulation. She squirms for a bit longer before he finally pulls away, wiping her juices off his face with his hand.

“Goddamn sweetheart, I would eat you out all day if I could.” Henry whispers, crawling his way up the bed and hovering over Molly. “And you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He ducks his head down to start suckling at her neck, slowly working his way to her collarbone and breasts. “You’d like me sitting here all day, torturing you with pleasure, wouldn’t you?” He takes her breathy moan as a yes and he chuckles, pressing a kiss behind her ear before making his way back to her chest, littering her breasts and collarbone with hickeys and lovebites.

“Please sir. I want you to fuck me. Please.” She begs, arching her back into his touch before he pulls away. 

“Always such a slut, aren’t you, darling?” His eyes silently communicate something sadistic and she nods, too hazed by orgasm to respond. Henry runs a hand along her jaw before grabbing her chin, jolting her head up to look at him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir.” He smiles before grabbing her legs, resting them on his shoulder before lining himself up. Slowly pushing in,  he breathes out a quiet “fuck” when he bottoms out, a keening moan releasing from Molly’s lips. “Please.”

“God, you’re so good to me, dollface.” He mumbles, pushing her thighs against her stomach as he starts to rut into her. Starting off with a rough pace, it’s not long before both of their moans fill the room. As he keeps one hand on her thighs, Henry slides the other one to her throat, pressing lightly on the sides to make her dizzy, not unable to breathe. The action makes Molly keen, the mix of his rough pace and the dizzying hold he has on her throat pulling her closer to the ledge. Henry begins to push himself faster, occasionally bringing his hand down on her ass and watching how the impact affects her.

“FUCK! Please, sir. Fill me up with your cum, please, I want it so bad.”

“Do you?” Molly nods in response and Henry lets out a low chuckle, still pushing into her as his eyes gleam at her. “Of course you do. You’re just my little cumslut, aren’t you? Huh, darling?”

“Yes, I’m just your little cumslut.” She responds, his words affected her in ways unimagined before she met him.

“Then take it.” He whispers, leaning down to scrape his teeth against her collarbone as he somehow starts thrusting harder, Molly’s moans rising impossibly higher in pitch. A few more thrusts and she’s done for, cumming hard and squeezing Henry’s cock. It’s not much longer until he’s done as well, the combination of her breathy moans and vice-like cunt not helping him to last. His hips stutter and he releases a string of curses, stopping the thrusts of his hips and holding on to Molly’s thighs as he cums. Her soft pants fill the room and he pulls away, a small whimper leaving her lips. He does the last thing she would have expected, and he starts laughing.

“What seems so funny?” Molly asks, her voice slightly hoarse from screaming.

“I have no idea what I did to deserve you.” He whispers, pressing a small kiss to her lips before walking to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wiping both his cock and her pussy off carefully. She lays there quietly as he does so, only reacting to anything when he comes back and slips under the covers next to her, now clad in his favorite gray boxers.

“I feel the same way.” Molly responds. Henry lets out a scoff as he wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his chest.

“How could you ever feel that you are undeserving, darling? You’re practically perfect.”

“That’s debatable.” He sits up on his elbow, staring down at her before frowning.

“Nope, I won’t allow it.” Henry stands up, confusing Molly for a moment before he turns around, poking her side.

“Wha- no. NO!” She protests, barely given any warning before he begins to tickle her, a normal occasion when she begins to self-deprecate. “STOP!”

“Not until you say you love yourself.”

“NO!”

“SAY IT!” Her insides are practically screaming at her, so she admits defeat, yelling “FINE! ALRIGHT! I LOVE MYSELF!” Henry stops, once again straddling her and he smiles, flopping down to lay next to her.

“That’s more like it.”

The two of them lay there, basking in the “after-sex” glow, when they hear four paws scratching at the door.

“Oh dear god.” Molly laughs, “We left the dogs outside our room.”

“Well I don’t think they would have wanted to see what happened inside.” Henry mutters, slowly pulling back the covers. Molly whacks him on the shoulder and laughs.

“Shut up and let the clingy beings in.”

“Yes, darling.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut​ @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs​ @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo​ @celaena-carstairs-cullen​​ @wild-rose-35​

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! My Prompts list is attached to my masterlist in case you need something extra! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

[sunlightandsuffering]

To the person who had the audacity to call your fics boring and repetitive - literally all of em fandom is boring and repetitive. everyone on twitter/tumblr fangirling over the same damn thing, sharing the same opinions, quoting Taylor swift and thinking she wrote the eremika bible. and that’s ok - bc that’s what they like. I am boring and repetitive as well in my love for submissive Mikasa. And I don’t see any harm here.

But lys’s blog is literally the one place where people have the freedom to be different, where they can not only enjoy the cute dadren hcs but also the cockwarming, the innocent Mikasa getting spoilt by eren who loves to do it, and also the man whore eren and the virginal Mikasa. It is a trope and lys likes it and clearly there is a niche where others like it too. There is no misogyny here bc they are not preaching views or beliefs to anyone else, at the very core of it all they just want Mikasa to be having a good time in different ways and different views.

(Not even gonna touch on the fact that the writing is anything but boring - I literally cannot tell you how rare it is to find the kind of sarcastic light hearted banter she writes in any other em fanfics, pls hmu if you know any other ones bc I don’t)

I urge you not to come in and preach morality here bc imagine how boring the world would be if all fiction that people consumed and enjoyed were to follow the strict moral standards that people actually endorsed? Where is the outlet to explore something immoral and portray it as such? Surely lys isn’t out here giving sermons on why we must all preserve our virginity for our one true love the way Mikasa does in her fics. She probably doesn’t even believe it for herself who knows lol.

Another request is to not treat an authors ask box like a fucking goodreads profile and leave nasty comments. You are literally sending this to the person who spent her time and energy working on a particular head canon, to read directly. Surely you have more heart than that. Be better, please. Treat people how you wanna be treated ffs. Surely someone preaching about misogyny in a fanfic can comprehend the morals of this statement.

Take care anon, and be kinder to your friendly neighbourhood ff writers.

Ris!! 😭😭😭🤧🤧 💖💖💖💖💖I love u so much buddy, so blessed to have a fandom buddy like you!! My absolute fave, u inspire me with all ur stuff! Literally lol 😂 I used to read Ris’s stuff before I started writing and I was like DAMN FINALLY SOMEONE WRITING WHAT I WANT TO SEE 💗💗💗💗💗💗 all the love to my fave 🥰🥰🥰 TY so much bestie for the support 😘😘😘😘😘

[intothemaddyverse]

A Fallen Angel

Chapter 1 of Reunited Series 

Word Count: 1,750

Rating: Mature (slightly suggestive material but not explicit)

I hope you enjoy it! 

Preface: 

After meeting as children and falling in love as young adults, Din sees his soulmate again following years of separation. Their story begins the moment Din hears a melody in the distance that brings back the fondest memories of his past. He's reserved as all can be, but falls weak at the knees when he holds his angel in a tight embrace, swaying to their favorite song. He follows the sound to find her sitting in an empty cantina, where she waits hoping that his feelings for her have not faded. Din had been waiting for this moment, every day longing for his other half to return. Reunited, they decide to take a weekend for themselves, away from the noise of a war torn galaxy. With his family now complete, he is finally able to propose with a ring he’d kept safe since the day he lost her. Things take a dramatic turn as the Empire, or what’s left of it that is, finds Din’s beloved and attempts to kidnap her. The Razor Crest is blown to pieces but the kidnap was unsuccessful, therefore leaving Din’s love shaken but alive. We now pick up with Din, his lover, and Grogu traveling across a harsh desert landscape in search of a new beginning.

It’s cold. Really cold. You find it hard to believe that a landscape with such scorching intensity can also be as unforgiving as Hoth. Stars, what time is it? You’re woken up from a deep slumber by a small glimmer of light. You squint as a subtle change in position on Din’s part shines the light directly in your face.

“DIN!” You exclaim as a small shimmy of his shoulders intensifies the brightness. “If you’re going to be a living disco ball at least shine the light away from me.” Din lets out a muffled laugh as you move to nudge yourself into a more comfortable position. He wiggles himself out of your grasp, but before you can object he quickly adjusts himself to hold you the way he wants to. One hand brushes up against your thigh, to your hip and then slithers around to the back of your waist. The other tenderly brushes your hair behind your ear, giving you the kind of goosebumps only he can cause. You allow your eyes to flutter shut and think, “yeah…he was right. This positioning is much better.” 

As Din’s right hand begins a slow ascent up the contours of your back underneath your shirt, you quickly grab his arm to stop him. He lets out a small sigh in disappointment but then realizes why, turning to see Grogu standing directly behind him. “Hey kid, you sleep alright?” Din asks, grunting while lifting himself up off of you slowly. Once he leans back against the speeder bike, Grogu climbs up onto Din’s lap and stumbles down his legs, landing abruptly on your stomach. “MAKER” you yelp, letting out a breathless exhale while catching him before he lands on your face. “Your dad is rubbing off on you Grogu, you need to-”  

…“Daddy” Din interjects, pausing for a moment to let his interruption send a shiver down your spine. You know exactly what he’s doing, and so does he. Why does he do this?? Sometimes you’re convinced that torturing you in front of the child is his favorite past time. Your face turns beet red. You swallow and say with a shaky voice, “sorry Grogu, your Daddy is rubbing off on you.” You stand up to place Grogu in his pod, and then feel Din grabbing your arm to pull you towards him. 

“I think it’s finally time for our dance” he whispers in your ear. Ugh, he makes you swoon. He lifts up his helmet slightly to kiss you on the forehead. You lay your head on his chest while he places one hand around your waist, the other intertwining his fingers with yours. You’d think that beskar would be the last thing you want pressed against your face, but stars is it comfortable. Maybe because it’s him. Okay, most definitely because it’s him. You’ve been without armor to rest on for far too long. “How did that song go again?” Din asks as he rubs your back. You slowly begin to lift your head, perplexed as you look beyond Din at the rising sun and pastel sky. “You don’t remember?? You were the one who first asked me to dance with you to that song! How could you not…” Before you can take another breath, Din grabs your chin and places his lips on yours. You were so enveloped in his embrace that you didn’t notice he took his helmet off. “Din! Someone could see you!” Shit, that was loud. Much louder than you should have said that but there’s no turning back now. “Don’t worry angel, it’s far too early. There’s no one here.”

Something about his voice is so comforting, even through the modulator. You and Din continue to sway, the sun beginning to warm your face as it continues to rise. He holds you just a tiny bit closer…a little bit tighter too. If only we could stay in this exact spot, in this moment forever. You start to hum the melody without realizing his question was a set up. “Hm hm hmmm…” Din turns his face away from you, trying to hide his smile. “Of course I know how it went, I just wanted to hear you sing.”

You can tell that Grogu is getting antsy when he starts crying out from his pod. Din lifts him out and places him on the ground. As soon as his tiny feet reach the sand he races off at a speed that seems insanely abnormal for a baby. What has he been feeding this kid? Din lets out a frustrated sigh, prompting you to wrap your arms around his waist in an attempt to relax him. “I’ll go grab him, go ahead and clean your weapons.”

The more you spend time in this vast wasteland, the more you feel disoriented trying to remind yourself of which direction you’re heading. You swore you saw Grogu veer off to the left and scurry down one of the sand dunes, but seconds later you convince yourself you saw a small green alien shuffle past you to the right. Stars, when was the last time you had a sip of water? Your movements become slower, dragging your feet through the sand while struggling to keep your legs from buckling underneath you. Suddenly, Grogu appears behind you, latching on to one of your legs before you collapse.

***

It’s been an hour since you left to retrieve Grogu, there are no more weapons to clean and Din is becoming progressively more worried. “She should be back by now right? How long has it been? The kid couldn’t have wandered that far…” He continues to pace back and forth, desperately trying to ignore the anxiety taking over his body. Before he can begin another monologue of reasoning behind the length of your absence, he lifts his head up to see Grogu waddling towards him. “Ehh?” He coos, blinking at Din before gesturing to imply you are just beyond his current position. Din sprints to Grogu, scooping him up and then quickly scanning his surroundings. “SHIT!” He freezes. His heart sinks to his stomach, because there at the bottom of the hill, lying lifeless in the sand…is you.

Din stumbles down to you, dropping to his knees. “Fuck, what do I do??” He mutters to himself, blood rushing to his head as his panicked state heightens. The only thing he can think to do in that moment is pick you up and carry you over his shoulder back to the campsite. He places Grogu in his pod and closes the lid. Seeing you limp on the ground like this makes Din’s stomach churn. “Come on angel, wake up. What do you need? Shit, you can’t hear me why am I asking?!” After examining your trembling body and dry lips, Din grabs the last supply of water nearby. He gently places his hand under your head for support, lifting you up slightly to ensure he doesn’t accidentally make the situation worse. Carefully, he pours small amounts of water into your mouth. “Maybe I can use my cape to cool her face...yeah I’ve seen people do that.  I think we have enough water...” At this point, Din is struggling to breathe. He nearly spills the last of the water on your face while struggling to control his shaking hands.  “Please…pl-please…my love, wake up!” Din throws the empty canteen on the ground and cradles you, his beskar nearly digging into your upper body.

“Remove her shirt, use the armor to cool her skin,” Din hears from behind him. With only seconds to respond, panic shoots through his entire being. He scrambles to reach his blaster, rapidly turning to face whoever has the audacity to imply you should have your shirt off. “What did you just say to me?” Din asks hastily, in full protective mode. He’s now holding his blaster inches from the unknown figure standing in front of him. The man, taking a calculated step towards Din, repeats himself. “I said remove her shirt. Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen her like this.”

Din stumbles backwards, tripping over your legs as he desperately tries to comprehend the most horrid sentence he’s ever heard. Did he just say he’s seen her like this before?? Din shakes his head, desperately trying to rid the image of another man seeing you in such a fragile state from his mind. His blood is boiling. The sweltering heat simmering in the atmosphere pales in comparison to the rage burning within him. He plants himself firmly in the sand, using every bit of restraint he has to prevent any unnecessary violence. Cemented in place, he drops his blaster. Fists are clenched, heart is pounding, mind is racing wildly. Suddenly, you take a hideously deep breath, causing Din to practically melt down to the ground and grab your face, relieved that he didn’t lose you again. You slowly lift your upper body, arms shaking, and…you see it. Your head is pounding, your face dripping with sweat. There’s NO way. This is the desert right? It has to be a mirage. Just beyond Din’s helmet glistening in the sunlight, you see him.

[iknikblackstonevarrick]

Red Lightning (Part 2)

(Part 1)

---

Honestly, this one was on The Director.

Lup doesn’t know what she was expecting when she told Lup’s brother and friends she had been sent on a secret mission without notice in the dead of night, but Lup could have told her it’d end with something like this.

This being Taako Magnus and Merle set up in the three cells on the wall across from Lup and Pringles after a botched jailbreak attempt, and the Director standing in the hall between them, a look of deep disappointment on her face.

“I really don’t know what I’m going to do with the four of you,” The Director said, looking between the former Reclaimers gravely.

“You could start by letting us out of the pokey?” Taako said like it was obvious.

“And telling us what the hell is going on,” Lup added, glaring at her.

“You- None of you understand the gravity of this situation.”

“Because you haven’t fucking told us the gravity of the situation!” Lup said, exasperated. “You can’t keep going on about how we can’t comprehend your dark purposes or whatever when you haven’t even tried to explain!”

“You want to know what’s going on?” The Director asked, her not-mad-just-disappointed facade cracking into what looked suspiciously like panic. “The- The Grand Relics have the power to destroy the entire world as we know it, and I have been working non-stop for a very long time to make the world safe from -them once and for all. I was so close, and now the only people in the entire world who can help me have decided they’d rather play spy and search for clues than deal with the impending apocalypse!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Magnus said, holding up his hands. “I know the Relics are really devastatingly powerful and all, but no one said anything about the apocalypse.”

“No one’s said a lot of things, lately,” Taako said.

The Director choked on a laugh. Then, she took a deep breath, and straightened herself.

“You’re right,” she started. “This… is one of the several things I have been hiding from you and the other fine people of this organization, for your own good. But if you must know, we have less than a year.”

Even Pringles, sitting in the corner of his cell trying to mind his own business, was left agape at that one.

“The four of you are the only ones in the world who can help me,” The Director continued when she was met with only stunned silence. “If we collect and destroy the three remaining relics before the Midsummer Festival next year, then the world will be safe. Please, whatever you think of me, this world needs your help. I implore you to consider it.”

“Director, that’s real flattering and all, but…” Merle glanced away from her then looked back. “I think you’re giving the other people in the world too little credit!”

“I tried for years to make any of the Reclaimers I sent out work,” she replied, shaking her head, “Nobody could do it. Nobody except the four of you. This is the only option.”

“If I may, Madam Director, I think he means keeping all these secrets,” Magnus chimed in. “We’re great and all, but you’ve gotta admit your sample size is really tiny. Maybe if you let the people of the world know the kind of danger they were in, they would step up to help!”

“You saw what happened when the people of this world knew the danger they were in,” The Director said, turning on him. “They made it worse. They let their hunger for power consume them until there was almost nothing left. No one in the world can be trusted, Magnus. I have to do this by myself.”

“Then do it by yourself,” Taako said, leaning up against his cell wall and checking his nails. “We’re not gonna do your goddamn dirty work for you while you sit up here all high-and-mighty thinking about how you’re the only one who’s good enough to handle the truth.”

The Director’s shoulders fell. He didn’t meet her eyes. She looked from him, back to Magnus, then to Merle, not seeing what she wanted in any of them.

“Lup?” The Director asked, a sliver of hope in her voice.

Lup looked into the Director’s eyes, her face not revealing anything.

“Four.”

The Director blinked, looking behind herself and then back at Lup.

“Forgive me?” The Director prompted. Lup laughed.

“You said there were three relics left to retrieve,” she said, “But there are four. We’ve collected three so far, and we started out with seven, so there’s four.”

“Of course,” The Director said. “I misspoke. You’ll forgive me for getting my numbers off, I’ve had a pretty long day today.”

Lup nodded along as The Director spoke, stopping only when she stopped. She looked her dead in the eye for a long moment. “Unless.”

“Unless…?” The boys spoke in perfect unison.

“There really are only three grand relics left to retrieve, because you have the last one right there!”

She motioned with her eyes to the staff The Director held in her hands. “These shields you keep putting up are pretty impressive. Stupid powerful. I’ve never seen-” she cut herself off and gasped dramatically. “Oh wait, I have seen something like this before!” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh shit,” Magnus said.

“You’re kidding me,” Taako said, narrowing his eyes at The Director.

“How- how dare you,” The Director said, clutching her white oak staff even harder.

“Oh, give me a break,” Lup said, “You go on and on about how people need to resist the temptation of the relics or they need to be erased from existence, but you’ve been using one the entire goddamn time!” She laughed humorlessly. “The audacity. Of you standing there when we gave you the Oculus talking about how ‘relics can’t be used for good’. What is it then? Can the Relics be good, or are you evil?”

The Director stood staring at her with wide eyes, so she continued, “You haven’t even been destroying the relics, have you? You think you’re the only person in the world who can handle their power. I bet you’ve just been fucking stockpiling them while you trick everyone else here into doing exactly what you want. Well not me, Madam Director. Not anymore. ‘Apocalypse’? My ass. I don’t trust a word you say. I don’t see why anyone would.”

And just like that, Lucretia knew she had lost.

Hours later she was in her office, writing. Paving the way for what would be her most excruciating redaction yet. Her hand pulled across the paper as she laid out the lives of two of her best friends, her family, before her.

They haven’t left me any choice, she insisted to herself, but the feeling of dread still welled up in her chest. Magnus and Merle were capable adventurers, but sending them after the final relics alone- into Wonderland, and everything in between then and now- she wanted to have faith in them, but she’s braved that place with only one person by her side, and that person will never see the light of day again.

But I don’t have a choice. The twins were the inciting factor in this pointless revolt. Without them, Magnus and Merle would have no reason to question her story. If it weren’t for the fact Taako knew his sister so well, she might’ve kept all three of them on her side.

Lucretia’s pen stilled. She looked down at the paper- two lives woven so irrevocably in tandem. She reached down and tore it in half.

“So what’s the big plan this time, Ocean?” Taako called out. “Bagging the boys outside sure did turn out great!”

“Hey, I figured out she was in here!” Magnus said. “You wanted to go straight to the Director’s office!”

“We do need to go to the Director’s office,” Lup cut in. “I- I can’t know the specifics, but that’s where she keeps all her secret shit, in a back room off of there. Isn’t that right, Robbie?”

Pringles looked up. He was swaying back and forth, looking at the four of them woozily.

“Does he still have the goods in here?” Merle asked.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lup said, craning her head to look at him even though their cells were next to each other. "Is it- you guys have gotta tell me, is it the Red-Robe-guy again? Does he looks possessed?"

"Don't sound too excited," Taako said.

"I don't want him to be possessed I just- I need to find-" What? "Wait. Where are we?"

"What?" Magnus said.

"Where- I needed to-- I need to find someone, right, that's what I was... thinking... what did I do? Why am I-?"

Lup felt like she was losing her mind, in the most literal sense, her thoughts, her memories, but not her feelings, and this feeling was frustrating and terrifying but above all else, familiar.

"Fuck!" She clutched the sides of her head. More and more of her thoughts were consumed by the static until it felt like it was down to what it was every night, the same vision of blue sky and cracked glass and blood, "No- Please-!"

Something inside her knew this feeling and it was clawing at the inside of her soul trying to stop it from happening.

"Whoa there sparky! I don't think that's safe with your hands on your head," Merle said as the red sparks flew from her hands, arcs of it crackling just above her face, but she was well past recognizing his voice. He was well past remembering her name.

“Taako, what’s going on, is this- this isn’t normal, is it?” Magnus asked, watching the blank look on his face.

“What, being in jail?” Taako shrugged. “Eh.”

Magnus furrowed his brow. “No, Taako, your-” he stopped. “Your….” He looked between the two of them frantically, mirror images with one coming apart at the seams and one completely blank-faced, trying to find the word. “She’s….” These people were his friends. They were friends. They were….

“She’s going to be fine, Magnus.”

His eyes lazily found the figure of a short human woman in an imposing blue-and-white robe. The Director? Yes, that was the Director of the Bureau of Balance, that was his boss.

"You- who..." Lup's eyes narrowed on the other woman.

"It will be easier soon," she said to Lup. "You should lie down." She tapped the white oak staff she held towering above her three times, and the cells holding Magnus, Merle, and Taako swung open.

"You," Lup said through grit teeth, confused and in pain. Her legs gave out after that, but she refused to crawl over to the prison bed.

“Follow me, boys,” The Director said. Taako swept up to her without hesitation, and Merle waddled behind. It was only Magnus who paused, holding his head in his hand.

“I-” He shook his head, looking from Lup’s prone form to the Director. “Help her.”

“I will.”

She took Magnus’s arm, and lead the three of them carefully back to the surface.