#which could have been left at those five words! but instead I did quite an involved drawing! so it goes :]

[chiropteracupola]

...been thinking of this for some time now.

[kn-1013]

Sal Headcannons

I've done headcannons and Larry and Travis, so now it's time for my Sal headcannons. CW for mentions of suicide.

His Jersey accent used to be a lot thicker, but faded over time as he lived in Nockfell. He still calls it 'wutter' instead of 'water' though, and Larry makes fun of him for it (S: Can I get some wutter? L: No, I can get you some water though).

Henry and Sal are pretty isolated from the rest of their family. Diane's family don't like Henry because they think he had something to do with Diane's death, and they've tried to influence Sal to believe that he did, but it didn't work. They aren't in contact with Henry's parents because quite frankly they're just awful people, and Henry hasn't spoken to them since Sal was very young.

Sal takes bugs outside with a cup and is unnerved by squishing them.

He can't drive because his depth perception has been pretty badly damaged from both losing one eye, and the mild brain damage he received after the shooting. He still feels comfortable enough to ride his bike most of the time, though.

Yeah, he got a bit of brain damage after the shooting, and experiences mild issues with balance, vertigo, depth perception, swallowing, occasionally with speech, and reading/reading comprehension.

He was born with a cleft lip and palette, and that coupled with the missing cheek and the brain damage makes it so that he has a mild speech impediment most noticeable with P's (they can sound more like B's), and S's (slight lisp), and he often slurs his speech slightly, especially when he's tired. He also has tendencies to skip over words when speaking, say them out of order, or conjoin words.

He has ADHD.

Despite his lack of a license, he has been driving a couple of times before, though it's usually because Larry convinced him to. Larry would drive his truck down to an isolated location and have Sal drive around for fun, and it was mostly just donuts because as soon as Sal learned how to do those, that was all he wanted to do.

After the shooting, Henry started drinking heavily and began neglecting his son's posttraumatic needs, and most other needs. He also got bullied for his face and his feminine nature very heavily, getting worse as he got older and the teens got meaner. His friends mostly defended him, but they could be just as mean at times, and it never really felt like he was a part of the group as much as he was their pet freak. This all caused Sal to become extremely bitter and mean for a long time, which comes as a surprise to his friends, having only known him as a very kind person.

He attempted suicide once, when he was around fifteen or sixteen, as a result of the mounting stress and mental health problems. This is what caused Henry to really wake up about his alcoholism, realizing that if he couldn't better, then he'll lose his son, too.

In the aftermath of this attempt, after having to deal with patronizing doctors for weeks, Sal managed to express his bitterness and hatred and anger properly for the first time in years by yelling at his father about it until he broke down. This was the beginning of their relationship beginning to heal. Still, Sal said a lot of things he regrets now during that breakdown. (S: If you took five minutes to stop pickling your frontal love in Miller Lite, you'd have enough brain cells left to realize what was going on with me a lot sooner.)

Sal hates doctors more than anything, having had some very negative experiences with them over the years. He finds them extremely patronizing and often feels gaslit after talking to one professionally, because they're often extremely homophobic to him, assuming that his gender non-conformity is somehow the result of an Ed Gein-like pathology. If they're not being homophobic, they see his face, his disabilities, and his psychiatric issues, and they start treating him like a toddler, (it gets worse in psychiatric hospitals).

With how I write him, Sal definitely has quite a bit of BPD, but with the original storyline, he wouldn't have gotten the chance to get diagnosed. In AUs, he probably gets diagnosed sometime in his early to mid twenties, as that's when his symptoms really become apparent as relationships in his life start getting more serious and his old coping mechanisms start becoming much more pathological.

I've given some of my weird bullshit to Travis (autism) and Ash (mystery, because I haven't made her post yet lol), so I've also been giving Sal some too: He has POTS, but Henry explained it to Sal as 'your mom's heart thing'. It started when he was around 14, and got progressively worse over the years, but he didn't know it was a problem until Lisa pointed out that he wasn't experiencing a normal fatigue when she took his blood pressure with her at-home monitor one time, and he displayed tachycardia and low blood pressure. He often wears compression gear underneath his clothes to help, and can often be seen drinking pickle juice, because it's cheaper than pedialyte.

Due to the everything that's wrong with him, he's very passionate about disability justice.

His favorite horror movie is Texas Chainsaw Massacre, because it was the first one he watched with Larry. To this day, he maintains that Bubba Sawyer did nothing wrong, that it was the fault of those stupid teenagers, and that the sequels take away what made the first movie so good by making them so over the top.

He watched Carrie once and it made him cry. In retrospect, it reminds him somewhat of Travis.

Considers Nightmare on Elm Street a kid's movie.

His favorite actor is Michael Berryman, as he is a successful and well-liked person with facial/body differences, and that makes him feel a bit more confident in himself.

Sal has a lot of gender-differences, but I don't know if he would ever label it officially. I do think he should try Estrogen though. It's a recreational drug, he'll like it.

With sexuality, I think Sal is bisexual. As far as types go, I think he's most into people with more dominant personalities than his; people who like to talk more, people who are very passionate, people who know what they want, people who can take the lead in a relationship because he's definitely too nervous for that, etc. I think Ash falls into this category, which is what draws him to her.

Larry also falls into this category as well, if we wanna talk Sal/Larry. He has more experience and stands on a more solid ground identity-wise than Sal does, which makes him a great rock and dominant character in the relationship.

Travis does not fall into this category, at least not at first, because he simply doesn't feel very comfortable with himself or in a relationship with another guy at first. Especially with Sal, I think this would probably be his, like, first or second relationship, so he's not very experienced at all, and has trouble knowing what he wants. But, this changes a lot as he grows into himself and eventually becomes the more dominant one of the relationship.

No matter what the end-goal ship is for the story i'm writing, I always picture Sal and Ash having dated for a bout a year or so during or after high school, then breaking up, usually either for Ash's college reasons, or general mutual reasons, such as Sal not being stable enough for a relationship mentally, or realizing they do better as friends.

Upon reflecting on the relationship, Ash describes dating Sal as more like dating a girl than a guy. All things considered, she holds Sal in high esteem as a partner, as he was very attentive to her needs and generally eager to communicate. Though, his biggest issue was that he could be cagey and didn't like it when she focused on him too much, due to his insecurities and fears around intimacy.

Sal has always been feminine and faggy, which is why it was somewhat of a surprise to Henry when it turned out he DID like girls, just in addition to boys. Not that that's a bad thing, he just wasn't expecting it.

Henry's parents are pretty homophobic, and instilled a lot of that into him, but a lot of that started changing when he had his own son, who seemed so pleased to wear fairy princess dresses that Henry couldn't bring himself to do to Sal what was done to him in the name of an increasingly arbitrary masculinity. He ended up having to argue with a lot of doctors to leave Sal's expression alone, because they kept claiming that it was some kind of pathological issue that needed to be fixed, and not just who he was. (H: The problem isn't that he's a fag, he's always been that way! The problem is that his mother was killed right in front of him, and his face was disfigured! Why don't you focus on that?)

This is getting a bit long now, lol. I'll need to make a part two at some point because I think about Sal way too much. It's very easy for me to write for him, because we have a lot of very similar experiences with 'random tragedies'. He's probably my favorite to write for, aside from Todd.

[bangtanfanfiction]

love at first squat? → k. sunwoo

Listen I'm a whore for Sunwoo this comeback. I will use every opportunity to praise that beautiful man.

♢ Pairing: Sunwoo x Gym rat!Reader → Idol AU

♢ Word count: 2.2k

♢ Genre: Fluff, suggestive, established relationship

⌲ Description: Inviting you to join him at the gym with his members was supposed to be a cute outing. Instead Sunwoo is left speechless and probably more in love than he thought possible. ↳ Warnings: Cursing, horny thoughts, mentions of sex, Sunwoo is ready to call you mommy (jk. maybe not. idk)

Listen.

Sunwoo wasn’t stupid, okay. 

Besides his obvious talent for being annoyingly witty, he considered himself to be fairly intelligent.

Which is why he was quite certain there were very few situations these days that would make him feel like an idiot. 

But here he was. Feeling like a complete, flustered idiot. 

All because of you. 

Okay fair enough, it was his fault this situation happened at all. But still. 

Being a twenty-three-year-old man, Sunwoo doubted there was much in the world that could turn him back into a speechless, bubbling idiot after being in the entertainment industry as long as he had. 

He’s seen it all. Over-the-top performances, beautiful idols, arenas filled to the brim as well as anything negative to follow those specific areas. 

And so Sunwoo had the brilliant idea of wanting to spend some time with you today that didn’t just include laying around and eating a bunch of snacks. 

Something cute, y’know. Wholesome. Instagram worthy without the posting etc, etc. You get the idea.

Since it’s only been six months since the two of you started dating officially, after all. He had to keep the fun going somehow.

He was also confident that he knew most of your likes and dislikes at this point. 

For instance, Sunwoo knew you loved the gym. You were 110% a gym girl with nearly all stereotypes to follow. 

He rarely saw you outside of comfy hoodies and sweats. He knew about your strict five-day workout routine you kept to almost religiously. He knew you struggled with fulfilling your needed protein count every day because you always complained to him about it. 

In all honesty, Sunwoo shouldn���t have been as surprised to actually see you in a gym environment. He knew you were fit and healthy - Of course he did. He‘s seen your naked body more times than he could count at this point. 

But all those times had also been in a private relaxed space. Often after eating takeout with a bloated stomach each.

So when some of his very avid gym-going members asked if he wanted to join them, he further stretched that invitation to you. Hoping to get a day spent together out of it. 

He had never seen you reply to something as quick as that.

You had met him in front of the private gym their personal trainer owned a walking distance away from the company. Dressed in a comfortable loose set of white sweats and matching hoodie, a black gym bag swung over your shoulder as you skipped the last distance towards him, launching into a tight hug.

“Hi.” Sunwoo smiled down at you, brushed away some stray hair falling into your face.

“Hi.” You returned it with a wide grin, leaning up on your toes to press a series of pecks on his irresistible lips, like an overbearing mother without the maternal instinct obviously.

“Missed me?” It had been a little over a week since you last managed to meet up in the midst of their recent comeback. 

And God, what a comeback that was.

“I always do.” You were never shy of your affection towards him, even to the point of making him shy in front of his members. “It’s unfair how perfect this comeback fits you.”

Your fingers flicked his parted hair with a wink.

Sunwoo only kept grinning - you had already shared your very enthusiastic opinion of him five minutes after the MV had dropped, texting a whole paragraph on how beautiful he looked and how your possessive nature might just turn deadly. (Jokingly, that is)

You had been in his shared dorm with Chanhee, Changmin and Younghoon spread throughout the living room and kitchen, tucked into the corner of their L-formed couch as you watched their most recent live performance - Sunwoo right beside you, waiting for your reaction.

He had paid careful attention, especially when his part had come on. You had watched the entire video silently with a completely straight face.

Chanhee would forever hold his trauma over your heads having been a witness to see you dragging Sunwoo to his room by the front of his shirt, locking the door audibly with a click before the sounds of thumping music came on to hide the sounds of your very obvious antics.

They didn't need to listen to know what the two of you were up to. Not with how Sunwoo seemed to be on cloud nine the rest of the week.

("Best fucking blowjob ever.")

Your screen saver was later a picture of his iconic part in 'Watch it'.

His hand slid a little lower at the memory, against the visible dip of your lower back and perky ass. One of his favourite physical traits on you, and Sunwoo would never be ashamed of being an ass man.

Shaking his head, he gave your butt a fond tap as you both made your way inside the building. The other members were already inside; Sangyeon, Jaehyun, Kevin, and Eric were in various positions stretching their bodies. 

You greeted them all cheerily with a wave and grin, before thanking their PT for allowing you to use the gym. 

Sunwoo was half listening to their workouts planned out while also glancing at you through his peripheral vision - curiosity driving him to see you for the first time in a gym together. 

You were obviously in the zone, within a corner of the private gym, not wanting to get in their way. 

He saw you tipping back a dry scoop of pre-workout and washing it down, before stretching just like them. You were still patiently at it as he began his first workout, falling into the same concentration with his members scattered around him doing their own things; their PT walking around and fixing any details. 

Sunwoo had just finished all his sets of a lat pulldown when the praise came from Sangyeon in a disbelieving mutter, stopping in his DB shoulder presses. 

“Whoa, that’s insane.”

Turning around, Sunwoo’s cough mid-water sip was not subtle. 

You were on whatever set of your hip thrusts, 200kg worth of plates on the bar as you breathed in concentration, not even aware of how much attention you had drawn. Your soundproof headphones made sure of it. 

You had shed the hoodie and sweats, only a pair of navy blue shorts and an oversized t-shirt he recognized as his, tucked into the band of your sports bra behind as you pushed through. The bar clattered slightly as you dropped back down. With a relieved sigh, you stood up only to flinch in shock to see him and his members still staring. 

Pushing back the headphones, you gave an awkward smile. “Hi?”

Sangyeon walked forward with an admiring grin. “Y/N that’s crazy! How long did it take you to get you that weight?” The two of you easily fell into conversation with Sunwoo still on mute. 

You had always clicked quickly with his oldest member, being such big gym goers to the point of obsession. Where Sunwoo also enjoyed going to the gym, he didn’t see it as his priority besides aesthetic pleasure. 

Not that he didn’t appreciate those who did. 

Speaking of...His eyes started to trail down your body. 

How the shorts were clinging to your quads, muscles shifting as your feet moved on the spot while talking, to your damn impressive round ass - frankly looking huge with the pump it had just gone through. He could see a sliver of skin from where your t-shirt was tucked up, showing off the lean lines of your strong back. 

God, Sunwoo was certain your quads were bigger than his head (They were).

Despite your makeup-free face, flushed skin, and sweat coating it - you had never looked hotter to him. 

“Give us a warning if you’re planning to go crazy.” Kevin’s voice snickering next to him snapped Sunwoo out of his stupor.

“Huh?” 

His hyung didn’t stop smirking knowingly. “You’re drooling. So if you’re planning to drag her away, at least warn us of the trauma of witnessing something we don’t want to.”

A blush spread across his face and the tip of his ears as Sunwoo complained. “Ah, hyung! I’m not going to do that.”

He had more decency than that. (Not really.)

Glancing over again, he watched as Sangyeon was helping you rerack the weights and moving the bar to a squat position -your next workout - the two of you moving with surety in every move around the equipment. 

You gave him a perfect view of your ass again as you bent to pick up the last plate, the muscles of your hamstrings tightening impressively, his head tilting to follow the movement.

Sunwoo wondered how he had never noticed that detail before. 

He would have to appreciate your body again (very) carefully once he got the chance. 

If it weren’t for the rough push Kevin put on his shoulder to continue with his workout, Sunwoo would have probably just stood there staring to his own embarrassment. 

“Baby, can you spot me?” 

You waited in patient amusement for his double take at the weights resting on the squat rack before his brows furrowed.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll have to save me if anything happens.”

You snorted out a laugh, his deadpan sense of humour was always a weakness of yours. Making you laugh with a simple sentence even if said in complete seriousness. 

“I’m not hitting over my max today, so you’re good.” You only chuckled, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you slowly, as if coaxing a frightened animal. Only this one kept his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Nothing is gonna happen, I just need a little bit of support on the last rep.”

“What support am I supposed to give?” Sunwoo eyed the plates carefully, voice flat. “That’s more than my body weight.”

Giving him a quick look up and down; dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants with a fitting tank top, you gave the vision of absolute innocence. “Visual support.” 

Kevin, who was quick to get your innuendo from the bench next to you, laughed out loud. Before Sunwoo could comprehend what you meant, you had already moved into position for the squat. 

Sunwoo could only shake his head as he carefully shifted into a supporting position behind you, knees bending alongside your form but never touching.

"Fine, but if I break something you're taking my place in promotions."

"I'm sure Deobi's will love me more than you anyways." You stuck out your tongue in retort before starting with a huff.

He could see your strain by the seventh rep, thighs shaking and face scrunching up in concentration. 

But he saw the determination. And despite the risk of his demise, Sunwoo moved closer.

“You got it, come on.” He encouraged you, gently tapping your hip as you let out a large breath and pushed up, succeeding without him having to risk his life. 

“Okay, you two, enough of the lovey-dovey, back to work Sunwoo.” Their PT called out lightly. 

About an hour later, you were resting after finishing stretching, casually leaning against the wall with a hip popped out and scrolling through your phone when Sunwoo snuck up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your body flush against his chest. 

“Hi.” You only smiled up over your shoulder. “All finished?”

“You’re being unfair,” Was all he said, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and shoulder, tickling you as you squirmed. 

“About what?” You laughed. 

“Distracting me…” He mumbled with a pout. “I could hardly concentrate this entire session. I think I fell in love all over again."

"If I knew my legs were so powerful I would have squatted in front of you on our first meeting."

Sunwoo bit his lower lip to hide a smile. "Love at first squat, you say?"

“Unless you're just jealous of my thighs, that is.” Despite the flutter of your heart, you continued to tease him lightly, stretching out a leg and tightening your muscles still pumped out from your session. “I’ll teach you how to get them.”

Sunwoo hummed lowly against your ear, and you knew he was plotting something.

“I’d rather be buried between them.”

Your scandalous gasp was loud as you whirled around to slap his chest, catching the attention of the rest of the guys who were cleaning up. 

“Kim Sunwoo, we are in public!” You whisper-shouted in mortification. It was his turn to smirk at you in satisfaction, only giving an innocent shrug. 

“Ugh, Sunwoo is being indecent, hyung. Scold him.” Eric called out with an exaggerated shudder, turning to Sangyeon. The leader only sighed exasperated. Already far too used to you and Sunwoo's shows of PDA.

“You didn’t even hear what I said,” Sunwoo called out. 

“I didn’t have to! Y/N proved it.”

“Well maybe I offered her ice scream and she got overjoyed.” He retorted, their usual bickering starting up again. 

“Suuuure, if ice cream meant fu-”

“OKAY!” Sangyeon exclaimed loudly before Eric could finish that sentence, causing a fit of snickers from the others watching, as well as your furious blush spreading as you hid behind the palm of your hand. “Let’s not finish that, Youngjae-ah.”

Eric sucked in his lips with a mischievous glint, shoulders shaking in muted laughter. 

Just as everyone finished cleaning up and you put your outer layers back on - Kevin sidled up to you casually, slinging a friendly arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the building and down the street. 

You both watched Sunwoo take a running start before jumping on Eric’s unsuspecting back as they both stumbled with the maknae’s dramatic complaint of his sore legs echoing.

“You should probably cross out working out together.” Kevin had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You know, for public decency.”

“Oh shut up.”

Thank you for reading!

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 6/8

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 3.1k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

-

Chapter Six

The next week was different. Buck wasn’t sure if anyone even noticed, because Tommy had just reverted back to just kind of ignoring Buck unless it was work related. They were never alone despite Buck trying to catch him on his own. When Buck had tried sending him a text it sat unread for days and then when Tommy did respond it was just to decline Buck asking if he’d want to go see a movie together. 

Buck knew when he wasn’t wanted. He knew when it was better to just cut his losses and move on. It happened to him often enough. There was just something about him that made people think they could do better, or that he just wasn’t worth all the trouble after a romp in the sheets. Tommy had come to that conclusion and Buck couldn’t fault him. So, he stayed away. There were more fishes in the sea and all that. 

At the very least, the time they’d spent together had given Buck a few options when it came to Secret Santa. Although, a part of him — a petty part — wanted to just go out of his way to make the present as mundane and useless as anything. 

He couldn’t quite convince himself to go that route. But, it wasn’t like Buck knew what he would get him. The one thing he was certain of was that once Christmas had come and gone that would be the end of it and he would stop letting his mind drift to thinking about Tommy yet again. Buck would go out and find someone else and just move on. It was what he did and it was what he was good at. 

When the week was over, Buck gave in to the impulse to just go out to a bar and see if he could do something to get Tommy out of his mind. He was barely there a few minutes before he left and wound up at the mall instead. 

Buck had a little over a week left and at least being as alone as he was did mean that Buck really only had to worry about getting something for Tommy. The worst of it was walking into a store and pinpointing things that would have worked perfectly to give to Chim or Hen or Bobby. Not so much for Tommy. 

Eventually, Buck wound up just going into a cafe to pick up some coffee and a snack. It reminded him of Tommy’s excitement for the cookies the other day. He had a feeling he was going to wind up just getting one of those chocolate gift sets as impersonal as it felt. At least Tommy would like that for sure which was something.

When he pushed the door to the cafe open on his way out, he almost ran right into Karen. 

“Oh. Karen, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “Fancy seeing you out and about.” 

“Secret Santa,” Buck said. “I still haven’t even figured out what to get so I’ve been browsing the mall.” 

Karen chuckled. “That’s right. Hen already has hers ready to go. Actually, I’m pretty sure she finished all her shopping. Clearly, I’m not done. I was thinking of going into the bookstore to see if I could find something for Hen. Want to join me?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Maybe something will pop out for me there,” Buck said. 

He ate the muffin he’d picked up at the cafe on the way, but was still holding his coffee when they arrived at the bookstore. 

The whole place had been decorated for the holidays. The window had a display with a small ceramic village complete with a tree and a train that went around the whole thing on a track. Lights and garland covered the shelves and on the door was a wreath made out of tiny felt books. 

At first he and Karen perused together. The store was not just books. They had a stationary area and a shelf full of travel mugs with quotes that probably came from books and next to that a rack that held tote bags. 

The shelves were arranged with signs and Buck wound up heading in the direction of the nonfiction. His first thought was to see if there was anything on art. Or, flying. He pulled out his phone to look at the picture he’d taken of Tommy’s bookshelf. No books on art, but a lot about flying. On closer inspection it looked like they were flight manuals rather than books on planes or helicopters. 

The bookstore did have a few books on different famous artists. DaVinci. Van Gogh. Picasso. Monet. Khalo. Buck couldn’t have been able to say much about any of them and he didn’t think that Tommy would actually have any use for biographies. So, Buck wandered the shelves. A LGBTQ+ section caught his eye. 

Buck had always considered himself an ally. He’d gone to LA Pride the year before. He never had a problem with anyone that identified differently be it their gender or sexual preferences, he just had never looked at himself and thought he could be more than the default. 

On the LGBTQ+ shelf there were plenty of novels, but some non-fiction as well. Self-help and essays and history. 

“Hey,” Karen said suddenly at his elbow. “Find anything?” 

“Oh. No. I don’t think a book is the right way to go.”

“But these caught your eye?” Karen asked. “Wait, did you get Hen as your Secret Santa? No, don’t tell me. I can’t know.” 

“I don’t have Hen,” Buck said. “I just—”

Buck had told Connor. Tommy knew, obviously. He hadn’t told anyone else. Karen though...she seemed like a safe bet to tell and yeah it might make it back to Hen, but Buck didn’t even really care about that. It might mean he didn’t have to say anything to Hen outright. 

“I’m bi, Karen,” Buck said. “It’s…um, it’s new.” 

Karen’s smile didn’t falter. “Wow. Thank you for telling me.” 

Buck took a breath. “I kissed a guy and it was like…like I realized I hadn’t been whole my entire life until then. I’ve always been an ally and now it’s…I guess I’m more. I’m bi.” 

“You certainly are, Buck,” Karen said. “Does that mean you’re seeing someone, then?” 

Tommy flashed in his mind. After that date and the glorious afternoon spent in Tommy’s bed they hadn’t spoken outside of work and Buck knew it was over before anything had even begun. Buck felt dumb for thinking that it could be more and that Tommy might give them a chance. He should have known better. 

“No,” Buck said and then grabbed a book at random. 

The cover was pink and it was apparently a romance novel. He put it back. He could feel Karen watching him. 

“I kissed a guy and we had sex a few times and I never told him that he was the first guy I was with and he basically ghosted me after that,” Buck said. 

It was mostly the truth. 

“Oh, you jumped right on in, then. Hen’s told me stories, but most people don’t do things at your pace.”

Buck hummed. “I guess not. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s over and I don’t think I’ll find anything in here for him.” 

Karen made a noise, but she started coughing. 

“I’ll pay for these,” she said.

Karen paid for the four books she’d picked up and Buck waited for her. 

“Hey, Buck, this does get easier and less confusing.” 

“I hope so.” 

-

He’d sketched Evan into the better half of a sketchbook. His hands. His face. A very rough one of his body while Tommy had been riding him. Other things too, Evan’s smile. His birthmark. Abstract things that were a reminder of Evan. He was clearly well rooted in Tommy in a way that would be hard to shake. Shake him, he would. 

The days following their date had been a little awkward. Tommy had even seen Chim and Hen sharing glances because Tommy had gone from talking to Evan a bit more and including him more to ignoring him again. 

“Did Buck do something to you?” Hen had asked one afternoon between calls. 

“No. He’s still the same impulsive kid.” 

“He’s definitely grown a bit,” Hen said. 

Tommy was glad when they had a call to get to. He wound up sitting next to Evan and was stiff the whole ride there. When they arrived on the scene Bobby paired them together he didn’t even blink. Evan had caught on by that point, at least, that Tommy wouldn’t talk to him. So, he didn’t try though his baleful glances struck Tommy to the heart. 

He and Evan went up the ladder that was extended out to the roof of the house, neither said a word and it felt like a blanket of tension had been laid atop them both. The man they were helping had injured his leg while putting lights on his roof. Even he seemed to sense the tension in the air as they helped to get him on a backboard to transport him down. 

Maybe it was unfair to freeze Evan out, but Tommy didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t get attached to Evan. He couldn’t be what Evan needed and there were already too many complications that would arise most because they worked side by side. It was better this way. He did hate the kicked puppy look that Evan got when Tommy pointedly ignored him, but Evan would get over it. Evan would go out and find himself some younger guy to get his rocks off with. That or some girl. Maybe a whole plethora of them if that was what he wanted. Tommy would always be the guy that helped him realize that he wasn’t straight, but that was about it. 

One day, they might even laugh and talk about it. Not any time soon though. 

Tommy did still call the guy with the wood carvings and asked about seeing his pieces again. Apparently the Christmas Market was still going, so Tommy drove over on his next day off. 

“Hey, I’m Tommy. We spoke on the phone.” 

“Right. Right. You were interested in something for a friend?” 

Tommy nodded and took a look around. A lot of the bigger pieces were way past the $50 limit but he did find a carving of a dog with a firefighter’s helmet. It was perfect. 

“This one,” Tommy said. 

It wouldn’t be enough, but Tommy had the start of a plan for the rest of Evan’s present. It might even serve as a way to break the ice between them again and put them on a path to being friends. He hoped. Otherwise, it might be awkward at work forever. 

“Thank you,” Tommy said when he was handed the wrapped package. 

“No problem. Hope your friend likes it.” 

He took a quick walk around the rest of the market, found himself buying cookies and this time a hot chocolate at that booth and then he found a tent that he and Evan hadn’t gotten to the last time or that hadn’t been there at all. A rainbow flag stuck out and Tommy found himself smiling a little. 

At one point in his life, he’d abhorred rainbows and everything they represented for him. He’d never wanted to be attached to it, to claim it for his own. Had believed for the longest time that he didn’t deserve the community it provided. Hell, Tommy had never even gone to a pride parade. It happened sometime when he started painting again, where a rainbow had snuck into a painting and then he was adding them where they worked, especially in a painting that was devoid of other color. It felt like finally allowing himself to be more open about himself, a way to accept that he was gay and nothing and no one could change that. 

He approached the tent and found a smiling man behind a small table that served as a counter. There was a display of different colored flags that Tommy couldn’t begin to assign, books on a small bookshelf and novelty t-shirts and tote bags and mugs. 

“Hello,” the man on the other side of the table said. “Looking for anything specific?” 

“Huh, not really. I’m buying for a Secret Santa. The guy I got just recently realized he’s bi.”

“Oh,” the man said. “Well we don’t have a welcome to being queer pack or anything, but you could give him one of our mugs or a book on queer history. There’s some informative ones, some funny ones. But, you know, just because he’s bi doesn’t mean his gift has to be about that.” 

Tommy could tell that there was a level of condescension in the tone and Tommy got it. He got what he looked like and how he passed for straight easily, that he’d leaned on that for a while, maybe so much that he never could be perceived otherwise. 

He picked up one of the mugs. It was cute and a quote he’d seen in a few places, “Harold, they’re lesbians”. Tommy chuckled and put it down again. A few just had a big rainbow going around them, some with gay or lesbian or bi or queer or trans written on them. Then, he saw one with each line in pink, purple, and blue: “Both. Both Is. Good”. On the other side it said: “Chaotic Bisexual”

“This is perfect for him,” Tommy said with a smile. 

Then, he spotted one with a cartoonish rainbow and “Yup, woke up GAY again”. 

“I’ll take this too,” Tommy said. 

The guy raised an eyebrow. 

“For myself,” Tommy said. 

He saw the man behind the counter nod, lips pressed tight. He was the type of guy that fit the stereotype. Someone that could never have hid his sexuality unless he was really trying and maybe he never had found himself in an environment where hiding was the best option. Some people were that lucky. 

He went to the books next. Several of the titles caught his eye including the flashy looking The LGBTQ+ History that told him Evan would have a kick reading. Then, he saw Bi The Way. He wound up picking both. Over the time he’d known Evan, he knew that Evan liked to deep dive into research about pretty random topics. He mostly did that online. The likelihood was that he’d already gone through every possible site on the internet, but these books would be quirky and fun.

“These too,” Tommy said. 

The man nodded. The mugs he’d put in individual boxes. He added everything into a small bag, but didn’t hand it over. 

“What?” Tommy asked. 

“I’m sorry. I just…I assumed you were just—”

“Just some cis straight guy,” Tommy said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I forget sometimes that the queer experience looks different for everyone. I hope your friend who just came out is glad he has you to help him along the way.” 

Except that Evan hadn’t actually needed that much help from him when it came to the discovery of his sexuality. He hadn’t asked Tommy a single question about being queer or about Tommy’s own history. It was a little unusual, that was for sure.  

He bought a gift bag at another tent and then when he got back home put every component of Evan’s gift inside. He left it right by his tree and he was almost sad to be done with it. His own mug he took into the kitchen. He placed it inside his cabinet and it looked out of place, but Tommy loved it. Maybe one day he would have another mug in there that belonged to someone that fit into Tommy’s life. He didn’t think it would happen, but it was possible. Maybe. 

He tried hard not to picture the mug he’d gotten Evan. That was definitely not going to happen. 

-

“Looks like someone was up all night,” Chim said. 

Buck didn’t even realize Chim was talking to him, but of course he was. And Buck had been up all night. He’d gone down a research spiral. It had started with him looking a little bit further into bisexuality and what it meant for him, but he’d started thinking about Tommy and then that had led straight into Buck just researching art supplies. 

Apparently there was a lot to learn. Not all paints and colored pencils were created equal. That went for brushes and pigments and clay and so many other things. Buck had seen Tommy’s art room twice and he’d noticed that Tommy had a lot of acrylic paint, brushes, and a cup that held pencils. Considering his sketches were all done in pencil, he didn’t think it’d be a bad idea to get him a set of good colored pencils. And so, Buck had gone on a research spiral, but he’d also managed to order some colored pencils and a few different sketchbooks. 

It didn’t seem like enough, but Buck figured with Christmas drawing closer it was better to have something ready to go than not. 

“You do have bags under your eyes, Buck,” Hen said. “Did you get any sleep?” 

“Some,” Buck said. “I’ll get a nap later.” 

Chim nudged his shoulder. “How hot was she to keep you up all night?” 

Buck felt his cheeks go warm. “There was no girl.” 

“Sure,” Chim said. 

“There wasn’t,” Buck said again. 

Tommy walked into the locker room. “What’s happening?” He asked and didn’t look in Buck’s direction. 

Buck felt the avoidance down to his bones. The worst of it was that Buck had never gotten stuck on someone the way he’d gotten stuck on Tommy and they hadn’t even gone on more than a single date. For a second Buck had thought maybe it was that it was a guy and new, but he knew deep down that it was Tommy. 

“Buck is being surprisingly mum about what he got up to last night,” Chim said. 

“Oh,” Tommy said. 

“Nothing. I got up to nothing but shopping for my Secret Santa,” Buck said and he turned so he could look directly at Tommy. “That and a bit of research. That’s all.” 

Tommy turned away. “We all know we would know all the details if Buck did hook up with anyone, wouldn’t we.”

“I did hook up with someone last week. Really hot,” Buck offered. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about that,” Hen said. 

Buck caught Tommy’s eye and he saw Tommy roll his eyes. Buck turned away and finished getting dressed. He didn’t say anything to any of them as he left the locker room and made his way up the stairs hoping that he could actually get a nap on the couch before a call came in. 

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 35

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 5,280

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: BOILING POINT

The room's relatively quiet, which has pretty much been the case ever since your latest fiasco of a mission. It isn't exactly a 'peaceful' silence, but you're willing to take what you can get while dealing with this annoying throbbing throughout your entire body and the stinging pain that’s focused around your center.

"At least I can cross breaking a rib off the bucket list."

"Not a fun feeling, huh?"

"God no," You groan, leaning back only to instantly regret doing so as shown through a sharp flinch. Sam's smile shows a mix of sympathy and amusement before he passes you a couple of pain pills as well as a glass of water. You're quick to set down your ice pack in exchange for these items, gratefully swallowing the pills in hopes that they’ll offer some relief…Unfortunately, there's no immediate effect.

You’re left with no other choice than to miserably do your best getting comfy against the stiff pillows of Zemo’s incredibly uncomfortable couch, your only other option for a distraction being to simply let your thoughts roam to topics unrelated to your searing injuries. There’s lots to review regarding the last hour anyway.

Talking to Karli was a total bust thanks to Captain Cosplay who couldn’t even help prevent her escape afterwards. By now, she’s undoubtedly gone to regroup with her terrorist buddies, bringing along even more reason for them to hate Avengers and even less reason to spare any of you an ear again.

To top off such a failure of a mission, while that section of your plans was going to shit, Zemo apparently took it upon himself to destroy the super soldier serum Karli had been carrying on her person. You suppose that might as well be a good thing considering no more stray vials means no more unwarranted superhumans running amok, however it doesn't quite sit right with you knowing how easily your rent-a-felon had slipped away from watch. He could've made a run for it, and or caused greater harm to the mission as a whole by taking matters further into his own hands which wouldn't have been too out of character given his track record with super soldiers so far.

That's precisely why you told Bucky to keep an eye on him! You were already going after John, and someone needed to stay with Zemo, so it should’ve been him. If he had just listened, you guys would've been able to maintain control of at least that variable - one less idiot to check over your shoulder for. Instead, he insisted on following you then concerned himself with your wellbeing, worried for your sake as if you're a glass doll who took a tumble off a shelf.

…Granted, in the eyes of a superhuman, that’s probably a fitting comparison for what actually happened. Karli succeeded in really knocking the air from your lungs (and most of the sense right out of your head). By the time you finally came to again, the world was spinning in muddled colors orchestrated by constant ringing in your ears, yet you were still somehow aware enough to recall Bucky scooping you up into his arms.

Between those long blinks where your eyes struggled to remain open, you could see the stunned fear woven into his expression. It’s not quite like anything you’ve seen on him before - similar, but not exactly a match even to his troubled stare during the war or his distressed cries in Romania.

You wish you could say he’s relaxed since reaching the safehouse, however his head continues to hang low. Muscles tense and breath jagged, he stands at the bar counter with a glass of vodka in hand - an empty one, since he had just chugged his third round as if a mere shot of pure H2O…He’s still having a hard time snapping out of whatever trance your injury inflicted upon him, failing to steady his nerves no matter how much alcohol he tries to drown himself in; you aren’t the only one to notice.

“Why not try some peppermint tea? It’s an excellent choice for calming anxi -”

“- Fuck off…” Bucky growls in swift response to Zemo’s suggestion, his metal grip constricting against the glass resulting in a sharp ‘squeak’. Any tighter and it’ll shatter into starry shards.

“It’s only a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Nothing that won’t heal -” That’s the third time Sam has said this. Once when he first assessed you, a second as you finally became coherent again…although both evaluations were less for your sake and more for Bucky’s.

Your little injury seems to have really bothered him, that much is obvious. Strange, for someone who sure hasn’t wanted to address your existence lately - who has taken almost every possible chance to push you away and make you feel unwanted - but hey, maybe it should be taken as a good sign since it must mean he still cares about you to at least some extent.

So - the question remains - why keep playing these stupid games then? What motivation could Bucky possibly have? Is he trying to be angry with you? Have you upset him to the point that he’d rather force himself to hate you than forgive you? …Hopefully that isn’t the case.

‘This whole situation is a mess…’ You think, sighing as you throw your arm over your eyes to block out the light and echo out the hostile energy practically flooding this room.

Something about Steve’s shield; an ongoing source of tension between all involved, yet you have no interest in picking sides right now. Instead, you’d much rather try sleeping, the exhaustion of today weighing heavy on your bones (not to mention your patience wearing extremely thin). You might’ve actually been able to drift off, too, if not for the loud ‘SLAM’ that startles nearly all of you.

The heavy doors are thrown open, leaving way for your least favorite cosplayer to march into the room while on a clear mission to make matters even worse than he already has, "Alright, let's go! I'm ordering you to hand him over!”

"...Fantastic..." You can't help rolling your eyes. There goes your chance at recovering in peace and quiet. What has it been? An hour since you've gotten back here? Probably less. Your medicine was just beginning to kick in, too! Now, you’re forced to bear through the numb ache of both your broken rib and incoming headache as you lazily watch Sam stand to 'greet' John Walker's presence.

"Hey slow your roll. Let's be clear: shield or no shield, the only thing you're running around here is your mouth," Clearly losing his own patience with the current situation, Sam packs some bite to his words, not caring if they don't sit right with John who fails to suppress a scowl, "I had Karli - She was willing to listen until you overstepped. As for Zemo, he's actually proven himself useful today and we're going to need all hands on deck for what's coming next -"

"- How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam? Huh?" John wears a cocky smirk, apparently mistaking Sam's silence as being stunned astonishment, not dumbstruck bemusement, "Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?"

He's doing his best to appear big and strong behind his threat, but he's the only one to take it seriously. Even Sam - who's usually the better of your group when it comes to maintaining peace by deescalating high tensions - scoffs at John's ridiculous assessment of himself being a 'challenge' for anyone.

Oh, what you'd give for Steve to be here so that he could show this guy how a real captain throws a punch, even if just to put the truth into perspective. If only John would realize how different he is from the real thing. Steve knew he didn't have to prove himself to anyone, he simply had to stand up for what's right. Even before he was a super soldier, that kid from Brooklyn knew the real meaning behind the shield, something you doubt John will ever understand, at least not at this rate, which is exactly why he shouldn't be carrying it.

Honestly, you had no real intentions of getting involved in this either. You weren't even going to roll yourself off the couch. You would've been perfectly content watching Sam kick Fraud's ass while casually draped across it like a professional cat, but almost the second that shield gets set down, a spear is wedged into the pillar mere inches away from John's face, causing all eyes to dart over to the dora milaje warrior standing at the other end of the room where she had previously gone unnoticed.

Before anyone can address her properly, two more dora milaje warriors march into the room from the hall. They speak in Wakandian, the content of their conversation being unknown to you, however you can assume it's nothing pleasant based on their stoney expressions and fierce tones, both fixated on Zemo and Bucky who appear less than thrilled. If anything, they look scared.

"Release him to us now," confirms the obvious regarding what this is all about.

"Hi,John Walker, Captain America,” Blind to the atmosphere around him, John all too casually approaches the women who meet his introduction with some pretty bombastic side eyes in return, “Tell you what, let’s go ahead and put down the pointy sticks and talk this through, huh? We're kinda in the middle of -"

"- John," Sam interjects, at first with an amused smile, except it’s quick to turn serious, probably after he realizes where this crossroad is likely to head, “Listen, you might want to fight Bucky before you test your luck with the dora milaje.”

John simply turns his back on Sam’s advice, giving a smug sneer towards the women in question, “The dora milaje don’t have jurisdiction here -”

“- The dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever the dora milaje find. themselves. to be…” One warrior bites back almost instantly, drawing out those last few words with venomous intent, although her expression hardly changes as she skillfully keeps her cool better than any of you would if John ever dared to step so close.

For a moment there - however short - it seems that a threat has actually put him in check for once, forcing him to shut his mouth as he appears to do some sort of double-take. A quick, almost embarrassed glance back at the rest of you, followed by an equally awkward laugh, divides that temporary silence with John’s next response which he pairs with an outstretched hand that lands on the dora milaje’s shoulder, “...Look, I think we got off on the wrong -”

Showing much less patience towards John’s audacity than the rest of you, the women attack in an instant, knocking him off his feet face first onto the floor. The three dora milaje then surrounded him and Lemar, the latter of whom’s only mistake was taking a step towards the fight which sealed his fate of being choked back with a spear.

“We should do something,” You hear Sam say, forever the kind and considerate spirit. That’s much more than you can say about yourself. Rather than stand up to at least mock concern over the situation happening mere feet in front of you, you simply rest your head lazily against the back of the couch while watching everything unfold with no more interest shown than you would towards a lackluster movie.

“They’ll figure it out…” You decide stubbornly, nonchalantly shifting your legs to avoid any contact with Lemar when he’s thrown into the seat just adjacent to you.

“Looking strong, John!” Even Bucky seems to indirectly agree with you that this situation isn’t yours to fix up, that is initially, at least, until Sam gives you both looks of disapproval.

While it’s nothing that fazes yourself - after all Sam must realize you’d be little help in a battle of physical strength - it’s apparently enough to convince Bucky to join the chaos, too, probably less so to ‘help’ the other boys and more so to prevent this show from turning into an actual blood bath.

Unfortunately for them, they don’t fare much better than the other gentleman involved. If anything, they merely split the dora milaje’s wrath, each taking a half for themselves in the form of swung spears and stinging blows which makes you all the more sure of your decision to sit this one out.

Could you have simply sat here watching things unfold with an imaginary bag of popcorn? Of course, but a grumbled roll of your eyes just happened to land your attention on the opposite side of the room and, more importantly, on Zemo. For a moment, you were so entertained by watching John Walker be slammed against a table that you nearly forgot about your other nuisance. Such a shame.

Zemo takes full advantage of the unplanned distraction tearing apart his fancy parlor, slipping past the fight through the shadows with an unbothered stride that gains no urgency even when you show your notice of him:

“HEY!” Sitting up all too quickly, you wince at the sharp pain that stabs throughout your body, yet do your best to power through it while rushing to your feet and chasing Zemo’s direction.

Eitherhe doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough to give you any concern - you’re willing to bet it’s the latter as he steps into the bathroom and pulls the twins doors shut behind himself, far nicer than when you toss them back open again.

Empty. The bathroom is empty by the time you step fully inside, furiously looking around for the escapee who vanished like some kind of annoying magician. There’s no way he got so lucky as to find his golden ticket and cash it that quickly. That bastard was planning his getaway for god knows how long. All he needed was a moment like this when his guards were distracted.

“Damn it!” You curse aloud, wanting to use much more vulgar words, however they’re caught upon your tongue when you turn just in time to see one of the dora milaje warriors approaching.

Flinching, you’ll admit you half expect to experience her anger for yourself. One glance behind her leads way to your defeated comrades - Sam against the floor and couch rubbing his face while Bucky stands dumbfounded with his metal arm dropped from its socket - yet the Wakandan only passes you by calmly, peering into the bathroom to see the bad news for herself.

“He’s gone,” Although she refrains from losing her tongue, the venom in her tone shows she’s about as impressed as you are with Zemo’s absences. Marching past with no regard to you nor the way you back away, she casually leaves the room as if she and her friends hadn’t just kicked the sense out of almost everyone inside, her only word of departure being directed towards one of her fellow warriors who holds John’s shield in triumph, “Leave it.”

The other woman looks disappointed, but voices no argument as they leave together.

As soon as they're gone, you make your way over to the result of their fury, your first stop being to help Sam up off the floor which he gives a quick ‘thanks’ for, however your attention is hardly on him. Instead, your eyes remain concerned with Bucky across the way.

“What happened?” You ask, not dismissing the way his hand trembles slightly while reaching to pick up his metal arm from the ground. How it became detached so cleanly in battle…Well, it must’ve taken some skill. You’ve only ever seen him remove it once or twice for cleaning, something he struggled with both times. Then again, you suppose it would make sense for the Wakandans to know the work-arounds of their own creation.

Clearly, there’s a storm of thoughts brewing in Bucky’s mind, that much being certain based on his distant stare as he reconnects his arm back into its socket. Nevertheless, he fails to answer your question, leaving that task to Sam who apparently misses the implied context.

“We got our asses handed to us, that’s what,” He grumbles bitterly, still sourly rubbing the mark upon his cheek. It probably stings and is likely to bruise.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of further bad news, but Zemo got away.”

He scoffs, “I heard. Of course he did…”

“‘Can’t imagine he’ll get far with the dora milaje on his tail. Either way, I doubt we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon - not that I’ll lose sleep over that tonight…Are you both okay at least? In a ‘recoverable’ sense, that is?” Once again, your eyes give away who you’re truly worried about and, once again, you receive no answer from who you wish to hear it from most.

“I think you should probably ask that to John,” Sam sighs. Initially, you aren’t too sure if he’s joking or serious. Going off his words, it’s a joke. Expression? He might really mean it. …And John’s expression?

The defeated soldier looks to be in a similar boat to Bucky in terms of internal dilemma. Even as Lemar offers a hand, John continues to kneel against the ground in dazed silence only interrupted by a quashed mumble, “They weren’t even super soldiers…”

He stalls for a moment before finally snapping out of it enough to take Lemar’s hand, lifting himself off the ground then swiftly masking his shock with a glare aimed towards the rest of you. No more words are said on his end - nothing verbal, that is. His eyes say everything they need to, expressing all that they need to about his embarrassment and anger…Maybe that battle wasn’t the reality check you thought he needed after all. Maybe just the opposite…

Running a hand through your hair, you glance around the room in total loss. Wakanda’s pissed. Zemo’s gone. John’s unstable. And to think your day couldn’t have gotten any worse…If you were on your own, this would be about the point where you’d be screaming into a pillow to release all your pent up anger, but now isn’t the time to lose your cool. You have to keep it together.

Sam mentions something else about the Zemo part of this situation, yet you fail to hear out his thought process. Your focus is solely stuck to Bucky who doesn’t stick around himself, having turned his back almost as soon as he could probably sense you were about to address him again.

Dragging a hand over his face, he marches off to destination you originally assumed would be the bathroom Zemo disappeared in, perhaps to begin tracing the baron’s path to recapture him - which might’ve been what Sam was trying to suggest you all do next - however Bucky walks directly past the bathroom and down the hall instead.

Carelessly smacking open the guest room door, he wanders inside where his limited belongings await mostly untouched upon the bed, never unpacked from his duffle bag. Taking a deep, labored breath, he tries to cease any thoughts about today as a whole, desperately pushing them back behind the dam that’s barely holding his sanity together…but the pressure is building.

First he let you get injured and now Ayo hates him? Is he just destined to keep hurting everyone around him, no matter what he does to avoid it? Even without the Winter Soldier to haunt his mind, his life is still cursed with conflict and danger. HYDRA, Thanos, the Flag Smashers…Will it never stop? Will he ever be able to rest without worry or blame?

“- James…?” The door was already practically open, yet you still peek out from around it, ever so gently pushing it outwards as you step into the room with a frown upon your face, "...What about you? Are you okay?"

"...Fine..."

Despite that being his answer, you still hesitate there in the doorway. You can’t just walk away - doing so wouldn’t feel right. Sure, he’s been an asshole lately and you’d have every right to disregard him, but…Well, today’s been rough for everyone, especially him. You’ve already seen how your injury bothered him on a level he refuses to admit, then for the dora milaje to show up - more importantly, for Ayo, someone he admires and considers himself to be in great debt to…

“It’s only natural for Wakanda to be upset with what we’re doing here. Zemo killed their King, after all,” You speak up against the silence, trying to sound neutral as if you’re simply stating a fact and not trying to offer any comfort, “Of course they’re not going to like that we’re working with him for any reason, much less that we broke him out of prison to do so, but it’s not like you -”

“- What part of ‘fine’ don’t you get?”

You’re left gaping at his snapped tone, frozen for a split second or two after he turns over his shoulder to glare at you…Then your own anger starts to swell faster than you can bite it back, “Maybe the part where you still look pissy as all hell. Seriously, what’s your problem? I’m only trying to make sure you’re okay. You -”

- You take a deep breath, even closing your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts. This isn’t the time to lose patience. You must keep it together. Distance - If you have any hope in your relationship getting better, you need to give him distance, and you will, but you also can’t just turn a blind eye to him while he’s struggling. Dancing around the issue isn’t helping anyone at this rate. You want to talk things out first - You need to address the problem then go from there, wherever it may lead.

Letting go of your breath, you don’t mask your concern this time, “...You’re clearly not okay, James. These last few months have been a shit-show, I get that. Thanos, losing Steve, this whole mess with the Flag Smashers…Me…”

He flinches and swiftly looks away.

“It’s been too much. I’m starting to realize that. We’re all stressed and angry and - …Listen, James. I - …I was wrong to keep secrets from you, especially one as big as me being Hollie. I’ll admit that, but you have to try to understand where I was coming from. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I knew it was going to be a lot and hard to believe so I wanted to wait for a good time…It’s not like it’s exactly easy telling people I used to be someone else a half-century ago…”

You run a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh, “I realize I put it off for far too long, and I really can’t say sorry enough for that, but as wrong as it was for me to keep the truth from you, I still don’t understand why such a secret would warrant you treating me like this. We…We used to be so close. We were close, and then you cut me out just likethat…Why?”

Bucky clenches his fist, forcing himself not to so much as glance back at you. He’d be in trouble if he did that. It’s much easy to keep his back turned while willing himself to remain calm despite the bite that presents itself in his words, “I don’t want to talk about it right n -”

“- No!” You quite literally put your foot down, narrowing your eyes at him, “We need to talk about it now. You can’t keep shutting down on me, Bucky. We’ve been avoiding this conversation for too long already. I thought everything would sort itself out if I gave you some time to think, but clearly that’s only making matters worse for both of us. I…I need to know. I need you to know.

“Bucky, I have loved you ever since I could remember who I used to be. Every second we’ve spent together - Everything I’ve done and said - It was never an act, it’s always been me. I need you to understand that. I feel no different for you now than I did when I was named Hollie. I’ve only ever wanted to see you be happy and doing well - that’s my ultimate goal. While I’d like you to be that way with me - while I’d like to be happy together, if you don’t -...If you don’t see me as her then…”

You look down, uncomfortably fiddling with your hands as you fight to keep your voice steady. Still, you can’t ignore the sting of tears in your eyes, “...It’s fine, it’s whatever. We don’t have to be anything special - Hell, we don’t even have to maintain contact ever again if that’s what you truly want, but at the very least, can’t you still treat me like an actual human being whenever the world forces us to interact? Can’t we be civil? I mean, you’ve been nicer to Zemo than you have been to me lately. It’s like you hate me all of the sudden…Is that it?”

“No -” For once, an answer is delivered without any initial hesitation. It must have been impulsive - a powerful reaction caused by hearing that slight peak to your voice. It causes Bucky to finally spin around and face you, yet that single word is quickly followed by regret once he shies away with a heavy sigh, “...No, I don’t hate you…”

“Then why? Please just tell me so that I can fix things.”

This conversation is dragging on for a dangerous length of time. Even with how little he’s engaged, there’s a voice inside Bucky’s head warning him that it’s been too much. The further this extends, the faster his heart races and the heavier his thoughts weigh…The damage your words do against his shield are deadly, yet he stubbornly refuses to give in. He already made his decision long ago. He can’t become weak against it now.

“There’s nothing to fix -” Attempting to put an end to this discussion, he tries to distract himself with his belongings. It’s a hopeless game of pretend as he shifts through his bag with no real motivation beyond acting busy - an act that doesn’t fool you.

“- Clearly there is,” You huff, taking a step further, arms now crossed, “You wouldn’t be acting like this if everything was just fine and dandy.”

“Just -!” He catches himself, suffocating his growing frustration through a quick inhale, “…Drop it, alright? I already said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it!” You accuse, a hand now falling to your hip, “Why are you acting like my presence is suddenly killing you?”

Slamming his hands against his bag, he spins towards you with a flare temper of his own…So much for keeping it managed, “Why? Because I never asked you to come here! I never wanted you to get involved!”

“In what?”

Shaking his head, he blatantly ignores you aside from a scoff. Tugging at his hair, he finds himself cursing your stubbornness. As bad as it had made him feel, at least you stormed off in Madripoor by this point. You gave up before he had to risk saying anything too close to the truth, however you’re more determined than ever to push for it now. Why can’t you just see that he’s trying to do what’s best for you here?

Instead of even considering something as silly as that, you use your built up anger as fuel for pursuing an answer. No longer are you willing to accept silence or gruff remarks. No longer do you care if you can see Bucky getting visibly distraught with every poke and prod. You deserve an answer this time.

“Involved in WHAT, James!? With this mission? Because believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m here because I consider myself responsible for the super soldier serum -”

“- IN EVERYTHING! I NEVER ASKED YOU TO BE INVOLVED IN ANYTHING!” Bucky suddenly shouts over you, his voice cracking in a way neither of you have heard before. Even through the tears, he swears all he can see when looking at your stunned silence is a reflection of Hollie frowning back at him. You don’t even look alike anymore, yet there’s something about your expression - maybe the bitten frown or heartbroken shine of your eyes - that makes you look so much like her. Too much like her…

Why did you have to come back, dammit it?! Hasn’t he been tortured with his past enough? Why be tempted with you now? You didn’t have to come find him the way you did. You could have gone on with your new life, enjoying all the wonders it has to offer for someone so bright and gifted - all the wonders he stole away from you in the past. Now he’s constantly keeping track of the seconds until he dooms you again - until the nightmare becomes another reality once you’re no longer lucky enough to push yourself back up with only a few broken ribs. He’s already killed Holiday Stark. How long until he gets (Y/n) (L/n) killed, too?

Tearfully, you shake your head. You wish you could do more than that. You want to be angrier or at the very least unfazed so that you can at least pretend none of this bothers you the way it does, but you don't have the spirit; it's been successfully crushed under the weight of Bucky's words and your own heartache.

"...Then I won't be…" You know your whispered voice cracks all the same, and you know your hand is trembling when you reach for its opposite, struggling more than it probably should to wiggle the silver ring off your finger which you then let fall to the floor as if it would've been too hot to hold. From there, you barely even wait to hear the 'clink' that it makes against the tile, already having your back turned as you practically throw the door open without any regard to how it slams against the adjacent dresser.

In a blind hurry, you brush past Sam who looks like a stunned deer caught on a highway. You echo out his fumbled attempts at calming you down because if you could give him words right now, you’d tell him that you're far past the point of 'calming down'. You're officially on autopilot mode as you hastily gather your belongings from your own room.

Tossing everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder, you retrace half of your last steps, this time finding both Sam and Bucky together in the hall. One looks annoyed like a parent who just wanted a nice night out, the other guilty like a kicked dog; both wary as you pass on by. Any other day, it might've fed your ego to see their fear. If you had some heart left, you'd aim a joke towards it, but not today.

"Wait - Where are you going?" Sam calls, and you think it overshadows Bucky's weak attempt at calling your name.

"Home. I'm done with this shit!”

Sam's attention is immediately whipped to Bucky with a hiss, “What did you do?!”

The question has little to no effect, not because it doesn’t matter, but because it’s already being considered, stirring the sour emotions bubbling in Bucky’s mind. The guilt was always expected, however its exact force was miscalculated. This is what he wanted, isn't it? He wanted to push you away - to keep you as far from him as possible where you’ll be safest…and yet he doesn’t feel accomplished in the slightest.

Glancing back through the open door of his room, Bucky’s eyes become watery once they land on the abandoned wedding ring that sinfully glows in the light of the window.

…He’s really done it now…

NEXT CHAPTER {coming soon}

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Taglist:

@arunabrak

@lovemesomevesey

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART ONE : CHAPTER FIVE

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which you and grace make your return to hometree

warnings: none!

word count: 2.6k

author's note: another chapter! yay!

AO3 | prev | next

It wasn’t until Norm started setting up your link bed did you realize what was happening.

Grace was shrugging off her lab coat and Jake was already linked up by the time you entered. A part of you was relieved. You didn’t have to talk to him yet. You weren’t really sure yet what to think of what happened between you two the other night. So right now, not talking to him first thing in the morning was probably the best idea. Especially, when you were already so discombobulated about what you were about to do.

“Are you sure you want me there?” You asked, standing awkwardly next to your link bed. “The kids probably remember you the most anyway—I was just your assistant after all.”

“I could take her place.” Norm tried suggesting even though you all knew the answer to his request.

Grace hoisted herself onto her link bed, “Mo’at wouldn’t have asked for both of us if she thought those kids were only impacted by me, Tinkers.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’re too humble, kiddo. Those kids loved you then and they will love you now.” Grace gave you a meaningful look before saying slowly, “But if you don’t think you’re ready, I understand. I won’t force you.”

For a moment, you really considered saying no. For a moment, the word was already at the tip of your tongue.

But you stopped yourself. You stopped because you knew he’d win. You knew this fear would keep you from being in a place you loved. All this time, all you ever did was hide.

You had made a promise to yourself. And Project Pandora was an indication of said promise. This would be a part of it too.

After a short pause, you shrugged off your flannel jacket, “Norm, I’m going in.”

Said man looked surprised as you hopped into your link bed while Grace grinned.

Minutes later, Norm appeared next to your bed after setting up Grace’s, “How long has it been since you’ve been in one of these?”

You sighed. There he goes with the questions. “Two years.” You lied down, heart practically hammering within your chest. “I almost feel like I’m a newbie all over again.”

Norm chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Probably better at it than me—actually come to think of it, how long have you been on Pandora?”

“Um, since I was sixteen… So four years now?”

He looked surprised, “Huh, I didn’t know they allowed teenagers to travel to Pandora.”

“Quaritch was my legal guardian at the time. Where he went I went.” You glanced at the computer next to your bed, wanting your conversation to be over. “Is it ready?”

Norm nodded and began closing your lid. Not without saying, “Welcome back, Doc.”

And then there was darkness.

Two years passing had made you forget what it felt like to be home.

Even though you had been in your avatar before, it all felt so new again. A thrilling feeling of being free from your human body and being in something new. A fresh start.

The world was a lot brighter now because of it. You could breathe in the air without needing a mask. You didn’t have to look up at other Na’vi people just because you were several inches shorter than them.

When you first woke up in your avatar, you were surprised to find that you were under a log bridge, it was large enough to hide your body so that no one would stumble upon it and accidently mistake it for a dead Na’vi. Well, then again, a Na’vi would be able to tell that it wasn’t one of their own because of your five fingers instead of four and the clothes you left on the body.

It almost felt like you had risen from a grave. Quite a bit morbid if you thought about it.

In a tree nearby, if you remembered correctly, your handmade spear was still there where you left it. Tsu’tey had taught you to carve it yourself and since then you’ve kept it ever since, despite not being in your avatar body for a long while. You made sure to keep it well hidden so that no animals or other Na’vi would take it.

When you found it, it was a bit splintery but still well intact. Could use a bit more carving, you were sure Tsu’tey would say the same if he saw it. Might even force you to make a new one.

A smile tugged at your lips.

“Hey, Tinkers!” You look up to find Grace’s avatar jogging toward you with a large grin on her lips. “Long time no see.”

You grin, “I’ve always been here you know. It’s not like you haven’t seen me.”

Grace smiled at you and gestured toward your avatars, “Not like this. It’s been too long.” She then gestured toward the opposite direction, “Come on, the village’s this way.”

You had forgotten what it felt like running in your avatar form. You were a lot faster than you would be in your human form, your long legs stretching forward as you went. Plus, without the mask, there was no fog covering the glass around your face, temporarily blurring your vision with how much breathing you were doing with it on.

Instead your face was barren and the breath felt amazing against your new skin.

During the time when the school was open, you had only been to the Omatikaya village only once. And that one time was when Sylwanin begged you to come and hunt with her and Tsu’tey, his original betrothal before it fell to her younger sister. You didn’t know how to hunt at the time so Tsu’tey, begrudgingly, decided to teach you the basics so at least you’d be able to keep up with them. Really, if it were up to him back then, you probably wouldn’t have been invited.

But he would’ve done anything to please Sylwanin. And that included playing nice with her new friend which happened to be you. Even reluctantly learn the handshake you taught them. Tapping your hearts three times. Three hearts. One beat. 

Now it was: Two hearts. One beat.

“Sa’nok! Sa’nok!” Was the first thing you heard upon entering the Omatikaya village. It was the same as you remembered it. Hometree stood tall and proud in the sky, blue dots of Na’vi jumping about in the high branches. You didn’t really expect to see children so soon, but then again it made sense considering around this time they would either be training or following the adult Na’vi around.

Seeing them run toward Grace and you made your heart elated immediately. Some of them you recognized having known them since they were little, now they were taller and almost reached your shoulders. They surrounded the two of you excitedly.

“Look at you all.” Grace smiled as she kneeled down to be at their level. “You’ve grown so much!”

“Sa’nok, look what I made!” One of the children said excitedly, holding up a handmade knife. Seeing Grace smiling and happy with the children surrounding her felt so right. It felt like there had been a missing piece to a puzzle that you could not solve for the longest time. And now, watching Grace be happy as if they were back at the school again, you believed that void had slowly begun to fill itself back up. All the nerves you had felt before were slipping away when some of the kids approached you.

There was a small tug at the hem of your shirt. You looked down to find one girl looking up at you curiously, “Tsmuke, do you remember me? My name is Osa, you gave me a doll. It was—how do Sky People call it? Sheep?”

Your heart melted as you knelt down in front of her, “Osa? Yes, I do remember you! You’re such a big girl now!”

“I know how to shoot an arrow now! Do you want to see?” Osa grinned excitedly, grabbing your hand.

You grinned, “Sure, I would love to see.”

“Let me go get my bow!”

Osa ran off and a few other children took her place. They asked the both of you and Grace where you had been and why they hadn’t seen you in a while. Grace explained it to them the best way she could until Osa came back seconds later with her bow and arrows.

She tugged at your hand, “Come on, come on! Let’s go!”

You allowed the girl to drag you off, followed by a few more kids. You all didn’t wander too far from the village, especially when one of the adult Na’vi said to stay in view so they could watch them. Or rather watch you closely. You didn’t mind it really nor did you blame them. Right now you were just thankful to even be allowed back into the village.

There was a small pond of fish that you all arrived at. Osa readied her bow and arrow, rambling on about how her father taught her to aim and load the arrow. You listened closely and knelt down next to her as she began to aim her arrow at the pond.

“Don’t miss this time, Osa!” One of the older boys, Maw’i, teased.

“Yeah or you’ll scare the food away!” Another boy said.

You hushed them, sending them a stern look, “If you keep at that, you’ll distract her. Then she’ll actually miss and scare them away. We wouldn’t want that would we?”

“No, tsmuke.” They both say with small pouts.

Osa nudged you to gain your attention again. You nod to her, giving her the go ahead. Osa aimed her arrow and waited a few seconds, then she let go of the arrow and missed.

There were snickers behind you, “Ssh!” You say to them before turning back to Osa. “It’s okay, just try again. Those fish can be really fast.”

Osa nodded and retrieved her arrow. She aimed at the pond again. You motioned for the older kids to be quiet and gently patted Osa’s arm, silently encouraging her.

After a few more seconds of her pausing, she let the arrow go. And this time it hit one of the fishes.

“Well done, Osa!” You cheered, clapping your hands happily. When you stood, she hugged your waist tightly and you patted her head. “Go one and get your fish, okay? Then we can head back to the village and show the others.”

Osa nodded and skipped toward the pond to retrieve the fish and her arrow. Just as you gathered up the children, especially the older ones that got distracted by playing amongst each other, all of you started your way back to the village.

“Tsmuke!”

At first, you thought it was more kids coming your way but when you glanced over your shoulder, you instead saw Tsu’tey on a direhorse riding toward you. Osa hugged your leg as he stopped in front of you, brows raised curiously at you being surrounded by children.

“Tsamsiyu!” You nod with a grin.

Tsu’tey got off his direhorse, sizing you up and down as he walked paced around you. “I did not expect to see you here or in this form of yours ever again.” He tapped his heart twice.

“Don’t even think about it, Tsu’tey.” You said, doing the same with your heart. You already knew what he was thinking with the way he was examining your physique and spear that was strapped over your shoulder. “I’m not even ready! It’s been years, it wouldn’t be a fair fight!”

“Are you challenging her again?” Maw’i questioned. He was one of the kids you remembered taking care of when the school was open. And there was no doubt that he remembered you and Tsu’tey’s earlier relationship. Had to since the boy practically followed you around when he was younger, especially when Tsu’tey stopped by the school.

“Huh? What of it, little man?” Tsu’tey smirked before looking at you challengingly. “Sounds to me like you’re scared, dreamwalker.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away, “That’s enough strong warrior. You know I can’t beat you.”

Tsu’tey smirked but backed off. He fell into step with you as you and the children walked back to the village. As you got closer to the village you saw that Grace was deep in conversation with a few Na’vi women, children still clinging to her as much as they clung to you.

“When are you going to try and become Omatikaya?” Tsu’tey asked you, eyes watching Grace curiously. “Like your demon friend.”

You tried not to snort at the latter bit. Really, you were surprised at his question. It was the last thing you expected from him considering he was so against the Sky People invading his home. But it was sweet in a way. But also the question dampened your smile, just a bit.

“No matter what I do, I do not think I will really belong here.” You say truthfully as some of the kids at your side rushed over toward Grace. “And that is something I’ve come to terms with a long time ago.”

“Hmph.” Was all he said.

You scoffed, “Really? That’s it? No words of comfort?”

Tsu’tey rolled his eyes but patted your head. It was the only comfort he knew how to give. He did it when the two of you were younger as well. Seems like things hadn’t changed that much.

He looked past you and his eyes suddenly narrowed, “Your demon friend is here.”

It was kind of pathetically hilarious at how quickly you turned toward the direction Tsu’tey was looking.

Next to Neytiri was, who you assumed, was Jake in his avatar form. This was the first time you’ve seen it and you were pleasantly surprised at how similar his face was compared to human form. The only difference now was that he was blue and standing instead of being in a wheelchair.

You heard Tsu’tey grumble next to you as Jake’s eyes met yours.

It wasn’t until you saw Jake’s stunned face did you realize that he hasn’t seen your avatar before now. You realized Tsu’tey had left your side, especially when Jake approached you with Neytiri trailing behind.

“Oel ngati kameie.” You nod to Neytiri.

A look of recognition crosses her face as she was sizing you up. After a pause, she nodded in return, “Oel ngati kameie, tsmuke.”

Jake was still looking at you in slight awe, Neytiri noticed this and rolled her eyes. She smacked your arm and mumbled, “He’s still big baby.”

You giggled as Neytiri walked away. Jake looked at you in confusion, glancing from Neytiri to you, “What? What did she say about me?”

“You still have a lot to learn, Puppet.” You patted his arm but then frowned when you noticed small cuts on his chest and the side of his head. “Really? Not even a few hours here and you’ve already bled?”

He caught your hand when you went to check one of the cuts on his chest, “I’m fine, Doc.” He smirked, hand still grasped around your wrist. It grew when you tried hiding your flustered state. “Neytiri’s just throwing me around a bit.”

“Sounds kinky.” You quipped, playfully shoving him away until he let you go.

“Funny, I said the same thing and got a bow smacked in my face.”

“You probably deserved it.”

Jake grasped both of your arms and started pulling you in a random direction, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

You frown but let him pull you along, “Shouldn’t you be training?”

“Not when the teacher is distracted.” Jake grinned back at you. “Come on before she catches us.”

The mischief in his eyes wasn’t missed by you as he continued dragging you through the forest.

You were definitely going to regret this somehow.

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari@tojigirl @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @erenjaegerwifee @naityelen @dumb-fawkin-bitch @raggedyoldwitch

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from the lovely @nicoline1998enilocin: "I have a short and simple request for you including our favorite super soldier: Bucky! What is he like during mirror sex? He can be the one receiving the pleasure or giving - or both, depending on your mood 😉" Shoutout to @samodivaa for the help and support as always!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Some angsty feelings on Bucky's behalf, mention of legal proceedings, oral sex

“BUCKY!” you yelled after him. He was halfway down the staircase when you were finally within ear shot. 

“Bucky,” you panted out his name this time. Cardio had never been your strong point.

He looked up at you, mirth reflected in his eyes at your need to hang over the handrail to catch your breath.

“What’s up, Sugar?”

“Get your butt back up here,” you demanded.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed into a look of concern as he marched back up the stairs to you.

“Did you even look at yourself in the mirror before you left?”

The small shrug of his shoulders told you everything you needed to know. “How did you know?” he asked. The mirth that had temporarily graced his features was replaced by his usual melancholy.

You held up the long strip of silky material in your hand. “You forgot your tie!”

“Oh.” His lips breathed out the sound as they formed a perfect little circle.

“Here, let me.” You lifted your arms to pull up the collar of his shirt and wrap the tie around his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“It’s a closed hearing. They aren’t allowing anyone inside.”

“I could wait outside," you suggested, folding his collar back down and smoothing the tie with your palm.

“It’s not worth your time.”

“You’re worth it, Bucky.” You leaned into him, the back of your fingers gently caressing his cheek. He was one step below you, meaning you were face to face rather than this usual towering posture.

“Am I?”

“Buck,” you sighed. You hated how much his past plagued him. He would suffer from fits of despondency and wistfulness which would take him away from you. His body would be yours to hold but his mind was lost in a haze of his bloody past. Today was definitely one of those days. Understandably so, he was being judged for actions he felt responsible for, despite knowing that his mind had not been his own.

His court mandated therapy would leave him a shell of himself. Gone would be the charm and snark that your boyfriend innately sported and you were left with a husk of his former self. His spells of self loathing had become more frequent and it left you filled with dread that one day you’d lose your boyfriend to his guilt ridden conscience.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked him.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone didn’t inspire confidence.

“Buck, just give me five minutes, I’ll-”

“No,” he cut you off with more force than you expected. “I don’t want you there.”

It hurt. He knew it hurt you but he couldn’t quite form the words to apologize. Instead he would let the sorrow fester in the depths of his soul, turning away, unwilling to look into your eyes, to see the new cracks he had made on your heart. He was afraid that one day he would shatter it into a thousand pieces and he would lose you forever, but he still didn’t have the strength to concoct an apology. He would lose you through his own actions. It was what he deserved.

“Okay.” 

Your acceptance of him made him angry, he clenched his teeth, a rage building up inside of him in the same way it had when he had been him. It was still inside him, the creature they had forced out of him, had leashed and used. Why didn’t you see the monster inside?

“I’ll be here when you get home,” you said softly as he left you at the top of the staircase.

***

Bucky crept back into the apartment. A pardon. They had given him a full pardon. He had complied with their demands, jumped through their hoops and saved the world to boot. His actions told the tales of redemption but his soul still burned in flames of an eternal torment.

He heard you humming in the kitchen, probably preparing something delicious for him. You were the only light in his life, he couldn't think of anything he had done in his overextended lifetime to deserve the compassion you showed him.

Shame engulfed him, he couldn't face you after the words he had spoken that morning. He couldn’t look into your beautiful eyes without an apology that was worthy of you. Maybe the scalding temperature of a hot shower would help wash away the fog that clouded his brain and steeped him further into his anguish.

You may not have caught the sound of his footsteps, but there was no mistaking the creaking of the ancient pipes in the building.

“Bucky?” you muttered under your breath. Not loud enough for anyone to hear, except a super soldier who was not currently in the act of drowning his sorrows under a showerhead. You turned off the stove and padded into his bedroom. After retrieving the suit that he had so carelessly dropped on the floor, you sat down on the bed to wait for your boyfriend to come out of the bathroom. 

He didn’t emerge for almost an hour, but you were patient. Forgiving. Almost too forgiving.

Bucky froze in the doorway with only a towel hanging around his waist, seeing you sitting on the bed watching him, concern etched across your face. He watched your lips open and close slightly, fighting the urge to get up and rush to wrap your arms around him. He craved your touch, but he stayed, frozen, out of reach. He could see your fear, not for your safety, but of his response. But it was your sadness which finally ignited some movement from him.

He sat down beside you, drops of water dripping off his hair down onto his shoulders. The scent of his geranium and orange shower gel wafted into your nostrils, giving you the comfort of his presence, his proximity, as well as the courage to ask your question.

“What happened, Bucky?”

“Pardoned.” His reply was flat.

You gasped, flooded by a sense of relief. It was a reflex, you grabbed his flesh hand between yours and looked at his face, searching for his reaction. “That’s great! Right, Buck?”

He turned his head, not quite able to look at your face. Instead he stared ahead, only to catch your eyes in the reflection of the full length mirror which hung on the wall in front of you. You deserved an answer, so he nodded stiffly.

“Bucky.” The way you breathed his name betrayed everything you were feeling. Heartache, apprehension, anxiety and most importantly, affection.

He squeezed your fingers, trying to convey everything he hadn't said with this one action.

"We need to talk, Bucky."

And here it was. You had reached your limit.

"I'm worried about you."

The breath that had caught in his throat escaped in a short hiss.

"You can't carry on like this."

You weren't looking at his reflection anymore, you were looking directly at him, eyes filled with expectation.

"I-" Bucky grappled to find the right words. "I don't deserve this."

"Because of what you see, right? You look into that mirror," you pointed at his reflection, "and you still see yourself as the Winter Soldier. But Bucky, that's not who I see."

"No?"

"No," you shook your head. "I see a man who's the survivor of the most heinous acts that another human can inflict on them."

Your fingers hovered over the scars on his left shoulder, gently caressing his skin. "Someone who resisted their torture for twenty years."

"You have so much strength and resilience, you fought against it and you're still doing it. You don't give up. And that makes me so proud." Gently you rested your chin on his right shoulder and pressed your temple against his stubbled cheek. 

You folded one knee under you and moved closer  to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his waist. "I know I can't take away the sadness in your heart… as much as I wish I could. And I know you carry that weight with you every day. But if you'll let me, I'd like to help you with it. Especially on those days when it gets to be too much."

Bucky's jaw worked hard to mumble his next words. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're the most important person in my life. I choose you."

You kissed his cheek, a sweet peck. The first of many. The next was firmer, your lips on his skin longer. Another to the angle of his jaw. It left a buzzing sensation where you'd made contact. But you didn't stop there, you left a trail of blazing kisses down his neck and along his shoulder, not once taking your eyes off Bucky's reflection. You wanted to make sure he was watching you.

"I want you to see how special you are."

You snaked your hands up from his waist so that they landed on his chest, over his heart.

"I want you to know that I see the good man that's in here. I see you, Bucky."

Your eyes didn't leave his in the mirror. Together you both watched your movements as you showed Bucky what he meant to you.

A few more chaste kisses landed across his broad shoulders before you decided to change the focus of your attention. His vibranium arm. The advanced prosthetic was usually a source of pride and achievement and told the story of how far he had come from the nightmare he lived for decades. But in moments of madness, the maelstrom inside him would sweep him into the past and Bucky would view his gift as a curse.

You pushed on his elbow from behind, guiding his arm up in a cradled position across his chest. With your other hand you interlocked your fingers with his, your thumb caressing the smooth hard metal. Your free fingertips now traced the golden veins which stood out against the midnight colors, every second watching.

Closer, you pulled him closer. You drew his cool fingers into your mouth. One digit at a time, your tongue swirled around each one, licking, sucking, admiring their taste. He hadn't taken his eyes off you. Your other hand stroked this muscular back, working its way around the edges of the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Sugar…"

"Yeah, Buck?" you asked, taking his fingers out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you this morning." He was looking directly at you rather than the mirror as he apologized, you could see the sincerity in the glimmer of his cerulean blue orbs.

"Thank you."

"I shouldn't have."

"No, but I think I understand what you were feeling."

"Forgive me?"

"I forgive you, Bucky."

This time he initiated the kiss. Lips covering yours. Tongues dancing together. Longing and love exchanged in the act of passion. Bucky wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his lap. 

"I want you to see what I see," you whispered as you finally came up for air.

You turned to look over your shoulder at your reflections before facing Bucky with a smile. There was enough action under his towel for you to work with. You climbed off his lap and started to kneel down in front of him. But Bucky grabbed your arms just as your first knee touched the floor.

"Sugar-"

"Let me show you, show you how much I love you." You slipped your fingers into the small space where the towel was tucked in on itself.

"Just hang on-"

"Buck, it's okay, really!"

You tried to stop him leaning backwards, but he was intent on his action. Bucky grabbed a pillow and handed it to you. "The floor's pretty hard. I know, I sleep on it."

You accepted his offering gratefully, dropping it to the floor, you felt immediate relief as the hard wooden floorboards were no longer pressing your knees. It allowed you to focus your attention back on exposing him.

The towel fell open with little effort and you worked on tracing a trail along his thighs with the tips of your fingers. It made you smile to see the line of goosebumps which erupted on his skin. Gently you wrapped your palms around his shaft.

You started with a simple kiss, pressed against his tip. And you felt him respond. Your lips slipped over him again, taking him a little further into your mouth. A smile crept across your features as you heard him suppress his moan.

Bucky reached down to touch your face, there was a tenderness in his expression which made you feel a new kind of warmth inside you. It made you want to give your boyfriend everything you had to offer. 

Slowly, you stroked the underside of his shaft, just under the head where you knew how sensitive he was. He rose magnificently under your touch. His hands surrounded your head and he threaded his fingers through your hair with a hum of pleasure. 

"You watch in there," you jerked your thumb behind you. 

The long tortuous vein that ran along one side of his magnificent member received an extraordinary amount of attention as you traced its journey from the base to the tip. The tip which was now flushed, pulsing with excitement.

You offered him a coy smile before dropping your head. Lips enveloped him, engulfing him with the warmth of your mouth. Once, twice. The third time you dragged your now puffed up lips, giving a lap of your tongue against his meatus for added effect. Tucking away your teeth, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard, hard enough to turn his hum into a strangled gasp followed by the most erotic groan you'd heard from him.

Bucky's fingertips massaged your scalp, tugging at the strands lightly to help set your pace. You reveled in the tiny whimpers that left his lips as you worked on him. 

His cock throbbed lightly, you could feel it in your mouth. He was rapidly reaching his climax and you wanted to help him along as best you could. You edged one hand down to his balls, taking both into your palm and rolling them between your eager fingers.

Eventually Bucky did the one thing you'd asked of him. He looked up. He wasn't sure if his vision was blurred because of his dilated pupil, or if it was the flush across his cheeks, but he barely recognized the man he had seen in the mirror for the last few years. He felt strong and confident and loved. 

Instinctively his hips thrust towards you and his cock slid further down your throat. He groaned, louder than before. His fingers clambered desperately at the duvet cover, trying to find an anchor for the oncoming storm.

You bobbed your head, deeper each time, inch by inch. His tip grazed the side of your mouth, the inside of your cheek, nearing the back of your throat. Lips sucking, tongue twirling, fist pumping. Over and over. Faster and faster. His breaths came hard and fast. Until that moment arrived. 

His eyes closed and muscles tensed. Hot, white cum exploded out of him with a strangled cry. Bucky’s body undulated as you pulled back while swallowing his load. As his pleasure subsided, you took him back into your mouth, lapping off the sweet elixir you'd milked from him.

Once you'd had your fill, you climbed back up onto the bed to sit at his side. He turned his head to face you and smiled. You pressed your forehead against his, your noses brushed against each other.

"Did you see?" you asked him. 

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

His first few days back were far busier than he’d anticipated, as he had much to catch up on in his absence. But he had no complaints about what had been left for him, as Dís had done a more than competent job in managing things in his stead. Even so, she was also very willing and happy to turn his duties back over to him.

He had been back in Erebor for almost a week when Dís rapped on the door to his flat. “Thorin, do you have a moment?”

He’d been on his sofa, head back, eyes closed, and lifted his head to call, “It’s open. Come in.”

The door swung open and he braced himself for the whirlwind that was his sister as she barreled into the room, the beads woven into her beard clacking with every step. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to take the day off.”

He smiled. “No. I was up late last eve with Balin, catching up on the progress at Esgaroth and Dale. Men built at a far slower pace than dwarves, it seems, and they like to pad their bills as much as possible.”

Dís’ forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are we being cheated?”

“No more than usual and with Balin’s keen eyes keeping close watch, we catch each and every mistake before the bill is paid. It’s amazing how many mathematical errors find their way into invoices.”

“Perhaps we should rethink—”

“No. I gave my word, Dís.” He shook his head slowly. “And I went back on it once. I cannot do so again, but I also will not let them take me for a fool, either. Balin is far more diplomatic than I will ever be, and so when he calls them on their nonsense, they rectify it at once.”

“You’ve more patience than I would, I’ll have you know. I do not look kindly on those who think to steal from me.”

“Nor do I, but in all honesty, I think Bard is honest as well and if we didn't catch it, he most likely would.”

Dís hardly looked convinced even as she replied, “If you say so.”

“Either way, you needn’t worry about it.” He sat up, hands clasped between his knees. “Now, I know you came here not to be bored with construction news that you’ve already been privy to.”

“You know me well, brother.” She skirted the stone table before the sofa to settle alongside him. “There is something I wished to ask you and I hope you’ll not think I am meddling too much.”

“Which of course means you are about to meddle.” He said it with a smile, for no matter how much meddling Dís did—and she could be quite meddlesome when the mood struck—her intentions were of the best where he was concerned and he understood that, even if it threatened to drive him into madness time and again.

“Yes, it does.” Her hand came to rest on his knee. “Did you still wish me to see about inviting Elisin to come stay for a bit?”

He sighed softly. Elisin was the woman he’d at one point planned to court. She was a distant cousin, and one he’d known most of his life. He wasn't madly in love with her, but they got on well and should Mahal see fit for them to have children, she would be a fine mother.

But that was before Nina Carren came into his life.

Nina. 

His stomach curdled with fury at her betrayal. Why couldn’t he simply forget about her? She’d played him false, pretended to care, all the while plotting to end his life. 

For five thousand in gold.

Trouble was, he couldn't forget about her and no matter how busy he tried to be, she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the memory of her, and as more time passed, he found himself on the verge of pining for her and that was the last thing he wanted or needed.

 “Thorin?”

“Yes, please. By all means, invite her to come stay for a bit. There is still much to be done here, but she will be comfortable enough. And, as you reminded me before I departed for Rivendell, I am growing no younger and should think about taking a wife and giving Erebor a queen.”

“And you wish to do this now? You told me at the time to mind my own matters.”

“Things change.”

“What things?” She gave his knee a squeeze. “Did something happen whilst you were in Rivendell? A romance with an elf that went sour, perhaps?”

He chuckled. “No, our relations with the elves are better than they were, but they will never be that good.”

“So what is it, then?”

“Nothing. It is only that I’ve traveled far and nearly died and realize that my life is passing and I’ve little to show for it in the way of personal matters.”

“Are you certain that is all? You haven’t seemed like yourself since you returned. And I know you hate when I pry, as you like to call it, but you just… you seem unhappy, Thorin. And I hate seeing you unhappy and you know that. So, is that all?”

A knowing look accompanied her words and he braced himself for her to ask about Nina—or the mystery mercenary, as Dís kept calling her. When she said nothing more, he offered up a silent prayer of thanks and shook his head slowly. “I am tired, is all. It was an adventure, both getting to and coming from Rivendell. We crossed paths with a determined orc pack just beyond Rivendell’s borders and I am fairly certain we met up with them again outside Mirkwood’s.”

“I told you that you should take more than just Dwalin.” She squeezed his knee again. “But don't tell him I said that.”

“I won’t. And you were probably right. But, rest assured, I have no plans on leaving Erebor to go any further than Dale or Esgaroth for the near future.”

“Good. Then I will extend an invitation to Elisin and perhaps we might have a party of sorts to welcome her?”

“I think that sounds doable.”

“Then I will see it done and posted before luncheon.” She rose, then peered down at him, her face lined with concern, her blue eyes, so like his own, troubled. “Are you certain nothing else troubles you?”

“I’m positive.”

“Very well.” 

She bent to press a kissing the top of his head, and then with a soft clacking, let herself out and silence fell upon him once more. As the door closed behind her, he let his head fall to the back of the sofa once more. All he wanted to do was forget Nina. Forget the magical night he’d spent with her.

Forget that he was on the verge of falling in love with her. 

Perhaps Elisin’s arrival would help him do just that. 

A low sigh leaked through his teeth. Somehow, he knew he was just lying to himself.

“Yer Sigrid’s friend, ain’t ye?”

Cold grey eyes alit on her and while those eyes sent a shiver along her spine, Nina managed to keep that to herself as she smiled and nodded. “I am, yes. She told me you needed serving girls and I’d like to apply for the job."

The tavern proprietor, Harald narrowed his eyes as he gave her a long up-and-down appraisal. “Sigrid told ye I needed help, did she? Ye have any experience?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly shook her head. Although her fever had broken several days ago, after the doctor Sigrid brought to the flat treated her infected wound, Nina still felt a bit unsteady and tired easily. Hopefully, Harald hadn’t noticed. “No, but I am fast learner and I’m quick on my feet.” 

He didn't look at all convinced or inclined to offer her a job, but then he shrugged and with a heavy sigh, said, “I’ve nothing to lose, I s’pose. Business is still slow, and Margrete’s been complaining about needing help. When can ye start?”

“When do you need me to start?”

“Can ye be here this eve? ‘Bout half-six?”

“Done.” She held out her hand.

He looked down at it, then up at her once more, then slowly reached to clasp that hand. “Don’t be late, girlie.”

“I won’t be.”

“And try to dress up a little,” he advised, his smile becoming a bit of a leer. “Show some skin. Ye’ll thank me.”

The thought turned her stomach, but she managed to nod. “Of course.”

“Go on, then. Go home and change.”

“I will see you at half-six.” She turned and made her way back out into the warm sunlight to go home.

Home. 

It had been so long since she’d had a home—a true home—but now she did, as Sigrid had told her she was welcome to remain with her in the small flat at the end of the alley. Nina had her own small, cozy room, and as she recuperated, her friendship with Sigrid picked up where it had left off, with late night chats filled with laughter and gossip, although Nina had no idea who had the people Sigrid mentioned were. And it didn't matter. She would come to know them in time. As the days passed and her wounds healed, she was the one who insisted she needed to find a job. Sigrid told her to take as much time as she needed, but Nina couldn't bear the thought of being a burden for any longer than was absolutely necessary. 

So, that was when Sigrid suggested Nina come talk to the Black Swan’s owner, sure he would give her a job. And now, as she strolled along the alley toward the flat, she managed a slight smile. She was becoming adept at beginning her life anew. And that’s what this was as well, another chance. 

The alley ended at a low stone wall that overlooked the Long Lake and what would one day again be Esgaroth. As her ability to get around returned, Nina found herself out there, at the low stone wall, more than once, just gazing out at what had been her home.

She sighed as she reached that wall and sank onto the wide flat top, her back against the stone building it met. Day after day, she sat there, just gazing out at the city under construction. Despite her distance from Esgaroth, she could hear the faint sounds of men working to rebuild, watched as new pilings replaced the charred, ruined ones. Watched as the walkways and bulkheads and platforms were erected and houses framed out upon them. 

It was bittersweet, seeing the rebirth of Esgaroth. Her life there had been difficult, but happy. She loved her family, they loved her, and although they were not wealthy by any means, thanks to her father’s disappearance and the Master’s greed, they had still been happy. 

Until the dwarves of Erebor arrived. They changed everything. 

And one of them had changed her forever.

She never regretted anything as much as she did going to see Tarog. What a fool she was, thinking she could be a cold-blooded killer, no matter how angry she’d been with Thorin. Truth be told, by the time she spied him in the tavern, her anger had faded, her grief had not run its course, but had become manageable. When she’d spotted him, she felt an initial burst of fury, but by the time she caught up to him in the clearing and took the arrow meant for him, it had begun to fade.

He’d seen to it she was cared for, and allowed her to join them.

By the time they’d shared their first kiss, she knew she was in trouble. 

And now?

Now she sighed, gazing out at the Long Lake as the sun burned across it to make its surface shimmer like fire.

“Show some skin,” she murmured, smiling at the shimmering lake. “Somehow, that isn’t very likely.”

****

In the year since Erebor had been reclaimed, restoration had been at a steady pace. Day after day, the city reverberated with activity and Thorin had no complaints with how Dís had run things in his stead. If he and his nephews had succumbed to their injuries, she would have made as fine a ruler as their cousin Dáin, who would have inherited the throne. He’d often thought about naming her his heir, should something else befall both him and her sons. He still hadn’t ruled it out entirely. 

He stood at the landing that overlooked the treasure hoard of Erebor. It had been depleted some since they reclaimed the mountain, and while it had pained him at first, now, it no longer troubled him in the slightest. He had much to atone for and rebuilding both Esgaroth and Dale were a small price to pay. 

Even with what the treasury of Erebor had parted with there was still a sea of gold. An ocean of gemstones of every cut and color. As he leaned against the railing of pure gold, against the wall of labradorite so green it looked almost black and had been polished to a mirror finish, and gazed out at that sea, a low sigh came to his lips. 

A feeling of restlessness came over him, and he pushed away from the wall to make his way down the one intact staircase leading to the hoard. In time, the second one would be refurbished, but for now, the one was more than enough. 

The stones and coins and other treasures shifted slightly beneath his bulk as he picked his way around all of it, wading into the center of the chamber. He didn't know what he looked for, only that he would know when he found it.

And find it, he did. A beautiful emerald the size of his fist. He scooped it up, the facets glittering under the torchlight as it rolled in his palm. The deep green stone reminded him of a pair of eyes almost that same rich shade. Eyes he’d lost himself in. Eyes he wished he could always lose himself in.

The eyes of a traitor.

He scowled at the stone and drew his arm back to fire it deeper into the chamber when Dís appeared on the landing. “What are you doing?”

His arm lowered of its own. “I’m bidding some old ghosts farewell.” He tucked the emerald into his trouser pocket. “What brings you here?”

“Elisin arrived earlier. I sent her to freshen up from her journey.”

“She made good time.”

“I think she was in a hurry to make certain no one else claimed your heart first.”

He forced a laugh to his lips. “Tell her there is no danger of that happening.”

“Isn’t there?” Dís came down the stairs, then carefully stepped into the sea of wealth. “You’ve been moping about here for the past fortnight as if someone has died. Now, give over and tell me. It’s your mystery mercenary, isn’t it?”

Annoyance bubbled through him, but he tamped it down as he shook his head. “No. It isn’t and there is nothing to tell, Dís.” He crossed over to her, holding out a hand as she stumbled over a jumble of gold plates. 

She caught it, her fingers tightening about his. “Thorin, do not lie to me. I know you better than you think.”

He sighed. “Dís, please… I’ve no wish to discuss it.”

“Very well. I’ll not press, but if you ever wish to—”

“I know,” he replied, offering her his arm. “Why don't we go above and I can reacquaint myself with Elisin?”

She looked as if she didn't believe him, but thought better of trying to force the issue. Instead, she nodded. “Very well.”

They crossed back to the staircase and once they were on the main floor, Dís pulled her arm free. “I’ll go fetch Elisin. You try not to look so broody. You’ll frighten her off.”

He scowled. “I do not brood.”

“I do not brood.”

“Thorin, you were staring off into the dark forever.” Nina affixed him with a long look. “That’s brooding.”

“I was thinking.”

“You were brooding. It’s all right. You can admit it.”

Why couldn't he stop thinking about Nina? She betrayed him. She was going to end his life for five thousand pieces of gold. 

So, why did thinking of her hurt as well as make him angry? In fact, why was the hurt overtaking the anger a little more with each passing day?

Because hurt was the only description he had for what could only be described as an ache in his heart. 

“Thorin?”

He started, jolted from his reverie. “What?”

Dís offered up a queer look. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” he waved off her concern, “so, go and fetch Elisin. I look forward to seeing her again.”

He hoped the smile he forced to his lips didn’t look so forced to his sister. She had an uncanny knack for seeing through any and all facades when it came to her sons and her brother. But the truth was, he cared nothing for seeing Elisin. In reality? He wanted to go and find Nina, to ask her why she’d chosen to hunt him. Why she instead stepped in front of that arrow for him, why she put herself between him and an orc’s blade, if she wanted to kill him? And had she truly attempted to kill him that last night?

But he had no idea where he might look for her, and even if he found her, there was no telling that his anger wouldn’t get the best of him. It might have faded some, but it hadn’t gone entirely. Not yet, anyway.

“Are you certain?” Dís asked.

“I am, indeed,” he assured her.

“Very well. Try not to brood too much longer.”

“I will do my best.”

He watched her leave, then turned back to the hoard, withdrawing the emerald from his pocket. It lay in the palm of his hand, glittering in the flickering torchlight. For a moment, he thought about hurling it back into the sea of gemstones, but then instead slipped it back into his pocket. 

[briar--rising]

Rosh Hashanah is next week. It's always been my favorite holiday, and every year I prepare for it and look forward to it. But this year I've been dreading it, and until this past week I couldn't figure out why.

I haven't been to synagogue much in the past year. I've gone a handful of times, but much less than any other year since graduating college. And I thought of going, my therapist tried to encourage me to go because she knows it often makes me feel better, but there was just this inner resistance that I couldn't figure out and wasn't ready to look at closely enough to decipher anyway. And then as the High Holy Days got closer and closer I started to notice that I was really dreading them, which is not how I usually feel. And so I brought it up in therapy on Tuesday, and came to some really important realizations.

I've been doing a lot of very serious grief work and trauma work this fall. My most serious trauma anniversaries are almost all in the fall, and it's a season of great grief and usually highly elevated symptoms for me. My first serious psychotic break was in the fall, four of my five hospitalizations have been in the fall, etc. Until this year I spent every autumn of the past decade pretty severely psychotic. I could not face the trauma and grief that this time of year brings up for me, I could not process those feelings and memories without losing my mind in defense so that I wouldn't have to truly experience them. I've always known this, and for a few years have tried very hard to truly experience my grief and not retreat into psychosis, but I never managed it until this year.

This autumn has been different. I've still struggled with psychosis much more than in the summer, I still have to fight it most days. But I'm winning most of those fights. And I'm grieving. I'm mourning, I'm crying, I'm sitting with my feelings for as long as I can bear and then distracting myself from them when they get too much instead of retreating into symptoms most of the time. I'm genuinely experiencing the thoughts and feelings I need to be experiencing. I'm reading about death, about grief, about loss, I'm talking about these things in therapy. It's often incredibly painful, though sometimes it is simply a peaceful kind of sorrow. I'm getting in touch with a lot of the feelings I've found so difficult to face from some of the hardest times of my life, and I'm experiencing some of them again.

And some of those feelings that I was really quite blindsided by and that I've been largely repressing for 15 years are incredibly complicated feelings about G-d. When I was 11 years old I was just like any other religious and traumatized kid: I prayed to G-d to fix it. I did that thing kids do, I tried to make bargains with Him. "Dear G-d, if I clean my room will You save my mommy? If I'm perfect, will You fix my family?" You know. Things like that.

I was desperate for anything, anyone to save me. I talk sometimes about the particular traumas of that year, about my brother's birth, about my mother's hospitalizations, about her suicide attempt. But I have no words to express the year as a whole, except to say that terrible thing after terrible thing after terrible thing happened, and throughout all of it I was neglected and left at sea. My mom was sick, my dad was trying to keep his head above water, no one was there for me. So I tried to turn to G-d. And when He wasn't there for me either, I felt incredibly abandoned and betrayed, both by Him but also because I was taking my feelings about my family neglecting me during severe trauma and putting them onto Him. It's hard for me to express the levels of hurt and rage I felt at G-d during that time period.

And then my memory cuts out. I remember approximately nothing from shortly after my twelfth birthday (in June) until November over a year later. I have a handful of memories of specific events that took place at school or at camp, but absolutely zero memories of my internal feelings or anything that ever took place at home during seventh grade. It's just. Gone. Always has been, probably always will be.

The next significant things I remember in terms of my relationship to G-d and my religion are all about Hebrew High School, which I loved (I got to start it early bc I was being bullied in normal Hebrew School), and preparing for my Bat Mitzvah, which I also loved. My memory goes from intense feelings of betrayal and abandonment and agony to instantaneously a relatively low conflict, positive relationship with G-d and Judaism (with Jewish-appropriate amounts of questioning of course and moments of anger, but no true rage and despair like I once felt). And I stayed in that space of Judaism-as-comfort-with-minimal-internal-conflict for the next 10+ years. I have no idea how that transition happened, but it certainly didn't occur because I slowly and naturally dealt with all of my complicated feelings and embraced religion after processing.

And then this year, well. I guess the processing came due. I'd like to be very very clear that being Jewish always has been and always will be incredibly important to me, and nothing about any of this changes that. I am struggling, though. I'm re-experiencing a lot of those childhood feelings of betrayal and abandonment and confusion and rage. And not being ready to face those feelings is why I've been subconsciously avoiding synagogue for the past year, and is why I've been dreading the holidays. At least now I'm aware of what's happening, so that's a step in the right direction. And in the long term this is a good and important step not only in my trauma recovery but in my relationship with Judaism and with G-d; I can't have as deep of a relationship as I want without this kind of struggle. To quote my therapist, "your relationship with Judaism is too important to you to be easy." Thankfully in Judaism struggling like this is not only allowed but expected. But it is a struggle, right now. A painful one.

I leave you all with a song I've been listening to on repeat that is helping me confront and think about a lot of these feelings:

[rokkit-story-time]

HypNovember Day 1 - Collar/Game

CW: Pet play, Third person, post-hypnotic suggestion, some hypnotic language

"...so that's it?" She turned the collar over in her hands. It was a perfectly normal leather dog collar. Nothing special. "I just wear it for five minutes and then take it off myself?"

They nodded, that teasing smirk playing across their lips. "Yup~! And then I'm at your beck and call all weekend. Easy win, right~?"

She squinted. This was far too suspicious. But... "...alright, I'm down. Let's play this game of yours~"

Their smirk widened into a grin. "I'll let you set the timer then... pet~"

She rolled her eyes, hoping that distracted enough from her small blush as she tapped at her phone. "Five minutes it is! Timer beeps, I take off the collar, and you're my bitch for two days~"

"That *is* one way this could play out, yes~" They leaned down, bringing their face tantalizingly close. If she wasn't feeling so competitive over this little game, she'd have taken the opportunity for a kiss no question. Instead, she just glanced down at how close they now held the collar. "Ready to start~?"

She looked back up and nodded. "I'll hit the timer as soon as it's clasped."

They nodded back and wrapped the length of leather around her neck. "*Five* minutes~"

It actually took her a second to hit the timer... the moment the collar clasped shut, a shiver went down her spine. That didn't make sense... she was never into this kind of thing before! Yeah, they tied her up plenty, but this was different.

"Doing alright so far~?" Their voice made her blink. She'd been spacing out, focusing on the feel of the collar around her neck and trying to figure out why it made her so... so... "Getting a little needy~?"

Her head jerked up to look at them. "Wha-!?" Her mouth worked, but she couldn't quite find the retort she wanted. "I-I'm just fine!"

They just quirked an eyebrow, that damn smirk not wavering a hair. "Well, it's been a minute so far. We'll see how the next *four* go~"

Four more minutes of this, and then she was done. Easy. It wasn't even a real challenge. She literally just had to take the thing off! It's not like she'd leave it on just because she felt so damn needy and submissive!

She shivered again. Wait, where had that come from!? Needy was what they said, but submissive... sure, she was usually the subby one of the pair. They switched off only on rare occasions. B-but she wasn't into pet play! Even if it was making her needy, and submissive, and...

...docile?

"*Three* left~" Their voice sounded like she had water in her ears. She just nodded dumbly, too caught up in this thought-spiral.

Needy. Submissive. Docile. Why were those words coming to her like this?

Needy. Submissive. Docile.

Needy. Submissive. Docile.

Over and over, louder and louder, playing on repeat in her head.

A hand came up slowly, and she oh-so-gently laid the tips of her fingers on the collar.

"Ah-ah, no taking it off early~" Their tone was teasing, but held just enough insistence that she knew they were serious.

Which was fine, of course. "O-of course, I-I'm not gonna take it off..." Her voice was too soft, too breathy. She blinked, realizing she'd trailed off. "...e-early, I mean."

"Good pet~ *Two* minutes to go..." Their tone made her shiver again. Two- she slumped a little. Two minutes. She could take it off in two minutes...

Her fingers caressed the leather.

...could she?

Needy.

Submissive.

Docile.

Fuck. Why did those words feel so damn good~!? Why couldn't she stop thinking them... why didn't she *want* to stop thinking them!?

Needy submissive docile needy submissive docile needy submissive docile-

"*One*..."

Already!? B-but then she'd... she'd have to...

...'have to'? Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck!

She was too needy. Too submissive. Too docile.

And she didn't want it to end.

"*Zero*~"

Her eyelids fluttered.

The time went off with a sharp *beep!*

She jerked and gasped, fingers leaving the collar to fumble with turning it off. Then both her hands went to the collar. Wrapped around it. Tugged.

...it felt sooo *good*~

She looked up at them and opened her mouth. Instead of words, all that came out was a long, low whine.

"Awww, something wrong pet~?" They ran a hand through her hair and cradled the side of her head. She nuzzled into it automatically. "All you have to do to win, is take it off..."

She tugged again, looking at them.

She was so needy. So submissive. So docile.

And it felt better than *anything*~

"...I lose..." She could barely push out the words as a whisper. Not because it was hard to admit, but because she barely had the will to speak.

"Oh my poor, needy, submissive, docile, silly little pet~" They leaned down, pushing her back against the couch and climbing on top of her. "You'd lost *days* ago, when we first set this up~ When you first said you trusted me to set up scenarios for later while you were in trance..."

...oh yeah. She had said that. And that she'd never tried pet play before, but maybe it could be fun... she'd said that too.

"After all... why didn't you ask what *I* got if I won~?"

There was no competitive urge stopping her from kissing them this time. And as she melted underneath them, there was only one fully-formed thought left in her head:

This was going to be a *wonderful* weekend~

[that-was-anticlimactic]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by my beloved @zukkaoru & @lesmiserablol <333

tagging (with no pressure): @beachytablecloth, @fabro-de-omres, & @milf-harrington (so sorry if you've already been tagged!)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

69 which... is honestly more than i was expecting? i think it helps that my goal is to post a fic once a month mostly bc that's my motivation to keep writing even when i'm busy/stressed!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

396,183 - omg i am SO CLOSE to 400k ahhhhhhhhh

3. what fandoms do you write for?

uhhhhhhh many??? right now, it's a lot of bsd/bnha, but it's always a plethora of things, haha! my first was prolly ninjago tbh

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

hey, little songbird, give me a song

you never quite say (but i hear)

lost in love and lost in feelings

Deeper Than Words

for a new world to begin, the old one must fall

okay the #1 for that is honestly so real that is one of my absolute favorite things i've written EVER lol, same with #2! the rest are... idk #4 is AWFUL - like one of my first atla fics and also my first time writing a ts fic (i have gotten SO MUCH BETTER AT IT NOW)

*note: i started this in like nov or early dec, and #5 changed! it was the zukka goose fic but now it's actually one of my favorites iugytfyhujiko

5. do you respond to comments

i used to be good at it. then i got stressed bc of school. and then i was suddenly like "uhhhh idk How to respond???" i think the thing that got me was i didn't know how to reply to the distressed comments on my sokka falling fic so i just. accidentally stopped.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh here in the garden (let's play a game) 100% rip to sokka sorry babes ilysm hate to do it to ya, love the angst tho <333 rip to everyone who missed the major character death tag lol. well... that or a spring and summer song, too brief rip to geto in the +1 oops... oh shoot... it could also be take me where my soul can run... hm...

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this was hard, but imma go with i was a child and she was a child bc it's based on one of my favorite childhood memories! rip to zuko and his ice cream tho :/ but azula is VIBING the whole time oiuygfcgyhuij

8. do you get hate on fics?

not really? i did once have someone try to correct me and say that i wrote sokka with ocd instead of tourette's but it was in the bookmarks and it made me laugh lol. i also got this comment on my kubokai kaidou with ts fic: ".. the self projection is heavy in this one ... -_-" so idk if that counts lol

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

nope :)

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

uhhhh not really? i wrote ninjago equestria girls crossover oneshot in middle school but i never finished it and it SUCKED lol

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of?

12. what's the longest you've spent working on a fic? and the shortest?

uhhh i wrote a 7,600 word fic in three hours while i had covid? that's prolly the shortest? i count that as shorter than anything i may have finished faster bc i had covid lol but longest? ummmm over a year? multiple years? idkkkkkk the jay with ts fic i posted was something i wrote in 2019 and i edited it (a lot) and posted it in 2022 so??? that maybe?

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

uhhh i did with friends in middle/high school, but those never left the docs! also grace and i have. very many much so aus lol

14. what's your all-time favorite ship? from all fandoms?

RARIJACK!!! it was one of my first hardcore ships, and also was my introduction to queer ships!!! renga is a close second, but rarijack just is really important and special to me for sentimental reasons that put it above renga and others! i am also on a seroroki kick right now. it's not my all-time favorite, but the brain rot seems never ending right now lol

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

GOD SO MANY i have a folder in gdocs just for ninjago fics and there are folders within the folder for different types of wips i'll never finish - i have That many: "no substance", "baby girls", "drafts"... etc...

16. what are your writing strengths?

uhhhhhhhhhh ngl i'm in a place right now where i feel like the answer is Nothing (writer's block has been Bad recently), but i think something i'm good at in a very specific way is making readers feel the discomfort of characters? like idk i've been told that the way i write ts and tics (specifically tic attacks) makes the readers feel uncomfortable in like a "wow i didn't know it felt this way" kind of way??? i like to think i'm good at characterization??? idkkkk

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

ummm setting and scenery & connecting parts of a story, especially if they're parts that i'm stuck on/transitions are prolly my biggest ones???

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i mean go for it as long as it's respectful and like... you tried making sure it's accurate?

19. first fandom you wrote for?

uhh rainbow fairy/a-z mysteries... but that was like very briefly on paper. first time like... for Realsies was ninjago

20. favorite fic you've written?

oh 100% hey, little songbird, give me a song. it's just really special to me and writing it helped me cope with a new tic i had. but one that i wrote more recently is fantasies i'm not sure that i'm worthy of which is a ritsu-centric fic and is prolly tied as my favorite fic i wrote in 2023. the other one would be sun comes streaming through the window (& i can't sleep anymore) which is my 21k word kenji-centric fic lol but that one is like... i'm more proud of it than anything, which is what puts it up there.

[armpirate]

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 23

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Warnings: Nude dry humping, dirty talk

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I look at my reflection in the elevator's mirror when I get home, thinking about how Tae mocked me for this new hair color as soon as we got to the restaurant. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking when I tinted it red, and the fact that this is just a consequence of that makes me want tear my hair apart. But then I remember how Y/n kept saying it looked good on me, and whether those words were genuine or a good attempt to make me feel better, it also helps me to find this new hair color quite appealing.

When I get out of the lift, I think she might not be here anymore. Probably she got bored, maybe her friends called her to hang out... which would also explain why she hasn't replied to my text yet. But when I cross the entrance door, and I see her head peeking up over the backrest of my coach, and I can't control the smile that's caused by the relief it causes me.

—You're here —I sigh, closing the door behind me.

I start taking my jacket off when her eyes land on me. And even if I can't see it, I can tell she's smiling behind the leather fabric of the sofa.

—You thought I'd leave?

—Nah —although the truth is that I was partly convinced she had left long ago—. But I'm happy to see you're here anyway.

Her eyes almost shut completely due to the big smile she keeps hiding, although she turns back to face the TV before I'm able to fully enjoy that sight.

—I sent you a pic of the tattoo —I mention, lying on the spot next to her—. You didn't see it?

—No, I haven't been on the phone today.

She lazily points to her phone, that's placed near the corner of the coffee table. It's something I already thought when I saw she hadn't been online all day, so I'm not really surprised by her answer.

—That sounds like you've been busy —seeing that her feet are resting on the edge of the table, I decide to join her—. What did you do?

—Not much —she shrugs—. I looked around the house, but found nothing interesting —she puckers her lips, making me chuckle due to the cute face she makes while thinking—; I watched a movie, too.

—What else? —I hit her side hopefully.

It doesn't take me much to know she hasn't done just that in the five hours I've been out. She looked around, watched a movie, and still didn't have time to reply to a text I sent just two hours ago? That, and how she's nervously biting her lower lip, while making sure her head doesn't make a wrong move to look up to me, is everything I need to know something else has happened while I was away. But I wait for her to bring it up.

In the little time we've been around each other, I learned that she is unable to keep some thoughts to herself. She tends to overthink and try to calm them down, but lately she's started to be more open. Always doing the same nervous lip biting and head tilting before she dropped the question.

—Leslie only wanted to apologize the other day?

Among every little thing she could be curious about, the mention of Leslie surprises me. I frown at her, hoping she explains what's up with that question. But, instead, she opens her eyes a bit more, insisting to get an answer from me.

—That's what's kept you busy all morning?

The light comment does nothing to her. Her look intensifies at time goes by, and I'm sure she won't say anything else until I finally give in.

—I thought that's what she wanted —I sigh, finally giving Y/n what she wanted—. That's what she said. But she kept saying how dumb she was, and how much she missed what we had —I grimace at my own words—. I didn't need her to tell me directly she wanted to come back. And I didn't like the direction the conversation was taking, so I left and texted you to meet up —I scratch my nape—. She's also been calling me almost every day, and has sent me texts trying to hang out.

Y/n nods, pressing her lips together again as she tries to process the information I've just given her. I didn't want her to overthink the night we made up, I just wanted to enjoy her company without her being insecure about the possibility of me going back to my ex. And right now I'm not really sure if it was a good idea to hide it from her that night.

—Sounds like a stalker —she murmurs.

—Sounds more like someone who's been dumped and thought her plan b would still be available for her —I click my tongue—. She'll get over it.

At least, I hope so after she was blocked.

Instead of going on with the conversation, there's silence. And I'm dumb enough to think it's over, letting myself get comfortable and relax, while resting my head on the backrest.

But she isn't done, she was just thinking about what to say next.

—You could've told me last night —she lets out a sigh.

—It was late, and I wanted to enjoy being with you after not seeing you for a week. I told you the only relevant thing for me from that night, which was Leslie apologizing —I try so hard to show I'm relaxed, when actually I'm scared of her getting mad at this whole situation—. I don't care whether she wants to come back or not, because I don't want to.

—You know, it'd have been nice just to be prepared when she showed up here today —she turns to me.

Why the fuck was Leslie here?

I frown, looking at her confused, while she's just staring at me concerned.

—What was she doing here?

—She came here looking for you —she shrugs—, said you two still had some things to talk about.

If I thought I was clear enough with Leslie, then I was wrong. So now, directly saying I don't want to go back with her, translates in I still have some things to discuss with her regarding us? Somebody should've warned me...

—I thought what I told her the last time would be enough to make her step back —I sit properly next to her—. That's everything she said? —looking into her eyes, I waits for her answer.

—She didn't say much more —she shrugs again—. Not like she needed to say much more anyway.

—I swear there's nothing going on. What I told you is everything there is to it.

—Okay —she looks away—. There's no need to get so worked up over it. Even if there was something to it, you can do whatever you want.

—There is. Because I care about what you think.

We stare into each other's eyes for a long minute, before she speaks again just to repeat what she's just said.

—That's great, but doesn't change the fact that you could do whatever you want.

And for some reason, those words annoy the fuck out of me. I know what she means, I know she's trying not to cross boundaries, but what the fuck she means with "I can do whatever I want"?

—Not again —I stand up, annoyed with her and annoyed with myself, going back and forward my own tracks—. I can, but I still care about your opinion. And that's why I texted you that night. You're the only person I can think of right now, so I don't care about what Leslie wants.

—And I'm just saying I have no say on anything.

And I'm really wondering if she's this thick on purpose, or if she genuinely isn't able to see that right now I'm only crazy for her.

—But you do —I kneel in front of her, trying to get all her attention—. You're unbelievable —a small chuckle leaves my lips—. I told you I'm into you, into you only, and your head is still spinning around trying to convince yourself you have no say on what I do. You do, so don't tell me I can do whatever I want.

She's going to answer before even trying to process what I've just said. And it's obvious, by the look on her face, that she seems to finally be getting what I'm trying to say now. Y/n looks down at me, eyebrows slightly frowned, while her lips part and momentarily shake, before she starts speaking.

—Well... —she licks her lips, and lowers her body a little— Thank god you said that, because I didn't mean it at all.

I sigh hard, deep inside. A light feeling of relief invades my body when she says that with a shy smile.

—I know —I lie, silently chuckling. I actually was shitting my pants thinking she'd ask why I was even thinking that way—. Now, honest opinion on what you think I should do?

—There isn't much you could do right now —she puckers her lips, thinking—. You made clear you were happy right now —I nod—, you've been avoiding her —god knows I've tried my best—, you also told her you're seeing someone...

Oh... Of course Leslie told her that.

—I knew you'd bring that up —I let a mischivious smile adorn my face—. Yeah, great girl indeed —I tease her.

—Are you going to talk in third person about me now? —she raises one of her eyebrows, adding up to her sassy tone.

—Who said it was you? —I tease again, using the same tone.

—Is it not? —she crosses her arms over her chest.

He presses his lips together, trying to -needlessly- hide the smile that's forming on his face while we keep eye contact. He scrunches his nose again before looking away.

—I'm the great girl —I confirm, relaxing on the couch while letting my body fall back until it hits the backrest.

I feel like there are a lot of things that I should say right now, it just seems like the right moment to do so, but I hold back. I think it'll be enough with the conversation we've had just now, and seeing her positive answer is enough for me.

Trying to avoid my long tongue from running free after looking into her eyes for a little longer, I get up from the floor. I'm not really hungry -honestly, I ordered the sandwich thinking it'd be smaller, but that thing was an abomination. I know she hasn't had lunch, most probably, though. So I'll make something for her either way.

✸ ✸ ✸

We don't do anything special for the rest of the afternoon, we just lie on the couch, watching the first show that popped in my TV screen after I opened Netflix. Honestly, I wasn't even planning on watching this -basically because it seemed one of those cringey shows that drops dumb jokes for no reason at all. But any excuse is good to be around her, at this point.

When I sneakily turn to her, I catch her looking at me, but it doesn't seem like she's looking at me. Her eyes are lost while her mind is working on something else, and I just happen to be in the middle of her field of view.

—What are you thinking?

Dragged back to this moment, she blinks a few times, finally looking into my eyes and paying attention to me. Although it doesn't last much. Y/n moves her eyes away from mine fast, trying to keep her gaze somewhere else.

—Umm —she looks at the TV—. I was thinking... of a way to tell you this show is awful.

—I heard you laughing just ten minutes ago —I fake amusement, throwing my head back to the backrest.

—Yes, by how bad it is —she replies back—. Let's choose something else —she tries to reach the remote right after.

Finding a new entertainment that's actually worth it, I start teasing her by moving the remote away every time she tries to reach it. But of course she fights back, finding weak spots on my ribs that makes my whole body squirm and flinch when she pinches it.

—Give it to me. C'mon.

I'm so concentrated on dodging her fingers, that I'm not aware both of our bodies are at the edge of the couch until it's too late. Y/n makes one final move that makes her lose her balance, but she doesn't fall by herself, she drags me along by grabbing the collar of my white t-shirt.

—Look what you've done —I accuse her, placing my hands on both sides of her head so I don't rely the weight of my body on her.

—You should've given me the remote. Technically, this is your fault.

—Is it?

It must be the tone I use, or the way I keep switching where I draw my eyes to between her lips and her eyes. When I look at them again, they have a darker tone, and when I look down at her lips, she's licking them, making them shine under the light after coating them with a thin coat of spit. I move her hair away from her face, brushing some locks away.

—I'll take the blame for it, then —I whisper.

I swear every time we kiss it feels completely different. The way her lips suck on mine, and her tongue licks my lower lip drives me insane every time. She moves her thighs under me, placing them around my hips so I can place myself more comfortably between them.

And the huge mistake that is...

My body fights itself, the little common sense I have left against the primitive I need to bury myself deep inside her, when she starts rolling her hips against my growing bulge.

She doesn't give me time to stop anything, or ask her if she's alright, her voice drops those words that leave me shocked for a few seconds:

—I want to do it.

I move my head back, trying to get a better view of her face. I should be feeling great after hearing her say that, it's exactly why all of this started. But instead of letting my body run wild with her offer, I think of what her thoughts could be after we're done tonight.

Losing her first time after making out on the floor because we're both horny and bored? Doesn't seem like the best start, and I definitely don't want her thinking it could've been a way better experience in a few weeks. She's waited a lot already, and I think I should be at the same level of her expectations.

—I'm ready —she repeats—. I want to do more.

—Babe, I'm sure you are —I try to calm her down, rubbing my thumb over her belly. —. But it's your first time, it should be more special than this.

She's disappointed, and she tries to hide it by nodding several times and looking somewhere else. Masturbating each other? We've done that a few times already. Oral sex? It's usually what comes after the masturbation, and I completley understand she's eager for the whole thing after a few months.

If only there was a way to give her the level of intimacy she wants, without doing anything she'd regret...

As I try to find a way to get her to feel better, I thank god for my twisted and horny mind.

—Let's go.

I get up from the floor, helping her to stand up by pulling her arm. It genuinely seems like I've found the biggest discovery by the way I drag her to the bedroom.

—I thought you said you wanted it to be special.

—And I stand by that —I turn to her—. If you want to do it, we'll do it right now and here. But I'm asking you to wait, so I can make it worth it.

Giving her one last chance to choose among the options she has, she clicks her tongue and looks at me with curious eyes.

—What was your idea then?

—I want you so bad, cocktease —I play with the button of my pants—. Only thing I was able to think about today was you wearing this shirt —my fingers move down her zip slowly—. Waiting for me here... You have no idea what you do to me —I whisper on her lips.

Her determined hands move to my jeans, unzipping them. But instead of pushing them down, she sneaks her hands under my t-shirt, lifting the fabric while her fingers make shivers run through my spine as they go up on my torso.

—Should I keep it on? —she teases me, while her hands ghost near my nipples.

—Please, don't.

She giggles when I answer that way, and that sexy smile only urges me to lean over her so I could kiss her neck while fighting with the thick fabric of my jeans to get rid of them. I lose my balance a few times as I take them off, and she laughes at that.

—You're laughing? —I try to sound as offended and challenging as possible, but doesn't seem like that intimidates her anymore— Let's see if you keep laughing.

I bite her lower lip, leaving her eager for another sloppy kiss when I take my t-shirt off and let my body fall over the matress, crawling until I'm sitting in the middle with my back resting against the headboard.

—Take everything off.

I regret saying those words as soon as she starts shwoing off her soft skin, being incredibly right under the lamp light of my nightstands. Her perked nipples have me licking my lips unconsciously, remembering intensely the rugosity of her hard buttons on my tongue.

—Everything —I remind her when I see she's still keeping her panties.

—You, too —her eyes point to my boxers.

We're both so desperate to get on each other's skin that we waist no time getting rid of the last pieces of fabric.

—Come here.

Y/n crawls on the bed, until she finally reaches me, kneeling in between my thighs. Maybe I'm a bit rough by the way I cup her cheeks and link our lips into a short sloppy kiss, but I just can't resist her.

—You're so perfect —I growl, lips still wet with our spit—. So fucking beautiful —I pecks her lips—. You trust me?

—Yes.

Not wanting to move away from her, I move our bodies over the mattress, until she's finally stradling my belly.

—Remember when you rode my thigh?

—Yeah.

—Do the same thing on my cock.

She looks confused, but still tries to place herself in a way to be able to do what I'm asking her. Her hands shake doubtful, and she moves her head trying to find the right angle a few times.

—Like this —I stop her, with my hand on her hip.

Trying to make my dick lie flat on my stomach, I hold it by the tip while I guide her body by the hip until I can feel the wetness from her pussy coating my shaft. I mark the initial rhythm, with both hands now on her hips so I can move her body on my cock. I do it a few times, slow, feeling her pussy clench every time I push her back.

I can tell she's nervous over being on top right now, but I know she's ready to try when both of her hands find support on my abs. Slowly, my hands stop adding pressure on her body, just to find out she's been moving her hips on her own. Her body swings with the rhythm I marked at the beginning, coating my balls with her juices before she's back on my tip. But it only takes her a few seconds riding me that way to start moving faster.

—That's it —I moan—. Make me feel it.

I thought I'd be ready for the image I have ahead of me right now, but nothing would've prepared me for the way her body moves, with her tits bouncing in the air before she allows her hands get a hold of them. And all of that while she's giving me one of the dirtiest, yet -ironically- the most innocent, look she has ever given me. And fuck, those moans and gasps that make my dick leak and twitch with every stroke of her folds.

She can't be real.

But while I admire her, I notice something is off with her. Her eyes are closed, and her head is slightly thrown back, but her eyebrows are frowned and her head is tilting while her lips pucker in disgust.

Not again.

Supporting my body with one of my elbows, I reach to her cheek with my free hand.

—Babe, look at me.

I can't explain what I feel when she opens her eyes and everything seems to be okay.

—Are you okay? —she nods— Sure? —she nods again.

—It's just... I'm not sure if I'm doing it okay.

But I know she's lying. She's always been vocal whenever she was unsure of whether I liked what she did or not. Not to mention the full concentration look she has plastered on her face whenever that happens. I also know she might've lied because she doesn't want to ruin the whole mood, and I don't want to make her feel that way either.

—You're doing great —I assure her, kissing her shoulder—. Keep moving like that —my hands go back to her hips.

Acting as if she needed help, I go back at guiding her moves, moving her in a way that her clit can feel more pressure with every stroke.

Suspicious of all the problems coming whenever she closes her eyes, I scold her when I realize she's about to do it again.

—Keep your eyes on me —I order her—. I want to see your eyes when you cum.

She digs her nails on my skin after a few more movements, and those sexy moans that comes out of her mouth, and her needy gasps trying to reach her high, are the last thing I need before I cum with her, spilling all my load over my abs.

She lowers her moves when she seems to be aware of my orgasm, but I don't allow her to stop, controlling her hips, making her rub against my cock as fast as she's able to. But I'm also greedy, and not only I want her orgasm, I want her to get it by herself while my hands enjoy every single spot in her body.

—Cum on my cock —I encourage her—. Let me feel how much you liked it.

Her speed goes crazy after that, holding onto my arms so she's focusing completely on the tingling feeling that's forming in her pussy, and infecting her whole body. With a hand on her jaw, I force her to look up to me, opening her eyes surprised by the sudden touch just when she was about to close them again.

I make my best at looking after her once we're both done, avoiding her resting her body on mine so she doesn't get full of the mess I made. And once we both are clean enough, and back on the bed, I don't even process it before I pull her closer to my body, feeling her rest her head on my chest.

—How was it? —she asks shyly.

—Tonight it was confirmed you showed up in my life just to kill me —I chuckle.

She's either a goddess that came to pay me for all good I've done in my previous life, or she's the biggest punishes I have to deal for the mistakes I've done in the past. Either way, she's insanely -and dangerously- perfect.

We stay in silence for a few seconds, allowing my brain to come up with a risky -yet exciting idea.

—Let's go on a date —I suggest.

—Hmm? —she opens her eyes, looking up to me again.

—A date. Tomorrow night.

—I'm working tomorrow night.

—I'll pick you up when you finish your shift —I explain her—. Are you with Tam tomorrow?

—Nope.

—Then it's settled —I hold her tight—. Do you want to?

Yeah... It's lovely and all. But I didn't even try to think about the small detail that she should want it just as much as I do. Imagine if after coming up with the idea, she says she doesn't want to do it.

—A date as in?

—As in two people that clearly are into each other and want to do something different. What do you think?

She nods fast, with that cute smile that urges me to hide her tight to protect her from everything that's wrong.

[cipher26]

this is truly a tmi but i have no friends to talk to about this stuff so here i am, yet again.

hooked up with a guy from tinder tonight. first time having sex. i'm quite proud of myself for going through with it instead of chickening out. i'm also quite surprised at how not nervous i was, which is either testament to my maturity and Growth™️, or a result of the anxiety meds which must be working wonders, absolutely top quality product right there. 10/10

it was also interesting that like...not only was i not nervous and less awkward than normal, but it didn't feel like...shocking? idk i lost the word i wanted, but like touching someone and having them touch me just felt normal. it wasn't weird or embarrassing or whatever, which again...testament to the cocktail of drugs im on lmao. but anyway, idk. i'm a pretty lowkey person to begin with, but it is hard to tell how you'll react to certain situations until you're there.

anyway it was great actually. i mean the guy was fine, attractive but also kinda basic like... the "do we really need a condom?" kind of basic which was almost funny. textbook "high school peer pressuring boy from the examples in sex ed class" kind of basic. it def wasn't romantic in any way, which is probably better for me at this moment. also it didn't last very long lol, and i didn't cum. not surprising but i did have some hope. thank goodness for the toys i have at home. and then i just left.

i'm sure most people would be shocked or appalled that my first time wasn't "special" or whatever (i didn't tell him i was a virgin, i told him "it's been a long time" cause i'm not gonna date the guy and didn't want to deal with that drama, and also i've used toys so it wasn't my first rodeo in a lot of ways).

but the thing is, most of the moments in my life that were supposed to be special, these milestones people romantacize, they were never that special for me. in fact i missed out on most of those life events entirely, for reasons. so this was really on brand for my life i guess. i'm just glad it was on my terms.

oh also it was truly just a quick fuck, there was no kissing involved, which is even funnier when you think about it cause i've never been kissed cause no one cares about me. lmao. my life is so ass backwards i can only laugh about it at this point.

i will say, it was an amazing confidence boost though. physically i'm in the worst shape i've ever been in, and have been convinced my whole life that no one could possibly find me attractive. but he did. i actually felt sexy. and suddenly i don't feel so... different i guess. idk i'm not saying the words right, but you know what i mean she says to the ether. i genuinely think the adhd meds have also helped, because i've been taking care of myself more lately, in some ways anyway. definitely not with eating food... so i think that helped me have enough confidence to even go for it in the first place. i almost didn't out of habit, but then i was like "bitch you are on this app for literally one reason..."

and also i walked into a bodega and bought condoms and didn't feel weird or embarrassed about that either...

honestly i have been wondering if these meds have maybe numbed my personality a bit, cause there are a lot of things going wrong in my life right now and yet i don't feel the familiar ache and coldness of the depression. but maybe this is how normal people function all the time, and i'm not being numbed i'm just feeling what normal people feelings are supposed to feel like for the first time ever, lmfao. i need a focus group of neurotypicals to compare notes with. "so these barely there feelings is how you experience life all the time? it's not an extreme rollercoaster of emotion? weird." lol.

anyway that's enough of that. i did jokingly say to myself earlier "you should lose your virginty before you have to move back in with family in a month, and for the forseeable future" and i didn't think it would actually happen but then it did lol. high five to myself.

anyway if you're still reading this for whatever reason, and you relate to my anxiety/depression/adhd fun factory combo, and you haven't talked to a doctor about trying meds to help manage, i highly recommend you do. i was so against it for so long, and it took me many years to admit that i needed help. and not just that, but that i WANTED help because i was so tired of struggling every day. but it has been such a relief. it's taken over a year of trying and adjusting meds (and convincing the doc that i definitely have adhd) to get to this point, but it's been so worth it. i feel like i'm finally getting to a place where im actually able to live my life, aside from the I'm Broke factor, and i know for a fact i would be a mess without the antidepressants because i'm literally in the middle of losing everything i've worked for for the past 15+ years, including my home, literally, and yet im able to get out of bed and exist and even laugh! that absolutely would not have been the case 2 years ago. so if you need help, please don't be afraid to ask for it. it's so worth it.

strange moral lesson to end this post with but.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[esta-elavaris]

Fallen Through Time

Part Seven [2,452 words]

Note: This part was originally going to be merged with the next part, but it would've ended up being a behemoth so now it's just a nice wee interlude for some Elizabeth/Theodora bonding instead.

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Also now on AO3 (restricted to registered users only thanks to AI mining, sorry!) and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - *Part Seven* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen​​​​​ @dancerinthestorm​​​​​ @teawithshakespeare​​​​​

“Why are the servants whispering about your having lunch sent to Captain Norrington today?”

Well. There went her plan to keep things secret. It had been little over twenty-four hours since those great strides were made in her…well, ‘relationship’ was much too strong a word, as was friendship. Her acquaintanceship with Captain James Norrington, and in a mark of thanks, Theo had flouted anachronism and put all of her culinary abilities into making and sending a sandwich down to his house so that he could actually have lunch. In doing so, she’d technically invented the sandwich, but she wasn’t sure if that counted as plagiarism or not, so she resisted the urge to pat herself on the back.

With any luck, he wouldn’t suspect that it was poisoned, would actually eat the damn thing, and she could go about the rest of her life feeling like she’d been able to establish something that vaguely resembled reciprocity for all that was being done for her around here.

“He was kind to me. In town – yesterday. Very kind. I was trying to show my thanks,” Theo explained. “Please don’t tell me this is the part where you say what I did was actually wildly inappropriate and equates to a marriage proposal around here.”

Ever since Theo had proven herself able to remain conscious past eight at night, she and Elizabeth had slipped seamlessly into a routine that made her (for the first time, she had to admit) mournful that she’d never had a sister growing up. Each night after dinner and time spent milling around in the sitting room, they would retire to their rooms and change – Elizabeth with help, and Theo with as little assistance as possible. There were no two ways around needing assistance out of the outermost layers, with a quite frankly stupid number of laces and ties and clasps in every unreachable direction, but once those were dealt with she’d be left to change into a nightgown on her own.

Last she heard, the general consensus among the servants was that she had terrible scars that she was much too embarrassed of to allow to be seen. That suited her just fine.

Once they were settled and the house had grown quiet, either she or Elizabeth would creep out of their respective bedrooms – they tended to alternate, for the sake of novelty – and make the short journey down the hall, padding barefoot to the room of the other, where they’d sit and whisper and giggle to an hour so stupidly late that often they were still talking when the sky threatened to grow light outside, and the return journey seemed an arduous task indeed. It reminded her of days from her high school years – having all of her pals around her, packed into somebody’s living room in sleeping bags on the floor, talking about anything and everything into the wee small hours until someone inevitably groaned from a pile of blankets in the corner that everybody should just shut the fuck up and sleep.

At first, Theo feared Governor Swann would be annoyed by it – that he’d find his daughter’s association with her to be inappropriate or something – but one morning over breakfast, he’d joked lightly that it might be easier for all involved if they just shared a chamber, and that was that. Although she couldn’t pretend not to be relieved that it hadn’t been a serious suggestion. Her friendship with Elizabeth was proving a boon here, and it grew fast, but she still needed space to process just how ridiculous her current circumstances were.

Now, though, she was glad to have her new friend with her, cross-legged on her bed, regarding her with curious brown eyes as she slowly brushed her long golden locks out.

“Not inappropriate, no. Unconventional, perhaps,” she allowed.

“Well, that seems to be my trademark here,” Theo snorted.

“What happened? In town?”

“It was nothing.”

“Good, it should take you no time at all to tell me, then.”

Theo groaned, and Elizabeth smirked.

“Some women were, uh, a bit impolite…”

As novel as Elizabeth found Theo’s modernity, she doubted she’d approve if she referred to the ladies of Port Royal as utter raging bitches.

“…and he – Captain Norrington, I mean – witnessed it and went out of his way to nip it in the bud. I don’t know if I’d have expected that sort of thing from a vaguely warm acquaintance, never mind someone who barely likes me at all. It was good of him. It…it deserved proper thanks.”

Elizabeth, thank god, seemed much more preoccupied with the direction her explanation had taken rather than focusing on the inciting incident itself. Which, Theo had to admit, had been her intention.

“I’m glad to hear you see that he’s not all bad,” she mused quietly.

“Oh, I never thought he was even half bad. Or a quarter- well, I mean, you get the point. I knew he was only doing his job, or his duty or whatever, with how he was when we met. It was understandable. I just didn’t really enjoy the end result from a personal standpoint. That wasn’t his fault, though. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. He���s a good man, and he was doing what he had to do. I’m mostly just relieved that Governor Swann managed to work some real verbal wizardry to make up for me lodging my foot into my mouth during that first meeting. I wasn’t expecting it to have done the trick, but it looks like it did.”

Or maybe her own apology had made some sort of difference. Watching his reaction at the time, she didn’t think that it had, but he was basically the posterchild for the English stereotype of the stiff upper lip, wasn’t he? It wasn’t wild stretch of the imagination to think he just wouldn’t show what he was truly thinking.

In any case, her mood was even more improved because his advice had proven utterly sound. She’d returned to town that very morning, and caught Will long before his employer had even deigned to turn up from wherever it was he was likely passed out.  That had been her intention, of course, but she also knew she’d be able to avoid Port Royal’s finest critics at such an hour, too.

****

When Will Turner crossed her path for the first time, he gave her little more than a polite nod as he met her gaze while walking by. There was a second glance, but Theo knew that was because she was staring at him like…well, the way one stared at a person when one had spent far more time than was healthy watching said person prance about dressed like an elf. Recovering quickly, she stepped after him as he strode by towards the smithy, calling to his back.

“Hello? Excuse me – sorry…”

He’d slowed as if not entirely certain it was indeed him she was calling after. And that would’ve been a fair assessment to make. She was dressed as someone of Elizabeth’s station, given it was one of Elizabeth’s dresses she wore, and he was still firmly rooted in the phase of believing himself to be far beneath that station. How many of the ladies here ever afforded him a second glance? Other than Elizabeth herself.

“May I help you, miss?” he blinked owlishly at her.

To Theo’s eye, he seemed a far cry from the man who would one day captain the Flying Dutchman. Although she supposed that journey was what the eight hour long trilogy was all about.

“I hope you can,” she smiled sheepishly, fidgeting with her skirts and trying to add an air of damsel in distress to her general demeanour. “My name is Theodora – Theodora Byrne, I’m staying with-”

“You’re the one Miss Swann found on the beach,” he saved her the explanation, watching her with a newfound level of interest. “The Governor’s guest.”

Ah. Of course. Norrington wouldn’t be the only one keen to make sure she meant no harm.

“Yes,” she said with an attempt at an embarrassed smile. “I see my reputation precedes me. That’s…that’s sort of why I’m here.”

From there, she dove into much of the same story she’d told Norrington the day before – but, as he’d advised, with added misty eyes and a wobbly lip thrown in for good effect at the end.

“I can give you these,” she added at the end, showing him her handful of euros. “All of them. You can’t exactly spend them here, but I’m sure if you melt them down they’ll be worth something.”

It was a bit of a risky move – given that they had years stamped on them and all, but what would his mind jump straight to? That she got them from a few centuries from now, or that they were just some sort of strange serial number?

Will hesitated, openly taking measure of her, which she endured with as much patience and grace as she could muster all while knowing she was essentially begging a stranger for a favour. Then, finally, he’d sighed and asked to see the necklace. Theodora watched with bated breath as he examined it closely, holding it up to narrowed brown eyes and scrutinising every part of the necklace - from every possible angle, no less. Then he sighed again.

“I believe I could replicate it,” he said, and then hastened to add, “well – replicate isn’t quite the right word. It wouldn’t be an exact copy. But I could make something that’s…”

“In-keeping with the spirit of the original thing?” she offered.

“Yes. Yes, exactly. I cannot promise miracles – and I cannot promise it will be done swiftly – but I can do it.”

“Really? You can? I mean, you will?”

“I will.”

Theo beamed, immediately going to rifle through the coins in her hand before he stopped her.

“Keep them. If it’s for- well. Consider it a gesture. From one castaway to another.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Really. You’ve no idea how much this means.”

“I think I have some idea,” he said, and she felt herself flush at just how giddy she’d become.

She just really needed a damn win around here. Norrington’s change in attitude towards her had certainly counted as one, but this? This was the cherry on top. She’d need to send him an entire foot-long sub at this point just to really thank him.

“May I ask…”Will interrupted her as she began to take her leave. “You sought me out. Not my employer. Why?"

Norrington, she knew, would never forgive her if she blabbed. Nor would she, even if she thought he wouldn’t mind. It’d feel skeevy, somehow. Plus, she knew he and Elizabeth would end up together anyway. What would it hurt to give him a little hope?

“Elizabeth told me about you,” she admitted.

God, he looked like she’d just handed him the world on a platter.

“She did?”

“Given our similar histories, I think my arrival brought up some memories.”

“Yes,” he nodded, collecting himself but still failing to hide the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Yes, I imagine it did. Good day, Miss Byrne. I’ll send word when it’s ready.”

****

With Elizabeth sitting here before her now, it was difficult for Theo to keep a lid on her triumph – feeling very much like a kid who was bursting at the seams with a secret they were just dying to tell. Controlling herself would be worth it, though, so that was precisely what she did.

“These women – these impolite women,” Elizabeth said. “Did you happen to catch their names.”

Yes. Some.

“No,” she shrugged.

“What did they look like, then? I’ve already some notion of who it might’ve been, Theo, so it’s pointless your protecting them.”

“Protecting them?” Theo echoed with a laugh. “Why? What are you going to do to them?”

“Lots of very terrible things. To you, too, if you make my work more difficult by leaving me to figure everything out the hard way.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Theodora.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“My, this really is a very sophisticated technique for debate, do they teach it to everybody where you’re from or are you just terribly gifted?”

God, the joke about being a master debater just wrote itself. But she held back that particular joke, knowing she was permanently walking a bit of a tightrope here of what was charming and what was just shocking. Well, at least until Jack turned up. Then she could be her real, utterly classless self.

“I don’t want trouble,” she said simply. “It was nothing.”

“It was enough for Captain Norrington to feel like he needed to step in.”

“And he very gallantly did so, which means it’s all handled. It’s fine. I’m not going to be the stranger who turns up and starts sowing discontent because some daft bints wanted to get a rise out of her.”

“But then what am I to do with all of this energy I have for concocting cruel and unusual punishments for them?" Elizabeth asked.

"I hear embroidery is all the rage here. Channel it into that."

Elizabeth gave a laugh that sounded more like a scoff – and Theo began to suspect all of that cruel and unusual energy would soon be sent her way. But before she could worry too much, the blonde sighed and flopped backwards onto the bed, contemplating the canopy above her.

“Well, it’s the dinner party tomorrow – during which you’ll be launched into our fine society.”

“Like a bomb?”

“Perhaps – depending on what you say and do.”

“Great.”

Elizabeth smiled a little. “I devised this carefully, you know. As guest of honour, you’ll be seated to my right, so I’ll be able to help should you run into difficulty. It’s not a ball, so there’ll be no dancing – although I will have to teach you that eventually. The most you’ll have to worry about concerns the after-dinner entertainment – cards, chess, and such. But given that you’ve said you’re familiar with those, I expect it should all go swimmingly.”

“You know what they say about expectations.”

Arching a dark eyebrow at her, Elizabeth waited patiently. Theo smirked. “They lead to disappointment.”

“Good God, have you never heard of optimism?” she snorted.

“What’s that? A card game in these parts?”

That earned her little more than an eyeroll, but the small smile remained on Elizabeth’s face as she remarked ruefully.

“I must confess, though, I’ve no wish for it to go too well. Lest you end up betrothed before the year is through.”

Theo snorted. “Can’t imagine much worse than that.”

All Elizabeth gave in response was a soft hum, and then she murmured quietly.

“It depends on the groom, I suppose.”

[dweetwise]

The Long Con (part 1/6)

Happy Oktoberfest! 🍻 With the festival starting today in München, I figured it would be the perfect time to start posting this fic 🥰 Please also check out @ell-clavel's amazing riconti art that inspired me to write this AU in the first place 🧡 Rated G | 1.5k words | ao3 link [next]

"Man, look at all these people!"

Meg's grin was bright as she jogged past Ace and looked around in awe, her bow-adorned braids bouncing in time with her steps.

Ace hadn't expected quite this much of a crowd, either. It was only a Monday afternoon but the festival area was quickly filling up with groups flocking to the large beer tents or shopping at the stalls lining the central street.

He knew Oktoberfest was popular, but not this popular.

"I wonder if they're here to see Denson too." Ace smirked. "You might have some competition for the spot as her number one fan."

Meg's face scrunched up. "Shut up. You're the one who insisted on flying all the way out here, not me. Oh, look, there's a chocolate fruit stand!"

Ace smiled and bit back a snarky comment as Meg excitedly took in what the festival had to offer. The girl was an avid fan of country artist Kate Denson's work—Ace had a sneaking suspicion it was something she'd listened to with her late mother—and after an off-hand comment that Denson would be performing in Münich at this year's Oktoberfest?

Well, Ace simply hadn't been able to resist.

Just like he couldn't resist obnoxiously cooing, "Want me to buy you some choccy bananas?" when Meg kept eyeing the food stall.

Meg bristled. "I'm not fucking five years old."

"Really? Could have fooled me, with those pigtails."

"I'm just blending in," Meg said. 

She did a twirl to show off the rest of her outfit: a frilly top and floral bodice combined with full-length lambskin pants. She looked like she'd jumped straight out of one of those quaint paintings of a girl yodeling in the Alps.

"Which is more than I can say for some people," Meg snarked.

Unlike Meg’s outfit, Ace’s get-up had been thrown together on a budget. The fancy red waistcoat he’d…acquired from a casino’s staff room and it clashed horribly with the cheap fake bundhosen bought from a tourist shop. Hopefully, the random scarf and traditional Argentinian belt he’d tacked on would make it seem more like a fashion statement instead of an insult to Bavarian culture.

"So I took some creative liberties," Ace said.

"Yeah, that’s probably for the best." Meg smiled smugly. "You're about sixty years too old to pull off leather pants, anyway."

Ace gasped. "Attacked by my own protégé! The audacity!"

"Wonder where I learned that from," Meg said dryly. She looked around again. "I'm gonna go scope out the other tents before the concert."

"And here I thought you wanted me to hold your hand at baby's first festival."

Meg rolled her eyes and pointed at a large tent with something resembling a clock tower next to it. "That one looks the busiest. You go check it out and I'll come find you once I'm done."

Ah, ever efficient. Ace had taught her well.

"Remember to have some fun, too," Ace said. "All work and no play makes Meg a very dull girl!"

"And you remember what we're actually here for." Meg's piercing blue gaze bore into Ace's. "If I find you in a beer chugging contest again, so help me—"

"That was one time and the frat boys dared me!"

"Ace."

Ace smiled and shook his head. "Of course. Who do you take me for?"

Meg raised an eyebrow. "I bet I can score more than you."

"Oh, really?" Ace countered. "Maybe whoever loses should pay for lunch the rest of the week, if you're so confident."

"Deal." Meg turned around, waving over her shoulder as she walked away. "Smell you later, old fart!"

"Have fun, Firecracker."

Meg disappeared into the crowd and Ace allowed himself a moment to appreciate how far they'd come. It seemed like just yesterday that he'd taken the girl in.

A few years ago when he'd been stateside, Ace had managed to cash out big after a blackjack win streak. When he'd left the casino, he only made it two blocks down the street before someone bumped into him and Ace was very aware of the weight of his wallet disappearing from his pocket while he struggled to right himself.

The thief had run off in a blur of red hair and sneakers pounding on pavement. After feebly trying to chase after them, Ace had stayed in the area and waited, and only a few hours later the pickpocket—a teenage girl—returned to the scene of the crime. She was clearly tailing a woman in a fur jacket and designer purse, but even across the street Ace could see that both the fur and bag were obvious fakes.

Amateur mistakes, really.

This time, Ace had familiarized himself with the surroundings beforehand and even as the girl spotted him and took off in a sprint, he eventually managed to corner her in an alleyway.

And after some angry screaming from the girl and a kick to Ace's shin, they'd ended up in a 24/7 shoddy diner with Ace buying her a meal in exchange for her story.

Meg had been homeless for months after her mother passed away from cancer. At only seventeen and with no close relatives, she'd been forced out on the streets and struggling to survive; it was only her sharp reflexes and years as a track star that kept her afloat by doing petty crimes.

And maybe it was the situation that was eerily similar to Ace's own childhood, or the fire he could see in her eyes, but Ace had only smiled before critiquing her pickpocketing technique and asking if she'd ever thought about being a con artist.

That was how Ace ended up taking Meg under his wing and teaching her everything he knew. With his experience and her quick feet, they made a surprisingly good team and had traveled across the States stealing and scamming much more efficiently than Ace usually managed on his own.

Having another person in on his schemes made a big difference. Meg could do anything from pretending to join Ace's poker table as a stranger to emptying someone's purse while Ace was doing magic tricks as a street performer. Meg had only been caught once by the police, and she'd been so convincing at sniffling pathetically and claiming she was only fifteen that the officer had taken pity and simply called her father—a.k.a. Ace's burner phone—instead of taking her down to the station.

But easy money or not, Ace hadn't expected their arrangement to last long. A few months later when Meg turned eighteen, she'd already earned enough to start her life anew—yet when Ace asked where she was planning to settle down, he only received a look of pure betrayal. And then there was screaming and crying and Meg accusing him of abandoning her, just like her dad and everyone else.

Ace had never wanted children, but as he dared to hug Meg for the first time and she merely clutched at his shirt and sobbed in his arms, he decided he'd do his best to be there for her the way nobody had been for him.

That was four years ago and Meg was still here, so he must have been doing something right.

Ace knew that their friendship was unorthodox. A middle-aged man and grumpy young woman who were visibly not related often garnered suspicious looks, especially whenever they went out to eat in a proper restaurant or money was tight enough that they had to share a twin instead of booking separate motel rooms.

Which was ironic, because it was Ace who hated sharing a room with Meg. She took ages in the shower, always sat on Ace's bed to eat and got crumbs all over the sheets, and stayed up way too late watching crappy late-night TV when Ace was trying to get his beauty sleep. It was like she knew exactly how to annoy him and did it with a smile every chance she could.

He tried not to show how proud he was of her mischievous streak.

Ace chuckled to himself. He couldn't have asked for a better partner-in-crime and he was glad they'd had enough extra cash to make the trip to Germany. Even if she tried to play it cool, Meg was clearly excited about seeing both the country and her favorite musician.

The fact that this happened to be one of Europe's biggest festivals, with countless drunk, rich patrons for easy pickings and dense crowds to quickly disappear into was simply a bonus.

Ace took a steadying breath and straightened his shirt—patterned with tiny card suits that hopefully nobody would notice weren’t traditional Oktoberfest checkers—and slipped on a familiar confident persona. As long as he pretended that he belonged here, everyone else would believe it too.

With a carefree smile and a spring in his step, Ace made his way to the beer tent to people-watch for a worthwhile target.

[talktomeinclexa]

Alpha Your Way Into My Heart

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Internalized Homophobia (or some equivalent) in later chapters

Status: WIP

Summary: One moment of distraction is all it takes for Clarke to accidentally send a text admitting how much Lexa’s scent affects her to the wrong addressee. Lexa. Her Alpha roommate on the cusp of her rut. The situation would be only slightly mortifying and complicated if Clarke weren’t also an Alpha. In a world where biology and prejudices often go hand-in-hand, will the two women get their happy ending?

***

Chapter 1: The Scent of You…

Deep blue eyes crossed in front of the laptop, too tired for the words to make sense anymore. Clarke usually enjoyed biochem, but after five hours of reviewing her notes, she was reconsidering her position. As well as her decision to get into pre-med.

Maybe she should have pursued her second passion, the arts, instead of leaving it as a hobby. Her open-minded family would have supported her decision. But being a doctor would offer her a steady income, enough to feed how many children she might have one day. It would help her fulfill her role as an Alpha. Being an artist, however…

The smell bursting from under the door warned her of her roommate’s arrival. A scent of wood, pine and oak, and of moss and wet grass. Lexa’s scent. Stronger than usual, which could only mean one thing. Fuck.

Lexa came through the door a second later, and her scent confirmed what Clarke feared. Lexa was in rut. Or she would soon be.

Clarke should have balked at the odor. Every other Alpha smelled acrid and bitter to her. They made her nose crinkle and her throat tighten. She even avoided her mother, Abby, during those annoying few days twice a year.

But for whatever reason, Lexa’s scent soothed her instead of disgusting her. Its compound reminded Clarke of the woods behind her house after the rain and made her think of home. And through the two months they had lived together, she had come to crave it. A shameful secret she shared with no one but her two best friends, Raven and Octavia.

“Hi, there. Are you okay?” she asked when she heard Lexa grunt and drop her bag on the floor. Miles away from her usual composure.

They hadn’t discussed how they would deal with their respective ruts. Clarke hit hers right before the beginning of the school year, sparing them the awkwardness for a few weeks.

The university did its best to room Alphas and Omegas with Betas to limit incidents. If two Omegas could comfort each other during their heats, Alphas were more prone to fistfights when sharing the same space for too long. Especially when they didn’t get along. It was no wonder Lexa had been ecstatic at the prospect of spending her sophomore year with anyone but Ontari Fish after their disastrous freshman year together.

Clarke, on the other hand, had been lucky to end up with Raven Reyes. The smart and easy-going mechanic student made her first year away from home not only bearable but quite enjoyable, too.

Sadly, Raven chose to move in with her girlfriend, Anya, for their sophomore year. Who knew who Clarke might have been stuck with if Anya hadn’t offered Lexa as a replacement? No one could have predicted her cousin’s smell would attract Clarke, placing her in an impossible situation.

“Fine,” Lexa said, her voice and looked up lower than usual. “I just need to burn off some energy.”

Clarke knew the feeling all too well. Going through a rut alone wasn’t a fun experience. And Lexa had no official girlfriend. Or someone to share it with before splitting ways. Which left two options: physical exertion and masturbation.

She thought seeing Lexa touch herself in front of her would be a paramount torture. But when the other woman shed her T-shirt and began a series of push-ups in her sports bra, Clarke admitted defeat.

With a weak, “I’ll give you some space and study at the library,” she threw her laptop and two random books into her bag. Oblivious to Lexa’s conflicted gaze, she fled the room and the object of her recent fantasies.

On her way to the other building, she shot a quick text at Raven.

Clarke (16:27)

Meet me at the library? Lexa’s rut starting. She smells even better than usual. What the fuck am I gonna do? 😕

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