#you call up the old fuckers and they be all over the fucking country

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

*just looked up the price of the flats i used to live in as a kid* i fink im gonna throw up...

[gloomykiz]

My goated sims 2 headcanons

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "buzz grunt has prostate cancer" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "ripp grunt is a femboy that larps as an anime girl online" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "vidcund curious is a weeb that unironically calls himself an otaku and browses myanimelist. Com every single day" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "Johnny doesn't know if he has asthma or not" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "juliette starts arguments on twitter on purpose and doxxes people while saying shit like " it's over for you lil bro" then tells them to mald and seethe when they get upset over it" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "Alexander goth is actually suffering from severe TİKTOK brainrot, can't get skibidi toilet out his mind, is too invested in TİKTOK rizz party lore and secretly uses shit like SIGMA and GYATT when typing but tries to act like a philosophical gigachad know it all irl (he isn't he's just some 12 Yr old with severe case of tiktokism) " headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "Angela is a fucking Hamilton, Heathers and homestuck fan that ate musical animatics UP" headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "hermia got banned from sephora bc she stole too much shit from there (she is banned in 72 countries) " headcanon

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "lilith calls herself a girlfailure femcel"

You guys will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "Dustin listens to $uicideboy$" headcanon

You fuckers will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "jill is a pyrocinical fan" headcanon

You fuckers will never UNDERSTAND ME until you fuckers UNDERSTAND my "romeo once called idubz a cuck because of his wife opening an only fans" headcanon

I'M OUT THIS BİTCH!!!

[akwolfgrl]

How sweet it is to be loved by them 17

This is a flashback

"Zeff!”

“Chef!”

“Owner!”

A cacophony of various voices screamed for him. The Baratie wasn't even opened yet. They hadn't even started morning prep. Everyone had just woken up, himself included. Not all the staff lived on the Baratie, just some of them. Not everyone had a home to go to after work. Patty and Crane being two of them. They were the first two to bust through his bedroom door. 

“What the hell do you thi…” Zeff started to yell until he saw what exactly they were all yelling about. Patty held Sanji arms length from his body by his armpits, Sanji hadn't hit a growth spurt yet, so he was still small for his age. The eleven year old was struggling kicking and clawing in antep to free himself. Blue flowers were blooming from his blond hair. Sanji was an omega, far too young to be presenting. Most omegas were rather late in presenting, typically not until fifteen to seventeen. They were usually the last to present. 

“Let me go!” Sanji yelled. “Fuckers!” 

“Fuck, Koushirou was right,” He owed him a drink and a call. 

“What do we do?!” Carne asked in a panic. There was not a single omega on this ship…except for Sanji. 

“Put him on my bed and bring me the den den, I have to make a call,” 

The chefs deposit the kid on his bed and scuttle out. Zeff sighs as he watches Sanji huddle in the corner of the bed, glaring at him, one hand gripping his hair thighly, and then the other arm warps around his knees. Soon enough, they brought him the den den and Sanji's stuffed goat. It was the only toy the kid had…he should probably rectify that mistake. For as small as he was, Sanji didn't act like other children. But seeing the boy clutching the goat like a lifeline was proof that he was still a child. A child going through a scary and confusing time. Zeff waited as the call was made. 

“Hello?” Koushirou's familiar voice came threw the snail. 

“You were right,” Zeff got straight to the point, the other omega had been right about Sanji. 

“It's a bit early but I'm not surprised, I suspected he and Zoro would be compatible. Zoro is in his first rut at the moment also early,” Zeff huffed a second warning would have been aprishted. “What flowers is he growing? “

“I've never seen em before, they're blue, ” Zeff admitted as he turned to Sanji, the blue flowers were scattered around his bed as the boy plucked the flowers from his hair, tears streaming down his face. “Shit!” Zeff took Sanji's hands in his own. Their hands were so small he could hold both with just one of his own.

“What's happening?”

“Sanjis plucking his flowers,” 

“Try scenting him, help him make a nest,” Koushirou instructed over the den den. 

Zeff let out a soothing scent, rubbing his free hand over Sanji.

“Noo! I gotta stop it! Fore he finds out!” Sanji whimpers out. “Were suppose ta be alphas! Fathers gonna be so mad at me! He cant find out,” 

“Eggplant it's OK, you don't have to be an alpha,” Zeff had assumed that the boy had been an ophen. 

“Sanji,” Koushirou's voice said. “Did your father tell you that omegas were weak?” 

“Yah,” Sanji sniffles. “He said they were weak and useless like me, even mom had been an alpha,” 

“Omegas are just as strong as alphas, I am an omega and a master swordsman. After your heats over, you should come visit. I'll be more than happy to teach the ways of the old country, where omegas were equal to alphas,” 

“Can I really?” Sanji asked, sounding hopeful,  Zeff wasn't sure if he was asking if he could visit or if he could be strong. Either way was the same answer. 

“Of course, what are you and Zeff going to make with your flower?” Koushirou asked, Zeff never had the opportunity to cook something with the flowers from an omega. He knew it was a common practice. 

“No! You can't eat delphinium! It's poisonous,” 

“Shh it's OK, eggplant. we won't eat it,” zeff reassured his boy. He tucked his blanket around his small body the best he could in a poor attempt at a nest. 

“Hmm let's see," Zeff could hear the pages of a book turning. “delphinium it represents someone with a big heart, the blue is dignity and grace, in love the delphinium symbolizes strong bonds,” Zeff counted to scent sooth and scent sanji as the young boy fell asleep a small quiet purr rumbling in his chest as clutched the stuffed goat. 

[garoumylove]

New Year New Smutty Garou Fic ^.^

Happy New Year everyone! Here’s a very smutty and romantic Garou fanfic I just wrote called ‘Hurt So Good’ :) I’ll leave the intro here and you can read the whole thing HERE since its a bit too long for Tumblr! 

~*~

He holds his bandaged hand in front of his face in the dim heat of early autumn. The shack has no windows and no particular light to offer but his eyes always adjust quickly. The sun is setting- No, just set. Just gone down for the night but Garou lies wide awake. He’d just made it back after a sleepless twenty four hours. There’s a dull ache in his calf where Golden Ball’s little missile got him and this. He clenches and unclenches the bandaged hand lightly. Bandaged is a generous word. It is not a bandage. A rag he found, really. He’ll bandage it up properly soon now that he’s back at his own little headquarters but for now he just wants to lie back for a moment. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. His headquarters. He likes that. The fucking heroes have their Hero Association HQ and the monsters have their own somewhere, he is sure of it, and here he is, in his own headquarters. King of his own castle. CEO of his one-man organisation. He thinks he might even give himself a promotion, employee of the month even. A fun, savage laugh rings out in the stillness. How about that? Employee of the month. So he did amount to something in the end. Heh.

The hand. An annoying injury. An unexpected one. Compliments of Spring Mustachio. But at least he’d gained some experience against blades and that’s always useful. The wound has begun to close up, he can feel the flesh starting to pull together, faster than any human he knows but still far too slow for him. At least it was a clean wound. One quarter of a stigmata. No, they’d never be able to crucify him now. Not even if they tried. There is no one on his side. He has nobody. The situation hasn’t changed. There is no one on his side except his own body, and it’s been cooperating much more than usual lately, stepping up to the challenge. This quick healing a welcome surprise. All his billions of cells in on the plan, cheering him on, working hard to make sure he reaches his monstrous goal. This pain? He looks over his hand again, turning it in the dusk. This pain is nothing. It hurt like a mother fucker, stung like hell as it happened, as he felt the blade pierce the skin, slide against muscle but he was too high on adrenaline to notice much. A half hour later though, it wasn’t so fun anymore. But now it was just an inconvenient ache and tomorrow, he’ll be able to deliver a punch like nothing had ever happened. He is sure of it. This pain, it’s almost gone. But did the bastard really have to slice up his shirt? He’d left the dojo with nothing but the clothes on his back, not intending this phase of his plan to drag out for too long and that was just fucking rude.

The last traces of sun are gone and the cracks in the roof shine a saturated violet. He can hear the last of the crickets outside. Soon they will fall silent. It will be far too cold for them. But for now, tonight especially, it is more than warm enough. Reminiscent of summer. Of broken wood and broken bones, a trail of now defunct dojos across the country. All his own handiwork. These skilled hands. He had never particularly really excelled at this or that before. But he’d poured all his blood, sweat and tears into learning, into training, quickly found he had a knack for it and exploited it to its fullest potential under that old man’s guidance. The geezer seemed delighted. He was so fucking full of himself, Garou’s smile dissipates into a scowl. He felt he was just a trophy, a vessel, a superior demonstration for the old fool’s martial arts. If he’d never shown any particular promise, would the old bastard have shown him as much attention? It was all performative, all conditional, in the end, wasn’t it? What if he’d just ended up as another Charanko (shudder the thought)? Bang wouldn’t have given two shits about him, would he? The scowl tenses. Now look. He’s gone and done it again. Wisps of a blackening, indecipherable turmoil rising, waking deep inside. Feelings he cannot name and doesn’t care to. This hand. This pain. The edges of injured skin and bone and sinew. This pain. This pain is concrete and visceral and real. It has a location, a pinpoint. It’s definable. He can point to it and say ‘Fuck this shit right here’, grip it with his hand when it gets too bad, when it has gotten too bad, grit his teeth and shift his attention somewhere else. An eight. Now a six. It’s gone down to a three. A meager one.

He likes that. That’s what they do, the doctors and the like, isn’t it? Ask you to number it out of ten. It’s still subjective, of course. The ten that he can withstand is magnitudes higher than any normal human, but it’s still a nicely divided scale. Pieces of pain on a line. A graph. He’d always liked graphs. Diagrams. Everything clearly labeled, guiding you through whatever it was it wanted you to know. He remembers himself age eight, flipping through the insect encyclopedia over and over, staring at those beautifully drawn diagrams for hours. The clear labels: Head. Thorax. Abdomen. And then the magnifications. Antenna. Compound eye. Wing. Femur. Posterior spiracle. The Latin names of those insects, like unpronounceable magical incantations. Allomyrina dichotoma. Japanese rhinoceros beetle. If monsters were species and had names, what would his be? What is Latin for ‘monster’? He knows rex is king. He’d learned that as a kid looking through the dinosaur books in elementary school during the lonely recess. Rex, he’d whispered the enchanting foreign word under his breath. Rex. King. What does he hope his species name would be now? Something rex. It must end in rex. Or god? Should it be god? What is god in Latin? And what’s monster? Ah, who cares.

The thought of elementary school stokes the fire that he’d just managed to extinguish inside. He looks down his body, laying on the frayed couch. His chest, with the goddamn torn shirt, rises and falls with each breath. Unlike his martyred hand, there is nothing to direct his attention to when this bullshit starts, this storm inside. It’s all inside. Something unstoppable, uncomfortable, uncontrollable. He pushes the fist of his good hand against the hard muscle of his chest. Right there. The scowl grows brutal. If he could only reach in there, even punch through his ribs, pull it out like some sort of unwelcome intruder, crush it in his fingers and feel its blood drain so it could never bother him again. His knuckles press into his skin, sharp and unforgiving. He does not have the words for it. There is no number he can assign. Whatever is happening inside him, that seems to happen every so often, especially when memories come up, whatever this is, it escapes definition and yet never, ever fails to torture him.

He is not stupid. He is not so illiterate that he can’t say ‘This is anger’, or ‘This is resentment��. He knows this. He has been angry for almost as long as he can remember, not quite all his life, but ever since that little shit Tacchan decided to make it his mission in life to torment him on the school playground with its peeling paint and holey fence. This writhing anger. He knows there is anger in there. Rage. Pure unadulterated fury, simmering and smouldering from so long ago. He is not so stupid. But the merits of language only go so far. And while, on the surface, he can point and say ‘This is anger’ or ‘This is frustration’, the reality is that under that same simplified surface is such a seething mass of tangled darkness he cannot even begin to think of where to start unraveling it. He remembers in middle school, one of their more progressive teachers, projected an abstract painting onto the white board, for what purpose Garou does not remember. But he remembers staring at the furious maze of black and white lines and shapes that resembled nothing he could name. It frustrated and fascinated him, this abstract art or whatever the fuck it was called. It was just like what he felt, stil feels, inside. Nothing he can name, or grasp, but so much of it. So hot and burning from the inside. Not just burning but suffocating, clawing its way as if through his ribs and up his throat. Like it wants something and will not rest.

At first he’d tried to push it down. Suppress it. Fight back. It was too dangerous, unwieldy and uncontrollable. But as he harnessed his physical prowess at the dojo, day after day, staying later than anyone else, repeating drills until his muscles ached, until he could barely move, until Bang scolded him that that was enough, as he harnessed his physical power, honed it, he learned to use his inner demons as fuel for the fire. He directed it into every hit, every bone-crunching punch. Maybe he couldn’t understand, might never understand it, but he could use it. He’d imagine this dark, hot liquid rage sitting in his chest, his mind, direct its course into his arm, into his fist, let it explode. The satisfaction of it like nothing else. Nothing else. Well, almost nothing. A corner of a thought flickers somewhere in his mind, like a bright spark in a chaotic night. It appears and extinguishes itself almost as quickly as it came. Interesting as always. But this mess inside him, this absolute bedlam, it ain’t so bad. Like a contract with the devil. Except when he loses grip and he is no longer using it, but is being used by it. When he finds himself in the palm of its hand. This howling pain that has no words and all he can do is pace, wrestle with it (it always wins), appease it by bringing a sacrifice. Some unsuspecting poor bastard in a hero costume sometimes does the trick. But not always. When it overtakes him, forces him down memory lane and he has no choice but to watch, to relive those things. When he’s forced to confront everything that’s under the brutal anger. The emotions he cannot name, white hot and desperate. Memories of classmates, and teachers, and parents and…

And then it gets harder to breathe. Ragged, jaw clenched.

How would you rate your pain out of ten? And all he can do is gasp. Numbers become inconsequential, lose all meaning. It’s not anger anymore, it’s… It’s… What the fuck is it? What is it that lives and breathes inside him and gives him no peace? Memories of people’s faces. People he had loved, had tried his best for. People who never smiled. People who made him feel… What? What is this terrifying feeling? It’s not even one. Not one feeling. An amalgamation of many. A stitched together nightmare. What is it? Why these memories? And he doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t want to. Clawing his way back to control. Always in control. Always.

Always? The spark again. A moment. Slightly longer. And gone.

The night grows more sultry and all this thinking is getting frustrating. He sits up, pulls off his black shirt. Looks down, inspects his chest. A bruise here, and one there, barely visible, camouflaging in the dusty darkness of this cabin. He rubs his hand against one, then the other. It feels like nothing. No pain. Not here. His body doing its best to not let him down. His body, a perfectly honed killing machine. Each vein, each fibre of muscle… Anyone who saw him would say he’s at his peak, but he knows this is not yet true. There is still room for improvement. He can still get stronger. There are still so many fucking assholes to crush, so much justice to mete out. He has this sudden realisation, an epiphany, that for him happiness is a zero sum game. He finds he is most happy when his enemies are not. If others are happy he cannot be. His happiness depends on their fear, their misery. He lies back down, only slightly cooler half-undressed. He stares up at the punctured ceiling, one arm behind his head. A zero sum game. He won’t be happy unless they’re terrified. He cannot be happy unless they’re… His thoughts trail off. His mind slowly shifts as his chest continues to rise and fall slowly in the dark, the air pressed so close against his bare skin, against the sculpted muscles of his torso, following the glistening little trail of sweat down his left pectoral. His hand reaches out in front of him briefly, as if reaching for something, someone on top of him. No, not everyone. There was an exception.

An unexpected exception. ~ A few months prior. Start of June. Well, that’s when the exception happened. The real start was before that. The year before. When he’d still been going to school more or less regularly. She had been new last year. This in itself was not anything to write home about. In their school, their neighbourhood, kids came and went all the time. The thing to write home about was that she was somewhat foreign. He says somewhat because he had always been too polite to ask. What was the fraction of Japanese? A half? A quarter? An eighth? A numerator of one over the denominator of what? It didn’t really matter in the end. She was a new species. She kept to herself mostly and would answer in polite and formal Japanese with a sweet, accented inflection when anyone cared to talk to her. He couldn’t figure out if it was just the rookie mistake of any language learner, always being taught the most polite forms just in case, or whether this was a brilliant trick to keep people at arm’s length. He had never caught on. But the idea of a language barrier appealed to him. It was a perfectly valid excuse to have people not bother you, one that he couldn’t feign. But it didn’t matter. By that time he’d already carefully constructed a reputation for himself stronger than any language barrier and it was rare for anyone to approach him for anything really. The only one being his homeroom teacher who had been on his fucking case non-stop for this or that or some other shit. The girl was there. And from the back of the class where he sat, interesting to look at. Always wearing a polite smile and glasses. She didn’t seem to have integrated herself into the social life of the class but neither did she seem too bothered by it. She participated in everything and answered all questions, always in that formal and ultra polite Japanese. And no one could say a bad word about her but she never seemed to fully fit in. A foreign import into their indigenous class ecosystem. And interesting to look at.

...the rest can be read here! xoxo

[princesscolumbia]

So I'm once again seeing so-called "conservative" content on my dash...

...and I'm just not having it.

There's a LOT that goes into my worldview and the way it was formed and the nuances and philosophy that formed who I was growing up and who I am now, but, to use the broadest of all possible strokes, it boils down to this:

Whatever side Nazis take is the side I will go out of my way to end!

Everyone who just stood up (and has a Nazi armband in their back pocket, safely out of sight so you think we'll give you pass to vomit the shit you let clot your corrupted, rotting cranial cavity), SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT UP!

And yes, we have Nazis. Turns out they didn't all get the bullet after killing all the queers, Jews, and whatever people of color they could get their hands on (SHUT UP! Fuck your Holocaust denial! You don't get a FUCKING VOTE if you try to PISS ON THE GRAVES OF MILLIONS OF PEOPLE!), some of them just hid because they knew what would happen to them if they opened their mouths and tried that shit again!

But here we are a few generations later and it seems the Nazis forgot how hard we stomped down on them eventually.

I was an American Conservative once, too. I learned from all the right places and right people about how modern conservatism was a good thing and the right thing and we had to "stop the libs" in order to keep our country from turning into a new Soviet state or something.

And in some ways, I haven't changed my mind, but that's for another post, because the opinions I still have from then are STILL THE OPPOSITE OF THE SIDE NAZIS ARE ON!

Even up to the start of the pandemic, I was still staunchly conservative, pushing back against what I saw as liberal pushes to subvert our country and make things worse for everyone.

Then: "...oh, uh...that's a Nazi. Saying the same things I'm saying. That's okay, 'cause the conservatives in leadership positions will surely repudi...ate...them... They're agreeing with them."

"Well, that's okay, I'm sure my fellow conserv...I'm surrounded by Nazis, aren't I?"

Myth after conservative lie after "evangelical christian" talking point were knocked over like pins in a bowling alley. Things that I had been told over and over were just facts of life were having the masks ripped off and exposed for being the greedy old rich white man trying to fuck over the "punk kids," usually largely people of color and queer folk.

Am I mixing metaphors a little? Yeah, probably, but I'm fucking MAD AS FUCK that these FUCKERS ARE GOING TO BE A THING EITHER I OR MY DAUGHTER HAS TO DEAL WITH!

Why do I hate Nazis so much? Well, in no particular order:

They KILL PEOPLE FOR BEING DIFFERENT FROM THEM

They burn books that contain opinions that they don't like

They KILL PEOPLE FOR BEING QUEER

They don't actually produce anything, they just consume and conquer and play a shell game with their economy (whatever the size) and when the music's about to stop they hold the band at gunpoint and keep things going until it eventually collapses, then they blame someone else. (Usually, the Jews, and if that doesn't work they blame the queers)

They KILL PEOPLE BECAUSE OF THE MELANIN CONTENT OF THEIR SKIN

They concoct psuedoscience to support their beliefs, resulting in intellectual stagnation that, if passed down to their children, becomes entrenched

They KILL PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY DON'T LIKE THE LOOK ON SOMEONE'S FACE

Oh, and in case I may have glossed over this part:

I HATE NAZIS BECAUSE THEY KILL PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE!

Scratch a Nazi and you'll find a school bully. Plant a school bully and in 10-20 years you'll have a fresh-from-the-plantation Nazi. (word choice was deliberate, because you can't corrupt a child to view their fellow human beings as sub-human without showing them how to treat them as sub-human)

And I think we all know what Steve Rogers did with Nazis.

Did you question the results of the 2020 election? I mean, there were a bunch of people saying some really bad things about election tampering and the like.

...and they all turned out to be white supremacists and Nazis. All their "evidence" was smoke and mirrors and if you questioned the Nazi rhetoric you were a dirty [N-word] or [K-word] or [F-word] or [T-word] and probably voted for Biden!

Did you think the Jan. 6th Insurection was a grassroots movement and it was just a bunch of people trying to take their country back? Yeah, and I'm sure a bunch of them thought so too...but even more of the insurrectionists turned out to be white supremacists and Nazis. And look at that, they were being FUCKING ORCHESTRATED by Republicans who wanted to seize power from duly elected officials. And supported by Nazis.

We're at the point in history where they're not even trying to hide what they're doing, or if they are trying, they're failing. ("Project 2025," anyone?) The same people who are saying the quiet part out loud now (how they think Jews should be put to death and blacks should be enslaved and brown people need to be mass deported regardless of nation of birth and all queer folk should be rounded up and shot, etc.) are the same people who believe that Trump should have king-level powers and immunity and cheered on the passage of laws that restrict medical care for women and children (with the goal of extending that restriction to adults that fall into the category of "people we don't like") and the same people who cheer for Putin as he spins lies out of whole cloth to invade Ukraine and the same people who declared the vaccines were going to kill you or plant trackers in your body and the same people who said respiratory masks were the government trying to police your actions and the same people who said that the rioters carrying tiki torches and calling for racial segregation were "just good American boys who don't mean any harm" and the same people who...

...I think you get the point.

The Nazis were in our midst the whole time, they just weren't waving a flag or wearing an armband.

I've been burned. I've been burned badly. I've had my trust in the conservative movement gutted, my faith in America shaken, and my previous worldview shattered. You'd better believe I'm hyper-aware when it comes to dog whistles, false flags, and code-speak. And remember, I used to be one, so I know the conservative playbook.

I may not be able to actually kill a Nazi, but get 'em banned on social media? Get 'em blocked on chat apps? End their influence before it starts wherever I can? You bet your ass I'm going to take whatever action I can to end the threat before it becomes my daughter's problem.

Because my daughter is growing up well aware that one mom is queer and the other mom Gets Looks™️ and is culturally guilty of being queer by association. My kiddo is well aware the world she's going to inherit is a place that could be very, very bad.

And my daugher is neurodivergent.

Which means she has a hardwired sense of fairness and justice.

Which means she's going to step up in the bravest and most noble way possible, and I want to make sure when she finds that hill to die on that her mom has done the hard work before her and she's not actually gonna die on that hill.

'cause she hates Nazis as much as I do.

And that means it's bad news for Nazis, because my hatred of Nazis pales in comparison to how much I love and want to protect my daughter.

So if you're a Nazi, just remember, I'm with The Captain.

No, not that one, this one:

And remember, if you're standing with the Nazis? Even if you say you're "not a Nazi," it's awfully hard to tell, what with the red, white, and black flag you're standing under.

[unhingedwomandiaries]

Got a message from Paul today. You know Paul - the golden boy who got his PhD faster than most people get over a hangover. The same Paul who somehow ended up with my old beachfront apartment like the universe was playing fucking musical chairs with real estate. We rarely talk now that I'm in a different country, like two characters who got written out of different seasons of the same shitty show.

He starts with the usual small talk bollocks, and I'm playing along because that's what normal people do, right? Then he hits me with "Not so great, actually," and my mind starts tingling.

Turns out Paul was sleeping on his deck like some kind of minimalist homeless person. Garden furniture, of all things. I get it though - there's something about those patio couches that just make them so comfortable.

But then the story takes a turn darker than Dexter's murder fantasies. Paul wakes up to "very loud disturbing screaming sounds," which in my experience is never followed by "and then everything was fine and we all had ice cream." It's usually followed by sirens, body bags, or both.

What he witnessed next would make even my twisted brain do a double-take: some fucked-up excuse for a father trying to drown his own kids in the ocean. And here I am, adding this waste of oxygen to my mental list of People Who Deserve Creative Endings, right between "Man Who Kicks Dogs" and "Woman Who Puts Raisins in Perfectly Good Cookies."

Paul called the cops because apparently that's what functional members of society do. Me? I would've been tempted to introduce Dad of the Year to the bottom of the ocean himself. See how he likes a midnight swim. But that's just my helpful nature showing through.

"Why do those most deserving of being parents have to get so robbed and these fuckers get to walk around?" Paul asks, like the universe gives a shit about fairness.

Paul's properly shaken up. And you know what the worst part is? Some bleeding heart will probably call it mental illness. Like being a complete psychopath is just something you catch, like a cold or herpes.

Sometimes I think I'm the crazy for getting so worked up over these awful stories. Then I think maybe I'm the sanest person in this whole fucked-up world.

[g3sdogden]

Hate the people acting like voting for biden is going to save us from fascism more than the people who're actively, openly fascist TBH. Part of it is their disgusting paternalistic "you don't know what you're saying" bullshit, which when coupled with them not actually understanding how shitty things are right now and how bad they're going to be REGARDLESS of who wins this next presidential election makes them fucking insufferable

Like, y'all had your chance to show you could push biden leftward; you didn't, and he's actively turned rightward from four years ago, just like we fucking said he would. At this point he's ALSO openly fascist, and unlike trump he's driving us towards a repeat of nazi germany UNOPPOSED, meaning it doesn't fucking matter if he's driving us there more slowly, we're going to get there at roughly the same damn time either way because he's hitting all green lights and isn't getting pulled over every five minutes for speeding and attempting to run red lights

we have ALREADY LOST the fight against fascism, we are ALREADY THERE, and what we're looking at is a question of which senile old man drives this country off that cliff, and the shitstains saying "but you gotta vote blunomattahoo" are actively supporting the rise of fascism. This strategy of yours is why we're in this situation as it stands; it doesn't fucking work! When the only thing we, as a people, can LEGALLY do to affect change is cast or withhold our votes as we wish, then DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE act like us withholding our vote is US being ignorant of the risks! I am already expecting to get rounded up and die in a goddamn concentration camp regardless of which of your dictators win! Why would I help YOU absolve YOURSELVES of your willful compliance with the rise of fascism!? Your "vote for the lesser evil" strategy only works if you're actively planning a goddamn revolution, but you fuckers ain't, so you're just saying you want blussolini instead of cheeto hitler, and that ain't good enough, YOU ain't good enough, I CAN'T vote directly in favor of my own death, and I DON'T have the ability to go making calls like you fuckshits keep thinking works when it absolutely fucking doesn't, so when you say to vote blue no matter what happens, no matter how similar the platforms and actions and attitudes of both parties become, all you're saying is for me and mine to FUCKING DIE QUIETER so you can go back to your fucking brunch!

You want my vote, my worthless spitting into the ocean that's nothing but a performative farce, then you fix your goddamn candidate!

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

No no, you're right about that, there should be something done about the fucker expressing support for a genocidal government.

And I wish we could do more. I'm sure there's some calls to action and shit going around.

But unfortunately right now, I don't see any better options. Let's be realistic right now, election year is coming at us faster than the bullet train. The political ads are gonna be coming in droves. We know this.

How many Democratic options do you HONESTLY think have a chance to take the win from Joe without majorly risking an overwhelming GOP candidate taking it and fucking over this country even more than they already have?

We cannot afford to be scattered. We can call the fucker out. I'd would love to see a call to action against Biden for his bullshit. I would love to see accountability taken and the people rising up. I wanna see him piss his loafers over this.

Any GOP candidate will adopt the bs of 'it was a riot ' and harm anyone who protests them. A GOP in Congress openly said they were going to make Gaza a parking lot on TV. That piece of shit has not been held accountable at all either. It isn't just one. This whole system is a dumpster fire and we have a lot to break down and fix. And right now...no matter what we do. It's still gonna look messy.

It isn't about perfection, it's about being able to build better over time. And unfortunately with the old fuck we have, I cannot see any possibilities to even attempt to move forward with anyone else.

As it stands right now, I just want to make sure I'm not gonna be forced to produce an able bodied worker as our current speaker of the house so disgustingly demanded.

We truly cannot help others if we are in a fucked up state of our own.

And honest to gods if we can have a good faith convo where we can be open about this like I feel you and I have been having, I welcome it in the messages. Seriously. I feel like at the bottom line, you and I want the same thing. What we may have a discourse about is how to get there.

This tweet is great and true, and I can't stop thinking about the synergy of it and the user picture. It's like Roger from 101 Dalmatians is shouting this at a DNC shill on the phone when asked if he'll vote for Biden. Headcanon accepted.

@yourfaveisleftist

Roger Radcliffe is an anti-colonial socialist

[decayingblorg]

30/12/2022

I’ve never been one for blogging alot, because writing down feelings and emotions is something I’d rather not do truth be told!

My New Year’s resolutions are; Play more games and start blogging about life and things in general. Just a respite to unleash and wax lyrical about stuff no one will give a fuck about. But I think I need the release, somewhere I can read back and reflect. Not just on the good days but also the bad days! No one will probably read all these, but I just wanted somewhere to talk and ramble mostly! Write whilst no one is watching! Sounds quite nice truth be told, let out all the emotions needed in the writing format! Always been a better way for me to express myself anyway.

Let’s just continue the ramble. Today has been a fucker of a day. I am currently playing through an incredibly old PS2 game called “Dragon Quest VIII Journey of the Cursed King” a remaster was made for the 3DS and I got it for Christmas with the intent of actually playing it as opposed to just adding it into my expanding collection. And there was this one fucking bit which just wouldn’t work and I’d tried everything and then I started getting angry and shouting at it (Honestly have a short temper). I swear I was looking for the solution for like 3 hours. The save I loaded up wasn’t as far ahead as what I was hoping, so go back through the quests and finally it actually let me do the thing (granted it’s silly to get so annoyed over something so trivial, it just happens sometimes that is all. But the frustration was getting so tense that I just ended up bawling my eyes out. Because I was trying not to shout and get angry and try and take the calm approach. Just cry my heart out it seems (truth be told it totally worked out and I felt less angry after letting it all out) finally managed to get it all sorted, the story has gone on and I am beyond happy I can get back to playing it and just enjoying it.

There was a particular quest about a king called “Pavan” and he was distraught with the death of his wife “Queen Sasha” that he’d been in mourning for two years and all he wanted was to see her one last time. After an elongated search we found someone called Ishumauri who was able to show Pavan memories of Sasha and you could see how truly lost and distraught he had been since her untimely death. But remembering stuff she’d told him really did something for him. He was told by her to be a strong, good king for his country and that is what she knew he was capable of. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it really almost brought tears to me eyes. I don’t do a great job explaining it truth be told, but it’s definitely something to experience for yourself (may it be via a walkthrough or a playthrough yourself)

Nothing much else to do really. Just want an early night more than anything just to catch up on some sleep and look moderately presentable for New Year’s Eve. What I wouldn’t give to be in bed early because I hate new years. I don’t want to stay up until midnight! I’m not that young anymore. I am usually in bed by 10 these days! But it’ll be another long day of hopefully getting so much further in this game!

I just hope I can finish the game before the 10th of January because one of my favourite games of all time “Final Fantasy XIV” is finally getting its next patch! 6.3 is looming and I am super excited! Do love me the story very muchly

[charnelhouse]

Is it too much to ask to get railed against a tree and creampied by Rick in the middle of a mission so I have to go through the rest of the day feeling him drip down my thighs

A/N: Rick Flag x F!Reader. Semi-public sex. Creampie vibes. Dirty talk. Nasty trash ahead.

It’s like he can smell you.

Fighting gets you wet and gets him hard and he never knew that he could just act on those impulses.

We have a mission.

Waller doesn’t give a shit about either of us. Block out the coms for ten minutes. You and me.

It’s not right.

You pin him with that look - that petal lip smile like you can read his damn fucking mind and know all the fantasies he has for you - what he jerks himself off to alone in the shower.

Give in, Rick. For me. For you. It’ll help get your head on straight.

Really - he wanted to ask when has pussy ever made anyone relax? Especially yours because he just knew it was probably pretty and soft and he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else for the rest of his god damn life.

He didn’t though. He just let you take his hand and lead him into some dense foliage and well - it had peeled him open.

It was very unlike him, but he found you inevitable. A sour-candy addiction in which your presence literally wound around his ribs and lungs and took him for a damn ride. It had started slow - your mouth on his cock or him fingering you up against the hull of the jet. A quick respite from the chaos and from Flag having to herd Task Force X with a straight face.

Things had escalated. He wanted more - needed more and that’s really what it had come down to. He had discovered that he required you in a very real way. The stress of trying to handle a troop of near-useless bad guys was getting to him. Their missions didn’t necessarily fail, but the fatalities were off the fucking charts.

“Isn’t that the point?” you murmured as you rested your cheek on his bare stomach - nails skating across his abdomen and making his breath catch. “We’re the suicide squad, Flag.”

He traced the shell of your ear - letting your warmth sink into his skin. This quiet moment just for them - locked away in his shitty apartment where Waller couldn’t find you.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But one of these days it’s going to be you and I’m not going to be able to live with myself.”

“Way to kill the mood, Flaggy.”

“Nothing kills your mood.”

“You’re not wrong.”

You didn't mope over the possibilities - the statistics. You stuck to him and let him burn for you and that was that.

"Focus on me and then the mission and then all the dirty things we can do when we get home."

"You've turned me into a sex fiend."

"I know. It's fucking awesome."

***

So it's no surprise that Rick finds himself striding after you when they touchdown on another deserted beach - in another red-marked country. The intention in his steps is carved with that hunger - that near-panic he has until he's stuffed inside you.

It’s just the two of them and the air is soft with Spring heat - with the dull roar of the ocean rolling across their backs. The other teammates are scattered in different places and Rick knows Waller’s going to be too focused on her bigger villains. Her big dogs. You’re old news for her - reliable and sturdy as a Jaguar’s engine. She trusts Flag and she’s never had an issue with you so Rick is well aware that they’ve got time. Half an hour, maybe.

You glance at him over your shoulder - the telltale quirk of your lips. “Let’s use that cave.”

He stares past you - sees the dark maw disrupting the rocky canvas that hovers over the glittering blue of the ocean. Shadows and pebbles and it weirdly reminds him of sea-monsters. Starfish. One of the top missions he’d prefer to forget as his new robot-heart hammers beneath the shell of his ribs.

You’d saved him - your fingers firm around that shard of tile - preventing it from jerking a millimeter. “I’ve got you, Flag. You’re okay. You’ll live or I’ll kill you myself, you stupid big fucker.”

“Rick,” you call to him - the breeze ruffling your hair. “Come on, cowboy. We don’t have all day.”

There was that other step in their relationship - you calling him Rick. A habit you’d picked up post Corto-Maltese.

“I’m comin, doll,” he assures as he jogs toward you - chuckling at your pinched expression.

The cave really is a feasible option.

There’s just enough sand with the tide out for them to stand - just enough space for him to shove you against the craggy wall.

He presses himself to your back - his grip flexing around your shoulders as he noses at your hair. His nostrils flare at the scent of you - at the knowledge of how wet you probably are right this moment and how he’s going to be sinking himself into that velvet slick momentarily.

“Best get a move on, then,” he grunts as he gently pushes you forward.

***

I’ve become a total fucking perv.

Rick thinks this as he slides his fingers through your cunt - curling them over the band of your panties and yanking them up so hard the fabric rubs roughly against your clit. He smirks as he watches your palm smack against the cave wall. A hiss flaring hot from your mouth.

“Christ, Rick,” You push your ass out - grind it up against his crotch and they have so little time that he can’t treat you proper. He can’t do much of anything other than hitch your underwear to the side and bury his cock to the hilt. You’re wet enough - soaked and warm as he drives forward - as your perfect pussy spasms and sings around his length.

He curves his body over you - one arm banded beneath your tits while his other hand circles your neck - thumb stroking your jaw with each rut of his cock. He’s fucking you deep as he can - dropping his pelvis as he eases himself out before snapping forward. He does it again and again, the head of his dick deliberately knocking against the farthest piece of you to make you whimper and cry.

He nips your ear - his voice ragged and desperate when he speaks. “You gonna let me cum in you, sweetheart?”

You nod - pushing back against him with your own well-qualified strength. Your cunt is soaked - blooming blood-hot around his cock as he takes you. It’s noisy - the sound of slapping skin and the furious squelch of his thickness splitting you apart echoes long and loud through the cave. Your broken voice falling away before returning to knock him flat. There’s sweat at the nape of his neck - slipping down his spine.

He puts his fingertips against the bud of your sex - thumb circling in torturously smooth motions.

“Fuck, Flag,” you moan. “I’m close...I’m so close.”

“I know,” he mumbles - peppering kisses along your throat - your cheek. He’s wrapped around you - your shape small between his hands as he holds you flush to him. He likes it like this - whether he’s pinning you to a wall or a bed - he likes to cover you completely. He’s tender and sometimes too soft - even during their most brutal, kinky sex. He can’t not kiss you - cradle your face - tell you you’re perfect. He enjoys marking you - making you flush molten if he says something intentionally kind. But he also can be nasty - likes to be - and that was all shit you had taught him.

His grip on your chin tightens as he keeps you locked to his chest. He’s sliding right towards his peak - slamming close with the urgency of a freight train. Pleasure rippling up from the rod of his cock as it stretches your tight little pussy.

“I want to be dripping out of you all day,” he growls. “I want you fighting with me inside you - spilling down those perfect thighs of yours and then when we’re back on that jet, I’ll eat it out of your cunt.”

He feels you contract sharply around him - the urgent inhale from your lungs. He had never said cunt in his life - not until you. He had thought it - sure - but it had not left his mouth until he discovered it made you gush like a river.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You liked that, huh?”

“Yes,” you pant. “Fuck - you’ve turned into such a bad boy.”

“Shit, darlin,” he wheezes - trapping your earlobe between his teeth. “Call me that again.”

Your walls flex around him - violently clamping down as your nails dig into his forearm. “Bad boy,” you repeat before the words dry out on your tongue while another softer climax winks through your core. “Bad...so fucking bad.”

His hips stutter - lose his pace as you milk him for all he’s worth. “For you,” he reminds - voice gone hoarse and ruined. “Only for you, baby.”

His cock spits deep - threads and threads of warm spend that bloom and swell. His grip on you is unforgivably tight - probably bruising - but you just shudder and tremble - pussy twitching with sensitivity as he grinds himself against your plump ass.

He can’t get enough and so he eases himself out of you - drops straight to his knees and spreads you open. The cool air stroking across your flexing cunt - the pearl-white of his cum oozing out of your fluttering hole as he breathes against it. You jerk - your flesh tender and puffy and too wet.

“Flag,” you warn. “Need - need a break.”

He slaps your ass affectionately - pressing a dirty kiss to your parted folds - tasting himself and you and fuck it makes him shiver all over - makes his blood scorch with an untouchable kind of hunger. A swing of adrenaline.

He’s ready to fucking go and he helps ruck your pants up - turns you around and lifts you against the wall before kissing you fiercely.

“You gonna be a good little thing,” he drawls. “Keep me in there?”

You laugh - lunging forward to latch to his mouth - your tongue sweet against his. “Yeah,” you sigh between kisses. “Only if you do what you promised after.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of his word.”

“Then challenge accepted.”

[lubdubsworld]

⋆⋆✵ Perfect Imperfections ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

No one tells you how easy it is to imagine yourself in love with a beautiful man. Especially when you don’t have a clear understanding of what love actually is. 

When I met Jungkook, even knowing he was in love with my sister hadn’t done much to douse the flames of hope and attraction. He was a lot of things that other men in my life weren’t. Kind without being pitying. Concerned without being overbearing. He took care of me without making me feel helpless. And there was always such a thin line between these things that I found myself impressed by his ability to toe the line so well.

Jungkook took care of me without making me feel like a burden and I suppose, some part of me had assumed that this could, in due time turn into love. But I was clearly wrong.

Jungkook and Liza had been kissing in the hallway of their hotel room and someone had taken pictures. My father and his had managed to get them taken down but the news was already out, spreading like wildfire . My phone began ringing sometime around eight in the morning and hadn’t stopped. It was now a little past one in the afternoon and I felt queasy, despite the assurances that it was all being taken care of.

It was the pity in everyone’s face that I couldn’t bear.

I wasn’t hurt. Angry, yes? Upset? Of course. But I wasn’t hurt because there really was nothing to be hurt about. Jungkook didn’t love me. He was in love with my sister . He had made it clear, through his words and his actions, over and over again. At this point, I could see this debacle as nothing more than a possible way to get out of the marriage. Perhaps, my father would approve of a divorce?

I glanced at the article again.

The photo is just so annoyingly clear, I thought with a grimace. If it was a little blurry, I could convince myself it wasn’t him and her. But it was clear. That was my husband with his lips locked with my sister’s. Against my better judgment, I read the article again. It was a gossip column, of course there would be nothing good in there. But sometimes curiosity can be a persistent thing.

I felt my skin crawling as I realized that the phrases were all pretty true. There was no gossip here. Just plain facts.

And then my eyes reached the end of the article.

Of note is the fact that Jeon Jungkook’s wife is disabled and perhaps the virile young man is merely looking for pleasure he can’t find in his own marital bed.

I swallowed, quickly exiting the page and tossing the phone on the bed, away from me. I stared out of the window of our bedroom, the large doors left open to let air and sunlight in. There was a tall sycamore tree right outside out bedroom and the branches almost reached in and I stared at the rustling leaves, trying to scrub my mind clean of the words I’d just read.

But it was impossible.

It wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. The stark difference between me and Jungkook, physically. He spent five days a week in the gym and they were right. He was a young man with healthy sexual appetites.

I’d never cheat on you. Jungkook’s voice from a week ago still echoed somewhere inside my skull.

I sighed, playing with my wedding ring.

I wasn’t a virgin when I married Jungkook. Hadn’t been one , when I got into the accident either. My then boyfriend, a tall strapping lit major had been a very sexual guy as well and our libidos had matched pretty well. But I’d been an athletic nineteen year old, able to bend like a pretzel at his whim and there was just endless time and endless stamina and just a whole lot of attraction . We had spent hours, exploring each other the way college kids do. Weekends in bed spent trying every possible permutation of sex positions and kinks and I’d discovered all the things I liked. All the things I didn’t.

But then the accident had happened and well, when you’re in crippling agony, sometimes sex takes the backseat. I’d been focused on my recovery, on making sure that I came out of this at least with the ability to walk and I’d succeeded. Burying the part of me that craved a man’s touch, it wasn’t easy but it was necessary.

And then Jungkook had happened.

Sex with Jungkook hadn’t been difficult. Not really. I wasn’t completely crippled after all but it was also nowhere near as exciting as it could be with someone who had full use of her legs. I knew that. It was kind of obvious. But I hadn’t dwelt too much on it because to be honest, Jungkook hadn’t looked like he’d minded. He had seemed to enjoy himself .

But then reading about how he probably hadn’t enjoyed it definitely stung.

Worse yet, probably half the country was reading it with me. I felt nauseous. Did no one think that they should have left the last part out of that article? It was terrible enough without adding that bit about me.

A faint buzzing made me turn to the bed.

I glanced at my phone as it rang, my father in law’s name prominent on the screen.

Showtime, I thought with a grimace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I suppose it was too much to hope for , expecting that boy  to keep his dignity. This is outrageous.” Mr. Jeon’s loud voice rang through the foyer of the house and I flinched, gripping the edge of the futon as Sana jumped a bit . She sat next to me, holding my hand carefully. Moral support I supposed but I was feeling entirely too blasé about the whole thing. None of this was unexpected, I thought miserably and I wasn’t feeling up to pretending otherwise.

“I still wish they’d talked to me about this.”

My brother in law’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. The man looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back and I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. He looked wrecked and it was obvious she was in love with my sister. Resentment coiled thick and deep inside me. Resentment and envy.

With no effort at all she had charmed both the Jeon brothers, I thought bitterly.

Jeon Jihyun looked absolutely stricken at the thought of losing his wife.  

“I’ve asked Lisa to take the first flight out. She called me this morning, hysterical. It was something done in the heat of the moment. She .. She’s very apologetic. I believe her and I’m willing to forgive her. We’re…. We’re thinking of starting a family together. ” He said softly and my stomach turned.

I felt my skin go ice cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivering just a bit, I lightly squeezed Sana’s hand. She looked at me in askance and I had to swallow to get my voice out, throat dry. The words made me want to retch. I could imagine how Jungkook would take this news.

“Can you get me my shawl? It’s in the green room.” I said hoarsely.  She bowed before moving away from me and when I looked back up, Jihyun’s gaze caught mine.

“This must be hard on you.” He said softly and I flushed, staring down at my knees.

“Not like I can run from it. Literally or figuratively.” I smiled without mirth.

“Jungkook is …he’s just confused. He needs some time to sort himself out. I’ve asked him to take a break and come back to Seoul after a couple of weeks. The separation would do him some good.” Jihyun said quietly and I sighed before nodding. What else was I supposed to say to that anyway? There wasn’t much I could do, my influence on things almost nonexistent at this point.

“Are you going to give the boy a break, Jeon?” My father demanded, staring at Jungkook’s father who sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get these damned reporters off our back. They’re all over the place. And yes, I think Jungkook should stay in Japan for a while.  We’re starting a new distribution branch there and I wanted him to scout places and possible vendors. I’ll tell him to hash out all the details before coming back.”

His phone rang again and he excused himself . I watched him leave the room, trying to make sense of his words.

How long would it take to build a whole branch in Japan? I had no clue. But it could hardly be done in a few weeks, could it?

“That’s.. That’s a long time.” I said hesitantly and my father frowned.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no point keeping this to myself. I was supposed to go to the doctor’s tomorrow. And well, it would be better if they heard it from me first.

“I.. I’m pregnant.” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the carpet, not able to bring myself to look up at them. I could guess, what I’d find there. It was what I always found in people’s faces.

“Oh, sweet child.” My father’s sigh made me look up and there it was. The pity. I felt sick to my stomach. Sana returned, settling the hand knit shawl over my shoulders and I wrapped it tight, before glancing at her in some desperation. She smiled reassuringly, settling next to me and gently taking my fingers in hers. The warmth grounded me for a second and when Jihyun growled, I stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m going to kill Jungkook. This fucker…” Jihyung swore and my father sighed, clearly thinking hard.

“you can’t be staying alone now.” He said softly, sitting up and cracking his knuckles, and I swallowed. I wouldn’t bear it if they tried to take me back home. I had hated it there.

“ You must come back home with me.” He said softly but I quickly shook my head.

“ No.. No I won’t. I … Please.” I begged, the mere idea of going back to my childhood home a nightmare. My mother would kill me with just her sharp and vindictive words. I was in no shape to put up with her verbal and emotional abuse. It was one of the things that had made me agree to marry Jungkook in the first place.

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.” My father protested. I’ve been by myself my whole damn life, I wanted to scream.

“I’ll be fine. I have Sana and the others to help me.” I said tiredly. My father shook his head before turning to Jihyun again.

“Is Namjoon still working on his book?” My father asked him and Jihyun frowned. The name elicited a tug in my memory and I turned to stare at my father, confused.

“You remember him? He used to tutor you when you were hi High School.”

I had a brief flashback to dimples and almond shaped eyes. I remembered him vaguely. Very vaguely. But nowhere well enough to want him to live with me, alone or not.  

“Dad…” I protested but he held a hand up to silence me, nodding at Jihyun .

“Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? ” He shook his head. “ I’m not sure. Why?”

“I think it would be good if he moves in here. His father was telling me that he was looking for a place to stay, now that he’s moved back to Korea. ” My father said softly, staring at me and I stiffened.

“Father…” I began desperately and my father shook his head.

“Don’t argue. He was a dear friend of yours. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this. And I think Jungkook would approve. Like Jihyun said, the kid needs some space to sort himself out. Let him finish whatever business is going on in Japan.” My father glanced at Mr. Jeon who looked at me with guilt.

“I owe you an apology , on behalf of my idiot son.”

I looked away, not sure what to say to that. I hated the man quite passionately. Jungkook wasn’t perfect… far from it. But this man had taken a sledgehammer to my husband’s mind and heart at every turn. The disdain, the condescension, the sick way he favored his brother over him, the way nothing Jungkook did was ever good enough. It had all taken a toll on my husband. I had watched it chip away at Jungkook’s self confidence, at his mental health.

“I think more than anything, you owe an apology to your son. You knew he was in love with Lisa and yet…. You forced him to marry me.” I said quietly and the room went eerily quiet. My father rounded on me , eyes blazing.

“Leah!!! Apologize, now!” He roared and I looked away.

“You’re all the same. Ungrateful and entitled.” Mr. Jeon said sharply, before turning to his son. “ I’m leaving Jihyun-ah. Tell me when that wife of yours get home. I want to talk to her.”

He shared a half hug with my father before stalking off and my father grabbed his jacket as well.

“I’ll leave as well. Your mother is being quite hysterical. Apparently, all her friends are hounding her about the article.” He sighed and I nodded , watching him shrug on the jacket before nodding at Jihyun and then following his friend out to the front doors.

Jihyun stayed standing , watching my father’s form disappear through the door before turning to me.

“ Are you alright?” He said quietly, moving to kneel in front of me. Sana stood up, bowing before leaving and I watched her disappear into the hallway leading to the kitchens. Jihyun’s fingers wrapped around mine, brushing my knees and I stared down at him.

“The question is, are you alright?” I brushed the hair off his face. He sighed.

“No. No I’m not. I’m angry and jealous and very much filled with resentment towards my brother.” He said honestly and I laughed, tugging on his hand and patting the seat next to me. He straightened before moving to settle next to me and I leaned on his shoulders, sighing as he wrapped on around me, the warmth of his body comforting .

“Are you going to give your marriage a chance?” I asked carefully.

“She told me she was going to break things off for good. We.. We’ve been talking about it. Starting a family, making this work.” He said quietly. I nodded. It was understandable. Unlike Jungkook and I , Jihyun had a responsibility. He would need a son and even though people liked to act like they didn’t care much about gender, like they didn’t care much about having children , it was sort of an unspoken rule. First son of the house ? You had to have a male heir to carry the family name.

I wondered how that conversation had gone between Jungkook and Lisa. It didn’t really match the photo I’d seen.

“I suppose Jungkook probably put up a fight. He genuinely wants to end up with her. He… He tells me often that he loves her and can’t love anyone else. ” I wondered if I ought to feel embarrassed or insulted.

But the truth was, I was numb to a lot of things that had once hurt quite a lot..

The conversation with Jungkook about my pregnancy had definitely cleared things up for me. There was nothing there worth salvaging. Chasing something that wasn’t real , that was foolishness. Especially when I had a very real baby to think about. A child that counted on me to make the right choices.

“I don’t think he did. She spoke to me last night and said that he agreed. Of course that was before the article came out. I’d like to think she didn’t lie to me but I’m not sure.”

I sighed, settling in closer to his chest. He was warm and firm, solid and reliable. I wondered if it would have been easier, if my father had just married me off to Jihyun instead. Jihyun and I …we were alike. We had been friends , even from childhood. Had watched with fond adoration as our younger siblings had fallen madly, wildly in love. Jungkook and Liza had been drawn to each other from the first. Inevitable.

Jihyun and I were more carefree. We didn’t feel things that intensely and perhaps that was why we could sit here in the calm of the afternoon air, quiet and introspective when we ought to be furious and raging.

“ Should we run off together? You and i?” He said suddenly making me laugh.

“Very much incapable of running.” I reminded him with a grin and he squeezed my shoulder .

“I’d carry you.” He said simply.

“Where would we go?” I asked curiously, indulging the fantasy for just a few minutes.

“Somewhere far away. Maybe India? There’s so many people there and we could get lost in the crowds.”

“That does sound appealing.” I smiled and turned to look up at him. His face inches from mine, not as handsome as Jungkook but strong featured and kind. “ But I’m not alone anymore. I have a child.”

His gaze dipped to my lap.

“Yes. Jungkook’s child.” He said thoughtfully.

“No. Mine. Nobody else’s . Just mine.” I said quietly. Jihyun’s gaze softened. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, echoing his father’s words.” On behalf of my idiot brother, I’m sorry.”

And where Mr. Jeon’s words hadn’t made any sort of impact, Jihyun’s made my heart clench and ache in the worst way. Self pity was something I loathed but sometimes, being handed the short end of the stick at every turn in life makes it impossible to not feel sorry for yourself.

Tears stung, welling up in my eyes and spilling over my lashes like water bubbling out of an aquifer.

I blinked slowly, not bothering to wipe them as they traced a path down my face, dripping into the fabric of my shawl. In a moment of clarity I wondered what Jungkook must be going through now. Nothing good for sure.

It definitely said something, that I still worried for him. Sighing, I let Jihyun hug me closer. I would take advantage of his kindness for a few more minutes. It had been a while since someone had held me like I mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called Jungkook that evening.

It wasn’t an easy choice but my heart ached and my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn’t want to get lost in my own thoughts so I didn’t overthink it. We were still married. I was allowed to call him.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” I asked quietly and Jungkook’s groan made my face heat up a little.

“I… Leah?” He sounded groggy. I glanced at the time. It wasn’t late.

“Are you sleeping?”

He didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We.. We didn’t do anything else. It was just.. it was a kiss. Just that.”

“Are you still in the hotel?” I asked quietly ignoring his words.

“ For tonight, yes. Dad wants me to stay with a friend of his. I’ll be going over to their place tomorrow morning.” He replied .

Silence followed for a few seconds.

“Namjoon is moving in tomorrow.” I said stiffly.

Jungkook didn’t respond for a minute or so.

“Yes. Father said it’s a good idea. And I agree. You shouldn’t be alone while I’m here. He’s right. Hyung’s a nice guy. He’ll help you out.” Jungkook said softly.

“Liza came home. She wanted to talk to me.” I said quietly.

Jungkook didn’t reply and I sighed.

“I told her I wasn’t going to talk to her before I talked to you. I don’t… I don’t want to say anything to her that I haven’t already said before. But I still want to know your thoughts on all this. Your plans, that is. I take it you weren’t happy with her ending things.” I said stiltedly.

Jungkook didn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Leah. It was over when we both agreed to marry other people. Maybe even before that, I don’t know… I … I guess I just didn’t want to acknowledge them.” He said quietly. “ She’s different, now. Even that kiss felt so wrong.  She’s moving on. I’m glad in a way. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like hyung. He’s better than me in everyway and-”

God I wanted to strangle him.

“So why did you kiss her?” I snapped. “ If you’re so generously letting her go why would you…” I stopped.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was barely for a second.” He muttered. “ whoever it was must’ve been videoing us for a while.”

I had to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, this little detail made no difference.

“Right.” I sighed. “ So, you won’t be home for a while?”

“Six weeks at least.” He said quietly.

I tried to keep the disappointment down. I still wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. But I knew that was just the pregnancy hormones talking.

“Okay.” I said simply.

“How are you? Did you go see the doctor?” He asked softly and the question surprised me. I was half sure he had forgotten.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a couple of days.” I scratched at a small stain on my skirt. Lime juice and baking soda, I thought absently. That should get the stain out.  

“Its pretty late. You should go see the doctor, Leah. I.. I looked stuff up. They say you have to be on pre natal vitamins, folic acid and iron supplements  and you have to have  a balanced diet. I called Sana earlier and told her to speak to our doctor and get a diet chart for you. She said she’ll do it soon. So , please take care of yourself.”

Jungkook sounded entirely serious and as always my brain felt muddled, unable to process why he did the things he did. He had looked things up about the pregnancy and that implied some sort of interest, didn’t it? But ….. he had also kissed my sister so what was I supposed to do with this?

“I’ll call you.” I said shakily, drained. I was done for the day.

“Right.” He said softly. “ Namjoon hyung will be there tomorrow right? Should I talk to him? He could take you to the doctor.”

“No.. That’s fine. I’ll manage.” I said quickly.

“You’re sure?” There was genuine worry there.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Alright.”

Silence again. I exhaled shakily.

“Should I hang up?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Good night. ” He breathed.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

Click.

I stared at the wall, gently lowering the phone and placing it on the bed next to me.

She deserves better than me, his voice echoed in my head.

Well, so did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon looked nothing like the twenty one year old college student I’d seen a decade ago. I knew he was a successful novelist and I’d read all his books. They were mostly philosophical or commentaries on life and emotions. I enjoyed the way he wrote : melancholic and deep but also clear and easy to understand. It was like staring at a particularly deep pool, being able to see all the way down to the bottom because of how clean the waters were. But once you put your feet in, the depth  always surprised you.

“That’s a lot of books.” I laughed, gripping the edge of the door frame as I watched him stumble under the weight of a crate full of bound books. Namjoon’s messy brown hair peeked over the top, and when he adjusted the huge load to stare at me, I caught sight of his handsome face stretched in a dimpled grin, eyes glinting.

“Research.” He grunted, straightening himself up and I watched the flex of his muscles as he carefully moved to place the crate down in one corner of the large bedroom that I’d had cleaned for him. It was on the west wing of the house, parallel to my own bedroom that I shared with Jungkook . Namjoon had spent three years working as a professor somewhere in Indonesia. And I knew that he’d spent a year backpacking all over Scandinavia. I stared at his tall strapping figure, watching him set up his writing space carefully, sorting out boxes and electronics.

He had driven here in his Range Rover and I knew all his clothes were still there in the back of the car.

“Should I ask the footmen to get your clothes?” I asked and he glanced up at me, frowning.

“Footmen?” He looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Namjoon…” I said chidingly and he grinned again.

“I keep forgetting you’re filthy rich. Makes me wish I should have beaten Jungkook to the game and bagged myself a rich wife.” He winked. It was a joke but there was no mistaking the hint of interest in his eye. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. Being married to Jungkook had definitely made me question the attraction I held for men so it felt good, having someone as handsome and whole and successful as Namjoon look at me like that.

“I’ll ask them to get your clothes. You should shower and settle in. We’ll meet for dinner tonight.” I said quickly and he nodded.

“You’re going to be okay heading back to your room? Let me know if you need help.” He pointed at my feet and I nodded. It was sweet of him to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward at all. Namjoon had a lot of interesting stories to share and I found myself clinging to ever word in rapt attention. He spoke about all the folklore he’d run into in different places, how he thought that no matter the culture, there were always some common things you could find in every one of them. He also talked a little about his next book, which he hadn’t named yet.

“It’s about second chances. Forgiving and moving on.” He said, taking another bite of his braised pork and moving to make another lettuce wrap.

“ Heavy stuff.” I said thoughtfully. “ Most of my writing is commercial. I just try to sell stuff to reluctant people. It’s not much but it keeps me occupied and it’s always nice to make money that you can call your own.”

“It’s because you don’t write for yourself. When you start writing for yourself, you can truly be who you are.” He said firmly and I nodded in agreement.

My writing in college had been vivid and bright and filled with life. But after the accident, it had turned grey and gloomy. The words seemed to drip with loss and longing and  I didn’t enjoy it, because it was a reminder that I was no longer the vibrant, attractive fulsome girl I once was.

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” I smiled. “ Being who I am. I would rather pretend I’m at least a little alright.”

Namjoon stared at me, thoughtful.

“You used to run track.” He said softly and I grinned.

“You remember.” I said, pleased.

“Of course I do and you were captain of the volleyball team as well. You used to organize all those hikes and treks and stuff.”

“Yes I did. I loved the outdoors.” I stared out of the window.

“Loved? Past tense?” He tilted his head. I stared at him, shaking my head.

“What kind of question is that.” I shook my head. “ Look at me. I’m not trekking anytime soon, considering how the last time ended.”

“You can still go out.” He frowned. “ When was the last time you went somewhere?”

I shook my head.

“Oppa…”

“Listen. You know me. You’ve known me for more than a decade. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you rattle around this old house like a ghost when you should be out there taking in all the sunshine you can get?” Namjoon placed his chopsticks down and linked his fingers together, staring at me.

I stared at him, and it was definitely there. The concern, the affection. Not that different from when I was sixteen and struggling to understand what pathos meant.

But now there was a definite undercurrent of attraction. Back then it had been childish, the wild crush of a teenager on her hot tutor but now, now I knew that he was so much more than just a hot guy.

“I’m pregnant.” I said softly, more a reminder to myself than anything else.

Namjoon grinned.

“We’ll steer clear of horse riding and alcohol. Anything else you can just let me know.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I think I’m getting one now.” I deadpanned.

“Because you’re nervous.” He grinned.

“Because your dimples look too adorable.” I retorted.

He laughed.

“I’ll talk to Jihyun and we’ll go see your doctor first. Then we’ll go out and have  a nice picnic.”

“Namjoon, I can’t…”

“You don’t know that.” He said firmly.” You don’t know if you can or can’t because you’ve never tried. Listen I love picnics and I love going out and I want company. I’m agreeing to be stuck with you for a while and the least you can do is  give me company at a picnic. You know how big a loser I’d seem like if I went by myself?”

It was like I was sixteen again getting brow beaten into things by a tutor who just hated the idea of not getting his way. I shook my head fondly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen weeks. Three and a half months.

I stared at the ultrasound, feeling a multitude of things, not all of them good. The baby was growing well and I had all my prescriptions filled. Namjoon had offered to come with me but I had refused. It was too intimate and he was still a stranger. I did take a photo of the ultrasound and sent it to Jungkook.

/Jungkook called me back almost at once.

“You went to the doctor?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Were you running?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting one of the vendors for lunch and I thought I could walk to the restaurant but its farther than I thought.” He huffed.

“Everything’s fine. Baby’s due in July.” I said quietly.

“Summer. That’s good.” He replied. “Right?”

I hesitated. What did that mean? What did it matter when the baby would be born?

“Because winter would mean it being too cold . Summer we can take the baby out and stuff without worrying too much.” Jungkook said softly.

Oh.

���How’s work?” I asked awkwardly. The non conversation was getting tedious. There was just so much to talk about and it was obvious that both of us weren’t in the mood to actually ask or answer anything worthwhile.

“Did dad say something?” Jungkook asked quickly and I frowned.

“No. Why?”

“He wants me to join hyung in the corporate office. Leave the smelter units.” Jungkook sounded subdued and upset and I felt sympathy well inside me.

“Join him? As what?” I asked quietly.

“Head of the marketing department. I’ll be reporting to Seokjin hyung.” Jungkook had clearly started walking again, breath coming in little exhales.

“You don’t want it?” I asked confused, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

“I mean… I have a degree in Business and Finance. Hyung’s the CEO , I was hoping I’d be the CFO.” Jungkook sighed, “ But I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t disown me altogether after what happened earlier.”

I stayed quiet and so did he.

“We need to talk . When you get back. You … I know you don’t like sharing about what you feel but you owe me an explanation.” I said firmly.

“I know. But I meant what I said when I left. I’m going to be there for you and the baby. You’re still my wife. That’s not going to change.”

I ran my fingers over the ultrasound.

“Did you also mean the part where you said you can’t stand me.” I said bitterly .

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“I… You know I didn’t. That was just something I said on impulse. I’m sorry. You’re… You’ve been nothing but good to me. And honestly, just the fact that you’re carrying my child is proof that I can definitely stand you.” He sounded just a little hoarse.

I bit my lips, staring up at the door when I heard a knock.

“Leah? I’m going to have some tea in the garden … You wanna come with?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room and I froze.

“Oh.. Oh.. yes. I’ll be down.” I said quickly, nodding . Namjoon pointed at the phone and gave to thumbs up before moving back out.

“Was that Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook’s voice came over the line.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, he’s… he wants me to have tea with him in the gardens.” I said awkwardly.

“That’s nice.  You should go. Get out of the house once in a while.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed quiet.

After another minute or so of silence, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“ I got that form you sent in for me to fill, about my medical history. I’ll fill it up and mail it to the doctor’s office. Is that alright?” He asked hesitantly. “ If not I can fly back home. If they need me in person or something.”

I frowned a bit.

“They don’t need you in person, Jungkook of course not. Mail it, that’s fine.”

Another pause.

“This is really happening huh? A baby. We’re having a baby.” The exhaustion in his voice was palpable and I wondered.

“Yes. We are.” I said simply, not having anything else to elaborate on. It was happening. I was torn between pleasure at having something to look forward to and guilt at forcing Jungkook into a role he wasn’t ready for. But , for better or for worse we were married. The child was his. It would be a Jeon.

“ I’ll do better.” He said quietly. “ With the little one. I’ll be better.”

Tears these days, sprung up out of nowhere I thought miserably, furiously swiping at my face.

“Leah?” His voice came over the line. “ Leah are you there?”

“I need to go.”

“Alright.”

“Take care of yourself too, Jungkook.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loneliness .

It’s such an odd sort of feeling. Sometimes you get used to it so much, that you forget all about it.

It stays , a part of you that doesn’t make much of an impression on you until one day, suddenly it becomes unbearable,

Until you get a glimpse of what it’s like to not be lonely.

And then suddenly it’s like a deep chasm of longing and desperation just opens up inside you, craving love and warmth and company with a hunger that feels like it can never ever be satisfied.

I’d never paid much mind to the fact that my life revolved around myself, my writing and the flowers in the garden. Not until Namjoon had come, demanding to be felt and seen and heard .

 Namjoon hadn’t joked about not letting me rattle around the house. Our days were spent sprawled on the lawns of the Jeon estate, each of us occupied with our own writing . Namjoon typed away on his laptop while I preferred my leather bound notebook. It was oddly soothing, lying there on the clean cut grass, the sharp blades rubbing against my bare legs, as I leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Namjoon’s furrowed brows as he wrote.

Namjoon had changed in a lot of ways and yet he was still somehow just as I remembered, focused and often lost in his own head. He was a contemplative man and seemed to spend as much time reading as he did writing.

“There’s a poetry club that meets every Tuesday in Gangnam. Would you like to come with me?” He asked casually, about a week after he’d moved in and I considered it. The paparazzi had finally stopped hanging about the estate and Jungkook had called the previous night with a ETA for when he would be back.

Four weeks at most, he had said firmly and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling all that excited for his return anymore. Days spent with Namjoon were more exciting. He included me in every little thing and I was addicted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was probably wrong. Namjoon was sweet and kind but I was still married. But on the wake of that thought came the bitter reminder that there was nothing between Jungkook and I. He was in love with someone else. Why should I deny myself the joy of Namjoon’s company over a relationship that really wasn’t a relationship at all.

Namjoon treated me as an equal, teased and flirted like there was nothing wrong with the two of us living like this, together and away from the rest of the world and I liked it. It made me feel like perhaps happiness wasn’t such an abstract, unreachable thing after all. That perhaps I could find happiness like this. In friendship and mindless conversation with a man who didn’t see me as a burden.

“I’d love that.” I said with a smile, letting my fingers knit together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Scorned wife getting even? We spotted the recently cheated on Mrs Jeon getting cozy with a strapping, buff hottie in a private restaurant last Friday and we can’t help but wonder if perhaps the reclusive lady is trying to get back at her husband by flashing her own boytoy.” Namjoon read cheerfully from his phone, looking way too entertained as he showed me the zoomed photo of us holding hands over the dinner table .

“That’s quite the description they’ve put for you.” I grimaced, sipping my chamomile tea slowly. My father and Mr. Jeon had reacted with their usual anger, threatening to sue the gossip rag for libel but it was pointless. They would keep being intrusive rats. There was nothing much to be done beyond enduring them.

“My agent’s losing his mind. He’s been at me trying to get me to agree to book signings and public appearances and he’s pissed that this is the way I get introduced to Seoul’s High society. Poor guy.” Namjoon chuckled and I felt guilt churn.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really didn’t think they’d be following me. I mean… usually they’re only tailing Jungkook but I guess with the whole thing with Lisa , they’re just looking for ways to make things worse.” I said hesitantly.

Namjoon hesitated, staring at me for a few seconds.

“We never really talked about how things are.” He said quietly. “ Between you and Jungkook, that is.”

I ran the edge of my chopsticks on the brim of my soup bowl.

“ There’s not much to say. He’s…. He’s still sorting things out. With my sister.” I smiled a little. It ached a lot less, I realized with surprise.

“They loved each other deeply.” Namjoon said softly. “ that sort of thing doesn’t go away that quickly.”

I nodded.

“Of course. And I’ve been …understanding of that. I like to think.”

“But its unfair to you. You deserve to be loved too. Fully and well .”

I leaned back to stare at him.

“Are you offering?” I laughed, teasing.

Namjoon didn’t smile, leaning forward instead.

“Depends. Will you ever consider leaving him, for me?” He said seriously.

My heart turned over inside me.

“Namjoon…” I choked out and he reached out and lightly touched my palm.

“I know how marriages work with people like you, so I think I should draw boundaries now, if I want to keep myself safe.” He smiled a bit.

“I’m pregnant. With his child.” I swallowed and Namjoon’s brows went up.

“I thought it was your child. Yours and no one else’s.”

I felt torn, staring at him and wanting to say that I didn’t consider Jungkook as the child’s father, not in the way most people did. But I also remembered my husbands determined voice, the way he kept insisting that he wouldn’t neglect the child.

“Its not about Jungkook or the child, Leah. Its about you. You married Jungkook knowing he was in love with your sister and that tells me that you listen to your parents. You don’t want to stand up against the rules set by our parents and I don’t fault you for it. But I can’t let myself fall for you, knowing you’re going to be bound by your obligations to yurr family.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” I said easily. “ You’re right. My family comes first. And whether I want to be or not, I’m bound to Jungkook for life. So don’t fall in love with me.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Do you want to move out?” I asked bitterly and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You clearly think I’m trying to seduce you or something when really, I-“

“Hey. Hey, Leah…no. No alright, that’s not what I meant. These two weeks, it was amazing. I love your mind and you’re easily one of my favorite people on this planet. We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends no matter what but you must know why I said what I said. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lonely guy.” He smiled a bit, “ I just don’t want to make it hard for myself when you want me to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook arrived back in Korea on a cold, rainy morning and against my better judgment I let Jihyun and Lisa drag me to the airport. It was some kind of publicity stunt, that much I could fathom but I didn’t know if Jungkook was in on it. I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, he had been busy wrapping things up with the new branch in Japan.

It was another bad day for my leg and I found myself leaning heavily on my sister, her arm wrapped around my waist as we walked over to the waiting area. I could already identify a few men with cameras staring at us discreetly. Paparazzi . I saw them move their cameras down to the now obvious curve of my stomach and I swallowed. I could already imagine the articles wondering who the father was : Jungkook or Namjoon.

“You alright?” My sister asked worriedly and I nodded, not looking at her. Lisa hadn’t been discouraged by initial refusal to speak to her, keeping at it till I finally caved and let her visit me at the estate. She didn’t love Jungkook anymore, she insisted . It was over. They were over . She wanted to give her marriage a chance. Very sweet and nice, that. And it was obvious that she wasn’t lying, what with the way she and her husband kept

Jihyun and Lisa had made amends with each other and it annoyed me that they seemed to be madly in love with each other all of a sudden. Like the past couple months hadn’t even happened. I stared down at my wedding ring feeling stricken. Was it unfair that I resented them for this? Why hadn’t the two of them thought of this, of breaking things off and moving on before the damn wedding. And then maybe Jungkook and I would have had a real marriage too.

Bitter and hormonal was definitely not a good combination I thought with a wince, fingers splaying on the curve of my lower belly. It was so odd, being pregnant. The extra weight somehow foreign but also …so soothing. The last scan had shown that I had an anterior placenta and that meant that I may not feel movements for a while. I didn’t mind, having found comfort in just tracing my palm over the bare skin of my stomach.

“There he is.” Jihyun’s voice made me look up and ure enough there he was.

It wasn’t the longest we’d been away from each other and yet, I felt my heart leap at the sight of him. He truly was a very handsome man, I thought miserably. And no matter what people said, it was infinitely more difficult to hate your husband when he looked that good.

Jungkook’s eyes caught mine first and I saw the way his gaze dipped straight to the curve of my bump. Even from the ten feet between us , I saw hi lips part in surprise , eyes going wide. It probably hadn’t felt real to him till now, I thought biting my lips as he carefully handed his bags over to the two chauffeurs who had rushed to help him.

Jihyun wasted no time in bounding over and hugging his little brother tight.

I glanced at the man who had been taking photos, pleased to see the surprise in his face. Was he hoping that the CEO would punch his little brother in the face ? Idiots. Lisa stayed by my side and I exhaled shakily.

“ Dad told me something and I want to know if its true.” I said quietly.

She didn’t reply.

I took a deep breath, still watching the two brothers embrace each other, Jungkook’s face buried in Jihyun’s shoulders. I could see him shaking just a little and I felt my gut clench.

“He told me that …that you never told him that you wanted to marry Jungkook. That when he suggested Jihyun you agreed at once.”

She looked away.

“Lets talk about this later.” She said quietly.

“Does Jungkook know?” I demanded. “ Because he spent that first month of our marriage cursing our father out for forcing you to marry Jihyun. Forcing. And dad says that he did no such thing. So what is the truth.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“Jungkook  knows.” She said finally, “ I told him… the truth. When we were in Japan.” and I laughed in disbelief.

“Was that before or after you kissed him?” I snapped and she looked genuinely pained.

“Leah, I never meant to hurt you or Jungkook.” She said shakily.

“My God.” I shook my head. “ I always knew you were a selfish, greedy person but I didn’t take you for being a liar and a deceitful coward. ”

She stared down at her feet.

“Yes. I’m greedy..”  She whispered “ And you may not understand it now but I did it for you and for Jungkook.”

She moved away and I watched as Jihyun pulled away from Jungkook, still holding his arm as he held a hand out to Lisa. The smile on her face seemed genuine as she took her husband’s hand and I shifted my gaze to mine. Jihyun and Lisa walked away to their car and Jungkook stepped closer to me, his face stoic and impossible to read.  

“Leah.” He said quietly, dark hair falling into even darker eyes.

I didn’t reply, merely stepping up to gently press my palms on either side of his face.

“Welcome back.” I said softly, before reaching up and kissing him full on the lips. Jungkook’s entire body went stiff as a board at the gesture but he didn’t pull away , thankfully. It felt cold and impersonal and barely lasted a few seconds but hopefully the man had gotten a few good shots. I closed my eyes for effect, running my thumb over the clean shaven curve of his jaw, before pulling away slowly.

I peered over Jungkook’s shoulder, just to make sure and sure enough, the man was moving closer to get better angles. I smiled a little. Good. That should hold these vultures off for a while. I turned back to Jungkook and his eyes followed my gaze catching sight of the man with the camera and his entire body seemed to go stiff with anger.

“Why did you do that?” He growled and I bit my lips.

“You know why.” I made to turn away but he gripped my arm, hard. So hard that I winced.

“What are you doing?” I asked panicking, glancing at the man who was still watching.

“Since when did you start pandering to those pigs?” He whispered angrily and I flinched.

“Your father wants to introduce you to the Board of directors this weekend.” I whispered quietly, “Most of them read the news Jungkook. The last news about us can’t be about you cheating on me.”

“That’s my business. And I’ll deal with it. We’re not doing this, Leah. I’m not putting on some kind of act just to please my fucking father.” He looked furious and the taut line of his jaw made me flinch.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, guilt churning inside me. He was right. I shouldn’t have done that without talking to him about it but I knew that the scandal with him and Lisa wouldn’t go down well with the Board. And the Board generally had a direct say on who got hired to top managerial positions.

“I just want you to get that job.” I said softly and he stared at me, stiff body relaxing marginally.

“Let’s just go home. Yeah?” Jungkook said tiredly and I bit my lips.

Less than fifteen minutes since he came home and we were already at odds with each other.

The most ill suited couple in the universe, I thought with a grimace as he stepped right next to me and wrapped a hand around my waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a very terrible tendency to forget taking my pills. So I generally left them by the bedside table. Stepping out of the shower, I found Jungkook sitting on my side of the bed, examining the bottle carefully. I tugged on the white t shirt I had on, suddenly embarrassed because it was Jungkook’s

I’d asked to borrow a couple over the phone,  simply because I no longer fit into my own and the ones I’d ordered weren’t here yet. Jungkook had agreed but still, it felt awkward when he was wearing the exact same t shirt himself.

He turned around when I moved to the vanity to put on moisturizer for the night and through the reflection I saw his gaze linger on my attire.

“Aspirin? Didn’t know that was part of pre natal vitamins?” He said seriously and I blinked., surprised. I turned around to stare at him, licking my lips nervously.

“How much research did you do?” I asked, genuinely curious and he flushed.

“I had a lot of free time. “ He said defensively. “ These six weeks.”

I frowned, before turning back to grab the small pot of night cream from the draw.

“My blood pressure is a little elevated. My mother had pre eclampsia with my sister and they just want to be careful.”

“Pre eclampsia?” Jungkook’s voice was fraught with nervousness and I turned back to see him almost white as a sheet.

“Jungkook…I.. its nothing serious.” I said hastily and his jaw went even more taut.

“What do you mean its not serious? Do you even know what it is?” He demanded.

“Do you?” I snapped back, annoyed at being treated like I was an errant child.

“I know that it’s the leading cause of maternal death during birth.” He all but shouted and I flinched.

“Okay…that’s only in extreme cases.” I held both my hands up. “ it’s a bit too premature to be panicking over that.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, as though to argue but then seemed to calm himself down.

“When’s your next check up?” He asked casually.

“This weekend. But its okay, Namjoon is-“

“I’ll come with you. I.. I want to come with you.” He said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling too awkward to outright refuse.

“You have the meeting with the Board. This weekend.” I said softly.

“So?” Jungkook shrugged. “ I’ll just tell them your appointment and health is more important to me. Besides isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you kissed me at the airport? You want the board to think we’re happily in love. I think that would be an excellent way to show them that. ”

Jungkook stared at me , head tilted curiously, daring me to deny what I had old him myself.

Sighing, I nodded.

“Alright.” I managed a weak smile. “ You can come with me.”

“Namjoon hyung left today, you said?” He asked casually.

I nodded.

“I should send him a bottle of his favorite wine for taking care of you so well. You look good.”

“He did it because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.” I retorted, his words rubbing me just a little wrong.

Jungkook smiled although it was more of a smirk.

“I’m sure he did. But I’m here now. And I did promise you that I’ll be there for you.”

“For the baby.” I said sharply, not liking the way he looked. The things he seemed to b implying.” You promised me you’d be there for the baby.”

“And right now, said baby is inside you.” He grinned now and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight. Jungkook didn’t smile with me. It wasn’t something that happened. At all. “ So I’ll have to take care of you.”

I stared at him, biting my lips.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My sister told you she never wanted you so now you want to start fucking me again?”

It was cruel. A terrible thing to say and I regretted it at once.

The smile faded.

“What?”

“ I…fuck Jungkook.” I groaned.

“is that what you think of me? Need I remind you that you were the one who came to me all those months ago? I never…. I would never force myself on you, Leah.” He looked like he’d been stabbed and I heart clenched.

“Jungkook , I…”

“I’ve been honest. Through all of this I’ve been honest to you. I lied to your sister, I lied to my father and fuck I even lied to myself. But I’ve been honest with you , Leah.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” I cried out, despairing. “ You were in love with my sister and –“

“And she wanted to marry my brother.” Jungkook yelled, standing up and turning to me, eyes blazing. “  All along. Know what she told me Leah? That it was never supposed to be me. That five years of us being together…it was because she was in love with my brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She started dating me to make him jealous and when she saw that I spent so much time with Jihyun she stuck around . So she could spend time with him.” He shook his head.

I stared at him, horrified.

“Jungkook….”

“I thought I could never feel more pathetic than when I stood there listening her tel me how she never felt a single thing for me. But wow…. Thank you for proving me wrong. Because right now, standing here begging you to let me a part of the child we both made knowing you only see me as some kind of pervert just looking to get into your bed….” he shook his head,” I feel worse. I feel dirty.”

My throat went dry.

“You know what?” He moved to the closet and to my horror he grabbed a bunch of his clothes and a small suitcase. “ I’m going to go get a Hotel room.”

“What? No… Jungkook, wait!” I rushed to his side, grabbing his arm but he threw my hand off quickly.

“Ask Namjoon hyung to move back in. Better yet, tell dad the truth. That you think I’m disgusting. That the thought of me being in your life makes you sick. Tell him you want a divorce and-“

“It’s a girl.” I exhaled sharply.

Jungkook went completely still.

I swallowed, my heart racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.

I took a deep breath and moved to lightly touch his back, fingers splaying on the broad expanse of his shoulder blade .

He turned around at that and my heart lurched at the tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked wrecked.

“ A girl?” He whispered.

I bit my lips, nodding.

“We’re having a little girl.” He looked a little shell shocked.

“Yes. And hopefully, she isn’t as dramatic as her father.” I said softly, grabbing the dozen or so t shirts he’d pulled out of the closet and pushing them back into the shelves.

Jungkook didn’t protest, still staring into space, probably just taking the news in. I felt awful for one second because I hadn’t even cared all that much when the technician had told me.

I closed the closet door and moved back to the vanity trying to process all that had been said in the last five minutes, only to feel a headache come on. I would think about it tomorrow.

I finished braiding my hair when Jungkook’s voice came from the bed.

“If you don’t want me to intrude into your space you can tell me. I’m okay with only getting information about the baby.” He said quietly.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I turned to him slowly. i took a deep breath, considered that what i was going to say would likely change everything between us. But i had to. 

I’ve always been honest with you Leah, He had said and I decided that perhaps he deserved some honesty in return.

“I think I’m in love with Namjoon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : these two are such a mess istg. 

ooh i don’t have a taglist for this so please comment if you wanna be on it. 

[romanceyourdemons]

“i am honestly embarrassed for you. it is not that hard to get rich, you just kill a number of rich people and take their stuff, then invest the money and hunker down for a couple decades while the money grows—simple.”

“oh sure, i’m sure. the thing is i had morals for the first thirty years after that missionary turned me. i wanted to work in the family business and keep my family name respectable. and when my mother died and i lost my morals, guess what? by then all my country’s stuff was getting shipped off to europe as soon as we could make it. there wasn’t anything to steal, and there wasn’t a bank to put it in that wouldn’t collapse in a few years anyway, unless you went to america. so i shipped over to america, robbed a few stagecoaches, and do you want to know what happened? every time i tried to invest it, those fuckers took my money and called the cops on me. they wouldn’t have called the cops on you. they called the cops on me. and maybe i could invest my money fine these days, but have you tried stealing a fortune in gems lately? it’s not like it was back in the day, i promise you. you can’t vanish without a trace like you used to be able to. i’ve got a social security number and a credit score now, and christ knows it took me decades of night jobs to save up enough for those. so i’m fine paying for tonight’s drinks, if you do me the great honor of shutting your damn cakehole.”

“hm, perhaps it is a bit difficult to make a fortune in the old way in the america of today. but there are other countries where the riches are greater and the regulations less—”

“i’m not a fucking missionary, jean-baptiste.”

too many vampires who have ancient and eminently trustworthy law firms managing their inexhaustible wealth. i want a vampire paying rent with a venmo credit card

[fific7]

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[kashimos-hajime]

pretty face on a pretty neck | b.b.

summary: they aren’t fucking dating. not fucking friends, either. no, bucky just fucks romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works. and sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut (18+), fingering, choking, swearing, drinking, brief mentions of cheating, bucky’s just really fucking jealous, mentions of a shitty relationship and self-doubt from it, the dark knight spoilers, fluffy end!! pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader, brief steve rogers x fem!reader lmaoo  word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a cute lil piece written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​​​​​​! my prompt was “you called me, remember?” inspired by kiwi by harry styles. 

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

You weave through the crowd, glistening like some glazed dessert that he can’t wait to get his mouth on. Your lips are shining with a swipe of that sweet lipgloss he loves to suck off and you’re wearing that black dress.

The black dress. Shorter than short, showing every inch of skin yet not enough.

You toss your head back, exposing that neck that he loves to bite to Steve who grins, glad his joke landed. Stifling a scowl, Bucky grabs his scotch and throws it back, desperate not to grab you and throw you into a stall just to mark you up as his.

You had made him promise, after all. No socialization outside their little nightcap sessions that often lead to… well, Bucky’s game for anything really.

A cigarette is pinched between your lips and Steve helps you light it with a flick of his lighter, the burning embers glowing in the dark, seedy bar. Leaning on the bar counter, you talk to Sam wiping down his station and he nods, eyes dragging over your face and Bucky cannot tear his gaze away as Sam pours you three shots of vodka. You blow out a lungful of smoke, cigarette pinched between two fingers before glancing at Steve and making some sort of bet, based on the way your lips curl.

They go down like water, dripping down your chin and you laugh when Steve wipes it off your collarbones before he grabs your chin and smashes his lips against yours. You immediately reciprocate, mouth opening as he bends you over the bar, his hair golden and his hand trailing up your thigh.

“Fucker,” Bucky mutters, finally managing to rip his gaze away. A heat blazes through his stomach.

Stupid fucking party for damn Romanoff’s birthday. Sometimes he hates being some of the oldest friends that redhead knows. It makes him feel creepy, wading through a sea of college students that are only one or two years younger than him. Steve himself is finishing his last year, so he’s sure he doesn’t share Bucky’s plight of feeling old.

He wishes he could just approach you and ask to leave, pin you against the wall of his apartment, take you like he knows Steve’s going to later, but he can’t.

You aren’t fucking dating. Not fucking friends, either.

No, Bucky just fucks Romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works.

And sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

“Not enjoying yourself, James?” Birthday Girl Romanoff asks, appearing at his shoulder and he turns to her, shifting in his seat.

“Steve’s too busy chatting up your friend for me to do anything,” he replies, keeping his tone light and Romanoff glances at where Steve’s made his way to kissing up your neck, your fingers carded through his hair.

“Give him a break,” Romanoff says. “They both need to get laid.”

“You don’t think she’s getting laid?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Every fucking guy I’ve met has said they wanted to get with her at least once.”

“Sounding a bit jealous over someone you claim to hate, James,” the redhead teases, sipping on her mojito with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just saying. All the boys were saying they were into it.”

“And you?”

“She’s… a brat.”

“Seems to me that you’re into that,” she hums, leaning on his shoulder. “Honestly, it would’ve been better if you two met before her and her stupid boyfriend did. Ever since she moved in with Rumlow…” The woman trails off and Bucky absently fills in the blanks, she’s faked every single orgasm she’s had with him. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking prick. Doesn’t treat her like she deserves.”

“Does he—“

“No. Just… never a priority, is she? Why else is she here alone?” Natasha pauses, as if debating how much to tell him, then adds, “Then he gets all pissy about where she’s been. On his beck and call, isn’t she?”

“Asshole,” Bucky replies distantly. Steve has his hand basically up your dress and he watches as your legs pull him closer, your lips running along the shell of his ear. “You’re endorsing your best friend cheating on her boyfriend, you know, when we could just be beating him up”

“Hey. She said she was going to break up with him. I can’t make those choices up for her and I’m not about to land any of my friends in jail trying to be my ride or dies.” Romanoff shrugs, glancing at her friend. “Besides, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she? It’s not like she can move into my dorm or move back into her parents across the country.” Bucky watches as you hook your legs around Steve’s waist and he hoists you into his arms, disappearing into the crowd.

By the direction, Bucky can guess the destination and some distant part of his head whispers, She could move in with me.

“Might want to avoid the bathrooms for a while,” he comments and Romanoff snorts, the ice crackling by her straw as she stirs her drained glass.

“I’m going to go get laid, too,” she replies frankly. “Don’t stay brooding in the corner, Barnesy-bear. Your face is one worthy of being sat on.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the redhead slips into the crowd and Bucky gets up, plucking his jacket and leaving the bar. His pants are tight with the thought of your mouth and the sound of your gasping breaths echoing in his ear. The feeling of your fingers scratching down his back makes him roll his shoulders back as he flags a cab.

So what if you’re fucking Steve?

It’s not like he’s exclusive with you.

He can’t fault his best friend for having excellent fucking taste.

As he enters the cab and tells the driver his address, he wonders how the fuck someone like Rumlow snagged the title as your boyfriend when there are so many other options.

Steve being one, but he’s still living on-campus.

Bucky doesn’t want to say it, but maybe he, with his own apartment and steady job and intimate knowledge of your desires and interests and needs, is the other.

.

It’s two weeks later when he finally sees you again, at Romanoff’s birthday function at the beach. Something with closer friends, in broad daylight at a beach house Romanoff’s parents own. She and Sam are already there by the time Bucky gets there, unpacking in rooms for a weekend stay.

“Take any room you like,” Romanoff calls from upstairs and Bucky does so, choosing one of the few rooms on the main floor just as another figure walks in.

“I’m here, Nat!” Your voice echoes against wooden walls as Bucky pokes his head out of his room to see you there. He doesn’t know whether he should feel guilty or not that he’s glad Steve hasn’t sated your hunger when you show up alone, shorts riding up your thighs and a t-shirt that is so sheer it does nothing to conceal the bikini top you wear beneath it. “I’m taking my usual room.”

“Fine with me!”

With that, you walk down the hall, eyes meandering over the living room and kitchen. Bucky’s throat closes up when you walk past the stairs to stop at his room and you smirk all saccharine at him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

He scans your face for a moment. “You came. Thought you’d still be sucking Steve’s face off like you were back at the bar. Or… sucking his dick. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Well, that was a one-off thing. Heat of the moment,” you dismiss, leaning against his door frame and he hates the way you look against the wood. Makes something in him stir, makes the blood run hot and his mind focus on one image in particular.

“What’d your boyfriend say when he saw your neck fucking marked up?” he asks, uncaring of the thin ice he stands upon. You frown, arms crossing.

“I was careful,” you reply tightly, “and I didn’t let him leave any marks.”

Bucky can’t help the small flash of satisfaction at hearing that. “You’re not careful with me. I like seeing your neck tatted up with it,” he comments, his hand twitching to wrap around your throat as he lifts his finger to trace the soft, pulsing vein along your neck. You tilt your chin up, eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’m not yours, Barnes.”

“What you say tells me differently, princess.” Dropping his hand to grab your wrist, he pulls you into his room and slams the door shut, pinning you against it with a harsh push. You exhale sharply, the breath pushing out of your lungs as your bags drop with a disant thump. His senses zero in on everything about you, the light scent of the sunblock smeared into your skin, the cotton twisting beneath his fist as his other hand finds your neck on its own accord. “You’ve been distant lately, kitten.”

He can feel your racing pulse against his palm as you smirk, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. Every inch of his skin is pressed against yours as you hike a leg up onto his hip. His hand at your waist immediately goes to cup it and you loop your arms around his neck innocently.

“I’ve had a lot of work to do. Brock and I…” You let out a soft hum as if to ponder but he knows it’s just to piss him off, “spent some time alone. Romantic trip out of town. Then, I had other things to do.”

“Did you?” It’s not a question Bucky wants answered as you nod demurely, lips twisted into a smirk. He wants nothing more than to yank your shorts down, spin you around, and have you screaming his name as he takes you again and again. He’s been blue balled for two weeks and you haven’t answered any of his calls.

Now, he knows why.

“So, that stupid boyfriend of yours was with you, huh?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he leans in close. He can taste the vodka in your mouth still, the vodka he never got to taste two weeks before in a bar, along with something fruity. Your gum, maybe, or an orange that you sucked clean off its peel. “And then what? Did you hop off after you faked your way through a few nights with him and head for Steve’s? Hm?”

“Temper, temper, James,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. His entire body is alight, every nerve shooting sensations through his limbs as your fingers curl against the nap of his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous, yeah.” His hand on your thigh trails up and inward, sneaking past the hem of your shorts as you lower your leg to hook on his calf, pulling him infinitely closer. His dick is pressing against his swim shorts, completely obvious and painfully hard against your navel as he shifts his hips just enough to let his hand sneak further up your shorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

His fingers find the silky slip of your bikini bottom and brush over the junction of your hip, smirking at the tremble he can feel course through your body.

“You wanted me that night at the bar,” you whisper as he slowly trails deeper inward. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Who didn’t, hm?” He smirks when you turn your face away, biting your lip at his fingers dancing around a spot already slickening with anticipation. “C’mon, princess. You telling me you didn’t wear that black dress for me? Look at me.”

You refuse and he rubs his thumb into the side of your neck, dipping his head to bite at your collarbones.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers, lifting his head to see your defiant gaze meeting his. “Tell me the truth about the black dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you bite back softly, “to fuck me in.” His hand tightens, just barely around your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, how badly he wants to ravage your lips, lock you in this room and just take you in every way you want…

“Trying to make me jealous, kitten?” he rasps as your hips roll against his dick and you bite your lip, chin tilting up as your nails dig into his skin. Because it worked.

“So what if I was?”

“Then, you’re going to have to pay for it.” He spins you around and moves to shove his shorts just past his hips. You let out a sharp exhale at the pressure of his hand against the back of his neck, your hands pressed flat against the door. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?”

His swim shorts fall and he tugs your shorts down just past your ass, tracing the smooth curve of it with an arrogant curve to his lip. His lips find your neck, nipping lightly before raising to your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His hand lands on your ass, kneading it with warm, familiar fingers and his words are a warning. In the silence, he can almost hear you rolling your eyes, struggling not to moan when he feathers smooth skin, tempts you with tiny brushes between the legs.

“You gonna keep talking, Barnes, or you gonna prove a point?”

His fingers hook on your bikini bottom, pulling the elastic away with an amused grin before letting it snap back against your skin.

“I don’t know. Are you gonna continue being a fucking brat?” He squeezes your neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you almost seem to melt against the door before he drags those bikini bottoms down too. Rolling his hips flush against your ass, he smirks when you shudder and try to thrust him in with a messy jerk back. “Aw, did you miss this?”

“Wouldn’t miss a thing about you,” you reply but it comes out strangled as his other hand wraps around your hip, travels down your navel. It wraps around your waist, keeps you tight against him as you smother his wrist between the door and your hips. When his fingers find your bud, you let out a soft sigh at the pressure he begins to rub into you and he smirks, biting the shell of your ear.

“C’mon, princess. You can admit it if you like,” he murmurs. Your fingers dig into the wood as you try to push yourself—in what direction, away from his hand, towards it, Bucky doesn’t know. He reaches farther down, fingers tracing through slick heat and he chuckles huskily against your skin, biting lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “‘S that all for me?”

“Shut up,” you growl. Your eyes flash to him and he pushes you flush against the door, your head falling back against his shoulder as cock nestles itself between your cheeks. So close, not quite there. His hand on your neck travels forward, crooking inward and his fingers wrap around a silky neck from the front. He can feel every beat of your heart, the raspy whistle of your breathing. Lips falling to your exposed neck, Bucky sucks marks he knows are going to last if he doesn’t stop himself soon but two weeks has been two weeks too long— “Barnes.”

“Relax… it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper fuck.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Needy brat.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work at a languid pace inside you. He knows every nook and cranny, every angle that brings you euphoria and he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust, arrogant smile growing when you melt back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted.

“Don’t have time for foreplay,” you finally manage to croak and you turn to look at him, eyes surprisingly clear for having his fingers in your soaking heat and working you up a steady incline.

“It’s the fucking beach, kitten. They won’t be in a rush to get anywhere.” Your lips are tantalizing up close and he chuckles, fingers pressing gently into your pulse. “How quiet can you be?”

“Try me,” you breathe, chest heavy and eyes filling with assured focus, “bitch.”

Challenge accepted.

Nudging your legs ever so lightly apart, he is about to push in. He can feel your heart beating through your back, a quick, racing drum and your breasts heave with every anticipating breath.

“James! Y/N! Wanna meet Steve at the beach?”

Natasha’s voice breaks the humid tension like a hot knife through butter, and your eyes fly open as if you’ve risen from a trance and he growls, not quite moving yet.

To say nothing raises suspicion.

He hates it here.

“Sure!” Bucky yells back right into your ear, much to your displeasure and he shrugs, trying to repress the smirk as his hand drops and playfully squeezes your breast. You return with a subtle nip to his jaw and he steps back. Your shoulders drop and you turn around, leaning against the door with a soft, condescending smile. Your eyes are blown with a mistiness and your thighs press together as he sucks his fingers clean. Your gaze narrows, he smirks with glee.

“What was that about not being in a rush to get anywhere?” you ask, dismissively sweeping your gaze up and down his body before grabbing your pants and pulling them up. His eyes follow the slow trail of the fabric and he sighs softly between parted lips. “Play one of those audios I know you’ve got on your phone. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you, soldier boy?”

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal, princess.”

“I’m not.” You pick up your bags and open the door, letting cool sea wind sweep into the room that was cloudy with heat and lust. He can’t help the smile that digs into his cheeks despite how disappointed he is as you shrug innocently. You play the part so well. “It’s just the facts.”

Not for the first time, Bucky is left with the thought that Rumlow doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

.

It’s near the end of the month, the very last day. The thirty-first of May.

You broke up with your stupid boyfriend three days ago. He knows because he looked at your Instagram only to find all the pictures with him gone.

But he wasn’t stalking. He was just…

Curious.

Also, Natasha FaceTimed him and Steve, ranting all about it. So, he came upon this naturally.

Not stalking at all.

“Hey.” Bucky’s lying flat on his bed, naked and the sheets are too warm as he hears you pick up with a disgruntled sigh. “You awake?”

“Am now.” You don’t sound too heartbroken but your voice is a bit thicker than he remembers as you sniff. “What do you want?”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was crying.”

He arches an eyebrow at your blunt response but doesn’t continue that line of interrogation. “Where are you staying?”

“Why does it matter to you? What do you want?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, princess,” he replied dryly. “But if you’re on the streets, I can come pick you up.”

“I’m not on the streets,” you reply sharply in a way that makes Bucky doubt your words. “But fine. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Princess,” he begins but you cut him off.

“I just needa pack some things. See you in twenty.”

You hang up without another word. He lets his cellphone drop with a heavy sigh, sitting up and pulling on some boxers and some ratty old university hoodie.

It’s another fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the door and he moves from the kitchen to the door, abandoning the orange juice he poured to pass the time. Swinging open the door to reveal that pretty face, he smirks to hide the concerned expression threatening to overtake his face. You look like hell, heavy eye bags and a wariness that he’s not used to seeing on your bold face. You’ve got luggage by your legs and a backpack is strapped to you as you regard him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You called me, remember?” you reply dryly. He steps aside, inviting you in. Walking in, toeing off your sneakers, and shedding your jacket, you let your backpack drop as Bucky pulls your luggage in. “Woke me up and everything.”

“Yeah, I bet I woke you up from your beauty sleep,” he snorts and you roll your eyes as his eyes trail over the dull skin of your shoulders, the limpness of your hair. He closes the door behind him, an unfamiliar tug pulling at his stomach. “Your boyfriend didn’t even give you time to find a new place?”

“No. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Just a guy you used to fuck on occassion who couldn’t even make you come,” he says sagely and you sigh, rolling your eyes again.

“Are you describing yourself?” The words make blue eyes flash to meet yours and you smirk at the dangerous warning glimmering in his irises. Cocking your head, you shrug and lean against his dining table. “So, what do you want?”

“Why do I ever call you here if it isn’t for fucking you, huh, princess?” he muses, but even he can’t find the reason anymore. Whatever libido he was housing had melted in the time between you hanging up and you arriving at his apartment. As you stand before him, his blue eyes flicker from your exhausted face to the way your body seems strung out and on high alert. He sighs, too. “I didn’t want you in some seedy motel where the locks don’t work and the concierge is probably on the registered sex offender’s list. That sound good enough for you?”

You smile, the only thing familiar about you, and it sends a wave of relief through him. “Being nice isn’t your colour, Barnes.”

“Go take a shower,” he retorts, plucking your bag from the floor by your feet and he notices you don’t protest when he grabs your jacket and throws it in the hamper. “Then, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You’re unnaturally obedient as you head silently for the bathroom and he brings your luggage to the living room, setting it by the couch and laying it flat. Unzipping it quickly, he grabs the clean clothes he can find right off the bat and goes into his room to put them on his bed so you can grab them as soon as you come out. You’re standing in his bathroom, shedding your tank top and he grabs some clean towels.

It’s a strangely intimate silence as he offers you the towels and you dip your head in thanks. He can see the beginnings of a bruise on your bicep and he reaches tenderly for it, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“Did he—” The anger comes unbridled, hot and heavy and dark, in his voice and you don’t even jerk out of his touch. You’re completely relaxed in his presence as you look at your reflection in the mirror, so unlike a few minutes before when you’d been a ball of tension and you shake your head. His thumb gently digs into your skin and he can feel the pulsing heat of it. It’s fresh. Not even a day old, probably.

“No. I was walking and it was dark. Guy was coming out of a cab and didn’t see me standing there. Got whacked by the door,” you assure, pulling your arm out of his loose hold. Unbuttoning your pants, you continue to undress as he stands there, eyebrows knitting together. The air is wrought with an energy he’s unfamiliar with and he withdraws but your hand reaches for his wrist. Wide eyes dart to your face and he’s shocked by the surprisingly soft smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Hungry?”

You let go of his wrist and his skin is tingling. He rubs at it absently as you nod, your strange smile ever present. “Starving.”

“I’ll whip you something to eat.”

As he’s stirring Kraft Dinner around in a bowl, he listens to the shower run and thinks.

Or doesn’t think.

Time seems to pass in such a strange way. He’s cooking for you and you’re in his shower and nothing about this is normal or something he’s used to, but it’s not something he hates.

The shower turns off just as he’s sliding the mac into a bowl and he pours you a glass of water before finishing his own abandoned cup of orange juice.

Your footfalls are light and you smell like his shampoo as you sit down at his kitchen island, clad in the clothes he laid out for you.

“It’s just some Kraft I had lying around,” he says uneasily, pushing the bowl towards you but you take it anyway with a shrug and a easygoing smile. You look more awake after the shower and colour has worked its way back into your lips. There’s new life in your eyes as you eat and Bucky, satisfied, heads for the couch just to watch whatever’s on until you’re done.

Everything seems so strange, mundane, almost… domestic as you eat, scroll your phone, and he watches The Dark Knight just because it’s on. He watches the movie blindly, his mind still going a mile a minute and his body unintentionally becoming attune to yours in a way he only knows with when he’s fucking you.

But now, he knows how you move, knows when you’re putting your bowl in the sink and knows when you’re walking towards him by the way his heart starts beating just a millisecond quicker, the gentle give of his couch as you sit down beside him. Your eyes burn into his cheek and he glances at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come here,” he allows, lifting his arm from the pillow and you scoot closer, pulling the pillow into your lap and hugging it tight. He rests his arm along the back of the couch. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. Pity.”

“You’d have to be truly something to fuck up Kraft Dinner, Barnes,” you reply dryly, smirking at him and he suppresses a snort as you tuck your knees up. “It was good. Although, I hope you’re not living off of that stuff.”

“I do take out every once in a while,” he says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a college student and I can cook better than you.”

“You’re one year younger than me. We’re not so different.”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky can’t help the amused smile edging its way onto his face as you fall into silence, watching the movie, too. One thing Bucky’s always liked about you, even if he didn’t like anything else, is that you share a lot of the same interests as him. They had whole rants on how terrible some movies were, or the disappointment that was some TV finales. It always made pillow talk a fun time, if they ever made it to that stage. 

It was more often than not either of them would wake up before the other and just head out without a single word.

Bucky finds he likes your companionable silence more than he thought he would. Maybe he should’ve indulged pillowtalk a bit more. By the small, sated smile on your lips, he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

“You know,” you say after a while, “when I said at the beach house that you wanted me…” Your voice rouses Bucky from his trance of staring at the TV. The credits are rolling and he hadn’t even realized. So lost in his thoughts he was near the end, thinking about Rachel’s letter to Bruce and hyper aware of your every shift in your seat beside him, the movie seemed to pass by in a blink.

Something about the long lost melancholy of lost chances…

Bucky’s never been fucking sentimental, but even he can see the chance that Bruce Wayne really… really missed out on, and the blue-eyed man doesn’t want to be in that position ever. To do the right thing only to find out it’s too late. Because she died in the end, didn’t she? She died and he was alone even though he tried…

“What?”

“At the beach house,” you repeat. “When I basically told you that you wanted me…” you say with a roll of your eyes, “it was just teasing, foreplay.” Then, more seriously: “But I guess I was being like Two-Face. Double entendres, innuendos, all that.”

“You’re going to become a vengeful, homicidal DA?” he quips wryly and you huff in faux irritation, poking him lightly in the chest.

“No. God, use that brain inside that pretty little head of yours for once.”

“Aw, you called me pretty.”

“Barnes.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Well, what I was saying… When I said you wanted me… God, this is stupid. Feel free to just punch me in the face after, but…”

“But?” Eyebrows knitting together, he looks at you and you pull the blanket up to your face, embarrassment telltale in the way you avert your eyes. He gently pushes the blanket down, muting the TV and waiting patiently. You look more alive that you did the first minute you walked into your apartment and you look like you want to bury yourself in the blankets but he’s not going anywhere and you stare at him, lips pressed into a flustered line. “I’m not going to punch you in the face. You can just tell me.”

“I guess… I just... I wanted to believe that you wanted me,” you state, shaking your head, “for me. Like some affirmation that there’s a possibility you could ever want me like that, and… I’m being dumb. I swear I’m not usually like this, all sentimental and shit, but it’s just I feel like shit and you don’t care about any of that and Brock… I broke up with him because I know he doesn’t love me even if he says he does and that I deserve better but I just… it gets to me, you know? It fucking gets to me when I’m all alone and now I am alone and if he didn’t put me first... maybe it’s because I’m not wanted.”

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, reaching for your hands and you surrender to him easily as he cranes his head to keep your eye contact despite you ducking your head. “I don’t judge you for any of that shit and that’s wrong. He’s a fucking prick, and people want you here. Romanoff, Steve, Sam…” Me.

“I know. I know and I just… I’m scared because I have nowhere to go. And, you’re always honest with me, and just slap me in the face because… I can’t believe I’m asking you this what if… what if everyone’s gonna treat me like Brock did? What if no one will ever really want me?

There’s a beat.

Then, two.

He’s squeezing your hands so hard he’s surprised you haven’t drawn away but then he realizes your fingers are clutching onto him even tighter, his bones wincing as you crush his digits.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid—”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky shakes his head and you—fourth year college student and someone he shouldn’t be attached to because you two are so different but he is because you two are so alike—are something else. No one has gotten under his skin like you have.

You’re not fucking stupid. Because I do want you. In a way. In more than one way. And you are irritating and burn so fucking bright and you’re fucking bold, but—

I want you.

He doesn’t say any of that.

And it’s complicated, but that’s how the universe fucking works.

“You’re free to stay here for however long you need to,” he tells you quietly, seriously. “I don’t care how long it is, and there are no catches. Just… just don’t give that fucker another chance, yeah? ‘Cause there’s always gonna be someone who wants you, kitten. Someone who’ll treat you right.”

You smile faintly, knees tucked to your chest and hair still a bit damp from your shower. You’re warm, soft, with no cigarette smoke clouding your silhouette and no glossy sheen of alcohol. You look like you in a way Bucky’s never known before.

He thinks this beats you in any kind of black dress.

“Okay,” you accept and you lean over first to kiss him. It’s a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, an innocent, flitting thing, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He eases against the couch and you lean against his chest, cuddling close against him. His arm falls around your shoulders, holding you tight to him and you melt against him just like he does around you.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

[ratofthemedievalsewers]

Heart of Steel - Part I

DBH Connor x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.5K+

Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language

Original game dialogue I got from this video:

https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg

We were attacked in the night.

After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.

"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"Here we go again."

"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.

"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.

"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"

"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.

"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.

"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"

One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.

"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"

"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"

It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.

"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"

"GRENADE!"

I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.

Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.

The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.

In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.

It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.

"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.

It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.

It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.

*****

"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.

"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"

"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"

"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.

"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.

"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.

"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.

"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.

"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.

"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."

"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."

"Dangerous?"

"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."

"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"

"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."

"I understand that, but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"

I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.

Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."

"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.

"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."

"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."

"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"

"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.

"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.

"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."

Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.

The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.

"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.

"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."

"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."

"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"

"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.

"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.

"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."

I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."

"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.

"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."

"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."

"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."

"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."

They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.

"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.

"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.

"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.

"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.

"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.

"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.

"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"

"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."

"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."

"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.

"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

late night calls

Summary: It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Plus size reader

Wordcount: 4.1k+

Warnings: fluff, phone sex, mentions of bomb attacks, sexism, self doubt, yearning?

A/N: I know that probably more time passed between the bombing and Javier being send back to the states but I chose to ignore it. For the plot. Hope you enjoy it :)

Masterlist

*taglist in reblog

You still weren’t used to the heat. Yes, you did move to Texas because you wanted a fresh start. But the fucking heat would take some time to get used to. Nothing was holding you back in Maine. You had spent the last years taking care of your sick mother. She had died just before Christmas and with her all the family you had left. 

So coming with the new year you took a leap of faith, packed your things, and moved to a little town close to the Mexican border. You got a job at the local police station as a secretary that made a decent sum of money each month. Life was good. At least you told yourself so. 

You had made a couple of friends. Mostly the older generation of the town. You weren’t big on going out, nor had the town a big nightlife in the first place. That’s why you insisted on taking care of Chucho after he told you one day at the diner that he had to get a hip replacement. His wife had died a long time ago and his son wasn’t able to leave work.

“Don’t you have some better stuff to do cariño?” He had asked.

“What better way to start your day than on your Farm, Senior Peña.” You had winked at him.

Chucho might have been a stubborn old man, but once he got out of surgery and was in pain he was thankful that he accepted your help. That was also the first time you heard him talk about his son. Javier.

“Be a dear and call him to tell him I’m okay?” He had mumbled before he dozed off again. You had chuckled, kissed his cheek before you left him for the day to went over to his farm. Once you had taken care of everything for the day you sat down on his kitchen island and grabbed the phone, dialing the first number he had written down.

You had suggested moving into his place in his recovery time. It was a beautiful place. Mexico was just on the other side of the river down the property. But the best part about this place was the air conditioning. Okay… You really loved this place and it definitely was an upgrade to the small apartment you were renting in the city. 

Waiting for his son to pick up the phone you wondered what kind of job he would have that he wasn’t able to take care of his father. You didn’t judge him, okay maybe a little, you were more curious. You had seen some pictures of him spread through the house. But you had never asked about him.

“DEA Office, how may I help you?” A woman answered your call.

“Uhm… Is Javier Peña available? It’s about his father,” you tried.

“Oh of course. Agent Peña just got in. Please hold.”

Agent Peña? DEA? You had so many questions but they died on your tongue when the call connected again.

“This is Peña.” A deep voice said. He reminded you of his father.

“Hello Mr. Peña. I’m only calling to let you know that your father’s surgery went fine. He wanted me to forward this to you.”

“Javier, please. Not even my father likes to be called Mr. Peña.” 

“Oh I noticed that,” you chuckled.

“He’s fine yeah?” You heard something shuffle on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. Already made some jokes and told me to make sure I feed the horses in the right order.”

“You’re taking care of the horses?”

“Yeah. I’m temporarily moving in to help your father.”

“That’s very nice of you. He never told me about you.”

“There’s not much to tell.” You got up and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m only here for the air conditioning.” You joked. He laughed.

“Fuck I miss air conditioning. Hold on.” You sat down again, hearing only damp voices.

“Fuck. I need to go. Please call me if something comes up. Dad has my home number too, right?” He was speaking quickly and you wondered what was happening. 

“Yes, he wrote it down for me. Everything okay?”

“Yeah hopefully. Just some work stuff. Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Will do Javier.”

Chucho got home a week later and he was the worst at listening to doctors’ orders. You still had to go into the station to work, but you spend your whole time worrying about him. It was funny to you how he seemingly had become a father figure to you in less than a couple of weeks. 

Of course you found him standing at the kitchen counter when you got to the ranch, the phone tugged between his shoulder and his ear, making himself a sandwich.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I was. Then Javi called and I got hungry.” 

“Stubborn old man,” you grumbled and he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I brought dinner.”

“Fine. Here. Javi wants to say Hello,” he handed you the phone before he slowly trotted towards the couch. Shaking your head you put the phone to your ear.

“You are really strict with him,” Javier said.

“Someone has to. Are all you Peña men this stubborn?” 

He chuckled. “You have no idea. How is he doing?”

“Overall good. Not complaining as much as in the beginning but then again I am bribing him with my delicious cooking.”

Javier and you had spoken to each other at least two times per week since the first time you called to tell him about his father’s surgery. You learned that he was a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar. You learned that he was feeling guilty about not being there for his father and to take care of the ranch. You learned lots of things about Javier Peña. 

“Ah... Delicious cooking. Maybe one day you get to cook for me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You teased, hearing him take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably. 

“Just that my father is praising your cooking so much I wonder if it really is that good.”

“Oh, it is, Peña.” You found yourself smiling. You heard him sigh.

“Everything’s okay over there?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. Definitely a lie. You nodded.

“You wanna stay on the phone while I prepare dinner?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

The better Chucho got, the longer the phone calls between Javier and you seem to get. It was mostly at night after he got home from whatever he had been doing at work that day intending to check in on his father. But after a few sentences, he asked about your day. About how you felt. What your plans for the coming weekend were. 

“You sound exhausted Hermosa,” he sighed. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream and drown your sorrows.

“Just the usual sexist bullshit at the PD,” you groaned.

“Want me to kill them?” Javier joked.

“You take care of your nemesis, I take care of mine. But I appreciate the help.” You sat down on your bed, knowing that this was usually the room he occupied when he was here to visit his father. 

“Noted. But if it’s any help, I had a shit day too. They seem to get more frequent the longer I stay in this shithole.”

“Maybe you have to focus on the good things of being in this country. There have to be some. The food probably. I always enjoy new food. Maybe go to a museum? I don’t want to intrude but you don’t seem like you do anything besides work and well…”

It was pure accident that you had heard the voice of a woman one night when you had called him for a change. You knew that he looked good, you had seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you, that he did have a girlfriend. He clarified that he didn’t, that this was just a woman he got intel from. You didn’t ask any more questions, it wasn’t your right. That it hurt to think of him and another woman was something you chose to ignore.

“I never thanked you,” Javier said. You let yourself fall back into bed, staring at the stars outside the window.

“What for?” you asked quietly.

“Thanking care of Dad and the ranch. Listening to my drunken ramblings. You’re a good friend,” he said. You smiled, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

“You’re a good friend too, Javi.”

Chucho didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not when he was back to his old health after a couple of months. But he had asked you to move in with him anyway. And you loved to live with the old man. Enjoying not being on your own all the time. And you loved helping him out at the ranch. The PD was still getting on your nerves and you were seriously considering just quitting.

“I hate it. I fucking hate it. I get one dumb line after another, just because I’m a woman. That I helped to get together the evidence to put that fucker away that killed all those women last year is not even of interest. FUCK!” you complained to Chucho. He knew about all of this already. Yet he jumped from his seat when he saw that you did cut yourself while making dinner.

“Careful.” He took your hand in his, leading you over to the sink to look at your wound. It didn’t hurt that much. 

“What about if I take care of dinner today, and you go and take a bath? Javier is probably gonna call in a bit…” Chucho winked, putting a bandaid on your finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“Just that I see the way you smile every time my son calls.”

“Two whole days off? What are you gonna do with yourself?” You joked. You were laying in the bathtub, the phone in your hand as you talked to Javier.

“Don’t know. I feel like I need a home-cooked meal so I’m gonna nag Connie to cook one.”

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“Is that water I hear?” he asked and you blushed. Why? You didn’t know. You had undressed numerous times while on the phone with him, but being completely naked and him knowing about it…

“I’m in the bathtub. Chucho’s orders. He’s making dinner before I kill myself doing it.”

You were met with silence.

“You okay, Javi?” You sucked your bottom lip in. “I did only cut my finger,” you joked.

“Just trying to get the picture of you naked in the bathtub out of my head.”

“You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to hear your voice and I’m hard…”

“Javi…” you whispered, feeling hot all of the sudden.

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?”

“If you think about me? Because you are on my mind all the time. I keep picturing how you look. If you have long hair or short hair. What color your eyes have. If your smile is only half as beautiful as your laugh. Fuck… I just wanna see you. I wanna feel you. I wanna taste you Hermosa.” 

Unintentionally your unoccupied hand had made its way down your body, your breath coming in short pants.

“Keep talking Javier…” you whispered, your hand slipping in between your legs.

“I want to touch you. Fuck I bet your skin is so soft. I’d worship you. I stay up at night wondering if I could fit your boobs in my hands. What sound you would make when I close my mouth around your nipple…”

“Shit Javi…” You moaned.

“I wonder how you taste. Are you wet for me baby?” he asked and you heard a zipper being undone on his end of the line.

“So wet. You always make me wet. I touch myself when we get off the phone, wondering how it would feel to have you here…” you whimpered.

“I would have fucked you on every flat surface in the house if I was there. The thought of you sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind.”

You circled your clit with your fingers, a low moan coming from your lips.

“I wonder how you feel wrapped around my cock. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum. I want to hear it so badly…” You were sure he was fucking his hand and you whimpered at the thought.

“I wish it was my hand wrapped around your big cock right now. God, I wish it was your hand between my legs and not mine…” You bit your lips, keeping yourself quiet.

“Put two fingers into that cunt and make yourself cum. I wanna hear you…” he groaned on the phone. 

“Fuck Javi…” you cried quietly, two fingers inside your cunt. “I wish it was your cock and not my fingers.”

“Me too… Me too babe.” he moaned. “Circle that clit for me. Cum for me.”

Circling your clit you almost let the phone fall into the tub when you came with a low moan. You heard him cry out your name on the other end of the line before all that was heard was both of your heavy breathing. 

“Javi…?” you asked after a while, still high from one of the best orgasms you ever had. You heard the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette.

“I meant every single word Hermosa. I want you.” You never thought you would hear these words from him or any man for that matter. You weren’t a typical beauty. You weren’t skinny, you loved food and your curves showed it. On most days you were happy with the way you looked. But you also knew how Javier looked. He was an attractive man and you knew he did indeed have a new woman every other night if he felt like it. He might be interested now, but once he would meet you, there was no way he would make true to all the things he said.

“You’re quiet.” he noticed.

“Yeah. Just coming down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” you joked and he sighed.

“I might not see you, but I know that you’re lying.”

“Okay, it was the best orgasm I ever had.”

“Hermosa…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just let me enjoy the illusion of a handsome DEA Agent being interested in little ol’ me.”

“I’ll make sure you believe that it isn’t an illusion until we do see each other.”

Months went by and by now you were pretty sure you were in love with Javier Peña. The phone bill was taking dimensions you were almost guilty about, but Chucho only smiled not taking your money, telling you to make his boy happy. Safe to say he approved.

You had told him about your insecurities and Javier made sure to tell you every time you talked to each other that it didn’t matter how you looked. He told you that you could be green and he’d still go down on you the first time he would meet you.

And you wanted to believe him, you really did. You had told him how you looked after he tried to talk you into sending pictures of yourself “with or without clothes, I don’t care. Though you can guess what I prefer.” he had teased. Javier never made a secret about how much he liked you. Enjoyed talking to you. He told you he had stopped sleeping around for god’s sake. 

He was supposed to visit his father in a couple of weeks and the more time passed, the more nervous you became. You didn’t doubt that he meant every single word he said to you. It was years of being on the receiving end of jokes and being the ugly friend that automatically let you feel like you weren’t good enough.

The worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you were beautiful. You loved how you looked. But there still was this voice inside your head, telling you that you would never be good enough for anyone. That there was no way someone would ever fall in love with you.

It was a typical morning at work. You had your coffee and all the files you had to update. Javier had talked to you until you fell asleep, telling you that he felt like he was failing in taking Escobar down. He didn’t tell you much, not wanting you to worry or to risk someone listening, but you could tell that he was exhausted. “I fucked up, Hermosa. I really fucked up and I have no idea how to fix this,” were the words that he had whispered to you in the middle of the night. 

You didn’t ask what he meant, just telling him that you’d be there for him, no matter what.

Typing as usual you stopped as the song on the radio was, interrupted by a news report of a bombing in Bogota, Colombia. You knew that there were bombings all the time over there, and Javier always assured you that he was perfectly fine. But with how he was last night, you had a bad feeling.

“Fuck. When are they going to stop that shit over there? If I was there I’d caught Escobar years ago,” one of the officers said. You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply.

“Isn’t Chucho’s son over there pretty face?” The officer stopped in front of your desk and you opened your eyes.

“Yeah he is,” you said.

“Maybe if he would know how to do his job, shit like that wouldn’t go down like that,” he grinned and you wanted to stop, but your hand was faster. Slapping his cheek you got off your seat.

“And maybe if you would know how to use your dick your wife wouldn’t fuck your colleague over there, but you’ll never know, right?” You grinned, picking your purse and walking out.

“I’m taking today off.” You yelled over your shoulder as you walked to your car.

Javier didn’t pick up the phone. Which wasn’t what concerned you on the first day. He would have to deal with the shit that had happened over there. But when three days passed and you could see Chucho getting nervous as well you became restless. The ranch had never been so spotless. The horses had been fed in record time, and you took long rides along the river. If something had happened to him someone would have called, right? You couldn’t even reach his partner Murphy who you had talked to occasionally when Javier wasn’t at his desk. 

When a week passed and you hadn’t heard anything you were close to making your way to the airport to just fly down there. What if he died? What if he was gone and you hadn’t told him that you loved him? That you fell in love with a man you had never met before? Getting off the horse you sat down at the tree closest to the river. It was quiet here. This was the outer area of Chucho’s ranch, your favorite spot. You had joked about building a house here once when you were out with the old man and he had agreed that it would be the perfect spot. Sighing you drank from the bottle of water you brought.

Where the fuck are you Javier?

Another week went by without any sign of life from him. You had called the DEA office again but no one seemed to be able to give you an answer. You were growing restless. Working seemed to be the only thing that could get you off the spiraling thoughts of what if? You really had it bad for the man. Shaking your head to yourself you sighed as you parked your car on the usual spot in front of the ranch. Chucho’s truck was gone, he had a doctor's appointment to check on his hip and would meet his lady friend for dinner afterward. You had met her, Estella, once. She was a beautiful woman and Chucho seemed very happy with her. With a sad smile you killed the engine, getting out of the car. On your way to the house you groaned, turning around because you forgot your take out. You weren’t in the mood to cook and the pizza from that place that Javier had told you about was the best you had ever had. While you opened the passenger door of your car you heard the front door of the house open.

Shit. Burglars? You didn’t have anything on you, you could use as a gun. You knew you could probably make it to the horse stable to find something, but not in these fucking heels. Why did you wear these fucking heels? Maybe you could make them choke on the pizza? But then again you were looking forward to eating it. 

“Just take what you want, I won’t look.” You called over your shoulder, hoping to just be spared for the day. Closing your eyes you sighed when you were met with no reaction. You heard footsteps on the porch that stopped.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit today. So either take whatever the fuck you want or kill me….” you turned around and all the words died on your lips.

Standing there, leaning against the porch was no other than Javier fucking Peña. Alive. And looking even better than on the various pictures hanging in the house. He was bare feet, wearing tight jeans and a green shirt that was half undone. Opening your mouth to talk, all that came out was a gasp. He looked at you, his eyes mirroring the million emotions inside of you. Looking down at yourself you felt shy all of the sudden. This isn’t how you imagined meeting him for the first time. You wanted to be pretty. To wear some spanx. To have some make-up on. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep. You were happy to see him, you really were. But the ride of emotions you had gone through in the last couple of days took hold of you. Walking quickly towards him, you pushed against his chest, the air leaving his lungs in a puff.

“You fucking idiot. I thought you died.” You pushed him again.

“Do you have any idea how awful I felt since I heard the news of the bombing? You…” You pushed against his chest again, but this time he was faster, grabbing your wrists as he looked down at you. You felt the tears in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. Almost a year of phone calls and now he was standing here in front of you. Alive and warm. And smelling so fucking good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding both of your wrists against his chest as he looked at you. 

“I should have called but I told you I fucked up. Badly. And I had to fix it and…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and fuck… you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” he smiled a little.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You huffed, still annoyed.

“No?” he asked teasingly, smirking at you as he leaned down. You shook your head, biting your lip. God, you wanted to kiss him. 

“Can I at least try?” he asked, his lips brushing over your temple. You swallowed, shivering when you felt his cheek against yours. Fuck. Why did he smell so good?

“You may try, but I’m really, really mad at you Javier.”

You closed your eyes when he released your wrists and put one of his hands on your back to push you closer against him. He kissed your cheek before he straightened to his full height and looked down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your cheek.

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” he teased before he leaned down to kiss you. You melted against him, your hands running up his chest, holding on to the back of his neck as one hand ran through his hair, to pull him down. Kissing him didn’t come close to anything you could have imagined, his tongue parting your lips and you couldn’t help the moan against his lips. 

“Still angry?” he whispered out of breath against your lips.

“Slightly less angry,” you whispered back before you found yourself in his arms as he carried you into the house.