#why is Desire of the Endless so goddamn sexy

[blinday]

Saw a dude in makeup and a dress with a gorgeous beard and sexy eyeliner. Bro i. Bro I think I aint. bi. I think I be pan.

[marmolady]

Back to Reality: What Came Next (N*SFW)

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: Rourke Ending. Taking up where 'Back to Reality' left off. Taylor and Estela have had a rough old day in the Rourke-verse, and take comfort in one another... in a way they haven't done since their world was a very different place.

Word Count: 1824

Warnings: Smut. I've not written anything as smutty as this before, so probably also need to stick in a warning here about potentially not-great smut. But hey, gotta start somewhere! Very N*SFW.

Chronology: Directly following on from 'Back to Reality'. Read that one first! Or, well... skip to this one if you're just here for the sexy-times.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic

Estela reached behind Taylor’s neck, her movements slow, deliberate, as she travelled downwards. She felt the curve of shoulder blades, arching into Taylor’s upper back. The skin so soft, unblemished. She paused over the clasp of the bra, her eyes flickering to her love’s face. Is this all right?

A second pair of hands guided her, and the garment fell. Eyes dark with desire, Estela couldn’t look away. Her hands roamed to Taylor’s breasts, thumbs tracing over nipples which stood firm at her caress. The sensation beneath her fingertips was electrifying.

“…Estela…” Taylor breathed. If only she knew how much she’d missed her touch.

“God, Taylor, you’re beautiful.” Estela’s voice was a low growl at her wife’s throat. And then she kissed, working over the delicate neck and jawline, feeling her own urgent need growing with the pooling of heat at her core.

Taylor’s heart thundered in her ears as she felt a nip at the base of her neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, even as a soft moan escaped her.

Without stopping to look up, Estela continued her fervent trail of kisses, her hands roaming down her lover’s body. “Shhhh… Taylor, put your hands on me. I need to feel you.”

How could she argue? Taylor’s fingers dug into that strong, scarred back as she responded to the breathtaking touch, and she caught a smirk on Estela’s face as she glanced up momentarily. She kissed down into the valley of her wife’s breasts as she reached behind to unhook the bra --unwanted and most certainly getting in the way. As the bra fell aside, she took a nipple in her mouth, teasing it with suckling kisses and grazing with her teeth.

Estela exhaled sharply, momentarily too dizzied to keep going. Taylor took the opportunity to tug her down onto the bed, leaning against her, mouth and one hand working over Estela’s chest, while the other traced a path down, down, then slipping into her underwear. Another gasp from Estela as she squirmed beneath her.

“… you’re getting a little full of yourself…” Estela hissed.

“I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare…”

Taylor resumed the stroking of her fingers over Estela’s wet folds, responding to a needy whimper.

“More.” Estela bucked her hips against her wife’s hand, and moaned with sweet relief as those talented fingers at last found her clit. “Taylor…” She tipped her wife’s chin with a trembling hand, forcing eye contact, then grasped a fistful of blonde hair, anchoring their bodies in place. But all too soon, her lover was pulling away.

“--hang on--” Taylor muttered, and she extricated herself just enough to fumblingly take care of both pairs of underwear, clothing she’d deemed to be nothing but a hindrance.

Estela’s gaze was intense, fiery in her hunger. “You’re just so fucking perfect…” She grasped Taylor’s ass and tugged her onto her. She just had to feel her… every goddamn inch.

“…You…” Taylor buried her face once more in her wife’s chest, slathering messy kisses to those humble breasts, sliding downwards until her mouth was working against an exquisitely toned stomach. Oh, how those muscles quivered beneath her kiss… “Estela, you are a goddess…

Leaning deliciously close to her lover, Taylor kept eye contact as she stroked a finger over Estela’s entrance, inciting an exhilarated shudder that shook them both. Carefully, she eased in a finger, then two, crooking them so that they pressed against the sensitive spot with every pump in and out. Her thumb resumed a swirling dance around the small nub, and Estela gave a trembling moan. Strong fingers clawed into Taylor’s back with every moment; it hurt, but it felt so good.

With a loud, shuddering exhale, Estela found her release, holding Taylor ever tighter as she writhed through waves of bliss. Slowly, she regained her breath and sank into the mattress, still seeing stars.

“Joder….”

With a light-headed giggle of self-satisfaction, Taylor pushed herself up so that she could properly admire the happily flushed face of the woman she adored. How she’d missed this. This bit especially. The look on Estela’s face… as though she were floating on a cloud.

“I love you,” she breathed, and eased herself back down, Estela’s hand now idly, lovingly tracing swirls over her shoulder, making her heart flutter and skin tingle. “My starlight.”

Once again, they were kissing. Slow and deliberate, catching one another’s moans as they trembled against their lips.  Estela’s arms around her, their legs tangling, Taylor let herself to be rolled onto her side; held and caressed and kissed as if there were not another damn thing in the world that mattered. Just that moment between them. Taylor’s eyes scrunched closed, prickling with tears. She’d waited a long and lonely time to kiss Estela like this… to be kissed back, so loved.

“Oh, querida, it’s okay…. Shh, shhhh….” Fingers cradling her wife’s face, Estela laid kisses up Taylor’s cheek to her forehead, where she lingered. “I’m yours now. And you’re mine. I’ve got you now.”

A tear rolled down Taylor’s cheek onto the duvet. Goddammit, why now? That lump in her throat was getting bigger…. “God, ‘Stel…. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, I know….” Estela murmured. Her breath shook, then she spoke fiercely. “And I’ll fight ‘til my last breath to make sure you never have to miss me again.”

Taylor spluttered out a few sobs, and hugged Estela all the tighter. She shivered. The hell were we thinking? You put on the heater, and then you go for naked sexy time. She supposed that coming in from outside, this was considered relatively warm when they’d first trudged in. A chatter of her wife’s teeth against her cheek made her laugh-- and then choke on her tears, and then laugh some more.

“You wanna take this under the covers, my dearest love?”

“P-please.”

Estela cocooned herself in with Taylor, hoisting the blankets up around their faces. “When we live in San Trobida, there will be none of this fucking cold. And we can be naked together all the time if we wish, without getting frost-bitten tetas.”

Taylor snorted. “Oh, babe. That’s the dream.” She hummed contentedly, the sadness of what had been fading in the soft glow of what was. This was now. Estela was holding her, and they were warm and safe. She let out a long exhale, and anchored herself in the present.

“Do you… do you want to keep going?” Estela asked tentatively, her dark eyes searching Taylor’s face for confirmation that she was all right. “We can just cuddle…?”

“I’m okay,” Taylor assured. “And I want more. More you.” She grinned and looped a leg around her wife’s long, toned one, grinding against her with a quiet moan. Fuck, she’s got nice legs….

Estela smirked. “Well, if that’s what you want….”

She captured Taylor’s hungry mouth in a deep kiss before ducking down, disappearing beneath the heavy covers. The heat of Taylor’s body, the scent of her… of her heady need, Estela was enveloped in it, and the soft blankets surrounding them, and it took her to a place where she was untouchable, bulletproof. Estela breathed it in, and her body shuddered with desire. She felt Taylor tremble at the touch of breath on her skin, goose-bumps already rising that had nothing to do with cold.

“’Stel, please….”

The muffled voice egged Estela on, but she was unhurried. She dipped her head, and ran her tongue languorously over the sensitive skin of Taylor’s stomach. A sharp whimper from above, a twitching buck of hips beneath her… oh, it was a kind of satisfaction Estela could bask in for days. She trailed kisses and licks and sharp nibbles in a meandering path across Taylor’s wonderfully soft inner thighs.

“You’re so…. Fucking…. Beautiful….” she breathed against them, punctuating her words of praise with kisses of escalating fierceness… and spurring another whimpering moan.

“God, Estela….”

With a moment to catch her breath-- the cover of the blankets, though warm, was stifling-- Estela brought her hands to her wife’s sensitive place and gently stroked. Even if the darkened space she could see the glistening wetness of the twitching folds. Another deep breath, shuddering with her own want, and she brought her lips to Taylor’s clit, sucking softly.

The effect was instant. With a sharp gasp, Taylor bucked her hips wildly, clocking Estela in the face. Giggling, Estela dipped back down and licked, alternating small, gentle, and long, hard strokes of her tongue until Taylor’s body was fluttering along with her heart, helpless in her wake.

All too soon, though, Estela really needed to come up for air. She emerged from the covers to Taylor’s face aglow with a pink flush.

“I love you… I love you….” Taylor panted, reaching for her lover’s face, delighting in the feeling as Estela took her fingers in her mouth and nibbled.

“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t let you miss me?” Estela smirked, and crawled up a little further. Her eyes never leaving Taylor’s face, she leaned down into her, and swirled her tongue over a heaving breast, taking her time and teasing the nipple with gentle flicks.

Taylor arched her back, pressing herself up against Estela with everything she had in her-- quite a feat as her body, by now, had gone to jelly.

Then Estela moved up even further, her lips caressing a trail up Taylor’s neck, rising in intensity as she reached her jaw. As Taylor’s breath hitched with a high-pitched squeak, Estela settled in, letting her hand find its place where it was wanted most.

“I--I’m so close…. I’m so close, ‘Stel.”

“Mi amor,” Estela purred against her lover’s throat, “let me take care of you.”

A few deftly placed strokes of talented fingers, and Taylor’s hips were bucking wildly, her hands grasping at Estela’s back as if for dear life, and a great cry of release escaped her lips.

As Taylor’s frantic moaning subsided and her body shook, Estela caressed her… her sides, her breasts, her face, through her hair… and kissed her again and again, sweet and gentle.

“Hey?” she asked softly. “Was that okay? Are you…?” Her dark eyes searched Taylor’s brilliant blue ones, and she saw only euphoria and love.

Taylor was smiling so hard her face ached. Her body tingled with warmth… it was as if she were alight. “My starlight….”

She pulled the covers up to both their chins, snuggled in against Estela, and kissed her… hoping with everything in her that she might somehow share some of the sheer happiness that coursed through her now-spent body.

When she came away, she was once again breathless. “Does that… does that answer your question?”

Estela giggled quietly and nuzzled in. “Yeah. I think it does.”

The cruel world had fallen away. Wrapped up in their shared duvet, their hearts thundering together, Estela and Taylor had found their sanctuary in one another.

[oppabimbab]

your attention | im jaebum

genre : smut

starring : jaebum x reader

synopsis : jaebum has been ignoring you when he is playing with his video games; the thing is you’re horny for his touch; you find it’s unfair so you try to get his attention, in a sexy way

words count : 2544 words

side note : a quick and horny one.

✻ Fanfics Archive ✻

“Let’s fucking go!!! Goddamn it!!” Jaebeom’s high pitch voice fills the living room along with the sounds from television. He grunts in annoyance—running a hand through his hair, looking frustrated just like few moments ago.

You, who are leaning against the kitchen counter, heave a sigh while sipping a mineral water as you bring your gaze to look at your frustrated boyfriend. It’s been 3 hours since he came to your place where he didn’t go anywhere but playing with the video games he just bought few days ago. Well, it’s not a new thing. You know Jaebeom loves playing games—especially with his favourite PS4 but it’s weekend. He has been really busy with his schedule during weekdays and when it leaves you with only 2 days of weekend, just to see him yelling and cursing when his character died for the entire day. 

How annoying. You scoff at the sight of him yelling and looking frustrated on the sofa, completely ignoring you at the side. 

You don’t mind if you’re not this horny. The thing is he turns you on and this is where you find it’s a little bit annoying for not getting his attention. Putting the glass aside on the counter, slowly, you count the steps to come closer to him before you scoot closer to his side.

The Fifa game looks boring and irritating to you when you see his gaze didn’t move from the screen to even look at you. You pout at him. This is unfair.

“Shit man!! You had one job!! Come on!!,” he curses again, thumping his feet on the floor to ease the tension when the game becomes intense but you know nothing about what is going on. You don’t fucking care about the games. He is too immersed without looking at you beside him. 

Staring at him from head to toe, you can feel something itchy in your core. Jaebeom has been always looking goddamn ethereal but today, why the fuck he looks delicious than ever. 

Short sleeves black t-shirt—compliments his toned and muscular arms. Messy and fluffy hair—exposing such a boyish look that you always love. Skin tight jeans—that thick and toned thigh and calves, oh so fucking sexy. You check him out without noticing the familiar liquid is pooling in your panty. Every part of your skin wants him. Not later, but now. 

As Jaebeom keeps hissing and grunting at his sucks online teammate, you comes closer to his side and bring your lips to trail a soft kisses on his sexy neck. Slow pace, you plant those kisses from under his earlobe to his shoulder—causing him to flinch. Just like that, Jaebeom pulls away from you a bit to look at your needy face.

“Baby? What are you doing?” he asks with furrowed eyebrow—there is a mixture of confused at your gesture and mad at his endless failing games. Both of you exchange eye contacts for a while before you open your mouth.

“I want you,” you squeak softly before trailing your fingers on his torso to his buffy chest. Fuck, your boyfriend looks extremely good when he is ignoring you. Jaebeom shakes his head and pull your hands away, slowly. 

“Not today please? I need to finish this game first. This is important. Baby, later? Okay?” he cocks his eyebrow, trying to convince you not to be a needy fuck when he is clearly busy with his so-called important thing. You whine, of course you’re not going to give in, just like that? How the hell you’re going to hold this desire for another 3 hours? 

“I’m horny,” not giving any fuck to what he said just now, you plant another wet kisses on his neck again while trailing your fingers on his chest—feeling his toned abs. Your favourite place. 

For some reason, he chuckles at your words, making his whole body vibrates which is turning you on even more. He has such a genuine and boyish laughter and when he does that, you want nothing but to be fucked by him. It’s scary you want him this much. 

“If you’re this horny, I can’t say no, can I?” he giggles as he pulls you away, again—making you whine in frustration at his gesture. The next second, you see his boyish smile, checking you up from head to toe. Only tank top and hot pants. He nods in amusement.

“Ride my thigh, baby,” he whispers. God knows how thrilling it sounds like in your ears. 

“Do everything you want,” he adds and the next second, you stand up in front him—quickly taking off the tank top that has been wrapping your body before you unclasp the bra, making your boobs bouncing to his sight. He grins, biting his lower lips as he checks you up from head to toe. Not even once you break the eye contact from his eyes as he looks at you like you’re some kind of masterpiece. 

Taking off your panty, leaving your bare body, you impatiently climb on him and sit on one of his thigh while he still has his jeans on. The thick fabric makes a soft moan leaves your mouth. Jaebeom bites his lower lip while looking up at you.

“Just how sensitive are you now?” he teases before he coils his arms around your waist and using the game console behind your back. You don’t respond to him as your pussy is becoming more sensitive. 

“Move,” he commands with his eyes still on the screen and his hands keep using the game console—as if you’re not there, riding his motherfucking thick thigh. 

Slowly, you move your hips back and forth, just to feel the rough fabric to be rubbing on your wet pussy—increasing the pleasure and desire. The friction feels heavenly good. A trail of moans leave your mouth as you keep grinding on his firm thigh with your hands holding on to both of his shoulders. 

“Jaebeom....” you whine, rubbing the pussy on his jeans more aggresively. 

“What is it baby?” he hums , still looking at the screen before he pulls your hips closer to him—making you yelp and moan like a erotic kitten. 

“So good,” you moan—lifting your chin to the air as you quickened the pace. You don’t know his thigh would feel this good on your pussy but you’re sure you’re ruining his jeans with your wetness. It’s soaking.

He chuckles before looking back your flushed face—enjoying the view so much as he never takes his eyes off from your moaning face. Eye contact. It turns you on even more.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet. How are you this wet,” he stares at his soaked jeans while your pussy still grinding on him—throbbing clit to his sight. Again, you don’t respond as you busy moaning his name to the air while gripping on his shoulders to get the support. Jaebeom grit his teeth, staring at how red and sensitive your pussy has become. He slaps your jiggly ass—you shudder.

“Jaebeom...!” the next second, he grabs your hips and forces you to keep grinding back and forth with 2 times speed—making your body bounce on his lap. He takes one of your nipples to his mouth before curling it with the tip of his tongue—making you scream even louder. The entire space is filled with moans and whimper from you along with the sound of friction between your swollen pussy and his tight jeans. 

After few more moves, you cum on his jeans before you collapse on his shoulder while consuming air to fill your empty lungs. Jaebeom chuckles while rubbing your ass slowly.

“Was it good?” he whispers to your ears before he resume the game again—leaving you laying on his chest after such orgasm. 

“I’ll make you feel good,” you pull away and kneeling beside him with your face only few inches away from his throbbing dick. Jaebeom looks at you, confused. 

Without letting him to respond or think, you unbuckle the belt around his waist without much efforts , just to pull the jeans to his knees before you bring your fingers around the strap of his underwear and let his throbbing member comes to your sight. 

Jaebeom squeak out of shock at your impatient and quick gesture.

“W-wait. We can-“

“Shut up, Jaebeom. You said I can do anything I want ,” you look up at him with a pout as you wrap your hand around his huge member. A soft whimper comes out from his mouth. You smile.

When he finally shut up, you stroke his length gently from the tip to his balls. A soft smile appears on your lips when you witness the white precum on the head of his dick before you lower your head to lick it. His body jerks at the touch but you push him back to the sofa. 

Jaebeom has always been that huge and big, it almost making your petite hand disappear from wrapping his dick. It’s red and throbbing—like it wants to get the cum out. You chuckle before you quickened the pace—stroking every part of the dick. The slippery sounds start to take over the space along with his soft whimper. You know your boyfriend barely makes sound when you’re pleasing him but today, you can’t let that happen. He needs to scream and moan—just like he always did to you.

In a blink of eyes, you lower your head to take his length into your mouth—making it disappear from the sight. A trails of curse left his mouth when your hot mouth is wrapping that veiny dick. Just like how you grind on his thigh, you move your head up and down while rubbing his huge dick with your hand. Jaebeom curse while keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You chuckle. That’s not enough. With other hand, you spread thigh wider while rubbing it slowly. He moans.

As you bop your head on his dick, you hum to give vibration to his system and just like you imagined, he moans, loudly. Bopping your head, you lick the vein on his length from up to down, not leaving any part before you curl your tongue on the tip of his head, tasting the pre cum. 

“Oh fuck. There, there,” Jaebeom moans as he brings his hand to your hair to make you go deeper but you immediately push his hand away.

“You do your work. I do my work,” you mumbles, taking his ball into your mouth—making the man goes crazy with every touch. 

“Nasty,” he teases, spreading his legs wider to make you hover the dick even better. As you keep sucking the throbbing member, you can feel the juice from your core is starting to pool again as your skin starts to tingle for his touch. You arch your body, making your ass up to air while your head on his lap. 

The next minute, you moan when the cold air touches your inner thigh—reminding you how empty your pussy is and he needs to fill you again. You crave his dick so much. While stroking and licking Jaebeom, you moan out loud—louder than the sound of chaotic games on the screen. 

“Jaebeom....fuck me,” you beg, sucking the tip of head while stroking the balls, making him jerk even more. He grunts as you can feel his muscles starts to stiff and tense up. Before you can taste his cum in your mouth, he pulls you away from him as he stands up. Leaving you breathless.

“Bend down. Show me your pussy,” he commands through gritted teeth while striking his sexy beast eyes to you. The butterflies in your stomach start to build like crazy, making you turn your back at him before you bend down—to make him see the dripping liquid along your inner thigh. With shaky hands, you hold on the sofa. 

He comes closer and brings his hands to palm your pussy. You scream out loud at the warm touch.

“So, you decide to make me this horny when I’m playing the games?” he grunts—rubbing his fingers back and forth. Your body arch. Fucking heavenly good.

“What did you say just now? Repeat it, I didn’t hear you well enough,”

“Fuck me,” you whine in the weakest voice. He hums, not satisfied.

“Louder,” he slaps your ass.

“Fuck me, I want you!” your voice reaches few octaves and thanks god, it makes him satisfied.

“As you wish, baby,” 

Just right after he says the words, he slams his dick into your pussy—making your body to jerk forcefully. You shut your eyes while opening your mouth wide to moan his name over and over again. When you finally adjust to his size, he starts to move back and forth—filling his huge dick inside your tight pussy. 

Fucking good.

“Why is my baby this horny? Do you want me this much?” he grunts in every thrust he pump into you and just like that, your body arch, your mouth let out the endless moans. Just for him. You immediately hold on to the sofa tightly as your legs becomes wobbly. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

“Harder, Jaebeom,” you beg. Jaebeom chuckles before he grips on both of your hips and keeps thrusting and wrecking every part of you. The slapping sound starts to replace the entire space. 

"Damn it, you feel so good around me," he gropes your ass.

Moans and moans. Thrust and thrust. Your boobs bounce along with the thrust. The next second, you peek over your shoulder and meet his eyes. His gaze is fucking sexy and looking at him while he is fucking you, is one of the beautiful thing that happen in your life. He stares at you while gritting his lower lip as he pumping your pussy to let his tip to touch your walls. 

“Scream my name. Cum for me,” he groans.

“Ah! Jaebeom, Jaebeom!” you cry to the air, gropping your breast to increase the pleasure before the knot in your stomach starts to build. 

He pumps harder to stimulate you and the next second, you cum around him, a few seconds earlier before he fills his cum inside your abused pussy. His body twitch as he pumps the cum inside you before it drips along your inner thigh. 

“Ah! yes fuckkk,” he groans.

Jaebeom immediately pulls out from you and brings your body to his chest as he sits on the sofa—back to his earlier position. Both of you pant and breathing hard, to catch the missing air while you sit on his lap and lay your head on his chest. 

You bring your gaze to the screen and he lost the game, again. You crack a soft smile at the sight. Your boyfriend must be mad at you for making him hard and horny—just like you are, which is the reason why he lost the game. You kiss his chest and look up at him. Jaebeom looks back at you—like a puppy while securing your hips inside his arms.

“Baby,” you call him and he cocks his eyebrows, pulling you closer to him.

“Do you want me to help you win?” you grin at him before taking the game console from his side.

[ifeveristoday]

Are we in Bizarro Land?

@jenny-calendar has already keyboard flailed about the progress of Jenny and Giles in the Boom!verse (and I definitely have thoughts of my own) but this issue is so good about picking up from the quiet introspectiveness of issue 7, as if Jordie thought, ‘Okay, I’ve let Willow breathe and Xander come to terms with his new existence...now shit’s really getting real’ and we’re back into action.

A feature of the Boom!verse has been the feeling that each issue has a mini cliffhanger - not necessarily, OMG what happens next?!? in feeling all the time, but ‘why did you end it THERE?’

It happened for me in the Chosen one-shot - I would have liked to have spent more time with the individual slayers (possibly giving each one her own issue instead of sharing?) but the glimpse I got of each life was intriguing.

With issue 8 of the Boom!verse, we’ve definitely hit upon OMG what happens next territory.

And one of the elephants in the fandom - the Buffy/Angel relationship gets introduced in this issue.

There’s a lot of other plot points about issue 8 that I’m going to address in separate posts, but I want to comment on the B/A dynamic as it is in the Boom! verse. OG canon will be referenced but for the most part I want to focus on what Jordie and Bryan have decided to do with them and how that impacts their relationship in 2019.

Did I go down a google deep dive to ascertain if Bats do in fact have tails? Yes. Yes I did. And they do, but it’s not quite to the extent that Handmade Costume Buffy takes it to -- her costume looks more like a cartoon version of a Bat, with the little forked end. There are 1000 species of bats, however, with the majority of them having some sort of tail, both obvious and not so obvious. And there’s a bumblebee bat that does not have a tail. I highly recommend that you google it because it’s goddamn adorable.

Despite his many years existing, I don’t think Angel really was cataloging all 1,000 species of bats and just went with the common perception that bats are tail-less. The bat motif has been repeated over with them in canon, however - there’s Camazotz, Buffy’s pegasus bat (who’s returning for HELLMOUTH), the endless Batman comparisons Angel has (TV and Bryan comparing him to Bruce Wayne) and of course vampire bats (Dracula and his party trick). Buffy dressing up as a bat is pretty on the nose for this ‘verse.

And I like that it’s obviously homemade - Joyce (or Eric! Doctor after all) probably helped her stitch on ears and a tail to a black hoodie and black shorts, and she just needed fishnets to complete the look - cozy with a slight detour into Women’s Halloween Costumes Must Be Sexy All The Time Now, Especially if It Is Not Sexy Before. Buffy wasn’t going to spend Tuna Palace money on wearing a costume for an event that she was forced to unofficially chaperone, hence the surliness/over it attitude with Halloween. We still have no idea what fifteen-year-old Slayer Buffy was like and if her Halloween in Los Angeles was eventful or it’s a Los Angeles vs “small town” approach to Halloween.

Or if it’s Buffy just being annoyed that once again, she really can’t participate in an ordinary teenage ritual, she has to watch over it to make sure everyone’s safe. The visual of Buffy on the fringes of the party, observing, not participating is something that really resonated with me, as a fan of the TV canon and just being a withdrawn person in RL. 

Buffy’s had a setback - her friends have gotten hurt helping her slaying, her crush has fizzled out before it could properly begin (and Robin dancing with a look-alike didn’t help) and as Giles likes to remind her, evil is always in the background. Her doing normal stuff - group date with her friends is directly before Xander gets turned by Spike and Drusilla, and then she witnesses Willow giving up a part of her soul for Xander, and being defensive when Willow tells her she hardly knows herself - Buffy is both a part of their group but separate. The argument the two get into in front of the demon - that Buffy tells Willow she’s pretending, and Willow tossing back that Buffy is a master of pretending and lying (Slayer, secret identity after all) and the demon sneering at Buffy’s overinflated sense of worth - just because she’s the Slayer doesn’t automatically give her soul more weight. Xander and Willow’s bond excludes her because they’ve known each other forever and she is the new girl. The outsider.

We��ve been given more insight to Willow and Xander, but just peeks at Buffy’s mindset - and with all that’s happened, I don’t blame her for being resentful or less sunshine-y than her season 1 TV counterpart. But Boom! Buffy as always, is her own person.

It’s this person Angel is trying to figure out. Over in his world, Buffy/The Slayer is nothing but a flashing danger sign - a shadowy figure that he first mistakes for Mara/Marius - a source of regret/love from his Angelus past. Mara was chosen by Angelus because she was a renowned fighter, and he makes/renames her in his image - possibly referencing the Roman god of War as well. But all the omniscient demons in his life insist that this girl is a danger to him and that love will bring him nothing but pain and she is the instrument of that pain.

Moth, meet flame.

Boom! Angel is not burdened with destiny in the shape of a girl, he doesn’t know anything about the Slayer or what role she’s going to play in his life, only that she’s going to impact it - most likely in a negative way.

So what does he do?

Treat it like a war campaign - do the recon, know your opponent’s weaknesses.

Which brings the comedy, because the Slayer he’s been warned off so many times isn’t the feared creature of vampire myth and legend, but a resentful tired girl in a bat costume who does not appreciate the tall dark ‘looks like a serial killer’ man in a devil mask sitting right next to her. She wants to be left alone.

In any other typical story, there would be that element of fear with a stranger, but because Buffy’s the Slayer, she knows she can defend herself and put the hurt on this guy.

Meanwhile, it’s Angel’s turn to observe. And 2019 Angel’s social skills have ...not improved. There is a slight symmetry to their meeting - Buffy watching a world she’s not quite a part of, and Angel watching her and not sure how she fits into his world, both outsiders looking at something they’re not sure they want but still are fascinated by.

Angel’s initial attempt to get closer to Buffy (literal sitting down next to her, then being a troll and moving up one stair) is the personal approach - he notices that she’s bothered by Robin dancing with another girl and then quickly enters Uncomfortable Job Interview Questions territory - 'tell me about yourself - where would you be if you weren’t here? What if you had more time for you?’

These are not mortal enemy questions, obviously. Angel is trying to decipher Buffy as a person and subtly mirroring her body language.

In a callback to Willow’s accusation that Buffy doesn’t really know herself - she admits she doesn’t know what she would be doing if she didn’t have to be there - she said to Xander that she’d rather be home studying...but come on. That’s not what she really wants to be doing.

To defuse the suddenly personal conversation, Angel makes the observation that the reason no one can tell she’s a bat is that she has a tail - and Buffy is so wrapped up in her situation that she doesn’t clue in on the fact that Angel has used Xander’s words almost exactly. She repeats that she hates Halloween while flaming with embarrassment that she’s appeared both vulnerable and not bright in front of a stranger.

This whole exchange - about who Buffy is and what she presents to the world - no one knows if she’s a cat or a dog - I’m a bat fits neatly with her identity crisis as a Slayer and as a teenager still figuring stuff out. 

Similarities to TV canon - Angel knows more about Buffy than she knows about him, and he’s intrigued by her, and she’s...annoyed by him.

The update to their histories is what makes me intrigued about the potential of their romance/relationship - it’s definitely happening with all the hints that have been dropped, anvil-like from the sky - but Buffy is not Angel’s route to redemption or desire to be useful for the fight for Good. He was already going down that path/doing that before he meets her. Angel is not a romantic figure for Buffy, she doesn’t know what he looks like, only that he’s really chatty (!) and vaguely has motivational speaker vibes. He’s not a canvas for her to project ideal fantasies on, just yet.

They’re both damaged, unsociable in their own ways people - but a connection has been made. Where Jordie and Bryan (and Jordan Lambert for HELLMOUTH) go with it, is the exciting part. The ending we know is inevitable, plus it’s the first year of their series, and creators rarely get OTPs together and stay together that quickly, but because Boom! has them both under their umbrella, crossovers will happen more easily and the mythology will be tighter instead of the same tiresome ‘one is more darker and adult than the other blah blah blah shut up dude creators as if that’s the only worthy characteristic of a story’ box.

So, I’m excited about the journey, and as you can see in my chat bubbles above - any Hades/Persephone parallels.

Look how gorgeous this panel is - the colors and the way Buffy is perched above it all...like a bat. Or Nosferatu.

[ilikeyouxactually]

Welp it took me a few hours, but I spit out my first Rocketman fic and I’m simultaneously very nervous and excited and proud of it. Please don’t hate for writing this. This movie just gave me so many emotions and I loved how pure and raw everything was. You could really feel all the emotions conveyed between the characters and it just gave me a lot of inspiration to write. Please enjoy <3

Title: Take Me to the Pilot

Summary: Elton has never felt wanted. Not until he met John Reid after his performance at the Troubadour. Their encounter afterwards is everything Elton has ever wanted with another person—feeling needed.

Read is on AO3 here — https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413451

Loneliness was something Elton had become accustomed to. Having grown up in such a broken family with a distant father who showed absolutely no interest, and a mother that was only concerned with herself, he became used to the idea of being alone, feeling unloved, not wanted. Especially after the night his father left—he didn’t even say goodbye.

As his family fell apart, he couldn’t help but detach himself from others, wanting nothing but to just immerse himself in playing the piano. It was his escape, the only way he could truly feel something. But as he grew older, he couldn’t help the longing for another. To feel someone’s love and affection. He began to think that it would never come. Sure, there were times when fellow band mates would throw him a wink, or even push him against a wall with a quick kiss before a show, but that’s where it ended. He wanted more. To be held and feel like he actually mattered. For someone to show him what love actually was.

Then John Reid happened.

That beautifully confident man who offered countless smiles and nods of approval from the bar during his performance at The Troubadour. Elton had of course noticed the looks he was getting, but pleaded with himself to not lose his focus as he belted the lyrics to Crocodile Rock, slender fingers slamming the piano keys.

The show came to a close with endless cheers and chants from the crowd. Adrenaline clouded his senses, and before he knew it he was being whisked off to some party. He was excited to celebrate with Bernie. They did it. Their music got them all the way to America, playing at a famous night club in front of the fucking Beach Boys and Neil Diamond. They deserved this celebration. But just as soon as they arrived at the party, Bernie was abandoning Elton. Something about some girl named Heather and going to a tipi.

Elton just brushed him off, anger filling him as his friend was ditching him when they should be sharing this moment together. Basking in the pure accomplishment of where their music got them. Instead, his best friend found it more important to shag some random chick.

Again he was alone.

When John Reid first approached him, Elton tried to dismiss him. Insisting on wanting to be alone. Not needing a drink. But John wouldn’t have it. “You can’t deny the kindness of a stranger,” his accent was thick and purely tantalizing, sending a shiver down Elton’s spine as he finally accepted the drink, downing the dark liquor as fast as he could. The liquor and the weed made it impossible for Elton to shamelessly not stare at John’s plump, inviting lips. God they looked so soft.

They chatted for what seemed like hours. Talking about their history, how they got to America, their ambitions and dreams. Somewhere along the way, John invited Elton over to his home. We can talk there instead, it’ll be more private. The way John’s deep blue eyes narrowed as he said “private” made Elton squirm with need. Private. That definitely sounded good.

The moment Elton’s feet crossed the threshold, John had thrown him against the door. Hungry lips crashed against his own. John’s tongue wasted no time before dragging across Elton’s lips. Elton’s body went limp, knees buckling and struggling to keep him standing from the sensation. John’s warm body pressed firmly against him to keep him sturdy. A low moan escaped Elton’s mouth, granting John the access to slip his tongue inside. Elton welcomed the gesture, eagerly kissing John with as much fervor as he could muster.

John guided Elton’s limp body towards his bedroom, Elton happily seeming to float along, completely lost in thought of holy fuck this man is actually kissing me. When they reached the bedroom, John situated them by the window, bright moonlight casting down on them like a spotlight. Warm hands shrugged the patched jean jacket off Elton’s shoulders, placing it carefully on the chair beside them. Elton looked up at John helplessly, as if his eyes could beg for him to make the next move.

If Elton were being honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never had sex before, let alone with a man—a very attractive man who oozed confidence and experience. Things Elton didn’t have much of at all.

Sensing Elton’s worries, John cupped a tender hand to his cheek. “No worries, love, I’ll take care of you.” Elton melted into the touch, John again pressing their lips together not a moment later. His hand wandered from Elton’s cheek, down his neck before slender fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. Elton hummed against kiss, eliminating the remaining distance between them as he pressed their bodies together. His arm snaked its way around John’s waist, desperately pulling him closer. The low moan that came from John gave Elton a shudder, deciding he really liked the noises John made—wondering what other sounds he could elicit. Elton gave a quick nibble at John’s bottom lip, rolling the plump flesh between his teeth, John shaking against him. “Oh fuck,” John groaned, shamelessly rolling his hips against Elton’s. Elton tried to fight back a smile, instead just focusing on doing whatever he could to make John do that again.

John pulled Elton towards the bed, plopping down clumsily. Elton crashed his lips to John’s, hot tongue instantly darting past his lips. Unable to contain himself from exploring every inch of John’s mouth. He tasted like alcohol and weed—but there was something else. Something sweet like candy. Elton couldn’t place it, but it was delicious and he knew it was a taste he would crave once it was gone. Before he could continue, John pulled away breathlessly, his whole body shaking.

”Jesus Elton, you’re so sexy.” That was the first time anyone had called him sexy. Elton’s heart beat erratically in his chest. He had never felt sexy in his entire life. Having always been an awkward child with glasses, he was usually on the receiving end of being endlessly bullied by his peers. No one had ever looked at him with such desire. It was so strange—but amazing.

John carefully removed Elton’s glasses, setting them on the bedside table gently. Warmth suddenly spread over Elton at the tender gesture. Total opposite from the time a kid on the playground forcefully ripped his glasses from his face before stomping them to pieces. The flashback was cut short by John laying Elton back against the matttress, crawling on top of him with a playful smile splayed on his lips. He rolled his hips against Elton beneath him, watching the way Elton’s eyes fluttered shut, and mouth hang open shamelessly wide. John took it as an invitation to return his mouth to Elton, kissing him hungrily as if he couldn’t fast enough.

Elton’s head spun with desire, the weight of John on top of him made his toes curl, letting his hips roll up against John’s with need. His dick was painfully hard pressing against John’s inner thigh. John pulled away from the kiss at the realization, lips spreading into a wicked grin.

”Oh? What’s that?” He teased, giving his hips a torturously slow rock against Elton.

”Oh fuck, John—I need you,” Elton’s eyes rolled back, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

”Tell me what you want, Elton,” John’s voice was low and commanding, making every inch of Elton’s body tingle.

“Want you,” Elton muttered helplessly, trying to press up against John only to discover he had moved away so he was leaning over Elton.

“Look at me Elton,” John demanded, the huskiness instantly forcing Elton’s eyes to snap open. “Tell me what you want.” John’s brows were straight and serious, eyes narrowed as he stared only into Elton’s.

”I want you to fuck me.” The plea was helpless and needy, Elton didn’t care. The way John’s hands roamed over his body with such adoration as they explored was unlike anything Elton ever thought he could experience. Feeling needed. It was so new. But the sense of John’s warmth was too inviting. “Please fuck me, John,” Elton grabbed John’s shirt, pulling the man down onto him. John couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face, fingers immediately searching for Elton’s belt, stumbling as they attempted to remove it. Needing nothing but to get Elton out of those damn trousers. Elton quickly found himself mimicking John’s movements. Both assisting each other out of their clothes. Suddenly, Elton wondered why he had decided on these pants and all these layers. The trousers seemed to have way more buttons than necessary. Goddamn pants, he silently cursed himself.

Once they were down to just their briefs, Elton became hyper aware of the lack of clothing and space between them. They had moved up on the mattress, nestled up by the pillows. John’s strong hand was smoothing over Elton’s chest and stomach, making the younger man gulp helplessly. No one had ever seen him like this. Exposed. He had always been self-conscious of his figure—always comparing himself to others. He wasn’t fat. Not even pudgy at all. But something about the way his stomach would squish and his thicker thighs just made him convinced no one would find him attractive.

Even now looking down at John, he was so much more desirable than Elton saw himself. John’s stomach was flat and toned, thighs muscular, and strong arms to match. Elton raked his eyes over John, trying to calculate how a man like him could find Elton attractive in any sense. Perhaps he was just too drunk to care what Elton looked like. The most probable scenario.

John grabbed Elton’s jaw, bringing up his gaze to meet his own eyes.

“Elton,” John started, thumb smoothing tenderly over Elton’s lips, “you think way too much, love,” he cooed before placing a warm kiss to Elton’s forehead. Elton’s body relaxed with a sigh of relief. John seemed to know just what Elton needed and when he needed it.

Without hesitation, John brought his hand down the waistline of Elton’s briefs, fingers tucking under the band before long fingers curled around Elton’s erect member.

“Ohhhh,” Elton shuddered, toes curling and legs tightening at the delicious touch. That warm hand pumped Elton several times, slow and experimentally, curiously searching for the rhythm that would leave Elton begging for more. It wasn’t long before Elton was breathless, anxiously trying to meet John’s movements with desperation. “John... don’t stop...” The moan rolled off Elton’s lips shamelessly. Before he could let go, John had removed his hand, leaving Elton feeling suddenly cold and needy for more. John frantically tugged down Elton’s briefs, immediately shrugging out of his own.

Elton couldn’t contain himself as his eyes scanned John hungrily. His mouth filled with saliva, making him quickly gulp. John dragged his tongue over his hand, quickly returning it to Elton, pumping him rhythmically. Elton let out a gasp, feeling John’s wet hand wrapped around him. His body shook with need, grabbing at John’s biceps and digging his fingers into the soft flesh. That would most definitely leave a mark, but that was the last of his worries. John let out a sharp hiss, Elton’s grip encouraging him to work faster. He gave a firm squeeze to Elton’s throbbing cock, pumping his hand more enthusiastically. Just a few moments of this and Elton was turning into a puddle under John, body twitching helplessly. Elton grabbed at John, sloppily crashing their lips together again. He trembled as he finally came into John’s hand, warmth washing over him from head to toe. Elton lazily bucked against John’s hand, riding out his orgasm, moaning against the other’s lips.

***

Elton lay curled into John’s side, arms wrapped around him tightly. As if afraid if his grip was any more loose, there might be a chance John could slip away.

John had been slow and tender. Listening to Elton carefully, watching his body react with every new touch, only wanting to make him feel the way he deserved.

Truthfully, Elton never thought he could feel so connected with another person. It was warm and sensitive. Caring. Very different from the more abrasive behavior he had been given by others in the past. John hadn’t been selfish at all. He had known it was Elton’s first time, and John had done everything he could to give Elton all the attention.

Elton glanced up at John, humming happily to see the gaze of the other looking down on him. He pressed a soft kiss to John’s cheek, fingers searching to intertwine with John’s.

“You’re so beautiful, Elton,” John’s voice was soft and raspy. Elton decided John’s post-sex voice was his new favorite—he sounded so spent. A rush of heat crept up Elton’s cheeks, quickly trying to bury his face into the crook of John’s neck.

“John...” Elton groaned sheepishly.

”Mean it,” John started, thumb brushing lazily over Elton’s, “you were fucking wonderful.” Elton’s heart leapt in his chest, unable to contain the goofy toothy-grinned smirk that spread over his face. Someone thought he was wonderful. Someone thought he was beautiful. Someone actually looked at him and wanted him. John gave a tight squeeze to Elton, trying to pull him closer. Fluttering his eyes shut, Elton let out a content sigh.

This was nice. The warmth of someone. Filled with the contentment that he could make someone else feel good, and in return could make him feel things he had only dreamed of. After so many years of feeling cold and alone, for the first time, he felt like he was right where he needed to be. And for once, everything felt right.

[asiryn]

tagged by @primrose-path-of-dalliance (!!!!!! thanks!!! (lmao, it’s been so long since i’ve been tagged in anything XDD))

Rules: Name your top 10 favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people!

i’m putting this behind a cut, bc i rambled on for quite a while XDD these won’t be in any particular order, and the fandoms will be chosen based off of what i’m currently most into/whichever ones i think of first XD

1. Maleficent [Disney]

okay, i lied a little.....she is clearly my #1 favorite character of all time, so of course she’s first (the rest of the list won’t be in any particular order :P). but....yeah, i love her forever and for all time and eternity, i love her class and elegance, my hunt for all merchandise of her that i can get my hands on is legendary and knows no bounds, she’s my forever girl, etc, etc. if you know only one fact about me, it’s probably that i love maleficent. there’s nothing i can say here that i haven’t probably already said a million times over, so i’ll move on XD

(moana has risen to be a pretty close second, tho)

2. Anthony J. Crowley [Good Omens]

i read the book from a library over a decade ago, and i liked it well enough, but it like....wasn’t an instant new fave that i had to immediately buy for myself (tho it is on a list of books that i wouldn’t mind owning...but maybe it’s finally time, who knows). i’m halfway through the show, and i’ve finally fallen in love with it (i think it finally being a #confirmed love story between our favorite ineffable idiots finally gave it the push it needed XD). it’s still a bit early for me to have a solid, definite fave, but lbr, if i know myself at all, it’s gonna be crowley XD i love this dumb demon (who’s rivaled in his idiocy only by his equally dumb angel husband), i love how he’s so soft even as he tries desperately to convince himself and everyone else that he isn’t, that he loves so many things and humanity and an angel even as he tries to say that he isn’t capable of it, that he never stopped questioning even after it had made him Fall. also, i am so thankful that the fandom has really embraced the potential for the shenanigans of crowley’s snake form.👍

(second place is probably aziraphale, but i also really love anathema too)

3. Namine [Kingdom Hearts]

another one that probably comes as no surprise, if you know me. i love this girl to the ends of the universe. i love the way she reclaimed her agency, her selflessness and determination, her empathy and kindness, how she went from a damsel in distress to pretty much saving everyone, over and over and over again. she deserves only happiness and the best things from now on. and please, for the love of god, give her some new clothes, nomura. >_>

(second fave is roxas, tho really, i love 98% of all the characters in this series ;;;)

4. Aerith Gainsborough [Final Fantasy VII]

my precious sunshine girl 💖 i prefer her in the original game, where she was sweet and optimistic, yes, but she was also sassy and fierce and took shit from no one. i love the girl that decided she wanted to wear a sexy red dress just for the hell of it, and threatened to rip off a mafia don’s balls. i love the girl that was confident and flirty with cloud, but never let any kind of bullshit ‘rivalry’ get in the way of being friends with tifa. i love that she always called cloud out on his bullshit, that she never let tragedy and oppressive shinra forces grind out her optimism, that she never stopped dreaming of a better future. i love that she was exposed to the worst of human nature, and yet still believed that they were worth saving. i love all versions of aerith, obvs, but they’ve definitely smoothed out her edges over the years, and i think that’s a shame. so here’s hoping that she’ll be more like her original self in the remake. 

also, can’t wait to see aerith die again :)))))))

(my second fave tends to flip between cloud and sephiroth)

5. Ling Yao / Greed [Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood]

look. listen. i can’t choose between them, i just can’t. and hey....technically they sort of combine into one entity, so it’s totally fine to count them together, right?? XDD so yeah, it’s really fucking hard to pick a fave out of this cast, bc there’s only like....3 characters?? that i don’t love. but ultimately, it had to be these two. every single second they’re on screen, they totally steal the show, and they have a lot of the best scenes and moments in the series. i love ling, how he seems like a total goofball and comic relief at first, but fairly quickly you come to see just how fucking seriously he takes his duties and responsibilities, how selfless and devoted he is to his people, how he would walk through hellfire for the people he loves. he’s just....he just loves, so fiercely and intensely, that he moves even greed into loving him and the people he cares about without even trying. 

and then there’s greed, who even from the beginning, you can’t help but be charmed by, with his sarcastic slow claps and laidback attitude. but over time, you see that he’s just like ling, really, in that he can’t help but get attached to these humans, that he loves them just as fiercely and intensely, even as he desperately tries to play it off. i love the way his character serves as a means for the story to have a really thought-provoking rumination on the nature of sins and desires, and on humanity (as do all of the other homunculi). i could go on forever about these two, and about the show in general, bc it’s just so deep and incredibly layered and complex, so i’ll stop here. 

(next fave after them is winry)

6. Bucky Barnes [MCU]

it’s hard for me to talk about bucky without just dissolving into endless sobbing, but i’ll try my best. he’s just.....he’s someone who has ended up suffering so fucking much, who has every reason in the world to be angry and bitter and resentful and if this was the villain origin story, you’d probably find it hard to blame him. (also, i refuse to say that bucky was ever a villain, bc he never willingly chose to be with hydra, he’s a victim goddamn it--) and yet....he still chooses to be good. to be kind. he could have chosen to go on an endless revenge tour against hydra, but instead he focuses on his own recovery. and always, always, always, he puts other people first. he chooses to goddamn freeze himself, possibly forever, so that he doesn’t hurt people again. he’s truly an inspiration to me, because even after everything he’s been through, he still doesn’t give up. ......and if you’ll excuse me, i need to resume crying about bucky barnes for the rest of eternity 😭😭😭

(next faves are sam and steve. what can i say, i love my caps XP)

7. Keladry of Mindelan [Tortall]

speaking of inspirations, few (if any) characters inspire me more than kel does. unlike every other tortall protagonist, she has absolutely no magic at all, and she starts her story with more odds stacked against her than any of the others. the system and institution are against her, and most people actively, viciously hate her and want to see her fail, all for being a girl and daring to openly step outside of her gender roles. and yet, kel never gives up, and wins through pure will and determination. more than that, she never stops fighting any oppression that she sees, and is always looking out for the abused and marginalized of society. she is fair and just and righteous, and full of a quiet, immovable strength that i, frankly, envy. she’s a fucking mountain; you haven’t a hope of ever tearing her down. 

(other faves....george, raoul, and dom. it’s really fucking hard to choose between them, i can’t even)

8. Oree Shoth [Inheritance trilogy, by N. K. Jemison]

oree is pretty much single-handedly responsible for me loving this trilogy, and is the reason why The Broken Kingdoms (the second book, of which she is the protagonist) is in my top 3 favorite books of all time. she is....just so fucking radiant. she’s a blind artist, and is flung so far out of her depth in the story, and yet she holds her own. in this world of gods, she brings this incredibly human element, and is celebrated because of her humanity. she’s angry and flawed, but also full of love, compassion, kindness, and mercy. she teaches gods the meaning of forgiveness. she takes shit from no one. just....do yourself a favor, and read this series, even if it’s only so that you can read this book. 

(second fave....it’s probably shiny, lbr XD)

9. Sirius Black [Harry Potter]

ahhh, a classic fave. but yeah, i still love him, even after all these years. yes, he’s incredibly flawed, but at his core, he’s just so loyal, and he loves so fiercely, and he tries his absolute best to be there for harry, that i can’t help but love him. also, i have a Thing, for characters who suffer so tremendously, but who don’t give up, and still try their best to be good people anyway. also, wolfstar was the foundation of a very formative part of my life, and put me onto the road of accepting my queer identity, so i’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for the characters who were a part of that. 🤷‍♀️

(other faves are luna and harry, always)

10. Gladion [Pokemon]

mostly his anime incarnation, tho i do like him in the games as well. i love this soft goth boy with all of my heart. he’s so gentle and kind and loving, and i can’t even with him. 

(other faves are lillie, n, zoey, and kukui)

if you guys want to do it, i’ll tag... @dabiden, @green-piggy, @seasbelow, @theroyalweekend, @toomanyfeelings5, @ashetrashe, @neddea.....i can’t think of anyone else, and i’m running out of steam, so if you want to do it, then consider yourself tagged! :)

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 21

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Reference to a suicide attempt, light smut

A/N: For a fic that I originally imagined to just be a quick smutty one shot... 21 chapters later... the smut I imagined FINALLY happens. Or... starts to happen. Though my favorite part in this isn’t even the smut. Seriously, I love this chapter a lot and I hope y’all do too.  

(This is a duplicate post because apparently there's some nonsense about tumblr not letting posts with links, even tumblr links) show up. I just want to be sure the people who want to be tagged actually get to see this chapter in case this stupid change effects that too.)

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays @breezy1415 @creepshowzombae  @alyssaj23  @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317  @buckaroo-barness

You would like to say you paid full attention to Ms. Davis’ performance in Jezebel but that would be a lie. Nothing much happens but you keep feeling yourself distracted by his hands those strong fingers winding their way through your own, his steady breathing, his small reaction sounds. You wonder at how immovable he feels.

At one point you can’t keep from tilting your head back to see his face, relaxed and happy. When he notices the next five minutes are filled with him covering your face with kisses and your soft laughter.

You both hardly notice when the movie ends. You’re holding his left hand up in both of yours examining it while his right-hand traces circles on your abdomen. As you place a kiss on the metal of his palm he sighs in contentment.

“Can you… feel that?”

“Yeah,” he presses his palm against your right, “sort of. It’s as if… you know when a limb falls asleep and goes almost numb but you can still feel?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s kind of what it’s like.” He flexes his hand forming a fist and unfurling it, “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” you bring his hand back to your lips and kiss each fingertip, “it’s a part of you.” You look up and trace his jaw line with your index finger. “And I’m beginning to think I like all the parts of you.”

His face turns dark and he looks down at you, “You don’t know all the parts of me.”

Your hand presses into his cheek and your tone stern, “I meant what I said, Bucky.” For a second you think he will argue but instead he covers your right hand with his own and closes his eyes for a moment breathing deep.

He moves your hands from his face and looks at your own calloused palm. You notice his breath catch as his fingers slide down your forearm. They’re almost invisible, these old scars, but the skin was still raised a little. One thin line, three inches or so from the base of your wrist down.

“Got a matching set,” you say lightly holding up your left arm. His touch is feather light as it runs down the scars.

“When?”

“I was 14.”

His breath seems to rush out of him, “Christ, Y/N.”

You shrug, “Didn’t exactly have a positive childhood experience.” That’s a gross understatement but you’d rather not dive into that deep dark pool of memory. “I kind of forget about them, to be honest. Used to have them covered with tattoos.”

“Really?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” you run your hands down your arms. A bitter laugh tumbles out, “I was pretty covered overall. But…” Tattoos were recognizable. Tattoos made you an individual. In Hydra, you had no individuality, no choices.

Bucky runs his fingers over your scars and presses a kiss on your cheek, “What were they?”

You let your head roll back onto his shoulder and close your eyes trying to remember your body when it was only yours. “I had a pair of antique scissors on the right and a dress form on the left.” Sadness wraps around your heart, “I loved to make clothes.”  You sigh, “There were so many more. I started running out of real estate.” A laugh, “One of my favorites was on my left ass cheek.”

Bucky laughs, “Oh god!”

“It was a heart that said Not Your Baby inside.” You shake your head, “I got it on valentines day one year.”

“Just because?”

“Because men made me hate that word. It was all, ‘Hey baby. Nice ass baby. Why don’t you come over here baby,’ on the street. As if that was actually going to get them somewhere.”

He shakes his head, “On behalf of men I apologize.”

“You can actually answer a question I’ve always had.”

“Shoot.”

“Did guys do that… before… like when you were…” you fully regret this question.

But he just laughs, “Oh yes. We had other words than baby, but I regret to inform you that men have always been dogs.”

“Knew it.”

He laughs and twines his fingers with your own again and gives you a squeeze.”Do you think that soups ready?”

“Probably,” you untwine your hands, stand, and stretch. When you turn around he’s taking you in with a contented smile on his face. “Enjoying the view or something,” you playfully snipe.

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you down on top of him, “Something,” he purrs before kissing you hard and releasing you.

Dinner is pleasant. The soup is simple but still good and judging by the four servings Bucky has, and his endless compliments, he’s sold on the notion that you know what to do in the kitchen. He puts on more music before starting the dishes and you both sway as he washes and you dry.

As you dry the last bowl he comes behind you and wraps you in his arms, “Dance with me,” he says against your ear making chills run down your spine. The song that’s playing is slow but beautiful.

“Bucky,” you turn to face him, “I really don’t know how.”

“I said I’d teach you,” he steps back out of the kitchen to the small open area in front of the balcony door and extends his right hand. “Please?” His eyes twinkle and that goddamn smile…

“Fiiiine,” you take his hand, “but I take zero responsibility for any foot injuries.”

He laughs, “I can accept those terms.” He places your hands in the right position, “Just a waltz, it’s super easy.”

You laugh, “We’ll see.” He places your hand on his shoulder, “Who taught you to dance?”

“My mom. Follow me.”

You bungle your way through the song and he goes over to put a similar one on. Toes are stepped on, steps are missed, but you’re both laughing so much you can’t care.

“You keep trying to lead. Don’t think about it too much.”

“This whole ‘follow the man’ thing feels a bit patriarchal to me,” you say with a smirk.

“Once you learn how you can lead me all you want.”

Finally, after two more songs, you start to get the rhythm of it. “Minimal injury that time, I’m impressed,” he teases. You sock him on the shoulder playfully, he draws you closer and kisses you, “One more?” You nod and he steps away to change the song.

He takes your hand and you actually do it. The song ends and you throw your head back laughing, amazed that you just did a damn waltz. Bucky’s smile is big and heart-wrenchingly perfect. You float up a bit so your faces are level, wrap your arms around him, and kiss him.

His arms twine tightly around you as the next song starts. The kiss turns from sweet to something more demanding as your body begins to hum. You wrap your legs around him when his tongue finds its way between your lips. His left hand pressing into your lower back and right cupping the back of your head. You nip at his bottom lip and a rumble comes from his chest.

Bucky carries you to the bed, shutting the laptop as he passes. The room is silent save for your breathing. Slowly he sinks to his knees with you still wrapped around him. His hands run up your thighs gathering the folds of your already hiked up skirt, kisses pressing down your neck to the swell of your breasts. His eyes meet yours the question apparent when you nod he lifts the dress over your head.

He tosses it to the side and you lean back on your forearms. While you don’t feel particularly sexy in your boxer briefs this man looks at you like you’re Venus rising from the damn sea. It makes desire coil in the pit of you a feeling you hadn’t felt in so very long.

Tenderly he leans down to kiss you, left arm supporting him, stroking your cheek with his right hand. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.” You nod and his lips hungry catch your own again.

His right-hand leaves your face and wanders down to your left breast, cupping it in his large palm before catching your nipple and rolling its tender tip between his thumb and index finger. This alone sends electricity through your body and you press into him, a small moan slipping out. Falling back onto the pillows his lips wander down your neck once more sucking slightly at your pulse point, nibbling at your collarbones, sending shivers with every inch. When he takes your right nipple into his mouth pulling at it, his right hand still on your other breast, you cry out, hips rising, your right hand grabbing onto his shirt.

Those gorgeous eyes of his look up at you as he slides his right hand down your torso and slips his index finger under the band of your boxers. You gasp at the sensation. Releasing your nipple he moves down the bed and in a flash, he’s between your knees. His lips press against the inside of your left thigh then brush the scar from the tracker you dug out on your right. He runs his hands down your thighs, seeming to enjoy the feel of them and rests at your hip bones fingers slipping into the waistband of the boxers. For a second he doesn’t move further, waiting for you to signal it’s ok. You nod and he pulls them down leaving you fully exposed.

For a moment you just stare at one another. You become hyper-aware of your scars, of your body hair of every single imperfection. But then that immaculate smile blazes across his face.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says as he leans over you to kiss your lips. And instead of doubt you actually allow yourself to believe him.  

[mysteli]

Endless Summer Imperfect - Chapter 22

A/N: this chapter is a lot more chill than the last few and its more about recovery and processing. hope you enjoy!

Warning: T

Words: 9322

ES IMPERFECT TAG: @princessstellaris@mechaspirit@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlessly-searching-for-you@brightpinkpeppercorn@aragornesprincessgeekymamma @justboredtrash@diego-vii  @indiacater@countrymusicandncis-blog @zigortega4life@nekkidmolerat @ravengalaxia@ladyseaheart1668@endless-jake@theendofallsummers

Masterlist

Imperfect Masterlist

ENDLESS SUMMER AFTERMATH - ENDING 1  IMPERFECT  CHAPTER 22 - LOST TIME

Jake

Hmm. Jake contemplates heavily as his cerulean gaze remains glued to the television screen, where the live news is currently playing and talking about a pretty significant situation. There’s really nothing else to do as they wait in the lobby of the motel they’d found in the most secluded part of London. In truth, they are all over the news right now and it’s vital that they stay hidden. Problem is... they’ve all been proclaimed as dead. 

They all had no choice but to flee the scene when the explosion happened because as of right now, the whole world and Rourke believe that they’re dead. But no. They’re still alive and forced to be on the run. It’s nothing new for Jake and he immediately suggested that a motel would be the best idea for a place to stay, since no one ever really pays attention to rough places such as them. They walked in and asked for a room and they’ve been told to wait until their keys are ready or whatever. Bet you the locks don’t fucking work anyway. 

But the goddamn news has been exploding with their death conspiracy story, with Rourke finally revealing his face and identity to the world and acting as a saviour. He did an interview with the channels and explained the situation, stating the ‘unfortunate accident’ that took place under his own watchful eye. The world pitied him and were overwhelmed by sympathy. Now Rourke is set to appear like the one who will save them all. 

Clearly this was his plan all along. To vanquish Jake, Estela, Mike, Diego and Logan from the world and his plans. Question is, why them specifically and who knows what he’s gonna do with the rest of the Catalysts?

There’s also a huge story behind the mysterious bodies found of the Vaanti. But the world doesn’t know they’re called that. They’re just seem as these unknown creatures that were involved in the accident. Some people have even gone far enough to assume that they’re related to dinosaurs. What the fuck?

To top off the stress of everything, Diego hasn’t been talking much due to the fact that he just lost the love of his life. He’s been understandingly silent and he doesn’t care to listen or respond when someone attempts to cheer him up. There’s just no point right now. He has a right to feel this way. 

Jake sure as hell felt the same when he lost Mike. Grief-struck and flooded with the belief that nothing will ever get better from there. His recovery took a long time to kick in but all the alcohol and drowning sure made it easier to numb and suck up the pain. But Diego isn’t the same as Jake. He’s not a coward and he’s so much stronger. Hopefully, the road of recovery will be a lot easier because he’s got people helping him move past this. Jake didn’t have that and now he does. His only wish is that he didn’t make things worse for Diego when Jake stuck a bullet in Lundgren’s head right in front of him because he’s aware how much Diego despises murder and death so his heart must be sinking in its own personal hell right now.

Right now, they’re the only ones at this damn motel which is great because no one will recognise them and they’ve trapped in this waiting room for god knows how long. Usually, you get the key and then that’s it but Jake has been overwhelmed by the sight of this fake news story that’s been plastered all over television. Rourke’s clearly playing a game and his plans are finally starting to pan out. Maybe the group has a small advantage with Rourke thinking that they’re dead when they really survived. It means he won’t bother coming after them so they can lay low for a while. They sure as hell cant stay in London however. 

Jake’s eyes don’t shift from the screen and the more he sees, the more his body tenses up with uneasiness. He tightens his grip on his wife as he stiffens and she tilts her head at him with concern, following his gaze over to the television. 

“Baby, you shouldn’t be watching that.” Logan urges dismissively, moving Jake’s head away from the screen by tilting his chin and forcing him to lock eyes with her. 

Jake lets out a frustrated sigh and he’s clearly offended by the way Rourke used his own death to make headlines. “It’s just fucking ridiculous, darlin’. I didn’t ask for this. Rourke has crossed the line now.” 

Logan raises his eyebrows at him, sympathising with her husband while also being slightly confused. “But, Jake... isn’t it kinda good that he thinks we’re dead since he won’t come after us that way?” She dares to ask and Jake’s flood with disbelief in response. 

He arches his head back and releases a slow exhale out of stress. “Maybe but he didn’t have to tell the world that were dead.” Jake’s mind drifts back to his family and he hates picturing the sorrowful look on their faces when they read this story and see Jake’s death announced on television. “What about my family? Fuck my traitor of a sister but... what about my mom? What would she fucking think?” Jake ends his shaky rant and closes his eyes as his doubts and fears torture his conscience. Logan leans into his shoulder and cups his cheek reassuringly.

“Jake...” 

“It’s okay, Princess. They thought I was dead before anyway. This’ll just be an confirmation.” Jake mutters, planting a kiss on his wife’s forehead and he looks her dead in her ocean eyes. “I’m just glad I’ve got you back. For good. That’s the most important thing. I ain’t ever gonna lose you again, you got that?” The seriousness of his tone is enough for Logan to nod assuringly.

“Of course, Jake. No more risk when it comes to us. I love you too much to let you go ever.” Logan speaks in a fierce tone and Jake can’t help but smirk at how sexy she’s coming off right now.

“That reminds me. I can’t remember the last time I got to touch you, darlin’. How long has it been?” Jake whispers in a husky tone, leaning in so his lips are hovering over Logan’s and she bites her lower lip as a tension gets caught between them. 

“About two months.” She answers, her body reacting as Jake grazes her cheek with his fingertips but she sure as hell wants his hands in a whole lot of other places right now.

Jake is a little taken aback by how long it’s actually been. “Damn... well how come it feels like forever when I got to...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of her and only now does he realise how much desire he’s been holding in and bottling up. This seems like the perfect time to let it out. 

Instinctively, he plants featherlight kisses from her collarbone all the way to her quivering lips and he intends to build the kiss up when it arrives but Logan keeps it brief, leaning away with a weak smile.

“Jake... be patient.” She whispers, brushing his hair out of his eyes and his eyes her incredulously in response.

“Seriously? You’re asking me to be patient. Who the fuck can be patient when it comes to you?” Jake challenges and he’s about to go in another kiss but Logan plants a firm finger on his lips and that stops him in his tracks.

“Well then you’re just gonna have to learn then, Aragorn.” Logan tells him, dragging her finger over his lower lip and shooting him an expectant smirk. She shoots a quick glance towards Diego, who is seated on another chair with his knees curled up and his hands clutching them desperately. It’s like he’s looking for someone to hold or his dreamful gaze tells everyone that he’s reminiscing. Probably on the memories of Vaaryn and that saddens Logan so much. She turns back, her smirk now replaced by a guilty frown and she drops her voice to an even lower whisper, one Jake can barely hear. “Besides... I don’t think our PDA is gonna help Diego feel better about losing Vaaryn so can you just... wait?” 

Jake looks over to Diego, noticing how depressed the poor guy and he’s suddenly hit by guilt when he realises what’s really happened here. Logan got her soulmate back but he didnt and that make him a little envious of their reunion because he wasn’t able to get one. Releasing a heavy exhale, Jake meets Logan’s eyes once more and nods understandingly, sneaking a kiss to one of her fingers and she rolls her eyes at him in response.

Finally, the owner approaches the group and hands them three keys. One room for Logan and Jake, a room for Diego and a two bed room for Estela and Mike. There were only three available and they didn’t mind sharing so that’s what happened. Seriously how is this an approved hotel?! 

The five of them gather for one more conversation before they would head off to their rooms. They each grasp their keys and a moment of silence falls over them, as if they’re taking a moment to remember Vaaryn. 

Jake sucks in a sharp breath and suddenly swerves around to face Diego, tears rising in his cerulean eyes as he prepares to speak some saddening words. “Diego... I just want you to know that... I wish I couldve gotten there sooner.” He admits and Diego rubs his eyes, shaking his head at Jake and patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s ok, Jake. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But it could have been.” Jake counters, his hands balling into fists as his frustration with himself builds like bricks in his body. “I never told you this but... Vaaryn tried to kill himself while he was locked up. I... barely stopped him but now I can’t help but think it would’ve been better if he just... did it himself. You know, have the blood on his own hands rather than leaving it all over Lundgren.” Jake confesses and Logan wraps her arms around him in a comforting manor. Tears infect Diego’s eyes again and he can’t stop a river from pouring down his face. 

Upon hearing that, Diego hands his head, noticing how shame circles Jake like it’s haunting him. Diego exhales sharply and tries to act as a form of reassurance for the pilot who practically saved his life. 

“Jake... you just did what you thought was right, saving Vaaryn, and I don’t think you should feel sorry about that. Either way, he’s not with us anymore.” Diego mutters under his breath and Logan rushes over to wrap him in a desperate hug, trying to comfort him the best she can.

“Diego, were all so sorry we couldn’t save him.” 

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you guys.” Diego assures, burying his tearful face in Logan’s shoulder and finding condolence in his best friend. “I love you, Lo. At least I still have you.”

Logan leans away for a moment, guilt suddenly flooding her ocean eyes. “Just so you know, I wanted to save Vaaryn just as much as Jake. And I’m really sorry that...” 

“Hey, dont do that.” Diego urges, interrupting her before she can start placing the blame on herself. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for caring about the love of your life. I would’ve been the same.” 

Logan brings Diego in for another hug and they melt into a moment of true friendship. Once they pull away, Estela and Mike give Diego their own forms of reassurance before everyone starts discussing the plans for the day ahead.

“Alright. So we need a night to process everything that’s happened. Just get a goodnight’s sleep and we’ll all meet back in the morning.” Estela explains, her voice slightly strained due to her boggled mind at all the events that have happened. She was the only one that really had her head on straight during that whole rescue and her main concern was keeping everyone safe, which she almost did successfully. But so much happened to her there as well. Finding out her mother is alive and acting as one of Rourke’s puppets. Who knows what he wants to use her for? Probably his sickening excuse for an army. 

Mike glances over to Estela, sympathising with her situation and he’s almost tempted to give her a hug or act as a form of reassurance but in the end, he convinces himself to stay back and let everything sink in. He doesn’t need to add another weight on her shoulder about the question of what they are. 

“A good night’s sleep, huh? Haven’t had one of those in a long time.” Jake admits, running a hand through his greased hair. 

“Well, we gotta try. This night is a chance to recover but I know we’ll never forget about what happened in that hell of a place.” 

Michelle 

So still. Her body is so still. Quinn looks so peaceful in her deep slumber that it would be so easy to forget that she’s experiencing a life-endangering coma right now. Still, Michelle can’t seem to get her mind past that part. She probably never will, especially not while she sits here all night staring at a barely alive Quinn, who has fallen for so much over the past few weeks.

When Michelle was experiencing her whole pregnancy situation, Quinn was there for her and now Michelle believes she must be there for her. Because now it’s Quinn going through a tough time. So it doesn’t matter how many times someone comes up to Michelle and tells her to go home and get some rest because she isn’t moving until Quinn wakes up. Her mind won’t ever be at ease until she knows that Quinn is okay. It’s just not possible.

If Michelle can even be honest with herself for one moment, she’d admit that she is getting a little bit tired but she won’t let herself fall asleep. Not now. The night is at its full glory and that’s prompting Michelle’s exhaustion to start kicking in but she fights it off as much as she can. 

The bitter resentment of the disease that is trying to take Quinn’s life at this very moment is the most dominant emotion of Michelle’s right now and she can only hope and pray that Quinn finally wins the war and makes her way back to the land of the living. 

All of a sudden, the door to the room staggers open and Michelle snaps her head to idnentify the newcomer into this time of grief. She recognises the figure as Sean and she’s surprised to find him back here so soon, since she told him not to hang around and get some rest but when does Sean ever listen?

There’s a clear concern in his chestnut eyes and Michelle finds herself without any words to say to him. 

“Hey.” is all she manages to get out, trying to form the weakest of smiles but she can’t even do that with the way she’s feeling.

Sean approaches her with slight caution, especially as he takes her current weak state. He’s never seen Michelle like this before and she’s so wrecked for one person. It’s so clear what Michelle feels for Quinn and that only makes Sean feel like he’s standing in the way of something special when really he should encouraging her to look out for her health just as much as she looks out for Quinn. 

Once he reaches Michelle, Sean seats himself on the armrest of the chair, placing his hand on her shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly. He’s trying his best to be there for her but it’s so damn hard when the news of the abortion still looms over his mind. Can’t say anyone should blame him however. 

“Should I even ask if you’re ok?” Sean dares to mention, tilting his head to search her expression but he can’t see it while her head is hanging so shamefully.

A breathy sigh escapes Michelle in response and she runs a hand through her ombré hair. “I’ll be better once Quinn wakes up.” She mutters under her breath, her voice a mere whisper that Sean barely manages to hear.

At the mention of Quinn, his eyes snap over to where she lies and it’s almost painful to see her in such a sight. Sean has never really spoken to Quinn before. No one has really. She always kept to herself and never really connected with anyone, especially not the way she did with Michelle once they met. Their story has been brewing for months now and they became so close that it was set to be the most painful for Michelle when the time came for Quinn’s descent. 

“...How is she?” Sean asks yet another risky question and Michelle barely tilts her head at him, her frown faltering.

“Stable. Barely though.” Michelle responds blandly, the stress practically evaporating off her and it gives Sean an uneasy feeling. 

Sean notices how sleep-deprived Michelle is and his mind jumps back immediately to his comfort zone. Caring about other’s well being before anything else. “Michelle... you need sleep—“

“Quinn’s parents are supposed to show up tomorrow morning so I’m not leaving until they show up.” Michelle interrupts, determination flooding her features. 

“I’m not asking you to leave.” Sean corrects, stiffening as Michelle suddenly leans against his knee and he responds safely by slinging an arm over her shoulder.

“Sleeping still separates me from Quinn. And she’s not safe.” Michelle points out and that causes Sean to furrow his brows.

Come to think of it, Michelle has never actually told Sean about what’s wrong with Quinn. This is all so sudden. 

“Michelle...” 

“Yes?”

“...What’s actually wrong with Quinn? Her coma seems sort of... sudden?”

Sean feels Michelle shudder at his abrupt question but she quickly composes herself, her expression falling grim once again. “She has Rotterdam’s. She’s had it all her life. I found out a couple months back and this is the moment she’s been dreading for so damn long. This is Stage 4. A coma... and she may never wake up.” Michelle explains, her tone becoming more and more weak the more she speaks of the topic and tears swell in her eyes. 

Sympathising with her, Sean clutches her with comforting intentions, letting her cry into his shoulder and he tries to help her the best she can. That’s all Sean has ever wanted to do. Help people. Even if it doesn’t work out, he still tries but now he’s here and Michelle is someone he just can’t fix. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be an acceptable form of support. He’s living too closely to what’s expected of him and that’s perfection. Something he just can’t live up to. 

“I’m so sorry I asked, Michelle.” Sean apologises and Michelle just shakes her head at him with a clear defiance in her hazel eyes.

“Don’t apologise. I know how much you wanna help.” Michelle acknowledges and that’s when her mind drifts back to a memory that has become so neglected by her over her last few hours. She actually is consumed by guilt that she’s forgotten about it for too long. “I’m the one who should be apologising. I aborted our baby.”

Sean tries not to let himself be corrupted by grief then because he can’t afford to match Michelle’s vulnerability right now. This is a topic he has to fight with strength and deal with it with Michelle. 

“No. Please. I know I kinda scared you with the whole us not being ready thing.” Sean assures. 

“That’s never an excuse to kill a living thing, Sean.” Michelle counters, a river pouring from her eyes and once again, Sean realises that he’s not making this better in any way. 

Sean clears his throat and parts his lips to speak but Michelle shakes her head at him, signalling for him to let her go first, which he obliges hesitantly. Anything he says will probably make things worse anyway. 

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologise. You just have to know and remember that this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me, Sean.” Michelle says in a pleading done. Who knows if those words were meant to come out as a command but her weak, soft tone prevented that from happening. “Just accept that. Please.” 

A moment of silence and contemplation takes over as Sean tries to process Michelle’s words. She’s been through so much over the last few weeks and Sean can’t even begin to compare to how much more emotionally strong she is than him. Sean is a coward, according to him. He can’t even accept that something isn’t his fault because lately it feels like everything is. All he wants is to tell Michelle she’s wrong and console her the best he can.

Alas, he doesn’t have a choice. Sean simply nods in response and releases a futile word that is accompanied by nothing but a mere whisper. 

“Ok.” 

Logan

Logan leads Jake into their assigned motel room by the land and opens the door with her intentions already clear in her mind. She’s never been more determined in her life to prove to Jake just how much she’s missed him.  He deserves to be able to forget about everything he’s been through and just enjoy this time of peace and recovery. It may be more painful for some but Jake and Logan are finally back together and that’s something worthy of celebrating.

They’ve barely made it through the door before Jake crushes his lips against Logan’s, having not really been given the chance to fully embrace the familiarity and soft taste of her lips. The kisses are not tender and full of emotion like they were when they first reunited. No, this is pure hunger and urgency, a desperation that’s caused by their dreaded amount of time apart. It’s been too long. Way too long.

Jake slams the door shut and grips Logan by her hips, pressing her up against the door and savouring the full feeling of his lips on hers again. All his thoughts have been on her and this reunion is better than he ever could have imagined. Logan winds her arms around the back of Jake’s neck and she lets her fingers drift into his air, occasionally gripping on a few strands and stifling a groan out of him - the sound like music to her ears. 

The moment seems so perfect and they’re both so ready to melt into one another again and it appears like it’s about to come true... until Jake suddenly pulls away, barely breaking physical contact as his hand mindlessly ends up fiddling with the hem of his khaki jacket that Logan still happens to be wearing. Logan notices an uneven conflict in his eyes and she cups his cheek comfortingly.

“Something wrong?” She questions, genuine concern flooding through her ocean eyes and she’s a little taken aback when Jake lets out a soft chuckle in response.

“No... everything’s fine, Princess. It’s just...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes burning into hers as he takes in her stunning features. Jake can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that she’s really here. In his arms. “...nothing it’s stupid.” He backtracks and Logan won’t let this topic go easily.

“I’m not dropping this now. Tell me what’s wrong.” Logan urges and Jake knows he has to answer when he realises how worried she’s getting.

“It’s nothing bad, darlin’. I just... can’t believe you’ve been wearing my jacket all this damn time.” Jake finally admits, hanging his head as he lets out a breathy laugh. Logan feels her expression falling a little in response as she grips the collar of the jacket and fidgets with it.

“Guess it was the only thing I really had left of you.” Logan murmurs and Jake kisses her forehead comfortingly upon hearing that. He can’t stand seeing her sad, especially with everything she’s going through. All of a sudden, a memory ignites in Logan’s mind and her hand swiftly digs into the pocket of the jacket, retrieving a familiar item, especially to Jake. “Well... also this.” 

With that, she pulls out the compass, otherwise her Ember Of Hope, revealing it to Jake and he scans it intently, narrowing his eyes as if he’s strongly debating whether he recognises it or not. 

“A compass? What does that have to do with me?” Jake questions and Logan is slightly taken aback by his lack of memory.

“You really don’t remember?” 

“Nah. Lundgren kinda mentioned that when I remember everything, some of the memories I had when I was clueless may have gone away. Looks like this was one of them.” Jake explains, his finger grazing the compass and Logan simply nods, prepared to explain it to him.

“Well... remember everything that happened with the Ember of Hopes and all that?” Logan eases Jake into it and he nods, letting her continue. “...This is mine.” 

“Seriously? And you never told me?” Jake acknowledges, furrowing his brows. 

“No... I was kinda scared at the time.” Logan responds, hanging her head in a little guilt and Jake tilts her head back up by her chin, looking her dead in the eyes and planting a reassuring kiss on her lips. Feeling revived, she shakes the shame off and continues. “That’s not even the weirdest part.”

“What is it then?”

“After we came here, I thought it was all gone but... Jake... you had it with you the whole time.” Logan finally reveals and Jake’s eyes widen a little out of confusion.

“What? Since when, Princess?” 

“You told me you found it on the beach one day and decided it was important enough to keep. Mainly because, in your own words, it reminded you of someone you thought you used to know.” 

Jake struggles to process this. All this time there have been so many signs that him and Logan are meant to be together but what baffles him the most is how different his personality worked when he was clueless of everything. So much more careless but those little changes like finding that compass must have made his alter ego shine through. 

Logan notices how quiet Jake and she waves a hand in his face, trying to bring him back to the land of the living. “Jake? You okay?” 

Out of nowhere, a grateful grin breaks out on Jake’s features and his cerulean gaze lights up at the sight of his gorgeous wife. Before Logan can even process what’s happening, Jake sweeps her off her feet and kisses her fiercely, a determination flooding through him like never before. He steadies her by resting his hands on her thighs. She responds by parting her lips a little and wrapping her legs around his waist, as Jake begins leading her away from the door and towards the bed... if he can find it.

Jake suddenly leans away, smirking at Logan as his hands hook onto the khaki jacket. “Sorry, Lo. I know you really, really... really love this jacket... but it’s gotta go if I’m gonna fuck you right.” He teases, knocking their foreheads together and Logan just forms her own smirk in response.

“Can’t exactly argue with that then can I?” She whispers, noticing his cockiness and challenging him. Jake shrugs the jacket off her shoulders and quickly connects their lips again as they swiftly fall back into their desperate frenzy of passion.

This is just as careless and desperate as their first time. When their lives were at risk and death was an almost certainty. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other and use their last night wisely. They were new to each other but they felt so familiar at the same time, probably because they’d done it 2139 timelines before as well. But still, they were in need of each other and they couldn’t have imagined being with anyone else in that moment. It was just about them. And now this is just about them too. 

Logan lets her hands drift all around the upper half of Jake’s body, from the back of his neck to the end of his arms. Then, she roams her palms all the way up his chest but she doesn’t exactly make it to the top because of Jake’s sudden wince at her more firm impact.

In fact, he lets out an agonised groan. “Agh, fuck!” He curses under his breath and almost drops Logan. Instinctively, she hops off him in order to give him space and he involuntarily collapses to his knees. 

Now seated on the floor, Jake runs a hand through his hair as an attempt to soothe himself. It sure as hell doesn’t work as there is a never ending feeling of seeming like he’s on fire and his right peck is on fucking fire right now. Logan sinks to her knees and swiftly rushes to his side, cupping Jake’s cheek with desperation as she searches his dazed gaze for a sign that he’s okay.

“Jake... what’s wrong?” She dares to ask, starting to fear the worst.

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m just... bruised.” Jake assures, preparing to stand up but his wound prevents him from getting back up. “Shit!”

“Bruised, my ass. You’re hurt, Jake.” Logan corrects, lifting up his shirt to examine his injury and her ocean eyes widen at what she finds.

“Seriously? You’re gonna go all doctor on me now?” 

Logan brushes off his stupid comment as she’s too damn curious about how Jake managed to get such a wound. “Jake... that’s a burn.” 

Jake finally surrenders, his shoulders slumping back in defeat. “Ok... maybe Lundgren got a bit excited with the taser.” 

“Oh my god! How is this only hurting you really bad now?” Logan wonders, her finger grazing the outline of the wound and Jake winces at her wound.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s only starting to kick in.” Jake shakes his head and an unexpected chuckle escapes him.

“Jake, this doesn’t really seem like a laughing matter.” Logan points out and that only makes Jake laugh even more. 

“The pain just had to come around at the wrong time though, didn’t it?” Jake states, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes at the world. Logan immediately catches on to what he’s saying and can’t hold back the smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“...I don’t think a shower would be that bad.” Logan mutters under her breath and Jake narrows his cerulean eyes at her, smirking curiously.

“You kidding, darlin? Water will make this sting like hell.” Jake points out and Logan realises that only after he mentions it. With that, she nods understandingly and runs a hand through her platinum hair. It’s Jake’s next words that surprise her the most. He leans in abruptly so their lips are almost touching. “But I’m sure it will be so fucking worth it.” He adds in a low husky whisper, causing Logan to bite her lower lip in response.

“You sure? It’s gonna hurt.” 

“Eh, I’ll suck it up. Done it all my life.” Jake counters, folding his arms as the pain finally dies down and he can get it his feet. A smile crosses his features when he completes the action successfully. He offers a hand to Logan and she takes it willingly, rising to her feet. Their faces remain inches apart and that’s when Logan takes a chance to inhale his scent.

As expected, it’s pure crap.

“You really need a shower anyway.” Logan acknowledges and she expects Jake to be a little offended but he simply throws his head back and laughs.

“Well you saved my life, now you can save my hygiene.” Jake points out, grabbing Logan by the hand and leading her into the motel bathroom. 

Mike 

A tension creeps into the air, infecting the atmosphere as Mike watches Estela intently since she’s been pacing around the room out of stress for about fifteen minutes. He can’t say he really blames her. Her thoughts must be souring with the amount of lies that have been told to her and only recently has she maintained her memories again so there must be around a million things haunting and taunting her right now.

Everything in that hell hole of a place happened so fast and Estela clearly got the worst mental impact, considering all the things she found out. The worst thing probably being the sight of her mother, shackled in a cage like an animal. Thats how she described it to Mike anyway. It’s clear her mother has been manipulated in some way and is being moulded to be one of Rourke’s puppets. It’s clear the bastard is doing this for revenge as well, trying to prove to her mother that you should never double cross him. He’s torturing her. Manipulating her. Shaping her into a monster and that has to be most heartbreaking thing about this.

It’s Estela’s father and her mother. In this particular situation, it’s so easy for her to choose a side since it’s undeniably obvious who the real monster is. Olivia is a victim, lost to Rourke and she spent her whole life trying to get away from him with no luck. Now she’s the one paying the price and who knows what he’s planning on prepping her for? What would he make her do? 

It doesn’t make much sense since Rourke killed all the Vaanti in the explosion and he stranded them outside for the world see and exaggerate into their worst nightmares. Everything about his plan was private but now it seems like he’s revealing it all to the world. He wants their approval. He wants their worship. He wants their power and he wants to manipulate the world so they fall on their knees at the sight of him. 

What the hell has this world come to? It’s truly sickening. 

Mike never dares tear his eyes away from Estela, who still hasn’t stopped pacing as stress runs throughout her body. Her veins are popping with frustration and her entire demeanour is revealing her greatest weaknesses. She’s barely even paid attention to Mike since they got in here.

Sure, things are guaranteed to be awkward between them since they haven’t even dared to discuss the current state of their relationship status. They never really ended things on a breakup. It was more of thinking one of them was dead and thinking the other one had eternal amnesia. 

Mike remembers playing their story all to well.

When he was brought back by Jake and the others, finally regaining his conscience, he grew a respectful bond with the fierce warrior of them all, Estela. She was always a stubborn one, protective of the others but always cautious about who she trusted. At first, Estela was extremely wary of Mike, no matter how much Jake tried to talk him up. She was all business and did her best to avoid him. 

Then things kinda escalated when Mike found Estela sitting alone on the Dorado one night. They developed a relationship of sorts but never really confirmed it. They kept it a secret from everybody else, since they couldn’t afford to face the music. It was always a lot to think of and digest. So they laid low and Mike has to admit, it was one of the best times of his life. He truly loved Estela and he didn’t admit it to her until the last second before he sacrificed himself, watching her eyes flood with an emotion he’d never seen on her. Grief. Sadness. A yearn to mourn. 

He told her he loved her…  but he never let her say it back. 

Now… he’s found Estela again and she appears the same, just as confident, sexy, fierce, cold towards all the wrong people, tough, able and always ready for a damn fight. She hasn’t changed. 

But it’s clear she may not want to continue what they and Mike has to be okay with that. She’s going through so much right now and it’s already killing him to see her so broken. He’s just so good at hiding his worries. He wants to comfort her. He really does but he fears she may push him away and shut him out. Estela is complex soul with so many sides to her and Mike can’t say he doesn’t love her because he really does. He just wants to her to have life back and with everything that’s happening, that may not happen any time soon. 

Finally, Mike breaks out of his trance and decides to say a few words to Estela or at least try and get talking to her again because they’ve been so silent for so long and have even dared to speak of their current situation.

“I’m sorry.” Mike mutters under his breath but Estela definitely heard them thanks to the deafening silence. She stiffens when she hears him speak to her properly for the first time. 

Estela folds her arms as idly as possible and leans against the wall, finally pausing her pacing. It’s painfully obvious that she’s trying to appear as calm and collective as she can. She hates when people overly worry about her. “You don’t have to apologise. Nothing that happened today was your fault.” Estela assures, clicking her tongue and processing his apology.

“I’m not talking about today.” Mike abruptly corrects, a meaningful look hinted in his chestnut eyes.

Estela furrows her brows, bewildered. “What do you mean then?”

“I’m sorry that I... left you the way I did.” Mike admits, reminiscing back to the day he sacrificed himself for the greater good and Estela’s eyes widen in complete disbelief as a reaction.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Estela reacts, slightly taken aback. “You’re really apologising for saving us. Killing Lundgren.” 

“Well, he didn’t exactly stay dead, did he?” Mike counters, shaking his head as he seats himself on the edge of his own bed. 

“Yeah? Well neither did you.” Estela bites back, running her hands through her brunette hair and sighing intensely. Clearly, she’s trying to assure Mike that she’s okay with the fact that he left the way he did but there must be a feeling deep down inside of her that’s taunting her about some sort of disapproval. After a deadened moment of silence, Estela exhales sharply and clears her throat. “...Look, you did what you had to do to help Jake... Lundgren was so close to killing him.”

Mike raises his eyebrows at Estela’s assumption that his sacrifice was only for Jake. “It wasn’t just for Jake, Estela.” 

“Oh yeah, sure it was for Logan too. She was about to get killed as well.” Estela’s guesses once more and Mike shakes his head in denial, only confusing Estela now until she finally catches on and an irritated huff escapes her. “No! Please tell me you didn’t do that for me!” 

Mike silences himself, daggers made of guilt stabbing his heart as he takes in the violent tone in which Estela speaks. Her strong gaze burns into his and she’s almost pleading with him to tell her that this wasn’t because of her.

However, his silence is all the answer Estela needs. “Mike... I’m so sick of people dying because they wanted to protect me or keep me safe. I’ve lost too many people because of the claim that I’m in danger.” Tears swell in Estela’s deep brown eyes and she can’t seem to use the skill she’s perfected her entire life... hiding her grief. “I lost my mom because she wanted to keep me safe from my father. Now look where she is, a chamber of torture becoming one of Rourke’s petty little minions. I lost my Tio because some stupid motherfucking astronaut bitch wanted to protect me from the world. And now...” Estela trails off, her desperate eyes searching Mike’s eyes frantically and she almost can’t bring herself to say the words. “...I’ve lost you.” 

“But you haven’t lost me.” Mike corrects, rising from the edge of the bed and approaching Estela, remaining at a fair distance so she still has space. “I’m right here.”

“Are you though? You don’t seem like the same man i knew on the island.” Estela points out, waving her hand up and down in front of Mike and he furrows his brows at that.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re just... different.” Estela mutters under her breath, running a hand through her dark hair again as tears continue to pool from her eyes. “I just don’t feel the same way around you anymore. I would’ve thought that if you ever did come back, I’d care about you the same way I did before but... no. Maybe all the feelings I had before died with the man I used to know.” Mike is unsurprisingly confused at her words. Shes speaking so meaningfully, which is something Estela has never been able to do. How much has this timeline really changed her? “We’re all different people now, thanks to Rourke’s mistake. The momentary amnesia must have affected us more than we thought, especially for you since you died and came back to life. Everything about you has changed for some reason or maybe I’ve just changed. Either way... I know... I don’t... love you anymore.” 

Hearing Estela finally admit that she loved Mike is like music to his ears. But he can’t really appreciate her saying it because she’s using it in a context to tell him that he’s practically nothing to her. Like there’s no more romance to pick back up, thanks to Rourke’d experiment. Its truly saddening to Mike to hear Estela deny any chance that they can work through this.

“But I still love you. Can’t we at least try—“

“Maybe there are certain sides of love that managed to get through. Like Jake and Logan. But then maybe there are feelings that changed with the person. Like Diego’s tragic fate. All I know is that... I can’t force myself to fall in love with you again because I just know I’ll end up being the one who gets hurt again. And I’ve been through too much already, Mike. I’m sorry.” 

With that, Estela disappears into the bathroom, leaving Mike loveless and empty. What the hell is she talking about? Still, Mike has no excuse to argue with her. She has these insane theories about what’s happened painted in her brain and he won’t be able to change her mind on it. But no matter what, Mike knows he’s never gonna stop loving her. And maybe she’ll come through eventually. 

Jake

Jake still can’t fucking believe it. His Princess is truly back in his life. For good. Hopefully for good anyway but Jake isn’t gonna dare allow his thoughts to drift into dark places tonight. No. Tonight is about him and Logan and proving to her just how much he loves her, which he has done successfully, judging by the satisfaction painted onto her expression as they fall back onto the motel bed.  

It’s crazy to think that sex with Logan is just as memorable as it was the first time. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other in that moment and now here they are, what seems like forever later, still feeling like the fireworks are a brand new feeling. They’re truly soulmates and no one can even dare deny it anymore. It’s not a suspicion or a theory. It’s a fact. They’re meant for each other. End of story.

Now they just want a complete night of peace, a chance to show each other just how much they’ve missed the other and they’ve been doing well with it so far. After an undeniably satisfying shower, Jake actually felt like a brand new man, feeling as though he’d been cleaned of all the trauma he went through when he was trapped in the clutches of Rourke and now he feels... free, almost. The happiest he’s been in a long time. Even though there’s still so much depressing shit going on at the moment, Jake still needs to appreciate that his soulmate is back in his life. Now he plans to never lose her again. 

Logan slowly snuggles up to Jake, resting her head on his chest and tilting her head up to admire his dazed expression. She can tell he’s exhausted because who knows when the last time was when he had a good sleep? His eyes are barely half open and she smiles at the pleasant sight of him. She missed these simple moments. The aftermath of a passionate night together and the sweet minutes of just talking and reminiscing. These are the times Logan truly cherishes and she would never take them for granted.

Noticing how her ocean eyes are so bright and full of pure happiness, Jake momentarily shoves his exhaustion to the side and turns his attention her, eyeing her with curiosity.

“What are you looking at, Princess?” Jake questions, not able to hide wide grin that crosses his lips. 

“It’s just like how I remembered with you.” Logan admits, grazing Jake’s cheek with her fingertips and he flinches a little at her featherlight touch. 

“Heh, glad I still got it.” Jake jokes, planting a kiss on her forehead and nuzzling her hair for an extra second. “Seriously though, I’m so glad I’ve got you back. I missed you so goddamn much.” 

“I missed you too. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find you again.” Logan whispers and Jake can sense the pain in her tone. She must have gone through endless emotional trauma... all over him? Jake can’t even try and believe that. With reassuring intentions, Jake brings their lips together as he tries to soothe her slowly growing sadness. 

“I’m sure... you would have survived, darlin’.” Jake points out with a tinge of regret in his tone. 

“Maybe... but I still would have been miserable.” Logan murmurs and she can sense that topic is really bugging Jake, as his mind starts to ache with doubts and wonders that hadnt really bothered him until now. She reaches out to him and intwines their fingers, while using her other hand to brush the stray strands out of his face. “Jake.. what’s wrong?”

“It’s just... what if saving me was a mistake?” He suddenly pipes up and Logan’s sapphire eyes widen with disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, darlin’. I know that people think we’re dead now but... now I know I’ll never be able to give you the life that you fucking deserve and it’s killing me.” Jake confesses, pouring out all of his doubts and regrets into this one moment.

“How do you know, Jake? Maybe this just gives us another chance.” 

“Lo, there’s a clear fucking reason. Do you think I can ever go back to the States after this? I was barely safe when they hadn’t caught me.” Jake snaps, his frustration eating into him and he can’t push it away like he usually does. 

“But Jake...”

“Look, Princess... I know how much you wanna keep us together and I wanna do that too but... I also wanna make sure I’m a husband to you, not a burden.” Jake’s honesty is so real, as well as his concern but he doesn’t seem to realise that Logan doesn’t need any protection. She only needs him.

“Jake... you could never be a burden. And I’ve lost you too many times to wanna let you go again.” Logan assures and Jake seems a little more convinced as she stares him dead in the eyes, a solemness he’s never seen in her before. “This is it, okay? You and me. Forever. To the stars and back, right?”

Finally, the hint of a smile creeps up at the corner of Jake’s lips and he lets out a soft exhale in response to her words. “Right.” Jake eventually relents, surrendering to his love and he slowly brings their lips together for a tender kiss that lingers longer than it should. When they pull away, he knocks their forehead together and takes a moment to admire the love of his life. “I fucking love you, darlin’.” 

He truly can’t believe that she chose someone like him to spend the rest of her life with. 

“I love you too and we’re gonna save all our friends from this goddamn world that Rourke created. But you know what we have to do in order to achieve that, right?”

Jake furrows his brows, suddenly confused. “What?”

“...Were going back to the States.”

Michelle 

The next morning finally dawns onto the world and the light exploding from the window alarms Michelle to the fact that the day has finally arrived, leaving her completely aware that she will have to leave Quinn today and she sure as hell is hesitant to do that. Sure, Quinn’s parents will be here to comfort her and Michelle knows that they won’t want her hanging over their shoulder asking constant questions about Quinn’s current state. 

Michelle will have no choice. She’s going to have to leave and her heart is begging her not to do it but her body is desperately reeling with exhaustion, urging her to fall into her own deep slumber because she’s neglected sleep for too long. But she still doesn’t wanna go. She wants to stay here and be there for Quinn. But her family won’t want her to always be there. 

A nurse has popped in a few times throughout the night to check on Quinn, measuring her blood pressure and temperature every few hours. Nothing has changed. Her state has been the same since she first collapsed and who knows if she’ll ever improve or worse... 

Michelle quickly shoves away the thought and releases a low exhale. She glances at the clock nearby. Almost 9 O’clock. The nurse alerted Michelle that Quinn’s parents are set to arrive around this time and she wishes to offer her condolences before she’s forced to leave. With that, Michelle finally rises from her chair and wanders over to Quinn, feeling the urge to gain one more mental image of her before she leaves for a while. 

Quinn looks so peaceful and maybe this is the sleep she’s always dreamed of but never received because the burden of her fate was always haunting and taunting her. Too bad the circumstances are so grim or Michelle might actually be able to admire the woman she’s slowly falling for.

“I’ll see you soon, Quinn. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. And when I see you Lo, I’ll tell her about what you said. I don’t know what it means but... if you said it, then I’ll do it because...”

Before Michelle can get out her last words, she ends up trailing off as she spots a slow action performed by Quinn and her hazel eyes widen at the revelation. A simple stir of the hand but so damn important. It’s a sign of life. A reflex, if you will and it proves that Quinn still carries her life within her. The first smile breaks out on Michelle’s features and she can’t help but be excited that Quinn is finally revealing the fact that she’s alive.

“Oh my god... Quinn! You’re alive! Wait... can you hear me? If so, I want you to know...” 

Then suddenly, Quinn’s body starts to shake slightly and her eyes start to quiver as they’re about to open. But the way this awakening is happening is rather unusual. It’s not the sudden eyes opening that’s so sweet like you see in the movies. No, this is almost... terrifying. Quinn looks like she’s about to explode and her body shivers even more violently as the moments pass.

Michelle’s eyes widen at the current situation and she can’t believe what she’s seeing. One moment it seems like Quinn is alive and now it almost seems like she’s possessed in some way. This has to be some kind of sick game that Michelle’s mind has come up with. A method of manipulation. A horrible hallucination. 

But the more Michelle blinks and realises it’s still there... the more real it seems.

“Quinn... are you ok—“

All of a sudden, Quinn’s once dead eyes snap open but the usual sky blue ocean colour doesn’t light up the room so positively like it typically would. No... a neon, lime green light bursts out of both eyes. An emerald fire of torture hiding the hope in her corneas and Michelle is amazed by what she’s seeing.

What the fuck kind of sorcery is this? Quinn looks like she’s been possessed or cursed but what the hell is going on? This has to be a nightmare. How can this be real?

Now Michelle is really starting to feel her anxiety cracking through and she runs her hands through her blond hair. That’s when she starts to hear it. Quinn is screaming through an echoey voice, like a cry for help. Michelle can’t quite make out what she’s saying but she still manages to catch a few breathy words.

“...Kill... kill... kill...”

She’s just speaking kill, all over again. But then another word makes its way again, confusing Michelle even more.

“...Reborn... Reborn... Reborn...”

Now this is truly frightening. Michelle should probably go get help and find someone suitable to take care of this but she can’t fucking bring herself to move. She’s completely paralysed but she knows she has to help Quinn, if anything.

With that, Michelle paces over to Quinn and attempts to grasp her in order to prevent her from shaking as she tries to knock some sense into her. Just as their hands graze... Michelle becomes the same thing. Her eyes a flash a hot pink and she screams out in agony as she tries to maintain Quinn. Michelle feels as though a rose-coloured fire is tearing up her heart and the pain is almost unbearable as she tries to fight through it and take some of Quinn’s pain too.

What the hell is even happening to her? This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. 

Out of the blue, as the pain starts becoming even more severe, Michelle’s mind is suddenly flooded with memories. Her memories just flow through her mind, rushing through her body continuously and giving her a chance to feel something familiar. Something she hasn’t felt in a long time and it almost feels like she’s right back where she started. Her head starts to ache from the amount of memories but she also feels an endless amount of relief.

Finally, she remembers everything. Getting trapped on the island. Almost killing a colossal crab. Attacking a sea monster. Meeting a pirate. Absolutely everything. She remembers it all. Everything and everyone.

Sean, Quinn, Raj, Grace, Aleister, Craig, Zahra, Jake, Estela, Diego and... Logan.

Michelle finally is rid of her amnesia but it sure took a hell of a lot of pain to do it. She feels just as possessed as Quinn but only in exterior not interior. 

Then suddenly, the lights burn out, the fire dies, the voices fade, the shaking pauses and everything returns to the way it was, including Quinn. Still in her deep slumber and it’s like her sudden awakening never happened.

There’s just one difference, however... Michelle now has her memories back. 

[cocoarosalia]

All They Have (KatsuDeku)

“Ok so if we decide to move to this district the crime would be pretty low but that wouldn’t be good for pay, so maybe if we-“

“What are you babbling on about now nerd”

Izuku felt like he had jumped clear to the ceiling with how hard he jolted up from his seat and onto his feet. Katsuki gave him a strange look from the entryway of their little one bedroom apartment, the kind of look that made him think that Katsuki might have known what he was up to but couldn’t quite prove it yet. Izuku covered up the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach with a fake cough and tried to act somewhat natural with his phone shoved behind his back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about kacchan, I’m always babbling about something. On a separate note to stop talking about this, I thought you weren’t coming home till this evening?”

Katsuki was slow to respond as he stalked izuku in the direction of the couch “Crime was slow today so I got to finish my paperwork early” he suddenly crowded izuku onto the couch, knocking him into the seat and straddling his waist so he couldn’t escape.

“But that wasn’t a good answer to my question, was it deku?”

Izuku wriggled desperately to get away from his husband’s clutches. He saw how his eyes flashed evilly, the smile large, vicious and a little too happy. A look katsuki got when interrogating criminals, a look izuku hated being on the receiving end of. Izuku was about to use a hint of his quirk to push Katsuki off, when the wicked look he was giving suddenly turned into unexpected shock and then right into something unabashedly naughty.

“Something hard between your legs is telling me that it wasn’t very family friendly”

Izuku could damn well feel his eyes bug out of his head “A-are you insane?! No it wasn’t sexual! That something hard is because you’re squirming on my lap and I know you’re too tired from work to handle it, so if you don’t mind?”

Izuku hoped that his “doting” husband would catch the hint husband would either catch the hint or accept the challenge and leave him to wallow in truth and shame silently, or become too distracted with proving izuku wrong about how tired he was, that he would forget about the younger mans phone

“Naaah not buying it. Let’s see what’s really on ‘the symbol of hope’s’ phone”

His hope was misplaced

The pair broke out into a wrestling match like when they were kids, pulling and kicking for the rights over the phone and neither were above playing dirty. For every nip to Izuku’s plump cheeks, he’d fire back with a non-sexy yank on Katsuki’s ashy pale blonde hair. For a moment Izuku completely forgot about why he was even fighting over the phone to begin with. Memories of their lives before getting married, before being together, or even before entering U.A came flooding back to him. He remembered fights like these over his favorite All Might action figure, when they would roll around on the dirty playground floor cause Katsuki would claim that ‘Dekus like him didn’t deserve a toy like this’. It hurt back then but looking back Izuku felt like he could finally smile about it.

“Hah! it’s my win Deku!”

Or he would if his face wasn’t completely smushed into the couch cushions

Izuku squirmed, trying to break free but katsuki’s arms were around him, pinning his own to his sides. Katsuki had clearly been training with Uraraka lately. One moment izuku thinks he had the upper hand with him pinning Katsuki onto his back and the next Katsuki’s wrapping his legs around him like a snake and shoving him onto his side so he can slot behind him, put his arms in a vice grip and yank the phone from his hands.

“Kacchan! let me go you maniac!” He barked with not much bite. To be honest he’d be much more angry if he wasn’t so turned on by how quickly his husband was able to overpower him

Katsuki snorted out a laugh “After all that work? Oh I’m definitely going through your stuff now”

Izuku was clearly defeated, his body went limp in his husbands arms. His only saving grace now was that katsuki would find interest in  anything else remotely embarrassing on the phone that  wasn’t his secret project.

Katsuki opened the device and started to scroll through Izuku’s endless apps. Many were hero branded apps that fed his insatiable desire to drown himself in hero culture. Others were types of training and weight monitoring apps so he could always stay on top of his and katsuki’s physical wellness. Most of them, however, were stupid, mind numbing games to keep him occupied while patrolling.

(He had Pokemon Go for a while but Katsuki threatened to stop visiting him at work if he kept it, saying that it distracted him ‘from the only prize he needed to catch’)

“Jesus Deku don’t you ever clean out your fucking phone?”

Izuku pouted indignantly “How do you know I don’t use them all?”

“Because you always put your most used apps out on the first or second page and you have like five pages” Izuku pouted harder

When Katsuki finally got to the last page Izuku began to think that he could finally let out a small sigh of relief. He had to admit that he enjoyed playing dating sims when his husband wasn't looking (‘IT’S FOR THE STORY KACCHAN’) but all things considered it wasn’t too bad an investigation. As long as his too nosy husband managed to give him back his phone and leave him be he was in the clear!

“Lifetime Organizer?” katsuki said with a slight lilt in his voice, like he had just found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and izuku knew from that tone alone that he was in for many teasing jabs.

Izuku could just feel the heat burning the back of his neck. Katsuki hugged around him closer, no doubt ensuring that Izuku would have to fight if he wanted freedom from his shame “You mind telling me what  this is?” izuku could practically hear the smile in his husbands tone.

He couldn’t admit it, he just couldn’t! His husband was already mentally pointing and laughing at him for having so many dumb apps as he has, but for Izuku to admit to the one app he DIDN’T want Katsuki to see EVEN SEE would be like signing the suicide note to his peaceful, blissfully ignorant lifestyle! He had to come up with something, ANYTHING.

“It’s a secret app for all the gay porn I have”

SOMETHING BETTER THAN THAT YOU DINGUS!

A hole, a hole that was 10 feet wide and six feet deep should just appear before him now and swallow him whole. Izuku watched in pitying despair, his stomach dropping to his knees while Katsuki tapped the little pastel pink icon and pulled up a slew of color coded files all with overly cutesy names.

if izuku wasn't so riddled with shame he may have been slightly turned on with just how  easily katsuki pulled them both up into a sitting position, izuku nestled in his lap as katsuki swiped through the different folders.“Hmm let’s see, ‘Work is where the headaches live’, ‘Our little slice of heaven’, ‘Second time’s the charm’, Ok Deku, spill. What is all this? I’ve already mocked you for it so you might as well come clean”

Izuku gnawed at his bottom lip, twisting and tangling his fingers together “Well, do you remember how our wedding went?”

Katsuki shuddered when he had to think about it. You would think that the WONDER DUO, two of japan’s most prolific and deeply loved heroes would have the wedding of the century. Their wedding should’ve been a televised event with big name performances, fireworks and all that other spectacle shit, before ending with them riding off to their luxury honeymoon on the back of a fucking elephant!

It SHOULD have been a night for Katsuki to have a real moment of humility and down to earthness, where he could take the time to appreciate the man who risked his life, possessions and everything else for him. The same man who’d do it again without so much as a second thought. Their wedding was SUPPOSED to be something out of a goddamn fairy tale.

But how did they spend it? Arguing. And over the stupidest shit at that! Izuku, being the extra little drama queen that he himself admitted to being, insisted that they keep with American traditions (despite the very obvious fact that they’re japanese, but whatthefuckever) and not see each other before the time came for them to walk down the aisle. Katsuki was very quick to point out how stupid that sounded, yet Izuku refused to budge, which already started the day off poorly. What Katsuki failed to mention, however, was why he even objected in the first place!

The real reason he hated the idea was that he was actually nervous for the third time in his whole life (first time being asking the nerd out, second time being the actual proposal). He didn’t want to be alone. Sure he had Kirishima and Kaminari there, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to hold onto his favorite nerd and be reminded that, yes, this weird ball of forest green fluff actually loved him enough to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

So Katsuki responded the only way he knew how, by lashing out until everyone was having as shit a time as him. By the time the actual ceremony happened, Izuku didn’t wanna talk to him, his friends were avoiding him and all he wanted was to drown his sorrows. It took him pretty much proposing again for Izuku to forgive him and they could actually walk into the reception and have a good time. But then….family had to get involved.

Neither Katsuki nor Izuku would be even close to the men they are today, without the ever present loving support of their family. In the beginning of their professional careers their parents were the only thing that grounded them to the reality that being a hero, will always be both the best and most painful job there can be. They owed everything to their families and couldn’t imagine not having them be apart of the celebration…..

But maybe next time they decide to have a get together, they’d cool it on the open bar a little.

Not even an hour into the reception and Izuku’s mother had damn near cried herself into exhaustion, sobbing and drinking herself silly over her “sweet baby boy becoming such a strong young man” and that now “She would be in an empty house all alone while he’s off living his life”. Izuku was so riddled with guilt and stress that he had to take her outside to convince her that he wasn’t going to basically ship her off to an old folks home as soon as the reception ended.

Katsuki’s parents were comparatively worse when the liquid courage started flowing. They were always social drinkers and never had so much as a sip when inside the house, but outside? Amongst friends? VERY MUCH IN PUBLIC? They were total nightmares. Katsuki’s dad had decided that it was a wonderful idea to get everyone to join in a singalong of the cheesiest songs known to man and dance the literal “funky chicken” while actively refusing to stay on beat to save his life. But it was typical dad stuff, nothing Katsuki hadn’t already shamed out of his system by the time he graduated U.A. But his mom? Mitsuki Bakugou could forever proudly claim, that she had single handedly scarred him and all the guests without an ounce of help.

All night long she got her shits and giggles from telling inappropriate stories about “Katsuki’s late night laundry runs” and “The not so hidden magazines he thought he could keep from me” and most spectacularly “That one time I walked in on them blowing each other and like the supportive mother I am, provided helpful tips on how to improve their technique”. It took Katsuki tackling his mom to the floor and dragging her out kicking and screaming to keep her from deciding that it would be a good idea to walk up to the podium, champagne in hand and give an “emotional speech to the happy couple”.

Oh and there was also a villain attack right as they were cutting the cake! But to be fair that was probably the most relief they had that whole night.

“By the time we got back to our room we couldn’t even have awesome newlywed sex” Katsuki lamented

“I know, I woke up before you that morning and when I saw all the toys you had planned out I think I cried”

Katsuki nodded solemnly, as much as he adored being married to his favorite nerd you could not PAY him enough to relive that nightmare again

“But that still doesn’t answer my question” katsuki said after a moment “What the hell is this ‘organizer’ or whatever”

Izuku’s face flushed pink around his freckled shoulders. He sighed in embarrassment “Well ever since that day I’ve had anxiety about where our lives might end up if things aren’t planned properly. I mean, if we couldn’t make it through our own wedding then WHO KNOWS what else could just….pop up and ruin everything we’ve built together”

Katsuki’s face turned in a frown “And why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I thought you’d say it was stupid” Izuku responded with a pout

“It is” Katsuki replied bluntly “But that’s not the point”

Katsuki took Izuku’s head in his hands and tilted it back till he was gazing into deep eyes of forest green “I married you for more than your strengths dumbass which, yes, includes all the weird little chinks in your stupidly, shining armor. You have gotta trust me on that ok?”

Izuku made a small pout, feeling that it was unfair that Katsuki could find  just,/i> the right words to talk him out of his insecurities, but still relaxed under the soothing warmth of his husband hands.

“Now that that’s all agreed upon” Katsuki said with a definitive nod “Let’s see how stupidly sweet you’ve made our lives”

Izuku made one last gut dash for his phone. He might trust his husband but if he could avoid the embarrassment and make a run for it, you bet your ass he’ll give it the old “Plus Ultra” try. But not even if he activated One for All to 100% could he move faster than the man who had already countered his every move before he could even make them. Katsuki tightened his grip around Izuku and grounded him harder to his chest, reaching the phone high above their heads and opening the first folder.

“‘In our corner of the universe’ christ even the folder names are cheesy, you’re such a sap Deku”

Brochures and pictures were simulated to fall out of the folders inner pockets and scattered themselves all over the screen. Katsuki saw images of high end condos mix messily with little neighborhood homes, completed with a closed off front yard and white picket fences. And of course no plan of Izuku’s could be even close to complete without an incomprehensible amount of notes being attached to every single image. Even as he read each note he could just see Izuku running himself ragged trying to extract and analyze every minute detail of every possible listing.

“2 bedroom condo in the city of Sapporo, heart of Hokkaido. Nearest station, six minutes away and the closest Hero Agency 20 is minutes” Katsuki spoke in a bored tone as he rattled off the basic listing information. But strangely Izuku did not feel as though his husband was disinterested in what he read. The information was boring, sure, but there was a certain glint in Katsuki’s gaze that Izuku knew all too well as his “analytical eye”. It comforted Izuku in a strange ‘thank-god-he’s-at-least-pretending-to-indulge-me’ kind of way.

“Well I’m only one house in and you’ve already fucked up”

Izuku face went pale in confused fear “What!? Why?”

“Don’t fucking ask ‘why?’ you little shit!” Katsuki pinched and pulled at Izuku soft cheeks “What makes you think I want to move all the way to the fucking north!? It’s fucking cold, which means no sweat, which means I’m fucking useless!”

“But the hero agency up there pays really well!” the younger hero whined in pain

“No shit! It’s cause no one wants to fucking work there. I bet the crime rate is really low up there too isn’t it?”

“I-I mean” Izuku stammered “There’s quite a number of jaywalkers out there”

Katsuki released his husbands now pinch reddened cheeks “I’m quaking in my steel tipped boots”

The bruised hero sighed and rubbed his face to soothe the pain “I’m guessing Osaka’s out then”

“Whatcha think? just put sweat based EXPLOSION hero in the blistering humid south, THAT shouldn’t cause any problems”

“Nara?”

“I’ll put a deer in a headlock”

“Kyoto?”

“That’s where old people go to die”

Izuku was starting to get frustrated at his partner’s contrarian behavior “Well where DO you want to go Kacchan? Cause I’m NOT living in a tiny one bedroom apartment for the rest of my life”

“Obviously” Katsuki retorted. He paused and thought for a minute weighing the pros and cons of every prefecture in Japan.

“How about Shizuoka?”

Izuku blinked up at him “That...Why there of all places?”

Katsuki flopped back over onto the couch and turned his face toward the sofa’s back. He was trying to hide the bashful blush on his face, but in Izuku’s experience he wasn’t very good at it

“It’s not that far from Tokyo so you can still see your mom or whatever” Katsuki said “plus it’s got a lot of mountains and nature and shit, so since we both like the outdoors seems like a good choice to me”

Izuku felt a blush creep up to his ears. For all the criticism Katsuki got stuck with for being loud, hot-headed and just generally being a rough guy to get along with, if there was one thing no one could  ever claim, it would be that he wasn’t attentive. He knew his husband could pay attention and listen when needed but it still never failed to shock him when he would translate all his nonsensical ramblings into a tangible idea or plan they can actually execute.

“O-ok” Izuku said with a sheepish tone “We’ll move to Shizuoka”

“Awesome, glad that trainwreck is over with, let’s board the next one”

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon. Izuku would suggest they do a certain thing later in life, and katsuki would almost always fervently disagree and offer a slightly less terrible compromise. But the time evening rolled in, they had agreed to have a completely dry vow renewal in a few years, would work at different hero agencies when they moved and adopt a dog to look after the house (ok Izuku didn’t really give consent to that last one, but Katsuki figured that he just hadn’t met the right mutt yet)

Things were going  just as Izuku always dreamed…...until he brought up the word “surrogacy”

“You want to do WHAT!?”

“Kacchan it’s not what you think!” Izuku chased after his husband as Katsuki stormed out of the living room and down the hallway toward the bedroom

“You want to get a woman pregnant, with OUR sperm. Despite the fact that we’re gayer than a rainbow burning with glittering fire!”

“....ok so it is what you think”

Katsuki threw out an exasperated “holy fucking christ” while he plopped down onto the bed. He flopped onto his back and ran his hands over his face, cause he needed to rub the  stupid off him before he caught even a whiff of it. Izuku rolled his eyes at the display, Katsuki was such a drama queen.

“There is not one single female that’ll go through with it”

Izuku snorted “I can promise you that the over 50,000 Deku or Ground Zero X Reader fanfictions online might disagree”

“AHA! SO YOU DO READ THEM!”

“NOT THE POINT AND I READ THEM FOR THE STORIES”

Izuku lifted away from the bedroom door frame and sat next to his partner in life “it’s not like you’re fucking the woman we choose, it’s done entirely without you betraying your flamboyant homosexuality”

“First of all, fuck you cause you still use the word ‘queen’ unironically and second of all that’s not the problem”

Katsuki sat back up once more on the bed and laced his fingers together over his knees, head hung low. He took a deep breath and started speaking “There’s not exactly a lot of females i’d even trust enough to carry what would most definitely be named the ‘wonder baby’.”

Izuku scratched his cheek in discomfort, a terrible habit of his “Well the process starts right off the bat with us screening applications until we find the right surrogate”

“But a complete stranger?” Katsuki said “And what if we find out she’s some crazed fan on top of that? The media will be swarming like flies and there’s absolutely NO guarantee that she won’t talk, it’s just too risky”

“What if” Izuku started chewing on his bottom lip, his mind racing with the possibilities of how this next statement would pan out “What if we picked someone who was used to the spotlight. Someone who had been trained to deal with the media?” izuku asked hesitantly

Katsuki propped his chin up on his fist and snorted out a laugh “what, you gonna get some big name celebrity bimbo to loan us her body for 9 months?”

Izuku sat up a little straighter, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth “Well, you actually know this ‘big name celebrity’ and she’s  not a bimbo. She couldn’t be one if she could kick your ass” Izuku said with a slight smug tone to his voice

Katsuki stopped. No one can kick  his ass! Only Deku can and he has to put effort into it! Hell, the only one whoever came close was…

“Absolutely fucking not Deku”

“Oh come on!” Izuku groaned, shoulders slumping slightly “She’s perfect for it!”

Katsuki could not believe the stupid shooting from his husband’s mouth “Round-Face!? I’d sooner denounce how fucking gay I am than have her carry our fucking baby!”

“But why!? We both know her, she can handle herself in a fight, and she’s been in the media as long as we have! I mean for All Might’s sake she already-”

Izuku clapped both of his hands over his mouth and let the rest of his words die right on his tongue. Katsuki scowled deeply at him.

“She already what deku?”

Curly moss green hair flapped everywhere as he shook his head in defiance. Izuku was a talker, at work, at home, and most assuredly in bed. So for him to clam up right before pulling on the trigger to his foot could only mean one thing.

“You already had this fucking conversation with her!?”

Izuku gripped his hands to his face harder

Katsuki deflated in disbelief “and she already agreed to go through with it, didn’t she”

He couldn’t stand the way Izuku couldn’t look at him, the way he refused to meet his eyes. Katsuki pushed off the bed to get some much needed separation between them. This was too many stupid decisions in one night

“Kacchan please.” Izuku pleaded “Just list-”

“Just listen? Is that the stupid shit you were about to ask me? You were about to ask me to fucking hear you out weren’t you? To see things from YOUR point of view, to understand the  over abundant LOGIC that is your thought process WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN REALIZE THAT IT’S SO GODDAMN FLAWED THAT ITS SCARY!”

Izuku’s crossed his arms in indignity “What are you getting so mad for anyway? It’s not like I already got her pregnant”

“No but with your current record I wouldn’t fucking put it past you.” Katsuki snapped back “And you wanna know why i’m so pissed? It’s because you didn’t even ask me for my opinion.”

Katsuki took a deep breath before speaking again “Did you ever stop to wonder WHY I don’t want a surrogate, ESPECIALLY not round-face?”

“Because you don’t trust anyone to properly carry the  golden genes of a bakugou male?” Izuku said with feigned theatrics

Katsuki rolled his eyes “No you ass, it’s because a baby is giant undertaking for the human body and psyche”

That pouty dismissive look Izuku was giving him was getting dangerously close to ‘punch in the face’ levels of annoying “Oh what do you know? It’s not like you have any siblings!”

“No but I have aunts, cousins, and coworkers. All of whom have had to put their careers on hold for a year then have to put themselves through more pain than any villain ever could to BIRTH these kids”

“She’s an adult Kacchan, what she does with her body is her business”

“No duh dipshit but as her best friend i’d hope that you’d think about more than just what you want and how willing she is to fucking give it to you”

“And while you’re thinking about what  you,/i> want, how much my opinion doesn’t mean shit to you? Think about this instead.” Katsuki reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a folded up set of papers. He shoved the stack into izuku’s chest and stormed off to the kitchen because if you asked him? He REALLY needed something strong.

Izuku recoiled from the booming sound of the bedroom door slamming behind him. He ran his fingers over the folds of the paper, felt the bumps of the staple. He just didn’t understand! Katsuki didn’t care as much about the other stuff they talked about. Sure, he wasn’t quite in agreeance either but they could always come to a compromise. Butterfly’s beat at his stomach; this stack of papers felt like it was getting heavier and heavier the more he hesitated.

He swallowed his guilt and anxiety, at least for the moment, and unfolded the papers

“....... Dammit Kacchan”

Katsuki tipped back another round of whiskey and slammed the glass on the kitchen counter. He’d never call himself a regular drinker as alcohol was the fastest way to fuck up his career. But just thinking about how much izuku was just willing to…..completely ignore his input was just too much to bear sober. He put his head on the cool counter as what would inevitably turn into a garbage hangover, began to throb in his head.

He was about to toss izuku onto the couch for the night so he could sleep off his buzzed stupor until he felt a warmth press against his back. His conscience screamed it’s heart out for him to turn around and forgive his stupid brat of a husband, but Katsuki was resolute. Izuku wanted to ignore him? Then too can play that game and they both knew that katsuki was not one keen to losing.

“You’re drinking again” the warm body behind him spoke

Katsuki scoffed “only way to stoop down to your logic”

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip and gripped at katsuki’s shirt “kacchan why didn’t you tell me that you just wanted to adopt?”

“Why did you plan the next 30 years of our life together without telling me?”

Izuku didn’t respond for a moment. The tension in the room was thick like tar, a single word trigger away from lighting on fire and swallowing them both whole.

“I was scared”

“You’re full of shit” katsuki bit out in bitter disbelief

Izuku sighed and wound his arms around his husband’s stomach “I know! I know it’s hard to believe, especially after the way I acted but you gotta admit you’re a very….in the moment kinda guy”

Katsuki didn’t speak; Izuku hugged tighter and nuzzled his face into his back “I wanted to show you all of this when it was….when I was ready to actually go through with it. I wanted to show you that I wanted to do more than just love you from our cozy little apartment. I want to grow with you, build a life with you, become better with you right there….figuring it out with me”

Katsuki still didn’t look at him, his golden pale blonde spikes obscuring Izuku’s view. Izuku considered trying to convince him of his mistake again but ultimately decided there was no point, he had betrayed his husband’s faith in him and no sweet words were going to change that tonight. Izuku unwrapped his arms from around Katsuki’s waist and turned to walk toward the living room, which would surely be his bedroom for tonight.

“I want a girl”

Izuku stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to Katsuki, shock evident on his face.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. If you can decide what fucking agency i’m gonna work in, then at the very least you owe me a baby girl. There’s too much testosterone in this house as it is anyway”

Izuku ran his arms over his leaking eyes briskly, suppressing a laugh “I don’t think we get to choose the gender of our baby. To be honest we’d be lucky if we got approved given….our….status”

Katsuki seemed to grow a whole foot taller than Izuku as he bored his carmine red gaze down onto him. There had to have been some space between them but Izuku felt like he was suffocating in the intimidating aura of his husband intense and murderous stare.

“You’ve saved people. You’ve saved very important people. So either you get me my baby Kazuku or we find out whether or not you have a male pregnancy quirk. Take your pick”

For all the things Izuku loved about his husband, his calm fury had to be scariest, sexiest trait of them all.

[zacharybosch]

here it is, the third and final part of my bootblacking series, a little baby i bashed out mostly yesterday called Wound Patterns. i wanted to be fancy so i made this header

what does it feature? a nice house in cuba, a little bootblacking, a lot of smoking kink, and a bonus fuckchapter because i’m always disappointed when there aren’t any dicks in my fics. it was meant to be super sexy and ended up just being a bit feelsy instead, but there are dicks, so it counts

is it depressing af like the other 2 fics in the series? not completely!!!

are the other 2 fics essential reading? not super duper essential, but it might help just to give some context (also i really like parts 1 and 2 and they need more love)

part 1 tumblr / ao3 / fabulous book cover made by @byk23

part 2 tumblr / ao3

tagging any interested parties that i can remember:

@insanereddragon @tigsmulii @@fragile-teacup @hannibatchsmuse @tentoriumcerebelli @thesilverqueenlady @weconqueratdawn @theseavoices

read a snippet of Wound Patterns below or on ao3

Will acclimated to the Cuban weather remarkably well. The endless procession of hot, sultry days harked back to his childhood, skipping along the coast from Louisiana to Alabama, and he found himself possessed of some of the wildness of his youth. His skin turned from sallow to creamy to honey-burned rich, and he shed the weight of years like dead hair. His white linen shirts offered generously unbuttoned collars, and the cigarillos he’d smoked as a teenager while skulking in French Quarter doorways found their way back into his pocket.

Smoking had been an affectation when he was young, an attempt to make some kind of superficial connection with the kind of oddball clique that might accept him. At the back of the football field, or the swampy patch behind the running track; goth girls with their clove cigarettes, stoner boys with their sticky green joints, and Will with his cigarillos. It worked to some degree, and the first time he’d had sex had been in the back seat of a car that was filled with heavy, twisting smoke.

It was a more refined affair these days, but the smell remained the same now as it was then, and one breath took him back to cutting class and the first flush of burgeoning desire. Typically after dinner, Will would walk outside onto the balcony overlooking their small courtyard, bare feet on sun-warmed stone tiles. He would sit back in the ridiculous wicker peacock chair that Hannibal had placed out there, light up, and let himself go.

Some weeks or months since installing themselves in Havana, on a day that was marked only by how ordinary it had been in every other way, Will sat on the balcony and placed a cigarillo between his lips, reaching for his lighter and finding himself stopped by a hand on his arm.

Hannibal appeared before him with a small box of matches and an unreadable expression. “Allow me.”

Silence between them as Hannibal leant in, struck the match in one smooth motion, and held the flame to the cigarillo tip. Silence as Will took a long drag until the cherry was burning bright. Silence when Hannibal remained afterwards, standing impassive against the railing, watching Will watching him.

Will had a fairly sure idea of what Hannibal was angling for, although he hadn’t expected him to come at it from this angle. It wasn’t anything Will had indulged in much in the past, but he could see the appeal of it now that Hannibal had chosen this way to ask for it. He had thought, more often than he would admit but not so much that he was ashamed, of the things they had done in Baltimore. Evidently Hannibal had been thinking of them too, and why wouldn’t he? It had always been Will who talked himself out of taking it further. Hannibal would’ve done so much more, had Will just said the word.

Instead of saying any of this out loud, Will simply said, “I thought you didn’t like the smell?”

Hannibal gave one of his infuriatingly tiny smiles. “I’ve found myself becoming accustomed to it.”

***

Hannibal came out onto the balcony after dinner to light Will’s cigarillos every day for the next two weeks. Will began to associate the sound of a match being struck with the amber of Hannibal’s eyes, and the fall of his hair as he leaned in. Hannibal made his own associations; the touch of the match to the paper was the dark sweep of Will’s eyelashes as he looked down, coy; the rip and crackle of the striking match was Will’s breath, the quick intake and controlled exhale. The smouldering cherry of the cigarillo was Will’s lips, tension and release.

Sometimes he lingered, leaning against the wrought iron railing, just watching Will smoke. Other times he would light and leave, retiring to his bedroom or study for the remainder of the evening. It was not lost on Will that Hannibal’s rooms were in the west wing of the house, offering good views of the balcony from behind sheer twitching curtains.

It was strange, the things about Will that Hannibal seemed to be entranced by. It didn’t map to anything Will knew about the way he thought Hannibal worked. Then again, maybe Hannibal himself didn’t entirely understand or anticipate any new aspect of his desire for Will until he was confronted with the reality of it. Hannibal had said himself that he could never entirely predict Will, and perhaps that extended to predicting the things in Will that he was drawn to.

To be fair, the bootblacking had been a fairly linear train of thought to follow, once Will tried to approach it from Hannibal’s perspective. It wasn’t the filthy boots that Hannibal loved, but rather the careful skill required to restore them back to beauty; the grace needed to consciously lower yourself, to serve with elegance and restraint and messy abandon if it was asked for, the willing submission to someone who deserved it and understood what it meant.

It was this new development that left Will casting his mind back over years and miles. He’d seen no evidence to ever indicate that Hannibal had a goddamn smoking kink, and plenty to the contrary. One of the first things he had ever known about Hannibal was that he took extremely good care of his body, letting in nothing that wouldn’t nourish it. Smoking served no purpose but to let in disease.

No, he could tell that this was a new development. Will had a knack for pushing Hannibal to recklessness in a number of peculiar ways. Before, it was girls on stag heads and bloody hearts in Sicilian chapels. Now it was cigarillos and smoke, almost amusing in its banality.

continued on ao3...

[iammarylastar]

6. Sweat and blood

“Hit me.“ Jack said, fists in front of his face, getting his gloves up. This bitch could be sneaky sometimes. "Come on, don’t be shy Babe.”

He was sure to piss her off. She hated when he called her Honey, but giving her some Babe or Love would throw him into bigger troubles.

“Never call me that again.” She growled, throwing a side kick in his ribs. He blocked her kick easily with his elbow and waved at her to fight harder.

“Show me what you’re made of, Love.” He teased her, blowing her a kiss.

She attacked him, punching restlessly in his abs, hard as stone. She was not known to be a fragile pussy, she had been taught to fight like a tigress but something was keeping her from knocking him down.

“Shut the fuck up McClane. Fight back!”

Jack smirked and threw a punch towards her face which she avoided by bending her upper body to the side.

“Come closer Honey, don’t hold back. I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

She had asked him to practice a bit, all those weeks spent to do nothing but filing files and snapping shots was nerve wrecking. She needed some action. Adding the frustration to have this asshole teasing her with some fucking ridiculous pet names and she was ready to kill anyone with her bare hands. Glancing at McClane doing his daily hundred push ups, muscles tight and glistening with sweat, along with the low grunts escaping from his throat from the effort didn’t help.

Fighting seemed to be the right release. So wrong. Being so close to him, touching him even through punches or elbow kicks, made her feel weird. Why did he have to practice shirtless ? Dammit!

A slap in the face made her come back to Earth.  “Honey! You should focus on my eyes, this way up!” He laughed at her, pointing two fingers at his fucking blue eyes.

Why had he to wear a so damn adorable smile? Cheeky bastard!

She startled and blushed furiously. He took her off guard and hit her, which had never happened before. Which should never have happened. And he caught her in the act of staring at his abs. Goddammit McClane! Stop being so sexy, asshole!

“Don’t worry Love, let’s say those cute cheeks got red because of the slap!”

Her blood boiled, both by anger and desire. She clenched her teeth and her fists and growled.

“Shut the fuck up McClane!”

She throws a backspin kick, aiming at his damn cute face with her heel, but Jack swiftly caught her ankle and hooked her leg on his shoulder, grabbing her waist to keep balance.

A devilish smile of victory taped on his stupid face, Jack stepped forward and closed the distance between their panting and sweating bodies.  Years of yoga, gymnastics and martial arts practice had her amazingly flexible, so she didn’t flinch where her thigh almost touched her shoulder.

“You’re damn loose-limbed Honey. I could already figure out nice ways to benefit from such a skill.” Jack whispered in a sultry ton, so close to her face they were breathing the same air.

“I’m tired of you McClane. Don’t you have any other focus in life than my ass and what you want to do with it?” Jack gasped for air at the thought and narrowed his eyes to stay tuned. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his cock in his pants if she teased him like that.

“I’m only focused on one goal: have this mission done so I could fly back home, pleased and delighted to get rid of you. Honey. ” He emphasized the last word, and leant forward, his nose grazing along her jawline.

She chuckled to hide the shiver that was running through her spine and laced her hands behind his neck. His musky scent was intoxicating and she could feel the heat coming from both their waists.

Damn, aren’t sweaty men supposed to stink? Why is he SO attractive?

Her face softened and she sighed in his ear. “Do you think you could handle me McClane?

He swallowed hard, thought hard, every piece of his body was rock hard before such a challenge. This moment was worth the wait. She’s so sexy, promising him Heaven, stuck in his arms.

"I’m so fucking ready to handle you, however you like, Honey.” His heartbeat raced twice, as the heat rose from his body. Jesus they were so close…

Shade purposely brushed her lips across his jawline, moaning and tugging on his neck.

Her knee crushing his balls knocking him out. Using her grip on his neck, she jumped and threw her knee straight in his crotch, making him drop her waist and mew like a lost kitty. Falling heavily on his knees, his face twisted in an awful grimace, his hands cupping his late crashed balls, Jack winced in pain, and growled loudly before resting his forehead on the ground.

Shade crouched down and patted his back.

“I warned you not to call me Honey.

"Bitch!” He groaned through his teeth.

“That’s better."  She laughed then became serious again. "I told you, you couldn’t handle me, McLane.”

Jack rolled on his side, still curled up like a wounded animal, helplessly rocking his three set. Watching his so-called wife turning on heel and leave the living room, he just yelled in anger.

“Fuck! Shade!” *

The next couple of days were nightmares.  Shade hadn’t been very talkative or receptive to Jack’s jokes before the ‘incident’, but now it was worse. Jack was pouting, mute, and humiliated. He looked so miserable Shade even didn’t want to mock him. They shared their lunch without a word and shifted silently.

Around 8 pm that day, Shade finally opened her mouth and ordered:

“They’re moving. Les Bains Douches. One hour. Get ready.” She threw her Phone for him to read the text their French contact just sent.

“What? Like bathhouse? What the fuck are they going to public bathhouse at night?”

“Jack” she sighed. “Les Bains Douches! like the famous VIP nightclub. Parisian nightlife: Champagne and cocaïne. Our friends have an appointment with their contacts. ”

“OK.” He just grumbled, somewhat happy to go out of the room. Paris had been waiting for them for weeks and they barely had put their feet on the cobbled streets since they arrived.

Shade magically showed up less than fifteen minutes later, moulded in a stunning mid thigh black dress, bare back and deep dip, the cut to the side forcing Jack’s eyes wandering along her endless thigh, his mouth suddenly dry.  She was walking towards him, confidently perched on silver stilettos, with the movements of a tigress… slow, soft and swaying. Her long hair dancing around her face, cascading over her plump breasts.  She stopped in front of a crumbled faced Jack and handed him a sparkling necklace.

“Please. ” she just said, turning her back to him and gathering her hair to the side.

Jack swallowed loudly, biting his lips not to blurt out some shit about her being drop dead gorgeous or eating her neck up. He was too scared to losehis freshly healed nuts.

Shade hooked matching earrings to her ears and said.

“Let’s get the party started McClane.”

“Yippi kay yay” Jack thought to himself before following her partner.

Waiting for the lift to pick them up, uncomfortably shifting on their feet, both avoided the other’s look. Shade broke the ice first.

“Jack, I’m sorry for…” she looked down at his zipper" … my kick. I shouldn’t have…It wasn’t fair.“

"I deserved it. I behaved like an asshole and it was not good. I totally understand why you don’t like me and I’m sorry.” Jack apologized.

Shade smirked and pecked his cheek.

“I like you, Jack.”

She noticed the red mark her lipstick had left on his cheek and rubbed it with her fingertips.

“Now you’re gorgeous. You forgot to compliment my outfit. What do you think?” She striked a pose like a top model.

“Shade, you’re absolutely stunning, I think… breathtaking, but…” he hesitated.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was so scared you’d kick me in the nuts again.” He chuckled.

Shade laughed heartily, her laugh sounded like cristal.

“As long as you stop calling me Honey, your nuts are safe, Jack.”

“I’m glad you call me Jack. McLane refers to my father and I swear it’s harder to ear than Honey.” His smile was goddamn adorable.

As the lift ringed and its doors opened, he reached out his hand she gladly took, intertwining their fingers together.

“Mrs Sinclair, I’m in your debt.” He led her inside the lift and smiled.

*

Shade was all over Jack, one knee on the Louis XVI armchair he was loose spread on.

“Here you go. Like new.” Shade finished cleaning up Jack’s cut on his lower lips, drops of blood still resting on the front of his open shirt.

“Thanks.” He hissed in pain, his jaw still burning from the punch he received.

“No, thank you…” Shade looked straight in his eyes. “You saved me…”

“Nothing you couldn’t have handle all by yourself.

* The nightclub was hot and dark, jam-packed with glitter, Louboutin, jeroboams of Champagne and Cartier’s watches.

They spotted the Mafioso’s, gathered in the VIP square, and sat at a table next to them. French’s police had them put on the right list.

After a few alcohol free spy-drinks, Jack and Shade headed on the dance floor, as Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, obviously a young couple in love.  They danced together, sometimes touching, sometimes staring. Mrs  Icecube seemed to finally melt, gracing Jack with some of stunning smiles of hers.  Jack was forced to glue himself to her to whisper smart words in her ear, his humour hitting his target. Shade’s cristal laugh was music to his ears and he sneaked a hand successfully on the small of her back.

At one point, Shade had to go the bathroom. She needed to pee, check her make-up and free her sore feet from her stilettos for a minute. On her way to the ladies room, she jumped into the wrong guy.

"Sorry.” She said, brushing past him.

“Ohhh! Quelle beauté!” The guy forced her, grabbing her chin and scrutinizing her face. He stinked strong vodka and was obviously drunk. “Princesse…I Love you” he leant over to steal a kiss but Shade escaped his grip and kept walking away. The asshole turned mad and threw both his hands towards her, fisting his fingers in Shade’s hair and shoulder and yanked her back. The strap of her dress broke and her thighs spread to keep balance tore up its side. Shade screamed in surprise, and turned around ready to knock the guy down. A glance to the side, mobs are staring at the scene. No way she could beat him up without drawing attention on her fight skills. She had to play the trembling lamb.

“I’m just worried to know you’re  alone. I don’t want you to spend the night all by yourself.” He growls, coming closer.

Nausea invaded her stomach at the memory. The 6 year old self had to deal with her terrifying drunk father, ordering her to be a good girl before slapping her for whatever reason, her mother too busy to sleep off her hangover in the couch to help. She needed someone to protect her but there was none.

“Elle est avec moi.” Jack popped up from nowhere and grabbed the fucker’s wrist, keeping him from touching Shade again. She was with him. She was his.  And he wouldn’tlet any-fucking-one threatening her.

“Dégage connard!” The guy barks at Jack, throwing his fist in his jaw. Jack bent down to grab his gun taped on his calf but Shade stopped him.

“Don’t… put ourselves on the show, Cupcake. People are staring at us.” She insisted. Jack glanced at the men,  laughing out loud at the Cupcake thing. She’s right. He couldn’t blow their cover.

Lifting both his hands in sign of abating,  Jack calmly said to the drunk guy.

“It’s OK man, we don’t wanna fight and waste the party. Just let me check if my wife is OK and ̀ we’re gone.”

My wife.

Facing Shade and brushing her hair out from her face, he lovingly inquired. “Are you OK Boo?”

She nodded, took his hand and they got the hell out of the club.

* “Take off your shirt.” He followed, amazed, Shade’s fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. “It’s covered with blood, I’ll clean it up before it’s too late.” He helped her to get rid of his clothes she carefully hung on the back of the armchair.

“It’s a shame he ruined your dress. You looked stunning in it.” Jack played with the broken strap and glanced at the extended rip that exposed the skin of her hip. Showing the tiny thin string of the thong she was wearing.

“I’ll make it. You’ll make it. Big boy. ” Shade says, pecking the wound on his lips. And again. And again.

Jack’s hands landed softly on her hips, eliciting a light moan from Shade. Jack said nothing as she let her lips press a little longer on his. He groaned when she darted her tongue through his parted lips.

“Boo, please don’t start something you shouldn’t.” Boo. He was dead serious. She loved the way his low tone ran through her core.  “I’m not sure I could stop….”

“Stop rambling and kiss me, Cupcake.”

Jack could have laughed or chuckled if his lips weren’t busy tasting Shade’s tongue. She was fighting for dominance, dauntless tigress, but he let her have the lead. All those sleepless nights spent on that fucking sofa, looking at the ceiling to force his brain not to picture hot sex scenes with Shade, the hours spent fighting against his need to knock at her door, tiptoe into her bed and sneak a hand under her silky nighties. So many times forced to the shower for some quick releases, the ghost of Shade silhouette wandering across the suite with nothing but boy shorts and tight tops.

He still couldn’t believe it was really happening and didn’t dare to wake up from this sweet, perfect, hot dream.

Shade cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, her tongue dancing with his. He sat up to deepen the kiss, his hands flying to her ribs, where they stopped, just below her delicate breasts his thumbs caressed. She tilted her head back to moan loudly, Jack took advantage of her offered breasts he covered with his mouth. Tugging on her wasted dress, he placed wet kisses on her bare stomach, while she racked her fingers through his short hair. Her feet back on the ground, Shade trailed open kisses down his neck and chest, and further down. She licked his navel while her hands unhooked his belt and unzipped his pants.

Jack shivered in anticipation and lifted his ass, his teeth hard dug in his lower lip as he witnessed his pants and boxer disappear down his legs. Shade didn’t tease him more and took his length in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the soft skin of his shaft.

“Fuck Shade!"  Jack tangled his fingers in her long hair and lowered his gaze to enjoy the show, gently guiding her head as he fucked her mouth. Her moans mixed with his grunts added more fuel to his fire and he quickly felt like he couldn’t handle more of those sweet ministrations.

In a swift but rough movement, he flipped her in the chair and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.  Kneeling down between her feet, he slowly slid his hands along her thighs, up to her ass and hooked the hem of her thong he pulled down and threw to the side. Shade mewled and opened her thighs for him. Grazing and nibbling at her thighs, he took his time to be met with the little patch of hair that covered her soaked pussy. Sneaking his hands back to her bottom cheeks, he roughly pulled them to his mouth and lapped her folds like his life depended on it.

Arching her back under the heavenly sensation, she clung at his neck and forced him to lick harder. Jack was losing his mind and his hardness screamed for more. He nonetheless did his best to make her pleasure last longer.

Lifting her ass up, he almost threw her on the floor, catching the force with his hands. He hovered his taut body over her and lay on her, his heavy body melting with Shade’s.

Shade could taste her own juices on Jack’s tongue as he explored her mouth again. She felt her body liquefying when Jack entered her gently and started to fuck her as slowly as he could.  Resting on his elbows he broke the kiss and plunged his eyes in Shade’s. Her green wild eyes were sparkling with lust. Jack couldn’t fight the urge to eat her neck and grazed his teeth on her pulse point.

The agonizing slow pace with which he was making love to her was quickly impossible to keep, Shade was wiggling her hips under him, inviting him to free the beast he had held back for so long. Shade slammed her hands on his ass, pulling and pushing hard to emphasize his thrusts. Jack grunted in her ear, this was thousands times better than he had imagined. "Shade…” he painfully hissed, losing control.

Shade pulled at his hair, forcing him to stare at her again. Her face twisted in pleasure but she needed more time. She parted her lips and captured a sweatdrop on his forehead. The salty taste in her mouth, the tortured sounds coming from Jack’s throat, his fucking scent were sending her over the edge.

“Shade…” he couldn’t hold on anymore. “Yes!” She cried in ecstasy, her thighs tightening around his waist as she came. Her walls crushed his cock as he spilled his load out, deep inside her. In a final thrust, Jack felt his orgasm run through him, powerful and devastating.

“Jesus!” She gasped for air once Jack had rolled to her side.

“Sorry but my name is Jack…” he joked, one hand resting on his chest, breathing heavily. His other hand played with her hair, before he rested on his elbow, staring at her flushed face.

She just chuckled, enjoying the last shot of pleasure traveling down her spine.

He leant over her to taste her lips once again, and sighed.

“Shade… I…” She stopped him, her fingers on his lips.

“Don’t say something you shouldn’t.” She whispered in a smile.

She stirred up then relaxed.  “I told you, you couldn’t handle me.”

Jack rolled to hover over her again but Shade was already on her feet, combing her long damp hair back, her head tilted backwards, offering the breathtaking sight of her perfect body to a crumbled-into-pieces Jack.

Without a word, she swaged to her bedroom, leaving poor Jack alone on the floor.

His short dream was over but it was fucking worth it. It was a shame he couldn’t have shown more of his skills, his hardness was quickly back at the thought.

Shade leant on the frame of the door, her sexy ass swaying to the music of her voice.

“Round 2. Now Cupcake.”

Thank God

@kenzieam @pathybo @tigpooh67 @beautifulramblingbrains @oddsnendsfanfics @frecklefaceb @badassbaker @jaihardi @angelswannawearmyredshooz @bookwarm85 @societalfailure @beltz2016 @pernilleals @captstefanbrandt @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @zarkanic @kaybou902-blog @liendre50 @sporadichologramblizzard-ed17414 @red-diary @singingpeople @writingismyhappytime

[ayabaiii]

Why I’m so nuts for YOI

YOI flipped my switch in a big way, in a head-over-heels way, in a Victor-dancing-with-Yuri-at-the-GPF-banquet-and-realizing-this-was-it way, and I’ve been thinking lately about why it is that I love it SO much. There are so many reasons. A million reasons. A gazillion reasons under the cut because I’m not as cruel to stick this much text at once into your dash.

Sexual desire can be a positive thing: In most Asian media (dramas, anime), sex and desire is usually treated as deviant- if you want it, you’re a slutty slut or a comical horndog, or it has to be way crazy kinky nonconsensual porn shit. In most Western media, it isn’t treated well either- I just finished watching Big Little Lies and sex is all about shame, rage and violence in that series. But in the world of YOI, Victor is super hot for the cute guy who challenged his rinkmate to a dance off, then proceeded to strip and pole dance, THEN CAPPED IT ALL OFF BY SWEEPING HIM OFF HIS ACTUAL FEET, and then he choreographs a skating routine about SEXUAL LOVE about it and ends up making Yuri skate it. A lot of fandom seem to write Yuri off as a delicate flower who knows nothing about sex, but were you all watching the same series as I was? He basically has a sexual awakening as a preteen watching stupid pretty Victor twirl around with his stupid pretty hair and covers his entire bedroom with sexy posters of him (there are posters where Victor isn’t even skating, they are more or less posters to jack off to). He literally says that he is the only person in the world who can satisfy Victor. I’m shit at translating but the Japanese dialogue and narration in the series (I should just watch the blurays because I find the english subs on crunchyroll distracting and not particularly accurate) is... pretty sexy too. They’re in love, but they’re also SUPER attracted to each other, and that’s ok- better than ok, really, because great sex is a cornerstone of healthy and happy long-term relationships. 

The fact that they’re both the same gender is never an issue: No angsting about sexual orientation. Neither party wishes they were a girl (which happens every so often in yaoi). No pandering or queerbaiting. This series is a straight-up romantic comedy: person A meet-cutes person B, person A and person B fall madly in love. No one gives them any shit about it (except Yuri Plisetsky, but my head canon there is that he has an unconscious crush on Yuri Katsuki and is mad as shit that stupid perfect Victor swooped in and stole him away) 

No stupid romantic subplot friction: No super retarded misunderstandings that could be avoided by just talking to each other (I’m looking at you, every Korean drama ever made), no evil love rivals, no contrived situation with parents or other authority figures trying to keep the main couple apart. Their main issues are what most couple’s issues are: proper communication, compromise, and learning what it means to operate as a unit. I also love love love that when Victor gets jealous and possessive in the Yuri on Stage skit, he doesn’t demand to know all the details of whoever he thinks Chihoko is, he doesn’t close off and make it so Yuri only ever talks to him, he drunkenly scrawls “Surpass Chihoko” on Yuri’s naked back, and then proceeds to climb a public edifice naked and scream his love from the top. And when he demands Yuri do it too, instead of telling him he’s crazy or to get down or having a fight, Yuri just strips and gets up there too, to make his stupid hungover husband feel better.  

A realistic portrayal of love: Victor and Yuri are attracted to each other, but the reason they fall in love is that they really get along and like being around the other person. They have fun, they make each other laugh, they excite and surprise each other, they slowly open up to each other, they bicker and squabble because being in love doesn’t mean your partner doesn’t annoy the shit out of you sometimes. Most anime and media treat falling in love like some magical thing that makes your life instantly perfect, which is not the case in real life. They also treat falling in love as a mysterious and sudden thing you have no control over, and honestly for the most part it is, but that’s limerence, not love. Victor and Yuri actually fall in love and stay in love. Their lives are immeasurably better with the other person in it. They fill in each other’s spaces. 

Realistic portrayals of mental conditions: I stay away from saying mental illness because I think anxiety and depression are things most people experience at some point in their lives- some just have it to a deeper or lighter degree than others. Yuri and Victor are both high functioning- Yuri in his anxiety, Victor in his depression. A lot has been said about Yuri’s anxiety, especially given than he’s the narrator of 11/12 episodes, but I was actually hugely impressed by the nuanced and realistic depiction of Victor as a high functioning depressed person. He’s clearly bored and sad and lonely, hugely craving human connection and feeling cut off from people because of his godlike status: every connection he has is in relation to his sport, and they all want something out of him, so when he falls in love for the first time, he ends up becoming a coach because he thinks that’s all he has to offer Yuri to make him fall in love with him too. I honestly don’t think Victor has ever thought about being a coach, nor is he interested in staying one after Yuri: the entire thing was basically a crazy grand gesture to make the cute boy from the banquet fall in love with him (well, in his defense, it worked, so good job Victor). Victor’s only real connection seems to be to his dog, which struck me as enormously and terribly lonely. Hopefully we’ll learn more about his family in Season 2. 

Realism about bodies and how much fucking work it is to be hot: I just spent an hour and a half at the gym so this is on my mind LOL. Most anime and tv shows gloss over the sheer amount of work it actually takes to be a certain shape, and I already knew from episode one where Yuri gains weight after his depression from a seemingly endless onslaught of FML that I was in for the good shit. Any hot person you know who claims they just sit on the couch eating hot wings all the time is a goddamn liar. I’m no longer sample size because I don’t have time to spend 2-3 hours in the gym every single day and I like to have some fried chicken and chips and ice cream now and again. Now, I had some discussion with male friends when I forced them to watch it last week as to how feasible it was for Yuri to lose all that weight in basically a week, and they claim it’s doable / they’ve done similar before, but I think part of episode 1 shows Yuri as an unreliable narrator who seems to think he’s WAY fatter than he is (which is part of the nature of anxiety), so he was probably, like, in actually 10-15lbs or so heavier than his GPF weight vs how he’s portrayed in the anime in the comical fatty-fat-fatty sequences. Victor is also super cut but it looks like he’s always biking/skating when Yuri’s skating /probably spends a lot of time working out to keep that amount of muscle tone (he’s also clearly vain af so you better believe he is all about the gainz).

Body positivity about squishiness: And this is not in a pandering or condescending way. Victor is affectionately into Yuri’s squishy off-season tummy in the Yuri on Stage skit, and Yuri’s objections are only really that they’re in public and around other people while he’s playing with it. I always interpreted Victor’s saltiness about Yuri’s weight / forcing him to get back to his GPF weight when he first arrives in Hasetsu not as Victor actually caring about Yuri staying hot or not, but as Victor being a petty little bleep because he’s annoyed that he showed up just like Yuri asked and Yuri kind of ended up giving him a weird awkward cold shoulder instead of fucking him into the nearest mattress. And in any case, speaking of saltiness...

People can be petty af because they’re human: Victor is a lowkey asshole (the kind of person who’s so beautiful and talented they’ve been able to get away with just about anything because everyone gets blinded by lasers of HOT PERSON IS TALKING TO ME) but still immensely likeable. And Yuri is a lowkey asshole too- see his HAAAAH reaction to Victor’s baiting about past lovers, or his constant poking of Victor’s hair whorl. He’s really likeable too. Sometimes it’s ok to be petty af.

I really wish that a series like Yuri on Ice had been around in my formative years. One of the biggest reasons I love it so much is I feel like it can have such a positive influence on young people- on people who struggle with anxiety and depression, with people who struggle with simultaneously being on top of their game and not feeling good enough. More importantly, I think it gives a really great primer on the RIGHT way to be in love. My college best friend was a philosophy major and one of her professors once said in class “If it wasn’t for movies, no one would ever fall in love,” and looking back on toxic relationships I’ve been in and people I shouldn’t have slept with, it’s most likely I used tv and movies as a primer for what seemed like socially acceptable behaviour for love: tumultuous drama as PASSION, jealousy and possessiveness as being marked by a great love, sex as a substitute for emotional intimacy. Being older and wiser and through the gauntlet I know a lot more now about what’s good for me, but if I’d had something like Yuri on Ice back in my teens, I think I would have made some better decisions. So I’m glad a series like this is out there now. Hopefully it’ll make a new generation of young’uns (or even old’uns!) make better decisions than I did (well, most of them, anyway. I had a lot of fun, and you should too)

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 21

Master List | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Reference to a suicide attempt, light smut

A/N: For a fic that I originally imagined to just be a quick smutty one shot... 21 chapters later... the smut I imagined FINALLY happens. Or... starts to happen. Though my favorite part in this isn’t even the smut. Seriously, I love this chapter a lot and I hope y’all do too.  

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays @breezy1415 @creepshowzombae  @alyssaj23  @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317  @buckaroo-barness

You would like to say you paid full attention to Ms. Davis’ performance in Jezebel but that would be a lie. Nothing much happens but you keep feeling yourself distracted by his hands those strong fingers winding their way through your own, his steady breathing, his small reaction sounds. You wonder at how immovable he feels.

At one point you can’t keep from tilting your head back to see his face, relaxed and happy. When he notices the next five minutes are filled with him covering your face with kisses and your soft laughter.

You both hardly notice when the movie ends. You’re holding his left hand up in both of yours examining it while his right-hand traces circles on your abdomen. As you place a kiss on the metal of his palm he sighs in contentment.

“Can you… feel that?”

“Yeah,” he presses his palm against your right, “sort of. It’s as if… you know when a limb falls asleep and goes almost numb but you can still feel?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s kind of what it’s like.” He flexes his hand forming a fist and unfurling it, “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” you bring his hand back to your lips and kiss each fingertip, “it’s a part of you.” You look up and trace his jaw line with your index finger. “And I’m beginning to think I like all the parts of you.”

His face turns dark and he looks down at you, “You don’t know all the parts of me.”

Your hand presses into his cheek and your tone stern, “I meant what I said, Bucky.” For a second you think he will argue but instead he covers your right hand with his own and closes his eyes for a moment breathing deep.

He moves your hands from his face and looks at your own calloused palm. You notice his breath catch as his fingers slide down your forearm. They’re almost invisible, these old scars, but the skin was still raised a little. One thin line, three inches or so from the base of your wrist down.

“Got a matching set,” you say lightly holding up your left arm. His touch is feather light as it runs down the scars.

“When?”

“I was 14.”

His breath seems to rush out of him, “Christ, Y/N.”

You shrug, “Didn’t exactly have a positive childhood experience.” That’s a gross understatement but you’d rather not dive into that deep dark pool of memory. “I kind of forget about them, to be honest. Used to have them covered with tattoos.”

“Really?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” you run your hands down your arms. A bitter laugh tumbles out, “I was pretty covered overall. But…” Tattoos were recognizable. Tattoos made you an individual. In Hydra, you had no individuality, no choices.

Bucky runs his fingers over your scars and presses a kiss on your cheek, “What were they?”

You let your head roll back onto his shoulder and close your eyes trying to remember your body when it was only yours. “I had a pair of antique scissors on the right and a dress form on the left.” Sadness wraps around your heart, “I loved to make clothes.”  You sigh, “There were so many more. I started running out of real estate.” A laugh, “One of my favorites was on my left ass cheek.”

Bucky laughs, “Oh god!”

“It was a heart that said Not Your Baby inside.” You shake your head, “I got it on valentines day one year.”

“Just because?”

“Because men made me hate that word. It was all, ‘Hey baby. Nice ass baby. Why don’t you come over here baby,’ on the street. As if that was actually going to get them somewhere.”

He shakes his head, “On behalf of men I apologize.”

“You can actually answer a question I’ve always had.”

“Shoot.”

“Did guys do that… before… like when you were…” you fully regret this question.

But he just laughs, “Oh yes. We had other words than baby, but I regret to inform you that men have always been dogs.”

“Knew it.”

He laughs and twines his fingers with your own again and gives you a squeeze.”Do you think that soups ready?”

“Probably,” you untwine your hands, stand, and stretch. When you turn around he’s taking you in with a contented smile on his face. “Enjoying the view or something,” you playfully snipe.

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you down on top of him, “Something,” he purrs before kissing you hard and releasing you.

Dinner is pleasant. The soup is simple but still good and judging by the four servings Bucky has, and his endless compliments, he’s sold on the notion that you know what to do in the kitchen. He puts on more music before starting the dishes and you both sway as he washes and you dry.

As you dry the last bowl he comes behind you and wraps you in his arms, “Dance with me,” he says against your ear making chills run down your spine. The song that’s playing is slow but beautiful.

“Bucky,” you turn to face him, “I really don’t know how.”

“I said I’d teach you,” he steps back out of the kitchen to the small open area in front of the balcony door and extends his right hand. “Please?” His eyes twinkle and that goddamn smile…

“Fiiiine,” you take his hand, “but I take zero responsibility for any foot injuries.”

He laughs, “I can accept those terms.” He places your hands in the right position, “Just a waltz, it’s super easy.”

You laugh, “We’ll see.” He places your hand on his shoulder, “Who taught you to dance?”

“My mom. Follow me.”

You bungle your way through the song and he goes over to put a similar one on. Toes are stepped on, steps are missed, but you’re both laughing so much you can’t care.

“You keep trying to lead. Don’t think about it too much.”

“This whole ‘follow the man’ thing feels a bit patriarchal to me,” you say with a smirk.

“Once you learn how you can lead me all you want.”

Finally, after two more songs, you start to get the rhythm of it. “Minimal injury that time, I’m impressed,” he teases. You sock him on the shoulder playfully, he draws you closer and kisses you, “One more?” You nod and he steps away to change the song.

He takes your hand and you actually do it. The song ends and you throw your head back laughing, amazed that you just did a damn waltz. Bucky’s smile is big and heart-wrenchingly perfect. You float up a bit so your faces are level, wrap your arms around him, and kiss him.

His arms twine tightly around you as the next song starts. The kiss turns from sweet to something more demanding as your body begins to hum. You wrap your legs around him when his tongue finds its way between your lips. His left hand pressing into your lower back and right cupping the back of your head. You nip at his bottom lip and a rumble comes from his chest.

Bucky carries you to the bed, shutting the laptop as he passes. The room is silent save for your breathing. Slowly he sinks to his knees with you still wrapped around him. His hands run up your thighs gathering the folds of your already hiked up skirt, kisses pressing down your neck to the swell of your breasts. His eyes meet yours the question apparent when you nod he lifts the dress over your head.

He tosses it to the side and you lean back on your forearms. While you don’t feel particularly sexy in your boxer briefs this man looks at you like you’re Venus rising from the damn sea. It makes desire coil in the pit of you a feeling you hadn’t felt in so very long.

Tenderly he leans down to kiss you, left arm supporting him, stroking your cheek with his right hand. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.” You nod and his lips hungry catch your own again.

His right-hand leaves your face and wanders down to your left breast, cupping it in his large palm before catching your nipple and rolling its tender tip between his thumb and index finger. This alone sends electricity through your body and you press into him, a small moan slipping out. Falling back onto the pillows his lips wander down your neck once more sucking slightly at your pulse point, nibbling at your collarbones, sending shivers with every inch. When he takes your right nipple into his mouth pulling at it, his right hand still on your other breast, you cry out, hips rising, your right hand grabbing onto his shirt.

Those gorgeous eyes of his look up at you as he slides his right hand down your torso and slips his index finger under the band of your boxers. You gasp at the sensation. Releasing your nipple he moves down the bed and in a flash, he’s between your knees. His lips press against the inside of your left thigh then brush the scar from the tracker you dug out on your right. He runs his hands down your thighs, seeming to enjoy the feel of them and rests at your hip bones fingers slipping into the waistband of the boxers. For a second he doesn’t move further, waiting for you to signal it’s ok. You nod and he pulls them down leaving you fully exposed.

For a moment you just stare at one another. You become hyper-aware of your scars, of your body hair of every single imperfection. But then that immaculate smile blazes across his face.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says as he leans over you to kiss your lips. And instead of doubt you actually allow yourself to believe him.