#you love to see it but goddamn. please process an emotion for once in your life

[undead-supernova]

Brutal! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 - tbc

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: it's all fun and games, all soft kisses and gentle words until the past is revealed and new perspectives are learned

contains: talks about past sexual trauma, eddie reliving trauma, confident!reader

note: this chapter is different than the others and it is on purpose. when we erase the stories and feelings of victims, we erase the possibility of recovery and healing. especially those of us who are forgotten amongst recognition.

please do not read this part if the subject of sexual assault is triggering for you

song inspo: Seven by Phinehas

wc: 4.1k

special thanks to @jo-harrington for helping to edit and @littlexdeaths for your lovely divider. i appreciate you both for being so encouraging and lovely friends

You didn’t want to admit that what happened at the party had upset you.

Well, not the part where Eddie made you cum. That had been heavenly—euphoric. It couldn’t even be considered a state of bliss. It was more like an inferno, the lascivious flames pulling you further and further into the blaze.

But there were his words in your head again, the ones hurled at you before he realized his mistake.

Are you using me?

If we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?  

The water rushed down your neck, the steam billowing throughout the tiny bathroom as you turned up the heat again. You had to let it scorch your skin, had to let the sting pull you back down to a state of normalcy.

There was a memory that you dared not touch from freshman year. One that still crept up every now and then, in half-asleep states and furious daylight. A growling beast, one with a four-letter name and a specified interest in IPAs as if he was the Christopher Goddamn Columbus of beer. 

You shut your eyes, convinced that his hands were pressing in on the grimy tile behind you, stretching the wall to tear the veil and grab you. Like that one scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street, he was always trying to split you in two.

Further and further he pushed, so close to gripping your throat. So close to suffocating you once more and pulling you back down to the shadows. 

Knock, knock.

You gasped, jumping back and almost slipping before steadying yourself.        

“Hey, Eddie’s here!” Aron called from behind the door.

  “Okay!” you shouted back.

You placed a hand on your chest to still your thrumming heart before you really processed her words. Letting out a scoff at your own absentmindedness, you shouted, “Be out in a minute!”

Maybe you always felt like you were being split in two, now more than ever. Having these emotions that you’d pushed down for the sake of survival. Changing yourself to fit the way you wanted others to see you. That mask, all gnarly and scary just to prove to yourself more than anyone that you were no longer the fool.

It made you wonder if you’d been putting this mask on for Eddie. But things would be better with him. 

They always were.

It started with midterm study time, you swear. You really tried, pulling up a three hour long video of Cozy Fall Oldies Muffled In Another Room Next to a Fireplace While it Rains to help keep both you and Eddie focused. Going back and forth, you took turns helping the other with flashcards. While you were honing in on 20th Century Lit, he was groaning through his Algebra I equations. 

Within twenty minutes, Eddie decided it would be more motivating if you gave him a kiss every time he got the equation right. 

Though you rolled your eyes, you indulged him. Whatever got him to study.

“What happens if I get an answer right?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“That’s up to you,” he replied with a shrug, looking back down at his TI-84 calculator. But you noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips as he quickly glanced back up at you. “We could always play Strip Study.”

“‘Strip Study’, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, it’s a good game. Very helpful in trying times.”

“And what are the rules to this so-called Strip Study?”

“Well…” he trailed, setting the calculator down before shifting closer to you on your twin-sized bed. Counterintuitive to the point of your study date, Eddie pushed aside your textbook and came to hover over you. You refused to move, challenging him with your faux expression of disappointment. It was impressive, seeing him this forward. Above all else, however, you were quite amused.

“If you answer correctly,” he started, slowly pushing you down into the mattress. “then you’ll just have to take off a piece of clothing.”

You snorted, shaking your head at him. He mocked you, shaking his head right back, tickling you with his curls. “And that’s supposed to be for my enjoyment?” you pondered.

Eddie leaned down, taking the opportunity to leave a kiss on your neck. You could’ve sworn you heard him take a deep breath, like he was desperately inhaling your scent. There was a part of you that wished to do the same.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll take off a piece of clothing. How does that sound?”

“Hm,” you hummed as your fingers traced his collarbone before you pushed him back. He shivered as you crawled on top of him, his dominance cracking in an instant. Without thought, you grabbed his wrist before bringing it up to your mouth. You closed your eyes momentarily to breathe in his cologne, his being. You made sure to meet his eyes as you lightly bit down on his skin.

He was opening his mouth to fill the silence, but you quickly leaned down, gently ghosting your lips against his before whispering, “Not a chance.”

Immediately you sat up and scooted away, grabbing your textbook before he could retaliate. 

He laid there for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before sitting back up and giving you a look. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? Who could say. 

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

Shrugging, you felt around for your TV remote before turning up the music. “I hate the thought of you failing your Algebra midterm because I gave you a free peep show.”

When you looked back at him, he finally wore a grin. “It would be a metal way to go.”

“Well, maybe if you pass your midterm I’ll let you have a look,” you challenged.

You were amazed when that is what got him to shut up and get back to work.

After a few hours of real studying, Eddie dramatically collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your sweatshirt. He planted a swift kiss over your belly before sighing.

“Okay. Nap time.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you earned it.”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever studied.”

You peered down, watching his mahogany eyes soften, drooping ever so slightly. Without thought, you ran your middle finger across the stray hairs of his now too-long bangs to keep away from his eyes. You pocketed the thought to trim them for him.

“I’m proud of you,” you said quietly. And you meant it. 

Though his words had stung, he’d done nothing but apologize for them. You’d had several conversations with him owning up to his mistakes and asking you those questions he hadn’t thought to before. You told him about Sam, about Blake and John and Meghan and Maggie—all of which got a little too close for comfort. Those were the ones who’d actually given you their names, had made it a point to introduce themselves before their hands wandered. Before they called you a slut and walked away.

He’d listened the entire time, nodding while trying to hide his frustration. You knew he’d do anything to avenge you—he said as much before you’d shushed him with kisses. Kisses that promised that he was forgiven. That you were thankful for his efforts. That you were starting to fall desperately in love with him.

There was just one other instance you hadn’t divulged yet. 

“Yeah?” he asked.

But that could come later. Much later.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Eddie let out a soft hum. “Get some sleep.”

For now, you focused on the way Eddie’s eyelids shut and the gentle smile on his lips loosen. For now, you focused on someone who you couldn’t quite admit was the most important person in your life.

As Eddie fell into his half-asleep daze, he could vaguely picture a certain kind of monster. One who slips into dreams, coating the edges of the scene with a fuzzy filter. Not Freddy Krueger, per se. One with a better grip on how to lure men to their deaths. Maybe like a siren, with jagged teeth and turquoise eyes that brought sailors to their knees along rocky shorelines and brutal seas. 

But what happens to a man when he is less than interested in their attempt at temptation?

Eddie, as steady as his breathing was, began to descend into some dream that felt like a memory inside an alternate reality—could the two coexist? Because there his van was, parked on a beach. The air was thick with salt, digging into his forearms like thousands of tiny push pins scraping along the first few layers of skin. He had enough sense to wait in the back of the vehicle. Waiting for what, he could hardly remember. Waiting for who, well…

The moment the recollection stirred, there was a pounding on the back doors. 

“Munson, come on!”

When he looked out the window, he saw Charlotte Stevens. She was a regular, scoring weed here and there when she ended up fighting with her aunt and uncle. He only knew because her parents died in a car wreck only a month after her senior year—Eddie’s second—began. He let her yap off to him about her problems whenever she came by. Some of his “clients” were chatty, growing quiet over time when Eddie told them to go see a different therapist and slammed the door on them. 

But it was Charlotte.

She was lonely. Heartbroken. Sure, she was part of the popular crowd, but he knew better after his few interactions with Chrissy Cunningham. A lot of those girls did what they had to in order to survive. It didn’t make them a villain. He really thought Charlotte was the same way. He cut her some slack, watching the light in her eyes wither and die. Saw how the school year thinned out her dirty blonde hair, living off of half-eaten salads in the cafeteria. 

After all, he was heading off to college soon without his close friends. Who didn’t need a near-stranger to lean on?

“You’re late,” he said as soon as the door swung open. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sunlight pouring in, eyes catching on the sight of pavement and grass. Were they no longer at the beach? Where were they?

And why did it feel so…familiar? Like that day behind The Hideout. It was where she usually met him, feeling too paranoid to do it literally anywhere else. He could vaguely see the rutty door to the bar behind her. His refuge. His escape.

Charlotte huffed, her white tank top clinging to her body while sweat dripped down to her cut-off jean shorts. “As if you have anything else going on.”

“Do you want your weed or not?” he snapped. 

“Geez, what’s gotten into you?” she asked as she sat opposite him. Eddie made sure their knees didn’t touch. 

He wasn’t one to make connections with these people. The less he knew, the better. Even with someone he took pity on. Because, believe it or not, tragedy never truly made someone nicer. He’d seen enough damage done to the redhead that lived across from him. After her brother died, she changed everything. And she was definitely no longer interested in casual conversations without an insult or two thrown in.

Needless to say, he knew when to leave well enough alone.

“Do you care?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really.”

Exactly.

“Okay, well, it’s fifty even,” he said absentmindedly, trying to locate his metal box. 

“Maybe I could pay a different way.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at her. Of course she’d try to cheat the system now. “Trust me, Stevens,” he said. “There’s nothing I need more than money right now.”

And when she put her hand over his, he realized just what she was proposing. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Eddie pulled his hand away. “Uh, yeah.”

“Come on, Eddie.”

Something evil twisted in his gut at the sound of her saying his name for the first time. 

“Hate to sound like a douche, but I’m not interested in you. So, yeah, nice try. I’ll take that fifty bucks. Now.”

She moved suddenly, quick to pounce as she threw her hands on either side of his head, caging him in. Like he hadn’t said a word. Like he was prey.

Charlotte was a siren; he was sure of it. Waiting for him to slip, to give in to some desire that was nothing but an unlikely daydream. Her breath fanned over his cheek, invading his nostrils with the scent of her spearmint. Those teeth, smacking gum as she promised that it would be worth his while. Pinning his hands to his sides as he suggested again that she just pay him and leave. But Charlotte couldn’t take no for an answer, straddling him instead.

“I’ve always wanted to see what the freak felt like.”

That’s when Eddie wondered: what if these sirens didn’t even have tails, had nothing to do with what lied undiscovered and unencumbered by the rules of mythology? What if that was what made them lethal?

“That’s fucking weird,” he replied through his teeth.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck one of the popular girls. I saw you looking at Chrissy with googly eyes all year.”

He had. He didn’t feel ashamed of that. Back then, he didn’t feel ashamed of much at all. Especially when he was finally escaping this town. Who cared who he did and didn’t fawn over now that he was searching for new faces?

“And you think you’re Chrissy? That’s fucking hilarious, Stevens. Funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard,” he growled, fighting against her grasp again. Instead, she moved her hips against him, trying to get him hard. 

But it wasn’t working. Eddie was far from aroused. If anything, he felt like he was going to puke. Maybe if he conjured enough willpower, he’d be able to spew all over Charlotte and get her to leave him the fuck alone forever.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m better.” 

Just as her hands reached for his belt, there was a pounding against the van. It was so violent, so powerful that the car began to shake. Eddie could’ve sworn they were going to flip before the rumbling stopped and the back doors ripped off their hinges. 

Standing there, in a thin black dress littered with glitter and stars, was you. The ends of your nails were sharpened into charcoal claws, one hand wrapped around a bejeweled whip. A shiny crown sat atop your head, gleaming in the scorching sun.

He caught your stare, piercing him with the fierce fury that clouded your eyes. But you immediately looked at Charlotte, frozen on top of him.

“It’s not what it looks—” he choked, trying to catch his breath. But it was failing him. He was failing. 

But there you were, cracking the whip before shooting it forward, snaking around Charlotte’s throat and dragging her down to the bed of the van. Her forehead smacked against the metal box Eddie had been searching for. 

You let her cough, let her head bleed before curling your fingers into claws. 

“You better wake up, Eddie,” you said as you stalked forward. 

He watched in horror as you jumped on top of Charlotte, shoving your nails into her wrists to keep her right where you wanted her.

“Wake up,” you repeated.

Eddie jumped out of the van, barely catching a glimpse of you ripping into her throat before the light consumed him.

“Wake up!”

Eddie gasped for air, his eyes flying open to see your face above him, eyes alight with concern. 

“Woah, hey,” you whispered, hands coming to pull him back down into your grasp. He immediately relaxed, falling into your arms once more as you began stroking his hair. “Eddie, hey.”

“Fuck,” he said, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck.”

His vision clouded, the blurry images of his dream flashing each time he blinked. He couldn’t shake what was really there, what really happened.

Because that wasn’t how it ended. 

There was no one to save him back then. No Gareth or Grant or Jeff. 

No you.

Dragging his hands down his face, Eddie wondered when the distorted voices would dissipate. They came in all crackled, like Charlotte’s voice over the intercom during homeroom. It echoed in his head every other night, locking him in his cage of beige cinder block. 

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

But here you both were, in your prison cell. And instead of beige cinder blocks, it was decorated. Prints of famous paintings littered your walls, covering up most of the beige with genuine color and vibrancy. It was a museum of your own curation.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And if it was decorated, then it wasn’t really a cell, was it? No, it was a home.

“Bad dream?”

And he liked the thought of home.

“The worst.”

With you.

“Wanna go on a walk? Sometimes it helps me to just, like, walk around campus.”

He’d give anything to have that forever.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Campus always felt different after negative experiences. College seemed to darken with something untoward. You started to notice the way your unhappiness contrasted those who walked along the same path with their friends. A pearl of laughter from a stranger on the phone with their mother. The brushing hands of a honeymooned couple. The sight of cackling men throwing a football on a grassy patch.

It could hide that girl hiding her head in the brick to suppress her sobs. The guy running across your path, breathlessly saying Sorry, excuse me as he races to his next class. A certain boy next to you who hadn’t spoken once since you left.

The sun had poked through the clouds, illuminating campus with vibrancy. But when you looked over at Eddie, he kept his head low, fiddling with his fingertips. 

He was more solemn than usual, seemingly deflated after the dream he’d had. All you wanted was to grab his hand, keep him from picking his nails or his skin. Remind him that it was just a dream. 

Instead, you kept walking. Kept whatever distance he was setting, letting him take the lead. You caught him sneaking a glance at you every once in a while, always returning his somber gaze with a smile.

He never smiled back.

You wound in and out of pavement and grass, looping around the library and the food hall before turning around and heading back. And as you rounded the last corner back to your dorm, Eddie finally spoke.

“How did you…get to be so confident?” Eddie asked.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to stop. 

Not only that, but his question caught on a spiral of barbed wire like cloth. The wire that you’d used to cage your insides from anyone and any thing unwanted. It tugged at something you’d been dreading to bring up with him. Especially after the other night. 

And just like that, you had to shred what was left of his poking.

“You know men,” you started with a fake smile, letting the mask consume you. “Can’t keep their hands to themselves. No means yes and all that. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You waved your hand around, turning away to keep walking but Eddie caught it, pulling you back to face him. 

“Hey, you don’t have to brush that off, you know. You didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes poured compassion into yours, breeding a kind of fear that you’d never experienced before. This exposure to your innermost hurt without even a scalpel. It caused you to wonder if it was even fear. The wire now scraped along your ribs, each stroke against the bone growing gnarlier than the last. 

And it was in that torture that you snapped. 

“Oh, I know,” you said with a strained chuckle. “You don’t have to act like you know anything about it, though.”

You could tell your harsh tone surprised him, his eyes widening with each word you threw out. But it didn’t stop him from his expression changing, eyebrows narrowing. Something fell over his features, a darkness you hadn’t encountered before. There was decay behind his stare, his gentle nature starting to crack.

“You don’t have to act like you’re the only one who’s gone through something like that.”

A huff left your nose as you jerked your hand away. “Yeah, one in six. I’m well acquainted with my gender’s statistics.”

“At least you have a number,” Eddie fired back before looking at his feet. “At least…at least you don’t drive yourself crazy going back and forth from one in six to one in thirty-three.”

And then it clicked.

Are you using me?

Like, if we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?

“Eddie?” you asked, like the question you wanted to ask had already been spoken. “You’ve…you’ve…”

“Um. Yeah. Some girls aren’t as willing to ask permission as you are.”

And it was in that moment that you both realized how trauma had different effects on different people. Still mirrors, only with different colors reflecting off of your shattered edges. Yours came out all fiery red, all flames and guns blazing. His was something more somber, a devastating blue that desperately hid in the background.

“When…”

“Last summer.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

His furrowed eyebrows softened, eyes turned glassy as he asked, “Did you?”

You were at a loss of words. How could you even begin to think of what to say when all you could picture was the worst. Eddie, suffocating at the hands of a girl. Unable to escape, unable to run. Just like you had.

But Eddie never donned a mask. He’d never truly hidden himself away, not really when you were the one begging him to come out of his shell. And he was always out there, still taking chances on himself. Even when he slipped up, he still found ways to try again.

Could you say the same for yourself?

 “Eddie,” you started, closing your eyes to make it easier. “you are so much more than what happened to you. And because no one gives a shit to say this to men, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through something like that. Especially when all of your friends were gone. When I got r—” You stopped yourself, unable to even utter the word. “When that happened to me, I ran into Aron for the first time and she helped clean me up and… Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is you should’ve had someone be there for you. And I wish that person had been me.”

Eddie whispered your name, shaking his head as the tears spilled over. It was a broken kind of sound, like he was pleading for help. Pleading for reassurance, pleading to forget.

“Come here,” you whispered, feeling choked up yourself.

That’s when he fell into you, tightly winding his arms around your waist and burying his head into your neck. You felt the sudden release of tears and snot, the release of something buried down inside him coming to the surface.

 You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. But you went back to that September night, feeling Aron’s arms cage you in as if she could hide you from the monsters that walked amongst you. So you gave that to Eddie. Your hand came up to press his head further in, obstructing any light from either side of you. An obsidian of solitude for him, your fingers weaving into his hair. Scratching down his scalp until you felt him shiver, felt his locked up posture fall into something resembling ease.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here now. I promise.”

Another strained cry erupted from him, louder this time. You tried to suppress your own tears, but there was no use. You could still be strong for him and share his sorrow.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you asked.

He leaned back a fraction, puffy eyes meeting yours. You watched him hiccup, trying desperately to take a deep breath. Moving with him, you exaggerated your breath to help him move with you. His stare continued to pierce through you, indecision falling over his features before something seemed to click. 

And with his first successful steady breath, he finally spoke.             

“Please.”

If you are a victim of sexual assault, I hope you know that you can love again and that it will get better with time. I'm rooting for you. You don't have to be afraid. And you do not have to shut yourself off from letting love in.

I know I keep popping in and out to post things so thank you for continuing to read if you're still here. I've spent months wanting to post this chapter, but there was a lot of shit going on in my personal life — but I had to return to give y’all this.

[mxdarling]

["to jealousy, to being yours"]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: five (5) times you thought nobara liked maki, and the one (1) time she proved you wrong.

ೃ⁀➷: word count: 5k (5,010)

ೃ⁀➷: reference/inspiration: pov: you're falling in love with someone you cant have

[author's note:] hii so um HAPPY (VERY BELATED) BIRTHDAY BESTIE<33 @wenmiyun lots of hugs and kisses mwah mwah /p PLSS I'M SO SORRY I HAVE TO GIFT YOU MY SHITTY WRITING AND ESPECIALLY THIS LATE, here's my attempt of writing for nobara, i never written for jjk before so spare me the harsh criticism on their personalities </3

[warnings:] lowercase, occ nobara + other jjk characs, angst, fluff, jealousy behavior (from reader), reader really is jealous of maki, cringe humour, reader writes in (not) a diary, cursing, kiss scene, nobara is taller than reader, they/them pronouns, reader wants to be beaten up by nobara (once).

[If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me.]

[GN reader]

ⅰ. (when she found maki pretty).

["dear diary, how does one cope with the intense feeling of knowing your feelings aren't reciprocated and you want to crawl in a hole and die? because I really want to crawl in a hole and die?"]

["dear diary, I don't even have a diary; I'm just writing on a piece of paper and calling it a diary to look like I actually write stuff down when really I don't."]

["dear diary, I'm feeling like a piece of shit and really overthinking this, but i think i'm 100% going to get rejected and I'm 100% going to look like an absolute fool in front of her, and I'm going to ruin our friendship in the process while I watch her get together with maki :')"]

["dear diary, imagine not being able to afford a therapist and having to resort to taking to some—"]

the sound of pencil lead being snapped, it falls to the wooden floor and magically disappears within the color of the floor. "…fucck.." you whisper curses, knowing you have to go find a sharpener, sharpen your pencil, and go back to writing in your diary (a piece of paper). what's even better is that you don't even know where the hell you're going to find a sharpener anywhere in these grounds, plus the fact that it literally took you almost 30 minutes just to find a goddamn pencil to write with—sometimes you just really question your luck in life.

you lean back on the chair, putting down the pencil on the desk beside the piece of paper. the silence in the classroom wasn't helping the debate happening inside your head—whether it was worth it to try and find a sharpener or suffer by yourself by letting this extreme surge of sadness from inside of you till you cry to the point of exhaustion. you decided you weren't going to deal with another emotional toll today.

after 15 minutes of attempting to find a sharpener, you gave up, opting to just walk around outside to hopefully soothe your troubled mind. while walking, you happened to see yuji and nobara talking to each other. walking up to them, you were to say hello to them (especially to see her) before stopping your footsteps from going forward. 

"do you find maki-san pretty?" head tilted, a child-like confusion is shown on yuji's face, facing towards the person in question, nobara.

intuitively, you hid behind a pillar to not be spotted by them. your ears are now caught in interest; you wanted—no, needed—to know her answer. your heart rate is picking up its pace, beating, and pounding so loudly in your chest that it almost feels like you're about to jump and escape into her arms. your smile couldn't be contained as it slowly grew and grew until it reached your ears, making you look like a fool in love (you very much are).

"hah? where did that question come from?" crossing her arms at her chest, taking a defensive stance to the question being thrown at her, she raises a brow at yuji's question. "just curious; you kind of look at maki differently, i guess?" with a convincingly straight face, yuji remains unbothered by the defensive stance nobara takes in response to his question, "so do you find-" 

"of course I'd find maki-san pretty," she answered, very quick and brief, cutting yuji off before he could even finish his attempt at repeating the question, almost like she's certain—confident even in her answer, which she just told to yuji.

that answer alone was enough to make your wide smile turn into a frown in a matter of seconds. you felt like crying; you could feel your eyes tearing up. staying here and watching the two of them talk was only going to worsen your mood, so you walked away on slightly shaking legs. wiping the tears that have now appeared, you've lost the determination to find that goddamn sharpener.

"but what abou-"

"but.." nobara cuts off yuji again, though he doesn't seem to be bothered by it, sending blank stares as he waits for her to continue on. nobara finishes, in a hushed and quiet tone, "(name) is definitely the prettiest."

ⅱ. (when she had fighting sessions with maki)

you were on edge, high on anticipation, feeling the sweat in your palms build up as you sit at the end of your seat, watching from the sidelines as nobara and maki practice fighting each other to pass the time. you silently cheered on for nobara with absolute bias; despite the winner of this fighting match being as clear as day (it's maki), you still cheered on for nobara, for her. 

the way she moved and dodged every attack maki made towards her, the way she gripped very tightly onto her weapon in hand, every swift and duck she did, every twist and turn her body did—she somehow made all of them so goddamn alluring. your eyes were stuck to her like glue, watching her every move just like maki except not out of caution and with the intent to defeat her but because of how breathless you were from watching from afar. her scrunched-up face when she struggles, those displays of frustration and smug grins when she's trying to disguise her pain—all these things about her are what made you drawn to her. even when everything else around you is hectic and chaotic, your eyes will search and search till they land on her. somehow, in some way, your eyes always manage to find her.

maki-san was lucky, you thought as your eyes continued to be stuck on nobara, slowly blurring out the rest of the fight scene and just focusing on her and her alone. she gets a front-row view of nobara, gets to hang out with her, and has the honor of being someone she admires and someone she respects. maki-san doesn't know how lucky she is, you thought again, this time feeling more envy—perhaps even showing it on your face with how much it boils inside of you. controlling your facial expressions when you finally snapped out of that jealousy haze you were momentarily in, remembering how you got caught making a face around maki as she got you to snap out by asking you directly if there was something on her face. you didn't want to be caught again by her suspicious gaze. who knows what she'll do when she gets so pissed that she starts beating you up?

if you were being honest, you'd much rather prefer nobara beating you up; if the roles of the fight were reversed and you were in the fight instead of maki-san, you would be in paradise. multiple times already have you been utterly bested in a fight against nobara and every single time she would have that victory smirk plastered on her face, it never failed to set you in a frenzy state.

"haah, i wasn't even close," nobara said in defeat as she sat on the grass, exhausted. taking heavy and deep breaths, the rise and fall of her chest prove the amount of air the fight took out of her.

"heh, you did better than last time; i'll say that," maki says as she extends her hand towards the tired nobara, offering to help her get back on her feet.

taking the help, she reached for maki's hand, and upon contact, maki pulled her back up. when the two locked eyes, there's a new-found twinkle in nobara's eyes, seeing as maki just complimented her. "wah!? really, maki-san!?" 

perhaps you were in a daze for far too long, for the fighting match had already ended with maki-san being the victor, of course. you stared at them from a distance as they continued to converse with one another. you could feel your face contort into an expression—you're not sure what kind of expression you were making exactly. though you couldn't hear their conversation, you could see their expressions and faces change as the talk between them went on. they looked like they're having a lot of fun, you thought, especially her; the thought persists to drill into your brain. feeling sick in your stomach, you stood up from your seat and walked off, not wanting to look at the scene of them happily talking any longer. maybe writing in that diary (piece of paper) will cheer you up.

"did you do better because they were watching?" maki raised an eyebrow at nobara, smirking slightly as she watched the ginger-haired girl get flustered by her question.

"h-how did you-"

"it's not rocket science; it's more clear than the curses i see without my glasses," maki commented bluntly while also cutting nobara mid-sentence. although what she said was true, it was a blow to nobara's pride as she was doing everything she didn't want to do: being obvious about how she feels towards you.

ⅲ. (when she smiled at maki and maki smiled at her back)

gojo satoru, your sensei, had a plan for all the first years and second years to go to the beach this sunday, saying how it's a good time to take a break and relax from our student responsibilities and enjoy our youth, or something along those lines and while most of them were reluctant to go (because it was gojo sensei's idea, you could never trust what he's planning about, plus he is a moron) somehow—and miraculously so, managed to convince everyone, including you, to join in on the trip.

contrary to your initial expectations about the trip, it's pretty fun (good job sensei!), for the first time in quite a while, you felt relaxed. something you haven't felt in what, weeks? months? in you convince yourself enough you might even believe it has been years since you've felt the tension leave your body. not only was the view of the beautiful sunset amazing but everything else around you too. the cool wind kissing your face as your hair flows in the air, the splashing of waves against the shore, the distant noise of birds chirping as they fly above you, the loud laughter of your upperclassmen and friends as they have fun chasing each other in the sand. this was pure bliss.

getting bored of the sunset view you turned your head to face your upperclassmen and friends doing their usual antics onto each other, gaining a small smile and a short-lived laugh out of you. as your eyes start to drift away from the sight of your friends, it naturally searches for nobara, for her. once it does finds her, there's a split second of your eyes widening in joy before returning back to your neutral face as you notice who she's with, maki, again. you turn your head away to try and be subtle but still keep an eye on them, from your peripheral vision you could see nobara sending maki a smile and maki sends her a small smile in return, they look happy together, you thought— sometimes you wish that was you instead, standing by her side, smiling and happily by her side. deep down you know that will never happen.

while you weren't looking, nobara took (not so) tiny and small glances at your direction, the view she had of your side profile was perfect, the effect of the sunset on you made a smile on her face, realizing how beautiful you were and all the little facial features you had she hasn't noticed yet. she would stare at you for hours and hours on end, for seeing your face was already a miracle for her.

ⅳ. (when she looks for matching bracelets with maki)

the bustling city outside the borders of tokyo jujutsu high wasn't the kind of environment you would choose to spend your free time in; you'd much prefer staying inside your dorm and sleeping or playing games on your phone, but you were invited by nobara herself (and being the desperate fool you are, you would take any chances and opportunities to spend some quality time with her). you're currently waiting in front of some cafe, sitting on one of their outside tables and chairs, for nobara and maki to arrive.

sure, you weren't too happy that maki would be accompanying you two (you deeply and desperately wished it was just you two hours prior; does the world really hate you that much?) but you weren't going to let that fact bother you. no, you weren't. maki-san is a great person, a great friend of nobara, and someone she admires. you just want to control your jealousy around her. mentally prepare talking to yourself as you await their arrival. you pray that you don't appear weird or crazy with how sometimes you accidentally slip out curses out of your mouth. you don't need to make a fool of yourself this early in the day.

minutes have passed, and you could see two familiar silhouettes appearing in your line of sight, walking towards the cafe you're waiting at. you start waving at them to show you were already here, and they wave back as their figures slowly get clearer and bigger in your line of sight. "wow.. you look great, (name)!" your eyes widen at nobara's positive comment on your outfit; it wasn't anything special, just the clothes you usually wear when you go out, except with a little more style. there's no way you're going to underdress when she's going to show up. "heh.. thanks! you look great too! and- maki-san as well!" you can feel your hands sweat a little, giving out a nervous smile. you compliment her back (you wanted to say more) while also not forgetting to mention maki as well. just so you don't seem rude and impolite.

maki hummed in acknowledgement of your comment. "you're not bad yourself, (name)," she says. you know maki isn't one to sugarcoat, so it was good to be affirmed that you didn't look bad.

"now, which store should we check out first?"

hours have passed, and the three of you have gone into at least three stores, which felt like a blast to you. never has walking around big malls and looking through hundreds of different kinds and sets of clothing been this fun and exciting. bags, and bags have filled the majority of your hands. you three walked together, chatting along while trying to look for more stores to shop at. finally settling on a small shop down the street that sells handmade bracelets.

"this one suits you, maki-san!" nobara exclaimed, giving the bracelet to maki for her to try on, and when maki put the bracelet on, her eyes beamed as she said something about finding more bracelets to buy for the three of you guys.

as you watched them pick out bracelets from the ones displayed, you stared at them from a distance. watching them closely, not even caring to be subtle about your staring as you feel a certain familiar feeling start boiling up inside you. even then, you continued to watch them, your hands no longer picking up bracelets to try on as they remained still by your side. they look so nice together. though, as you know, that was intended to be sarcasm, the enviousness' grew and grew by milliseconds, not just towards maki but to everything. why was it always maki-san with her? why is it that she gets to be with her the most? why couldn't maki-san be replaced by you? why couldn't that be you?

"how about you, (name)? did you find one you like?" nobara's voice pulls you out of your daze. she was now staring straight at you, causing you to crumble inside within seconds. the jealousy and envy feeling inside faded as she had you now in a more giddy state. you swallowed a lump down your throat to hopefully increase your chances of not sounding like a nervous wreck.

"uh- sorry, haven't found one yet.. plus i need to go.." you try to politely leave, seeing as you might just ruin the whole hangout if your jealousy gets in the way. better to just leave then to cause trouble for everyone else. "you're leaving already?" nobara raised an eyebrow at your mention of departure. not that she was surprised, as she knew your energy levels were different compared to hers; it was just that this was way too early for you to leave, usually whenever you guys hang out.

"yeah.. bye!"

"..see ya (name)!"

rushing to leave your footsteps fasten as you basically speed walk away from them, without saying a word, you left. not even looking back once.

"you think (name) will like this bracelet?" holding up a purple color scheme bead bracelet between her fingers, she inspects it—almost like she's imagining how it would look on your wrist. "or would they like this one better?" she said, holding up another bead bracelet in her other hand between her fingers; this time it was a blue color scheme. giving the bracelet the same look she gave it with the other one.

"i think they would like anything you give to them," maki replied, rather sure of her words. while she doesn't know the nature of how deep your relationship is with nobara, she can tell it was a close bond. "..you think so?" whispering, her orange gaze softens as she eyes the bracelets in two of her hands. maki observes the girl; the aura around her feels tender, like she got dragged into feeling such a sentimental scene. "you know, if you can't decide, you can just buy both." just then, a light bulb lit up inside nobara's head.

she did, in fact, buy both bracelets; of course, both bracelets had a pair.

ⅴ. (when she said she loved maki)

"i love you."

that was the last nail hammered on the coffin, and god, does it fucking hurt so much? it felt like your whole heart just died, got shot where it hurt the most, and bled and bled till nothing was left behind. your heart bled for nothing; it loved for nothing; you hoped and prayed for nothing. this was the upcoming downfall you warned yourself about over and over again, yet you still fell for it. you still fell for the false hopes you deluded yourself into having, making yourself think you had any slim chance of getting your feelings reciprocated. how stupid—how stupid of you to believe in anything.

the world around you blurs out: the sounds of people talking and chatting, the walking and running footsteps of hundreds and thousands of strangers, the chirping of birds, the engines of vehicles, and such driving on the road—it is all just one blurry background to you. one that your brain cannot process, one that your brain doesn't want to process, because every fiber and tissue in your being is wishing right now to be swallowed whole by a curse and crushed into countless pieces to the point of no recognition. you wish to be erased, removed, eradicated, disintegrated—anything that could make you disappear from this world—from her. just by hearing her name in your head makes you want to go fucking insane.

perhaps it was your fault for being so nosy and wanting to take a peek at the note that has been placed on nobara's desk. if only you weren't so desperate for any confirmation of her feelings, if only you stayed content with how things are with her, you wouldn't have to get hurt this badly. the letter that was on her desk was a love letter, and you could still remember how your heart picked up pace, giving you an anxious feeling in your gut after such a discovery. slowly and nervously opening up the folded letter, you instantly knew whose handwriting it was—it was nobara's. you read and read, then you put down the letter and walked away, trying to hold back your tears from falling out. you weren't even able to read the whole thing because you knew who it was for. it was for maki.

you hated how she talked about how pretty maki was—the prettiest even—how she loved those fighting sessions she had with her, how beautiful she looked as she watched the sunset go down, and how she bought matching bracelets thinking of her. every word written in the letter screamed maki, maki, maki, maki.. not you.

you locked yourself in your room, crashing forcefully onto the bed. you lay there motionless, almost like you're dead. well, perhaps you are dead; a part of you is gone, erased, eradicated. there's a certain numbness in your tongue yet an overwhelming sense of sadness in your head that you just can't get rid of.

["dear diary, I feel like shit; i look like shit; what's even the point? clearly,  she doesn't like me; why am I still pursuing?"]

["dear diary, i'm so mad at myself; i want to scream so badly, but it's like there's this rock somewhere in my mouth stopping me from letting it all out—shit, shit, i'm cryin' now."]

suddenly, a knock on your door reaches your ears, pulling you out of your head. the energy to walk up and open the door is non-existent, as you just want to lay down and not get up. you only do so when you hear a familiar voice outside of your room.

"(name)? can we talk?" her voice is a bit muffled due to being on the other side of the door, but you could still hear her as clearly as day. she sounded concerned, which in turn made you concerned too. what did she want to talk about? did you do something wrong? did you accidentally make her mad? panic settles in, and questions start flooding in your mind. you got up from your bed and walked towards the door, opening just slightly to take a peek outside, and there she was, standing outside your room.

"hey.." you tried putting effort into your greeting, but it just came out very tired. making it up for the tired greeting, you gave a small smile. you could see from the small opening of the door that she gave a small smile back to you. you opened the door wide for her, letting her into your room so that the conversation between you two would remain private.

"you saw the letter...?" she looked in disbelief as she said that, the kind of look you would give to someone who you didn't want to see what they just saw. was the love letter for maki supposed to be a secret? "..you mean the letter for maki-san? yeah, but i didn't take a peek," you lied, somehow saying that lie was much easier to breathe at the moment. god, just mentioning her name in your mouth was enough to have you breakdown, but you needed to be strong; you needed to put up a front long enough for you to be alone and die from heartbreak.

"for maki-san? the letter is not for maki-san.." confusion was evident on her face; seeing her reaction made you confused as well. was the letter really not for maki-san? you thought. were you wrong about the letter being for maki-san? you thought again.

"..the letter was for you, (name)!"

"..what? wait! you like me!?"

"yes!"

you two stared at each other in shock as confusion faded away while the confession settled slowly in your mind. she likes you, not maki-san; she likes you and not maki-san; surely this might be a dream—no way she actually likes you back. there's just no way it's possible.

"i like you (name)," sounding more sure of herself, the slight furrowed of her eyebrows, her lips being in a straight line, her eyes showing fear, nervousness, and anticipation all in one, the trembling of her hands—you could see her waiting patiently for your answer. this was enough to tell you that this was real; her confession was real and sincere.

"..i like you too."

ⅰ. (when her lips touched yours, in uttermost passion)

she was so pretty up close—way too pretty, in fact—that she left you stunned—so stunned that you don't even realize really just how close she actually was. you can feel her breath on your lips and your cheeks heating up. enchanted by her and her beauty, you can no longer restrain yourself anymore. slowly sneaking your arms around her neck, resting them on her shoulders, you gently push her closer to you, all the while trying to hide your eagerness. noticing your behavior changed, she grins—grabbing your waist in her hands to keep you from potentially moving away from her; she doesn't want to let you go (not that you would do such a thing; clearly from your actions, you don't want to let her go either). inch by inch, little by little, the space between you two disappears as seconds pass by. just as you're about to get the luxury of kissing her, she diverts her head to the side of your head; instead of kissing your lips, she kisses underneath your ear instead.

surprised by her bold action, you let out a squeak, that scarlet color of red spreading through your cheeks and ears, shutting your eyes due to the embarrassment you feel—you can feel the soft touch her kisses emit on your skin. tingling every nerve in your nervous system, causing your whole body to tremble tremendously, and not being able to do anything but let her continue pressing gentle kisses underneath your ear is a blissful moment for you, one you don't want to end.

alas, you felt the loss of her lips on your skin, the creeping feeling of disappointment shown on your facials when you frowned when she pulled away. she notices the change in your mood and is flashing a smug expression back at your frown. "aww... what's wrong? you have quite the long face.." she teased, letting out a little laugh as she spoke. moving one of her hands from your waist to your cheek, she gently caressed it with her thumb, moving it slowly in different patterns and shapes. even as she teases you, that glint of tenderness in her eyes gives your heart a fast-pumping rhythm, just like the many times before she's made your heartbeat hasten.

"..i want to kiss you!" you quietly yet boldly declare right to her face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes slightly squinted to show how much you want—no, you need for her lips to be on yours. after so much restraint and yearning, you deserve at least this much. plus, with how close her lips are to you, how could you not want to kiss her?

you could see her eyes slightly widen at your demand, surprised by your unexpected newfound confidence and boldness, cheeks go slightly red after really processing what you've just said, and she can feel the breath in her throat go away as soon as she tries to speak. "l-like, right now!?" hating the way she stutters, especially in front of someone as pretty as you, the tremble of her lips tells you enough of what she's really feeling right now. "yes, if that's okay with you," you reply, not wanting to force her into something she didn't want to do.

"no! it's..it's okay."

"are you sure?"

"yes, i'm sure (name).."

"are you really sure..?"

"yes, i'm totally sure."

"...okay" you say, not necessarily believing her but still taking her word for it. unwrapping your arms around her neck, you put your grip on her uniform, pulling her even closer to you than before, making her feel your nervous breath on her lips and hers on yours. "..are you ready?" showing your uncertainty in her consent to let you kiss her. you wanted to be ultimately sure that she wanted this too and that this wasn't one-sided by any means possible. "always" she smiled, rather softly and not the smug kind you were expecting. she always had such a dominating aura in your eyes; the way she presented herself wherever she was and the confidence she carries always made your legs buckle and your heart throb.

you went on your tippy toes, making yourself slightly taller than your original height to help you close the gap between your lips better. in your opinion, the lack of space between you two would have made you shiver in distress had it been anyone else that was in her position; she was not anyone else; no, she was the exception. the only way you would let this close to you personally (and literally), she was very, very special indeed.

she must have grown impatient because, as soon as you moved just an inch towards her face, she moved her lips onto yours. her eyes were closed when she went in for the kiss; you, however, were in a state of shock, like time had frozen still, leaving you somewhat paralyzed in the palms of her hands, temporarily helpless as you finally reap what you've sowed for such a very long time. the kiss was nothing grand; the best way you could describe the kiss shared between you two was a peck on the lips. it was very clear that neither of you two had any sort of experience with romance, let alone intimacy. this was probably the first kiss you two were going to have, and god, it felt really good.

"............"

"............"

"...wow, that was so hot."

"yeah? really?"

"yeah, really hot, like really, really hot."

"..do you want another one?"

"..hell yeah"

you kissed her one last time, just to make sure none of this wasn't a dream—it wasn't; not one bit was a dream. her lips are reality, her hands touching your cheeks are reality, her being yours is reality, and you being hers is reality. all of this is reality, and goddamn, it feels so fucking good.

["dear diary, FUCK YOU, I HAVE A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND NOW!!"]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[gods-angriest-girl]

talking about my feelings during deadpool & wolverine a couple months after it came out because i didn't want to spoil it

that being said, spoilers for deadpool & wolverine ahead!

i had the great privilege of seeing deadpool and wolverine the day it came out. i went and saw it with my dad and my uncle, who got me into the MCU a little over 10 years ago. i did not grow up watching x-men or any marvel movies (the first MCU film i saw was guardians 1, which is a pretty good starting point for kids. i was ~12 when i watched it.) that being said, i was a big fan of deadpool as a character when i was a teenager because i learned he was an openly - and very obviously - queer character, which made me incredibly happy as a queer youth. the first deadpool movie came out when i was about 14 years old, which was a very rocky time for me growing up. i do not remember the age fondly, aside from the first deadpool movie coming out. and i fucking loved it.

now i will admit, i am a filthy goddamn sinner and skipped movie 2, only because uhhhh i was busy when it came out, but i absorbed the film through osmosis and i will probably actually watch it and love it. if you must throw rocks at me, do i now, i will not give you the opportunity to do it later.

from here on out, i will be talking about deadpool and wolverine, so proceed reading at your own risk.

on july 26th, 2024, i entered a local theater alongside my dad and my uncle to watch deadpool & wolverine. i will admit, my expectations were not as high as they once were for MCU movies, due to the dwindling quality and memorability of the last several movies to come out after endgame - with the exception of every spiderman-centered film, but i digress.

i went in with lower expectations than i should have had, and it's my own fault for letting my guard down.

because holy fucking shit.

i have not felt the emotions i felt about this movie since i had watched RRR back in 2022. i will probably do a post like this about RRR at some point, that movie was absolutely divine. anyways, back to DP&W.

first of all, starting the movie with a montage of deadpool killing people to FUCKING NSYNC'S "BYE BYE BYE" WAS BRILLIANT. i was in complete fucking shock, and looking back on it, i definitely had to process the movie a few times because i blacked out during a few scenes. i didn't leave my theater seat once, and i am a person who pees constantly. i drank several liquids beforehand, and i was fucking SAT through the whole movie.

i'd also like to mention at this time: this was the first movie i watched where i was aware that hugh jackman was an actor on the screen. and holy shit. what a man. in the month that followed, i became aware that i had absorbed hugh jackman's acting abilities in the past, been like "oh that's cool, he's talented" and then completely disregarded it. now i realize this man has a RANGE and is really fucking cool. shoutout to hugh jackman, thanks for doing it the way you do.

back to the movie.

i've sat here contemplating if i should talk about the highlights of the film, but really and truly, it's nothing but highlights. so i'll talk about my personal favorite moments. and i do mean favorite, i won't give a straight up play-by-play of the movie.

deadpool's intro scene killing people to bye bye bye

deadpool's cute little birthday party

the suit montage

the wolverine montage, which i'll be honest if i think about it too long it does make me sad (specifically crucified logan) i'll be real i'm just a big crybaby so it's fine. wolverine montage is so funny.

deadpool and wolverine fight

DOGPOOL MY DARLING GIRL

THE HONDA ODYSSEY OBVIOUSLY

elektra, blade, and gambit, oh my! and oh my gosh hi laura you're all grown up now!

basically gambit's whole existence tbh i love this goober

the ending is fucking perfection in every way, from wolverine's beautiful abs (thank you again hugh jackman for torturing yourself please never do that again though <3) to the ending party scene where wade gets to be surrounded by everyone he loves. just flawless.

i could genuinely go on and on and on about this movie, but i think the biggest thing i want to say is that i genuinely knew nothing about x-men going into it. i hadn't watched elektra, blade, any of wolverine's specific movies, or really any x-men film at all for that matter. i went in basically blind, just a goofy gay kid with a love for deadpool. and i had a great time. thank you for not fucking this one up, marvel + disney. you did good.

being excited and gay about RRR another time though because i was reminded of the amazing film while writing this!

[ladysomething]

maddie. I- this is low indeed my dear. this is fucking hell. the goddamned ninth circle if you might (I think I'll see my boy Charlie there. I've been stalking ao3 since you posted that the chapter was almost ready so, I, in fact, read this chapter without the rest of my crew. in my defense, we're at our parents house so I'm already risking myself because it's midnight, walls are thin and their room is less than two meters away from mine. tomorrow I must feign obliviousness in order to save my ass. though I regret NOTHING.)

1. I cannot even process what just happened. the love hate is real, people. that's me and Charles right fucking now. is it normal that I want to hit him with a cocconut? or a net full of them. maybe some sense will get in his head then. gotta give it a try. okay I get that he's obviously hurt and angry and that's totally okay and normal. but Charles, you hAD ALREADY KILLED THE MAN. I'm afraid that was last blow was uncalled for, my love. I understand the feeling of wanting to hurt someone beyond their limits, until they bleed and are unrecognizeable. but all. you had in your hands by that time were. ashes.

2. can I just wrap poor poor Maxie in my bed next to me so that I can hug him really really tight? I think, and I might be completely wrong, that he needs it.

+1. I need a Jean-Luc&Charles spin off pretty please. I love them your honour.

+2. I giggled at Charles saying that him and Carlos were both stupid. I'm sorry okay? I had to cope with something.

+3. I fangirled really hard about the stairs. Idk if it was on purpose. but that's LITERATURE. the dynamic changing with how high they both are. dear jesus. once again, not regretting my past self's decisions of choosing wygig. well done.

awesome chapter hun. flawless and great as always. btw I hope you know that you're a great driver and that you have some great help to you. and I would say, it is deffinitely worthy of its hype and the anxiety it has caused.

lmaooooo did you manage to successfully hide from them that you'd already read it??

Charles said "oh you think this hurts? I know how to make you hurt in the same way I've been hurting"

sweet little Max DOES need that though. he's such an emotional creature, he desperately needs to comfort

+1. Jean-Luc & Charles are the ultimate duo

+2. you only laughed cuz it's true

+3. IT WAS ON PURPOSE, I'M SO GLAD YOU NOTICED!!!!

ah thank you! I'm glad that my pain and suffering could bring all you pain and suffering

[synonymroll648]

dudddeeeee ok so on AO3 I already mentioned that chap 17 was the moment I wrote the whole fic about BUT I will also say some more things about it

Keefe feels forest green excitement bc That is Fitz's favorite color, not gold. Originally teal was gonna be there and then I was like wtf that's so obvious and boring. excuse me.

this chapter went through a ridiculous amount of edits. I'll send you the original outline for it in a second bc I neeeed to share things Now

the part where they are talking abt the human world originally was not a part of the chapter. I wanted to drag it out but mostly I wanted to see them, like, being friends. apart from hating and loving each other yknow

a special extra I'll be posting after the fic is over includes the full version of Keefe's letter to Fitz that he wrote in the human world. the majority of the crossed off things are from that letter, but the letter came before the chapter and originally all of it was in the chapter not just those snippets. so.

where Keefe goes: "shit! I barely know your favorite color! You’re always just so— perfect— the golden boy— Dex was right, wasn’t he? You’re just so put-together, so talented, and god forbid you let yourself slip and admit to some goddamned emotion for once in your life—” and all that. the formatting is crazy intentional with how insane Keefe is being right now and how desperate he is to make his point, esp since he had trouble talking which is the initial reason he ran away

there is no version of keefitz that exists where the confession is peaceful

ok that's all

!!!!!!!!!! i've seen some headcanons of fitz loving forest green and ohhhhhh i love that that's his fav color in this fic. love love love that for him!

oh i believe it. chapters this good always have like. ten bajillion edits to them. unless you're quil who can churn something out that's godly in one draft but that's just a quil thing. we're not that lucky :(

dude i'm so glad you put it in!!! it was such an awesome touch and it's like. YES. THEY'RE FRIENDS RN. THEY'RE FRIENDS THEY'RE FRIENDS THEY'RE FRIENDS

LOSING IT HELLO?? PLEASE?? NOM NOM NOM CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP I WILL TEAR THAT LETTER W/ MY TEETH BRO /pos

yeah!!! keefe struggling to talk!! i was talking about formatting in the sense of how i was starting to lose track of where the <em> and </em>'s were supposed to go in order to make things italicized, but! love the stuttering in that part. made it feel more authentic :)

TRUTH

nonono come baaaaack ramble to me more about your process :((( i'm still thinking about how this chapter was the whole reason you wrote the fic because like. i would've done the same thing tbh

[the-ipre]

get these fools some therapy

[id: the first picture is the meme of Sue from Glee edited to say “I am going to create a character that is made of unhealthy coping mechanisms” with the name “Johnny O’Mara” written on her forehead. The second picture has two doodles: a doodle of Leenik Geelo, a green Rhodian with a blue eye patch over the words “Leenik ‘Sometimes I Think it’s okay not to heal’ Geelo”, and a doodle of Travis Matagot, a white man with shoulder length silver hair over the words “Travis ‘I will mourn my wife for 200 years and tell no one’ Matagot” /end id]

[todoshotoroki]

𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, edging, smudge of angst, mentions of Bakugou, f reader x jealous Todoroki.〤 Minors DNI Word count: 2.4k

   It wasn't fair. This wasn't at all fair, and it wasn't your fault either. At least you didn't think you did anything wrong. You didn't expect for your usually soft-spoken, gentle boyfriend to be so upset with you the second you walked into your dorm. He was unusually quiet, more so than normal. When you had sat down next to him on the bed, you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder with a concerned frown. “Sho? Are you alright?” His eyes were covered from his bangs, the hand you placed on his shoulder coming up to gently scoop them out of his eyes, only then did he look up at you.

   “No. Not really” He admitted coldly, his eyebrows furrowing as his hand found its place on your calf, his warm fingers slowly trailing down to grip your ankle. To be honest, you should have seen it coming when he yanked your leg, pulling you over into his lap. To say the sudden position flustered you was a bit of an understatement, but you were still concerned about your boyfriends sour expression. And you had yet to get an explanation. “What's wrong? Tell me?”

   You squirmed to get more comfortable in his lap, your hands now settled on his shoulders. Shoto sighed, as if in disappointment, and his own fingers curled around your waist, gently but firmly grasping your hips. “How do you not know, darling?” His voice was quiet, but stern as one hot, one cold hand slowly drifted downwards, slipping under your skirt and tracing the line of your lace panties.

   As much as you tried to focus on what you could have done to emit such a reaction from your boyfriend, it was clear to you now that his intentions were not so innocent. “After all, it’s all your fault.” He admitted, though his eyes weren't looking at you as he leaned up against the pillows on the bed. He was watching as his hand drifted to the front of your skirt, flipping it up over your hips. A small, content sigh fell past his lips and his eyebrows furrowed as he got a good look at the cute lace adorning your skin. You were just so pretty.

   “Let me” His whispered, his fingers already curling to pull your panties to the side. Todoroki couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek to conceal the groan bubbling in his chest at the sight of your bare cunt leaving a wet spot on his sweatpants.

   You let out a shaky breath, gripping his shoulders tighter as the hands on your hips began to rock your waist against his. You released a quiet moan as you felt the pressure of his hard cock through his pants, leaning forward, you rested your chin against his shoulder. “What did I do? Sho-” His name leaving your mouth ended in a moan as you ground your hips into his, desperately seeking more friction. 

   Too bad his hands tightened around your waist to pause your movements, as if you had suddenly reminded him of how angry he was supposed to be at you.

   “I should punish you” He responded, completely ignoring your question. You almost weren't sure if he had heard you correctly, but the fingernails digging into your waist said otherwise. Well, you definitely heard him, and his uncharacteristically demanding tone set every part of your body ablaze.  Before you were given the time to respond, he flipped you around in his lap, cherishing the small ‘oomph-’ that left your lips in the process. 

   “P-punish me?”

   Luckily, now that you were not facing him, he could give the faintest hint of a smile behind his smirking.

   “Don't be afraid honey, I could never be mean to you” Although his tone was laced with kindness and warmth, underlying his voice was a condescending double standard, one that sent a shiver up your spine as he pulled your back flush against his chest. “Up” His hot breath fanned across the back of your neck, making the rest of your body rise with goosebumps.

   You lifted your hips, and he tauntingly pulled your panties down your legs, teasingly tracing them across your skin to bring them back up. “Good girl” You could hear the smile in his voice as he purred, making your cheeks redder then they already were. He set his hands back down on your hips. “Oh. though, you haven't been very good today I suppose” 

   You squirmed in his lap, frowning at the reminder that there's something you did to deserve this. Even more now, did you want to find out. You had never seen Shoto like this before, so teasing. He was always such a giver when it came to sexual activities. “I’m sorry Sho, whatever I did I'm sorry” Your voice was already running out of breath. How pathetic.

   “Oh? And what exactly did you do, Y/n? Do you even know?” As you shifted your hips once more, Todoroki's hand slipped between the two of you, his fingers tightly gripping his sweatpants and boxers and pulling them down enough for his hard cock to slap between your plush thighs. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his naked skin against your own, even if both of you were still technically still clothed. “I don't.. Please, tell me” You asked quietly.

   Todoroki hummed, his fingers unbuttoning the shirt of your school uniform expertly as he pondered his response. “No. Figure it out yourself” He demanded, pulling your shirt down your sides and tossing it across the room. You frowned, biting your tongue as your face creased thoughtfully, distractedly. 

   You could barely even remember what you did today, with how his warm hand inched closer to your clit like that. 

   “This isn’t fair” You protested, gripping onto the arm he had circled around your waist to keep your backside flush with his chest. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, getting the perfect view of his jawline. “I think it's fair” He responded, his fingers reaching between the two of you, gripping onto his cock to align the tip with your clit. 

   You could feel the tip of Shoto’s hard cock pulsing against your clit, and the way you instinctively ground your hips against his made the rest of his cock wet with your juices. Your boyfriend could act tough all he wanted, but the way his eyes were fixated on the sight between you and the small gasp that left his lips were telltale signs of how much he was truly enjoying his time teasing you. 

   Apparently you had been caught staring, because you were met with heterochromia eyes and flushed cheeks looking right back at you. The teasing smile that graced his lips made you want to get on your knees thank whatever god put you in this position. “Enjoying yourself?” He whispered, tilting his head forward to press his lips against yours, pulling away just enough to give you room to respond. “Yes” You admitted quietly, pressing your lips to his.

   His lips were so soft, and his tongue grazed your bottom lip. As soon as you opened your mouth to give him entry, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours with a suddenly serious, stern, cold glare. “You shouldn't be” The arm he tightened around your waist lifted your hips, suddenly aligning his cock and swiftly piercing himself into you. Both of you let out a gasp of ecstasy, Todoroki’s hands tightening on your hips. 

   “A-Ah, Sho- Shoto- ohh” Your eyelids fluttered shut, and your nails dug into the milky skin of his thighs beneath you in an attempt to ground yourself. Only he could make you feel so lightheaded and cloudy so quickly. His hot panting on the back of your neck caused a ripple to shudder through your body, your back slightly arching off his chest. He was quick to ground you, pulling you back against him before you could move. “No, stay, baby” He demanded softly against the crook of your neck. 

   Your insides felt like something Shoto Todoroki would never be able to experience with anybody but you. Nobody could light a flame inside his stomach like you did, you provided a warmth that he never had growing up, and one he would never find with his friends, despite how he appreciated them. They still weren't you. 

   “M-move Shoto, please” You quiet begs were met with nothing but silence. You pressed your back further into his chest, tilting your head to nuzzle at his jawline. Delicately placing kisses wherever you see fit. Todoroki had his eyes closed, but the labored breaths and the redness of his cheeks were enough to convey his emotions. “Please, please, fuck me already Sho”

   Finally, he provided a response. “Fucking is a reward, and you haven't been good” 

   You fucked up. Whatever you did, it was a fuck up.

   You could do no harm in Shoto Todoroki’s eyes, your classmates claimed you could run away with the league of villains and he would still be waiting on his knees for you to come back with open arms. 

   But he had never used this as a punishment, nor had fucking ever been a reward before. He was always soft when making love with you. 

   Your kisses slowly ceased, releasing shaky, uneven breaths against the underside of his jaw. That, mixed with the warmness of being nestled deep inside of your cunt, was almost enough for him to cum if he basked in it long enough. Though, he knew he’d be able to hold off. After all, he still couldn't get the picture of you with him out of his goddamn head. 

   “T-Todo, but I want you to..” Your words trailed off with a needy whine as your lover placed warm kisses along your cheek, then one more on your lips.

   “Tell me what you did wrong, then you can apologize for it” 

   Fuck. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of something to jog your memory. Then, your eyes landed on the orange notebook sitting on your desk. 

   Bakugou. He was jealous of your study session with Katsuki Bakugou. 

   “You.. mean, Bakugou-”

   “Bakugou?” Todoroki’s voice was laced with stone cold venom. His fingernails creased crescent shaped marks into your skin, causing you to grit your teeth and look up at him with wide eyes. “Don't you mean your precious friend Kacchan?” He practically growled in your ear, and you could feel the heat of his left hand rising as it pressed into your hip, your body freezing cold on the other side from his tight grip. 

   Oh. You DID call Bakugou by his childhood nickname. 

   You opened your mouth to reply and explain yourself, tell him that you did that to mock the nickname, but your voice was at a loss and suddenly failing you. You didn't need to speak though, because Shoto quickly filled the quietness by growling into your ear once more. “Your lucky I don't bend you over the bed and really punish you, since you want to be such a brat” 

   He meant it, you could hear it in the coldness of his voice.

   He leaned back, shoving you to sit upright in his lap and lying down on his back against the plush comforter. His hands gripped the base of your hips, and you leaned forward, gripping Todoroki’s pale, soft thighs for support. “Don't you have anything to say? Don't you want to apologize to me?” 

   His words fell on deaf ears as he finally, finally fucking rolled his hips into yours with a long, meaningful thrust. “Oh-oh fuck- just like that Sho” You leaned your head back, giving into a beautiful arch as Todoroki groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him.

   “Oh? Mmph- You mean like this?”

   He gave another hard, sensual thrust that kissed your cervix, making your legs feel like jello on each side of his hips. It was magical, the way his cock brushed against the walls of your insides with each savored stroke.

   “Turn around baby, look at me”  You scrambled to do as you were told, to make sure you were good for him. You adjusted yourself in his lap, sinking back down onto his cock as he propped both his knees up behind you for leverage. He had unbuttoned his shirt at some point, giving you access to his toned chest underneath your fingertips.

   Slowly, you began to grind your hips into his, relishing in the surprised facial expression that flew across his face at the sudden movement. “Shoo, I want you, so bad” Your eyes were watery as you pleaded with him, your desperate cunt needily sucking his cock into your plush walls. Though his tightening hold refrained anymore of your movements.

   “Say it Y/n” His tone was desperate, and his eyes were quick to portray how much he actually needed your reassurance. “Tell me your sorry. That he can't love you like I do” His eyes were half-lidded, glossy as they stared up at you. 

   Your heart sliced in half at making Todoroki feel even comparable to your explosive classmate, and you leaned forward to hover over him. As if it was instinct, his hands rested along the curve of your ass, one reaching down to brush his fingertips across your clit, ghosting over the spot where his cock was currently impaling you. “Never, never Sho, he’ll never even be able to compete, I swear.” You admitted, peppering needy kisses along his jawline. 

   “I'm sorry Shoto, I'm so sorry I made you feel that way baby” You could tell he was soaking up every word, his eyes fluttering open to look up at you every time you finished your sentence, watching you in hopes that you'd only speak more. “I love you so much, so much Sho” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes glimmering as your lips ghosted over his. “Please forgive me Shoto, he can’t love me, can’t fuck me like you can, just please”

   “Yeah, he can't” Hearing you beg for his forgiveness must have been his breaking point, because his hips lifted up off the bed just enough to move himself inside of you, a small moan falling past his swollen lips. “I love you baby” He responded, his arms coming up to circle around your waist, in the process giving him the best angle to pull his cock out, only to thrust it back into your hot mess.

   Just when you thought your night had finally begun, Todoroki had to pause just one more time, and whisper one more dirty little command in your ear.

   “Oh, and I may be fucking you now” His words were slightly muffled as his teeth nibbled along your bottom lip.    

 “But don't you dare think about cumming tonight”   

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒:  “𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹”

𝑂𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♡

© all copy rights reserved, do not claim, copy, or repost

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Mercy

It had been an ugly fight, one of their ugliest.

Daniel had yelled and screamed and made horrible accusations. Armand didn't truly care for him; he only saw him as another pet, he wanted him to be his slave, he was only playing with him.

It had started as a game, hadn't it? Armand chasing him and him running, cat and mouse. Then Armand fell in love. It's the only reason Daniel is alive.

In his core, Daniel knows this. Knows Armand loves him, and it is a great and terrible thing. What a life, to be the beloved of the devil? But the devil was once an angel, was he not? And didn't Armand just look the angel? The most beautiful angel.

He had stormed out on Armand. Stomped out of their penthouse and drove off. Armand had red tears in his eyes at the time. Daniel had taken it as a sign of victory in the moment, but realizes now how vicious and cruel that seems.

He does love Armand. He wants to love him forever. So why won't Armand let him? If he loves him, why doesn't he want to be with him for always?

But he can't pressure him. He isn't ready. Surely one day he will be, but not today.

He stops at a little stall selling flowers one the way home. Leans on the counter and tells the guy, “Got in a fight with my girlfriend. What flowers say 'sorry I fucked up?'”

The guy shrugs, “Lily of the Valley?”

He takes a bouquet of that and carefully nestles it in the passenger seat. Dashes up to the door, desperate for Armand. The door's locked. He jiggles the handle. Bangs on the door. “Come on baby, let me in.”

He hears a sharp little inhale from the other side of the door. Which is funny, considering Armand doesn't need to breathe. Fucking drama queen. “I'm sorry, okay? I'm a fuck-up; I'm an idiot. I love you.”

Armand's voice, flat, devoid of emotion, “Go away, Daniel. I don't want to see you.”

Daniel bangs on the door. “Baby, open the door.” Silence. Pounds his fist hard into the door, raises his voice “Open the goddamn door!”

A long-suffering sigh. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

Shit. Fuck. Fuck. “I'm sorry. You drive me crazy, you know. Please, let me in.”

Silence. Daniel grit his teeth and fought back the instinct to yell; that would only piss Armand off. “Look, just open up a little, okay? I brought you flowers?”

“Flowers?” Armand says faintly.

“Yeah, yeah, flowers. Just open up to take the flowers.”

Armand's hand snakes out lightning fast and snatches the flowers. Before he can process that they're gone, the door is closed. There's the pound of footsteps on the other side, then a few seconds later, the sound of one of Armand's goddamn blenders.

“Ah, come on, baby, don't be like that. I said I'm sorry. What do you want? You want me to get on my knees and beg; I'll do that for you.”

Armand's voice was smooth like velvet, sent a shiver down Daniel's spine when he said “Would you?”

Daniel falls to his knees, raises his arms in surrender. “I'm at your mercy.”

Armand opens the door to peek out, glances down, rolls his eyes. “You're absurd, you're-”

Daniel uses the opening to swoop up and catch Armand around the waist and tug him close. Of course, Armand would have to allow it. He's too strong otherwise.

Armand allows it. Daniel pulls him against him and backs him into the door, slamming it closed behind them. Slides his hands under his thighs and twines his legs around his waist. Catches his wrists in each hand and presses them on either side of his head against the door. Leans close enough to kiss.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Just a reminder, given what little he's gleamed from his past. Wants him to know he'll never try to take anything from him.

Armand shakes his head gently, “Don't stop.”

Daniel crashes their mouths together. The cool press of Armand's lips is his favorite feeling in the world; how did he think he could live without this? He ravishes Armand's mouth, and Armand lets him, pliant in a way he rarely is. Daniel kisses him and kisses him, whispers against his mouth “I'm sorry, I'm such an asshole, forgive me.”

“Shut up, Daniel.”

“No, no, listen baby,” Daniel says, kisses him again, and once more for good measure. “I love you; I need you; you're the love of my fucking life.”

Armand bites down on his bottom lip, not enough to hurt, just to sting a little. “The love of you life?”

“That's what I said, isn't it?”

Armand bites his lip again, harder this time. Daniel jerks back. “Ow, you little shit. Fine, yes, you're the love of my life. Happy?”

“Delirious,” Armand says dryly. But there's a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

“God, you make me insane,” Daniel says diving into Armand's throat to kiss and suck at the hollow. “I want you so bad, want you all the time.”

“Then take me, take me.”

So Daniel does, using nothing but spit and desperation to ease the way. It was enough; Armand is so sweet and yielding underneath him, pressed against the wall. So much so that he knows there will be hell to pay later, when he has to reassert his dominance, control freak that he was. “Fuck, I love you. I'm going be better this time, I promise.”

It's a lie and they both fucking know it.

“Tell me you love me.”

Daniel fumbles in his pocket, grateful they hadn't took the time to fully undress. Finds the pocketknife he always carries. Presses the blade the Armand's throat. “Can I?”

“Yes, do it, do it now.”

Daniel cuts a small but deep gash, deep enough the blood flows out faster. Offers his own wrist up to Armand's mouth. Shivers when he bites down.

The blood. The blood. He is inside Armand and Armand is inside him and they are bound together forever and eternally. He thinks of this and explodes into warmth as he comes and comes inside his lover. Armand finishes behind him and lays against him heavily, feigning exhaustion, but truly just wanting to be cuddled. Daniel thinks it's adorable that he does this. Knows Armand would hate that if he knew.

“I love you, Armand. I mean it. You're it for me.”

Armand smiles gently, presses a brief kiss to his lips. “No more running away?”

“No more running away.”

If he says it enough, he can almost believe it.

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read it here on ao3

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!! 

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist     Masterlist

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Breathe in

Breathe out

In 

Out 

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over. 

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit. 

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad. 

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak. 

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse. 

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable. 

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved. 

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through. 

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise. 

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself. 

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you. 

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks. 

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them. 

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen. 

Your emotions came and went without your consent. 

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!” 

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again. 

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night. 

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words. 

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid. 

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -���

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?” 

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.” 

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.” 

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3  (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

*

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

*

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.���

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?  

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.  

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

Part 8

Billy read through the file on his desk for the third time that day. After the night of the gala he’d hired an investigator to gather info on you, and now all the major events in your life were neatly encompassed in a red folder, ready for his perusal. Despite your refusal to share anything, he’d managed to learn a lot about you reading your file. Except instead of giving him clarity on you, the documents triggered an avalanche of questions and emotions that left him rattled.

You grew up in the projects, in a poor neighbourhood in Chicago, but had managed to wrangle your way into a state university. He knew how expensive those were, and even with the scholarships you’d earned it was almost impossible for someone in your socio-economic background to be able to attend college – but you had, and judging by your relatively low student loans it wasn’t simply due to luck. Billy had learned a long time ago that when opportunities presented themselves, he had to make quick and tough decisions to get ahead. Rawlins had presented such an opportunity, which had given Billy the cashflow he needed to start Anvil. Who was your Rawlins, he wondered.

Throughout college you interned at a moderately-sized company in Chicago and they hired you immediately upon graduation. You never looked back after that, moving from firm to firm while going up the corporate ladder. There were so many things about your life you didn’t share with Billy but you had been honest about one thing – Anvil couldn’t afford you. If he’d hired you, your salary would be on par with his.  

Billy still remembered when he’d signed his first lucrative contract. He’d been eyeing the Wraith for months prior to that, and as soon as he could justify the purchase he did. The penthouse in a luxury high-rise building came next. You, however, were the complete opposite of him. You owned your condo, and while it was nice and in a decent neighbourhood, it certainly wasn’t a luxury purchase. You were careful with your money, except when it came to shoes. Based on your credit card records, you bought a lot but the ridiculously expensive purchases weren’t as numerous. He guessed those were the ones you bought when you were especially troubled, like Davina had said.

Billy had pored over your life starting from where you were now all the way back to your childhood. The first time he read the child abuse investigation report in your file was two days ago, and it had taken him hours to finish because of the sheer rage it provoked in him. It was an incident reported by one of your teachers after you’d shown up to school with bruises and burn marks. Of course the child protective services had done nothing, you’d been returned to your parents. There were no other reports filed after that but abuse that vicious didn’t stop just because the cops came around. Your parents probably just learned not to leave visible bruises.  Billy was all too familiar with that kind of violence and realizing you went through the same made him want to destroy every fucking person in your life that ever hurt you.

“I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy.”

Your words still rung in his ears. They had haunted him for a week now. He could still remember the strange look of apathy on your face even though your words were obviously coming from a place of hurt and anger. At the time he didn’t know what you meant, but now he understood and it both sickened and infuriated him that you felt threatened by him. What could he have possibly done to conjure the same fear in you as your goddamn family? How could you compare him to them?

“You will not destroy me.”

Your voice had been steady and calm when you said the words, a complete contrast to the confusion he’d been feeling. Fine, he may not have recognized your worth sooner before but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt you. Yet you’d accused him of doing just that and it pissed the fuck out of him. Yeah he’d bragged about Anvil to Roger but that was to get you actual protection and keep you safe – something your precious fucking Roger should have done from day one. Corporations didn’t give a fuck about their employees until their bottom lines were threatened and knowing a competitor had access to that kind of info meant bad PR for Valiant. You were smart, you should have realized exactly why Billy had played that card but instead you chose to be willfully blind and accuse him of jeopardizing your job. It made him so angry that it had taken every bit of willpower he had not to shake the stupidity out of you.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Upon seeing who it was, he picked it up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Hey, boss. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Looks like she’s lost her tail. Didn’t even take her that long. The guy’s an idiot.”

Frustrated, Billy ran his fingers through his hair. The little talk with Roger had worked and Valiant had assigned a bodyguard to you, but like everything else about the company, the guard was ineffective. Fortunately Billy had already anticipated Valiant’s ineptitude so he’d made arrangements for one of his best trackers to keep an eye on you. “Think she knows about you?”

Andy snorted. “This ain’t my first gig.”

Even though Billy knew Andy was great at what he did - he was one of Anvil’s best - it still didn’t assuage his anxieties about you. “Where is she right now?”

“Driving out of town. I’m on her tail.”

“Headed for?”

“Not sure yet. Connecticut, I think.”

Billy exhaled an agitated sigh. “Okay, let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Will do.”

After hanging up with Andy, he called your number. As expected, it went to your voicemail automatically. Just like it had every time this past week. Obviously you’d blocked him, which irritated the fuck out of him, but he realized it was something you needed to do for yourself. And if you didn’t have some unhinged lunatic after you, Billy would have given you the space you needed - but now was not the time to respect your goddamn boundaries.

“Hey, it’s me. I get it. You’re pissed but we need to talk. Call me.” He paused, breathing. A part of him wanted to add a ‘please’ but he didn’t like the thought of pleading with another person, even you. Because if he begged and you still didn’t call back… he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Reluctantly, he put your file down and returned to reviewing the contracts in front of him.

***

It was almost two in the morning. He’d gone out for dinner with some potential clients and schmoozed the hell out of them. After a lot of booze and ass-kissing, they finally shook on the deal. All in all, it was a pretty great night except he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Every time his phone rang he hoped it was you; it never was. And now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of you like some lovesick fool. It was pathetic. He should have gone home with the waitress that had slipped him her number. She’d been hot, fun, and more than happy to fuck him but some stupid part of him felt guilty – actually guilty even though you’d been ignoring him for a week – of sleeping with someone who wasn’t you. What the hell was wrong with him?

Yeah, sure, he’s been in some relationships before but they never lasted long. When things were bad, they were terribly, horribly bad and the good times just weren’t worth it. And so, in the past few years, he’d decided to keep things casual with everyone until you fucking came along and dropped a bomb and now he was right back in the middle of a hurricane. Fuck you. Fuck You. Fuck you for making him feel like this. For making him feel desperate and clingy and pathetic. For making him worry about you. For making him care.

He grabbed his phone and called you. There was your fucking voicemail greeting again and the dreaded beep.

“I make you feel worthless?” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “What the fuck did I do to make you feel that way? Tell me. Because you actually haven’t given me any reasons. You just spouted some bullshit about having feelings for me before you walked away. Now you’ve blocked my number and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong.” He scooted off the bed and began pacing the floor. “Eleven fucking months we’ve been sleeping together and you tell me nothing about yourself. Nothing. You were a glorified sex doll. A fucking fleshlight who spoke and only told me things I wanted to hear. Yes, Billy. No, Billy. Fuck me, Billy. You kept everything bottled up! Not once did we have a real conversation. And then all of a sudden you come alive and I find out there’s more to you and I want to get to know you better but then you tell me you have feelings for me, that you might actually love me and instead of giving me a chance to process any of this shit you dump my ass and block me? Fuck you, Y/N!”  

He hung up the phone, feeling much better, but within seconds that feeling of euphoric release turned to anxiety. What if you misinterpreted what he meant? What if something he said inadvertently hurt you again? This time when he called you, his voice was calmer.

“This isn’t me, Y/N. I’m not the guy who calls a woman over and over again, especially when she wants nothing to do with me. But you’re in my head. You’re everywhere I look. I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to give a fuck about you, but I do…” He took a deep breath. “You said you might love me but I think you’re full of shit. Because when you care about someone, you don’t leave them behind. Shutting someone out, abandoning them, that’s not love. That’s being a fucking coward.”

After putting his phone back on the nightstand table, he lay back in bed with his arm propped up behind his head. He pondered the message he left, realizing the truth. As hard as he’d fought it, as much as he didn’t want to, he had fallen for you. You. Not the woman he’d been fucking for eleven months who didn’t have any personality but the real you, the woman who challenged him, who made him laugh, who was brilliant and incredibly smart and so fucking beautiful he’d get a hard-on practically every time he looked at you. There was so much about you he didn’t know, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering you, fucking you, making you his.

He didn’t believe in destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. The universe had fucked him over too many times for him to accept sentimental bullshit like that. But what he did believe in was himself. Everything he had he fought for and he destroyed anyone who got in his way. Something told him you were the same as him. You two were connected.

He reached for his phone again and dialed your number. His voice was strong, calm, and resolute as he left you a final message.

“I like you. I want you. I’m not walking away.”

He hung up, smirking.

Part 9

A/N - I’m back from lovely St Maarten, all tanned and relaxed :) I hope you guys had a wonderful week, and that you enjoyed this new chapter. I know it wasn’t plot-heavy, just thought-heavy but that was on purpose. I really wanted a chapter just for Billy to process his feelings about “You”. Hope the lack of plot wasn’t a disappointment. As always, thank you for the lovely feedback on the last chapter.  I’m sorry I didn’t respond in a timely manner while I was away!  Please know that I truly appreciate the likes, the reblogs, the wonderful feedback and the asks you guys left me.

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[fbfh]

bucky barnes realtionship and intimacy hcs

As with all nsfw/smutty/sexy works, all characters are aged up to 18+

This is also for present day Bucky

Since 40’s Bucky headcanons are coming soon ‘,:)

Also as a disclaimer I am in the process of catching up on the MCU, and I’m about to watch gotg v2, so please refrain from spoilers uwu

Anyway yeah

Let’s jump in

Listen

In what he considers his heyday

Bucky could

And still can tbh

Fucking get it

He’s so charming and charismatic

He knows exactly how to wine and dine someone he’s into

And when he gets his sights set on you

He will sweep you off your fucking feet

He panics a little at first

Cause some of his moves he thinks are really slick

Is stuff you think is kind of campy

But lucky for him you’re into some of that old fashioned romance stuff

He’ll write you love letters not suited for general audiences

He’ll stick them under your pillow or to your bathroom mirror

He gets a polaroid

And you better believe he’ll be taking some nudes for you

It’s more in pants hard pics at first

Then you surprise him with a full nude

He loses his goddamn mind

He really cherishes stuff like that

Has your picture in a locket

You show him how to make each other your wallpaper on your phone

He really likes that too

Just gonna say it

Bucky needs a lot of kisses and cuddles

And you’re more than happy to provide them

He’s mostly a top

But like

A flexible top

Yk

If you try to top him it’ll go one of two ways

He’ll be so enamored and wrapped up in you and how much he loves you and how much you love him that you can successfully top him

Or

He thinks you’re so cute

And so affectionate

He just ends up topping you more

Both endings are very nice

He’s so

Loving

When you’re together

He’ll shower you in attention

Kiss you all over

Find those spots that make your eyes roll back and your toes curl

You can feel the heat radiating off of him

Oh my god his moans

His moans are so incredible

The have just the right amount of gravely and growly and whiney

The noises he makes will get stuck in your head for days

So uh

I just gotta say this

He loves going down on you

Like

Seriously

He’ll go down on you for fucking days

He has no idea how to seriously express the emotions you give him

He doesn’t think he’s that eloquent

“Doll, I… I’d have to write more than Shakespeare just to get enough practice to tell you what you mean to me”

While he does the thumb thing on your cheek

But boy howdy is he fluent in sex

His love for you is often expressed through attention and physical touch

If that physical touch going down on you until you literally do not have any more cum inside you

That’s just one way he says I love you

He loves neck kisses

And bites

And hickeys

Loves to have the whole “dude is that a hickey?” “Yeah what can I say, my sexy amazing dollface and I are sooooo into each other that it just kind of happens ;)” conversation

Oh my god his kisses are so perfect

Listen he’s been around the block once or twice, he know what he’s doing with his mouth

As I’ve made abundantly clear

Oh my god his hands always seem to know where to go

What parts of you to trace, where to rub gently, where to squeeze to punctuate whatever he’s doing with his mouth at that moment

Talking or kissing or…. Other things…..

He also

Somehow magically

Will find the perfect rhythm to rock his hips against yours

Or into yours

Or to grind yours against his

Okay okay

I know we’ve all been thinking it

Bucky is a super soldier

Which comes along with some… perks

Super stamina

Super dexterity

Super amounts of… certain bodily fluids

What I’m saying is that it’s almost impossible to tire him out

It would probably take a team of 15 olympian athletes and a lot of toys

And batteries

I know I’ve talked about his mouth

But his hands???

His hands??!!??!!!?!

Oh god his hands!!?!?!!??

His hands never get tired

Neither do his fingers

Especially if it’s his left side

He was hesitant to use his left side on you at first, but once he realized how much fun you two can have??

He embraced that part of him a lot more

Also

When he cums

He cums a lot

Like a lot lot

He’s fucking hung as shit by the way

Like did you see what the serum did to steve??? Did you see what it did to bucky????

They beefed the fuck up

And everything beefed along with them

Fr he can go so many rounds

[slaps the roof of bucky] this bad boy can hold so much sex drive

[slaps the roof of his crotch] and this bad boy can hold so much c-

Uh yeah hooking up with Bucky is a really lovely experience

He’s really an amazing lover

11/10 would recommend

[obeiii-mee]

Could I request the brothers (and maybe Diavolo, if you're comfortable) reacting to a knightly/chivalrous m/c, please?

———————————————————

I haven’t written Diavolo in a hot minute, I’m glad he’s being requested again. I’m guessing you mean an MC with the attributes of a knight? The same sort of mannerisms and traits and not an actual knight! MC? Lemme know if I did this ask wrong because I was low key confused lmao.

———————————————————

The Brothers + Diavolo with a knightly/chivalrous MC:

Lucifer:

-He really didn’t like you upon first meeting

-He hated how he couldn’t intimidate you into not being a nuisance the way he could with most of his brothers

-But, to be honest, you had gained his respect rather early on

-I think, even though it may have annoyed him to no end, Lucifer was very fond of your bravery a lot of the times

-The way you would stand up for Mammon or that time you protected Beel and Luke from his outburst

-Courage is not a trait one would usually associate with humans, especially when more superior beings like demons are involved

-Your humility was also a characteristic of yours that he, surprisingly, was really fond of

-And your overall mercifulness was something to be congratulated as well

-I mean, him and his brothers put you through so much shit and for you to forgive and move on without an angry word at any of them kinda speaks on its own

-I think he understands, to an extent, the reason you’re so loyal to the people you care about too

-He has a certain devotion for Lord Diavolo and his brothers, more than he lets on

-To him, having someone like you around is something to be appreciated

-Because you are similar but also completely different and nothing like he deemed you to be at the beginning

-yo i think you remind him of himself back when he was angel tbh

-He’s sort of tired of saving your ass tho because you are very just, so you feel the need to help people all the time which leads to you getting involved in fights

-Bring him his 20th cup of coffee for the day please, it’s hard being a single father of 8 children (yes I’ve added Lord Diavolo he counts as one of the kids)

-He’s the definition of this incorrect quote I stumbled across a while back

- MC: “FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW!”

-Lucifer, from behind them “ Do not.”

Mammon:

-Ok so this random human comes to DevilDom and has the audacity to slap his hand away while he’s trying to steal from Diavolo’s castle????????

-“MC ya’re forgetting I’m a demon, my moral scale is wayyy different than yours-“

-“Put it back.”

-“......ok.”

-You’re coming at him with rightfulness and honor and your presence is gonna hit him like a truck

-Cuz he ain’t stealing anything when you’re around (lucifer uses this to his advantage ofc.)

-That was basically the only thing he disliked about you

-Other than that, after your first week in DevilDom, he thinks you’re a goddamn S A I N T

-Everytime you stand up for him when his brothers are being assholes-pls he melts into a puddle of goo from your perfection

-OOFFS AND ALL THOSE TIMES YOU GAVE HIM GIFTS BECAUSE GENEROSITY BBY

-Good thing he was wearing sunglasses, because holy fuck was he weeping under those Gucci shades

-He’s gonna give ya props for having the courage to stand up to him and his brothers

-Lucifer especially because big bro scary

-Think about it like this: literally every single one of them could have you seasoned and roasted for lunch, love

-And yet you still have the bravery to look them in the eye and tell them: “Ya’ll are dysfunctional as fuck and need family therapy.”

-Again, he doesn’t understand your morale, he’s the Avatar of Greed, if he sees something he likes or seems worthy of his presence, he takes it

-But with that look you’re giving him, he honestly feels so guilty he can’t help but put it back

-He also appreciates your patience with him when it comes to anything that involves him talking about his emotions and thought process

-Because at this point he is widely known as scum so-

-Ahhhh, in the end, he thinks you’re pretty badass for a human and would low key want to see you in an armour of sorts agajwhisebhwjwwhehgdhdh

-And he really likes it when you make the effort to open doors for him too but he’ll never have the nerve to admit it

Levi:

-Believe it or not, he warms up to you in less than a day...?

-It’s probably because he’s a navy commander and he’s used to having soldiers around and you sort of remind him of that

-Out of everyone, he reacts the least when he sees how you carry yourself because to him it’s second nature

-Even if he does tend to slouch most of the time

-Almost dropped to his knees and started worshiping you when you yelled at Mammon to give Levi his money back on your first day

-And then a friendship started to blossom (im not friendzoning y’all, relax)

-Levi has a tendency to just walk into your room with his laptop, point at the screen which is paused in the middle of an anime and go “Look, the protagonist is a knight. You’re also...really knightly. I like the protagonist. I, uh I like you too, I guess.”

-He loves how honest you are because he knows that no matter what you wouldn’t lie to him

-“MC, do you think I’m a yucky otaku?”

-“No.”

-“But-“

-“No.”

-“Oh ok.”

-But on the inside he’s like 🥰🥰💞💞💞💞

-I just think that a knightly MC would connect on an emotional level with Levi for a lot of reasons, idk

-He’s gonna be a sputtering mess when he realises how much effort you put into this relationship (platonic or romantic) and how loyal you are to it

-Like how you actually bother learning all of his stupid passwords because you are just as serious about them as he is

-He just crashed, give him a moment to reboot please

Satan:

-He takes a while to warm up to you because for some reason your overall demeanour reminded him of Lucifer lol

-He thought you might be just as stuck up as him

-It didn’t take him longer than a week or so to come to the sudden realisation that you are way more pleasant than his brother

-Like his daddy, you manage to earn his respect pretty quickly after that

-He just thought the way you handled everything that was thrown at you in DevilDom was very sophisticated but firm nonetheless, if that makes sense?

-Like, you weren’t itching to escalate fights or anything but your tone of voice could easily end a whole conversation if need be

-You were still a human of course, it would be real easy for some low rank demon to kidnap you or something

-But for some reason, your confidence seemed to intimidate a few of the weaker ones into leaving you alone

-Obviously, that didn’t mean you were completely safe or anything

-There were still others that could effortlessly overpower you

-Even so, Satan found it sort of reassuring that unlike some humans, you weren’t one to back down without a confrontation

-Don’t get me started on all those times you rebelled against Lucifer, because that’s what truly got him to get to know you better

-He found you pretty interesting and then that interest sort of evolved into actual fondness

-Another thing that caught his eye was that even though you have very strong feelings about justice and fairness, you are completely level headed most of the time

-And patience, while it’s something he can manage, is the one that he has been trying to control for centuries

-He learned a lot from you about behaviour, whether you intentionally taught it to him or not

-And if there is one thing Satan thinks highly of; it would be knowledge

-Therefore, from that point onward, your existence was so much more precious to him than your soul could ever be

Asmo:

-What can I say about our sweet Asmo?

-You could have the personality of a trashcan and he’d still love you

-You were so polite and honourable from the beginning to the point you managed to get the attention of the Avata of Lust himself????

-He thought you were pretty hot basically

-hoWEVER

-Your righteousness always sort of nagged him because he low-key believed Diavolo snuck in another angel into the program, I-

-And for some reason, your loyalty to everyone in general ticked him off immensely at the beginning

-Mainly because he recognised that’s one of the traits he lacks entirely and he came to the conclusion that he needs to revaluate himself on that one

-He is so desperate for your attention, he will tattle on his brothers just to get you to yell at them and then comfort him

-“MCCCCC, MAMMON STOLE MY NEWEST MAKE UP KIT AND IS ABOUT TO SELL IT ON AKUZON!”

-he is so petty istg

-Your nobility still catches him off guard every now and then

-Because you’ve been living with demons for so long and yet you’re still, theoretically speaking, pure?? get your head out of the gutter people

-He probably applauds you on the fact that you can even scare Lucifer on some occasions because imagine having a scarier death glare than the eldest prince of hell

-Asmo will personally buy you clothes that he thinks suit your “aesthetic” (wtf Asmo)

-Might’ve bought you a sword and then got shouted at by Lucifer because oops turns out it was cursed

-Again, supportive mom vibes

-“MC, do you know how stunning you look strutting around with that confidence of yours? Don’t get me started on your posTURE!”

-You pulled a chair for him once and he practically swooned lmao

Beel:

-He figures you’re really nice from the start

-Mostly because you kept running errands and opening doors for him even though he let it slip that he might lose control and eat you

-Like most brothers, he finds you comforting in a way

-Beel appreciates your honesty to him too because he can count on you to tell him when he’s doing something wrong

-And he sort of needs the validation that even though he blames himself for a lot of things that took place in the past, his brothers and you are more than ready to forgive him (even if they didn’t blame him to begin with)

-Rather than respect, Beel puts a lot of trust into you, which I would believe to be more intimate

-If it’s just the two of you hanging out, he has an easier time opening up about Lilith because he knows you would never judge him and respect his feelings enough to let him get it out of his system

-You always share your food with him and give him a bigger portion and he goes so soft-

-Like who allowed you to be this generous?

-Tbh, he thinks it’s sort of refreshing having someone like you around

-Beel has been surrounded by demons for millenniums now and he’s gotten used to their...uh ‘evilness’

-Ever since you got dropped off in DevilDom, you really stood out with your nobility and morals

-It was like a breath of fresh air in a way

-He may or may not believe you’re a good influence on his siblings-if you can even influence demons of all things

-I’m not saying he invites you to work out with him and give him honest criticism, but he definitely invites you to work out with him and give him honest criticism

Belphie:

-“Out of all the humans they could’ve chosen, they picked the most annoying one, oH MY FUCKING GO-I MEAN DAD-“

-You go up to the attic that one night after tricking Lucifer into vibing to some classical TSL tunes

-He spotted you and was immediately irritated

-Like, he KNEW you were going to be a pain in the ass just by judging your posture and how you carried yourself (very knightly)

-At the start, he’s even hesitant to lie to you because he had a suspicion you wouldn’t buy his bs

-(Spoiler alert: you didn’t but you went with it either way)

-It takes a while for you to forgive him when he literally fucking kills you because that was rude af but you got over it in time

-AFTER of the whole ‘Sorry-for-choking-you-can-we-be-friends-now’ incident, you still get on his nerves a lot but at this point, he believes that’s his punishment for being a murderous dickhead

-You don’t really piss him off tho, you just confuse him a lot

-Why are you so polite? You keep pulling chairs and opening doors for him??? Why are you treating him like royalty?? Stop it, he doesn’t want to be like Lord Diavolo (he def likes it when you do that)

-Pls stop dragging the poor man to breakfast, he just wants to sleep in-

-He doesn’t understand how you’re always one time for everything

-My dude tries to wake up 20 minutes early to get somewhere in time and he is still 2 hours late

-sTOP TRYING TO FORCE YOUR IDEALS ONTO HIM, HE’S A LITTLE SHIT WHO ENJOYS WATCHING PEOPLE SUFFER

-All the same, you’re a very forgiving person so he’s just grateful you don’t hate him or anything

-And in the end, it doesn’t really matter how much your chivalry and righteousness and all of that pisses him off every now and then

-Because he can’t deny the fact that you brought him and his brothers the peace they needed

-And he so loves it when you and Lucifer go head to head mhmm

Diavolo:

-This big tittied man right here takes a liking to you immediately

-A couple of days in DevilDom and he’s already inviting you for tea at his castle

-You managed to befriend the prince of hell faster than the demons you live with, huh

-He’s lonely ok? He loves having people over and having cozy chitchats

-Not to mention he thinks you’re such pleasant company!

-Most demons would be afraid to even say anything in his presence but you always speak your mind while continuing to be respectful and he’s so happy, you don’t understand-

-Only demons in close relations to Diavolo like Babrbatos and Lucifer actually know how much it takes for someone to anger him

-He doesn’t take offence to much lol

-And he’s really content that you acknowledged that

-He sometimes visits you in his spare time just to talk and hang out since Lucifer is a big meanie who doesn’t want to indulge him and Barbatos is busy making him dinner >:(

-SPEAKING OF- if you and Barbatos don’t bond then i don’t know what to tell you

-I mean, you would both have so many things in common (strong sense of loyalty, honesty, just in a way etc.)

-You’re his favourite guest to have over at the palace, sorry Luci you’ve been replaced

-He genuinely finds you interesting as well so please tell him stories from the human realm!! He’s dying to learn more!

-Diavolo notices you demeanour sort of gives off warrior vibes so-

-He really considered making you into a knight bc it’s Diavolo-what he says; goes

-“I know they’re human but they’ll be fine. Look how tough they are! They managed to survive a year with you and your brothers didn’t they?”

-“My Lord, that doesn’t amount to anything, please don’t get our human killed-“

[dameronology]

to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 2/4

part two: laughter lines on tired eyes

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: this one's pretty angsty - mentions of death + loss

enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Poe had always been terrified of losing you. It came with the territory of his job, but a lot of it stemmed from the fact you were person who he was closest with.

Dear Poe,

He tried not to think about it, really. Why would he? There was no point in pondering upon depressing scenarios when you brought enough excitement to his real life. He'd always known to some extent that there was a chance you could be lost in battle but that was a thought he shoved to the back of his head. It was locked away in a chest in a dark corner - another thing he didn't need to think about.

It occurred to me today that I'm probably in love with you. At first, I thought I was always just really happy to see you, but then I realised this morning, a MONDAY morning when I normally despise everyone including you, that I actually really wanted to see you.

But some things in life were unavoidable, and being dragged into a meeting room with a solemn looking Leia Organa was one of them. For Poe, it was an uncomfortably similar scenario to one he'd faced 25 years earlier. The General was more tired now, though - tired of fighting, tired of the war, tired of having these fucking conversations.

I'm never going to tell you, but as you know, I am famously bad at containing my emotions and I had to put this....somewhere.

They always started the same.

"I'm sorry."

Poe frowned. "What's happened?"

I'm sure it'll pass. I've had loads of random crushes in the past but they all went away. Do you remember Larry, the guy from the hangar, who I fancied for like a week last summer? And that very brief crush I had on Han Solo? Huh, maybe I have a time.

"(Name)'s squadron was flying back from Coruscant when the fleet took a hit," Leia's voice was shaky. Worlds away from her normal authoritative tone. "Three jets disappeared from our radars, including theirs."

"But you've found them, right?" He pushed. "You have to have found them-"

"- we've sent out several search parties," she cut him off. "They haven't found any wreckage on nearby planets, but that's good news, because it means they might have not been knocked down. It might be that they diverted to another planet to lay low for a few days."

I think it's the way you smile at me. You might not notice it, but you have these little creases by your eyes, and your lips always upturn even when you try to resist laughing. I really like your hugs too.

Poe sat up in his seat, heart rate suddenly picking up to a speed that almost beat that of his X-Wing. Clammy hands, sweaty palms, little black dots beginning to form at the edges of his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he was eight years old again, gripping the sides of his chair, throat as dry as the desert on a hot summer's day; brown eyes filled with sorrow and tears, feeling like a punch to her goddamn throat. She hadn't shaken that vision out of her head, not ever - and now, here it was all over again - the same face, the same creased brown, the same eyes. They were more tired now, with laughter lines etched around the sides, brown irises a little darker and more sunken. But Poe's eyes had never lost that spark - it had dimmed a little bit, but it was still there. Whether it would be after all this was hard to say.

And just...well it's you really, isn't it? It's the way you go out your way to make me smile when I'm sad and the way you'll fight anyone who makes me mad.

"Let me lead a search party," he begged. "Please, I'll find them in now time-"

"- Poe, you're too close to the matter," Leia replied. "You can help, though."

"Anything," Poe said. "I'll do anything."

"We've been trying to locate the back-up plans that (name) prepared for the mission - they should include a list of potential safe spots," she explained. "If you can find that list, we'll begin searching them."

"Have you tried their quarters?"

"I didn't want to invade their privacy," Leia said. "But if you happen to have a key, then-"

It's everything. It's your resilience and your humour and the way you see the best in everyone. The way you're never afraid to fight for what you believe in or stand up for what's right.

She was cut off by the sound of Poe's chair legs screeching against the floor. He was up in a split second, flying out the room without another word. His fists were balled up as he stormed down the corridor, nails digging into the palms of his hands - the pain of them piercing his skin was merely a reminder that all this was real. It wasn't a nightmare. He wasn't going to wake up and find you asleep in your room, safe and sound.

If Leia was right, and you were just laying low, would you not have said something to him? Found your own way to pass the message on? It wasn't like you to just disappear without a trace. You were always the organised one; the one who carried band-aids for when he inevitably burnt himself on a soldering iron, and the one who stitched him up every time he came staggering back from a mission, covered in minor scratches that he had heroically labelled battle scars.

You're amazing and I'm so lucky you're my best friend. This war is fucking awful but having you by my side makes everything a little less fucking awful.

Your room was just as you'd left it; tidy, but lived in. The jacket you'd stolen from him two years ago was strewn across your desk chair; the desk itself was piled high with random papers and forms, and there was a photo beside them of you, him, Finn and Rey. Some of your clothes were tossed on the bed, and your spare pair of boots was dumped in the middle of the floor.

Poe quickly scanned the room, before rifling around the sheets on your desk - but, to no avail. They were just random notes, and what looked like a letter from your father. He tried to recall any thing that might point to where you kept your mission plans - there had been the time you'd leant him your X-Wing maintenance guide, which was in a box under your bed.

This is probably something I'll take to my grave. Maybe I'll tell you about it in like 20 years when we're married to different people and meet up for Life Day. And I'll be all like 'hey, Poe! This one time when we younger, I was in love with you' and we'll laugh about it.

Falling to his knees onto the floor, Poe flipped your duvet up and began to peer underneath. Dust bunnies, a maintenance kit, your old blaster, the book he leant you nine months ago, and a box full of papers. After pawing about for a minute, he pulled the shoe box out and tore it open.

Now, it should be said that you had never considered the possibility that Poe would ever look under your bed without you knowing. Why would he? Unless he was creeping about, of course - but he'd never do anything like that. It wasn't in his nature, and you'd put the fear of god into him more than enough times for him to be clever enough not to do that. This was different, though; it was literally a matter of life and death.

I guess that means I think we'll still be friends in 20 years. And 40 and 50 and 60 and until we're old and wrinkly and too senile to fly a jet. I love you now and I'm sure I'll still love you then.

Tipping the papers out onto your floor, Poe crossed his legs and began to search through them.

He didn't see it at first.

All the letters that said dear Poe, I love you.

When he did, his heart stopped. Like, that full on, gut clenching, air-stealing, pulse pausing stomach drop. It only further added to his theory that this whole fucking terrible day was just a dream - but maybe, just maybe, this bit was a little less terrible.

Hands shaking (now for a different reason), Poe grabbed the first letter from the pile. It was dated to just over a year ago.

Love, (name)

There was a lot to unpack; firstly, you'd been in love with him for a fucking year. And you'd brought up the secret crush on Han Solo that you swore to never talk about - and did you really think he'd ever be too senile to fly a jet? Poe would have been insulted if that first revelation hadn't reduced his entire thinking capacity down to one, tiny brain cell.

Clutching the letter in his hands, Poe fell back against the bed. All this information - your disappearance and the declarations - was much too complicated for him to process all at once. The worst part was that you'd said you were going to take it to your grave and now...well now, you actually might have.

But there was still a chance - a chance that you were still out there, trying to find your way back to him. To your best friend.

You had to come back.

tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[txemrn]

Book: Open Heart (after book 3)

Word Count: 1456 (+/-)

Warnings: Language, angst, maternal death

A/N: You guessed it; we did another Drunken Drabbles last night (which if you ever want to play, please join us! My buddies @chemist-ana, @jstawriterbee, & @kat-tia801 joined me last night--check out their DD! They actually have smut!), and this one is brought to you be Deep Eddie's Vodka. As far as the challenge? I broke every. single. rule. First of all, I passed out before I could schedule to post this, so here I am, 2.5 hours late. Second, I didn't use the prompt. There is literally no prompt to this. Third, I'm well over 1000 word. And finally, there is no smut. Nada. Zilch. What the hell happened last night? *rubs head* Some characters and plot belong to Pixelberry. Also, no editing or pre-reading with this bad boy, so please forgive me! Enjoy! 😎

***

Depositing a dollop of hand sanitizer in her palm, newly appointed Chief of Obstetrics Dr. Tatum Erikson escorts a nurse out of a labor patient's room. “Let’s go ahead and start that amnio,” she orders as she rubs her hands together. "300 bolus followed by 80 an hour. Call me if--" the chime of her pager interrupts her. "Shit."

"Ma'am?"

Tatum rubs her temples. "Sorry--um--" she looks back at her pager. "--call me if those decels don't resolve in thirty minutes--" she begins to jog down the birthing center's corridor, heading towards the stairs to exit the unit.

She bolts down the six flights, reaching the ground level at a rapid speed. She rounds the corner, pushing past the double doors next to a large red-and-white illuminated sign: Emergency. She sees the commotion ahead and a patient being transferred from a stretcher, not responsive.

"I'm Dr. Erikson," she frantically calls out over the chaos of the room. "I was paged 911. What've we got?" As a seasoned EMT rattles off vital signs and history, Tatum instantly recognizes Karla Hogan, a patient she saw this morning at her 38-week check-up appointment.

Oh, God, no... Please no...

"...she was found unresponsive at the scene of the MVA. Asystole. CPR in process for 17 minutes--"

"Epi? We've given epi?"

"Yes--"

"Atropine?"

"Maxed."

No, no, no. This can't be happening…

"Doctor, how would you like to proceed--?"

"Put a goddamn fetal monitor on my patient," she barks, turning to a nurse nearby. "You," she points, "page OB STAT Emergency overhead. I need an OR now--"

"It won't make a difference," bellows a cold, baritone voice from the doorway of the room.

Tatum freezes, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She knows that hauntingly deep voice: a voice that once made her giggle incessantly during the day while he purred her name late into the night; a voice that encouraged her, comforted her, believed in her all through medical school; a voice that once laid claim to her hand and her heart--that is until that voice found her in bed with his best friend. She knows that frigid tone anywhere.

"Ramsey," she mutters.

"A postmortem c-section?" He condescendingly questions, strolling confidently into the room. "She's been down for how long--?"

"But, if these chest compressions have been adequate, there's a chance--"

"She was gone before they even started--" he nonchalantly interjects as he begins testing the patient's reflexes.

"Doctor Ramsey," she chides before being abruptly interrupted by a trauma nurse.

"Dr. Erikson, I think I hear a heartbeat, but it's low and slow." Tatum nervously nods, taking a few deep breaths.

"That's good enough for me," she kindly thanks the nurse. "Alright, team," she boldly orders, "Let's get her ready for a cesarean." She turns to a nearby technician. "Where the hell is my OB team?"

"They've been paged--"

"Page them again," orders Tatum.

"But, doctor--"

"Page them again," Tatum's tone becomes more stern as she starts grabbing surgical materials. Slipping on a scrub hat, she turns to look into a pair of familiar, crystal blue eyes. "When's the last time you did surgery, Ramsey?"

The tall provider sardonically chuckles. "It's been a while," he crosses his arms, "but, it's not happening right now--"

Tatum scoffs. "Let's get her prepped people. Move!"

"Dr. Erikson," Ethan hollers, a warning in his tone. "You will not be performing this--"

"Watch me." Tatum fervently assists the nurses and technicians in positioning the gravid body. "If you've got a problem, take it up with the chief. This is my call--"

"Already have," Ethan snidely rebuttals, "and it's my call." Tatum stops applying her surgical mask, slowly turning her attention to his towering frame. Her wide eyes slowly trace down from his face to the embroidery of his white coat: Dr. Ethan J. Ramsey, Chief of Medicine.

Tatum blinks her lashes in confusion. "Where's Dr. Banerji?"

"Not here," Ethan smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Now will you be reasonable?"

"Reasonable?" She feels the anger burning inside her as she fights back the stinging pain of tears. Her eyes glisten with earnest pleading. "Ethan," she beckons under her breath, "We could save a life."

Ethan runs his hand over his face, allowing his fingers to rest against his chin. "Tatum, I--"

"Please. Do this," she swallows deeply, her voice reducing to a whisper, "for me?" Ethan's gaze fixes on his former love, a flash of memories flood before his eyes leaving the pair in a palpable stillness.

"Nurse," he calls out from over his shoulder, "I need a size eight glove."

***

"You want me to--"

"I can do it."

Ethan and Tatum walk in silence to the waiting room to retrieve Karla Hogan's husband. Recognizing him instantly, Tatum invites him to follow him to a more private room to talk.

"Just--just say it, Dr. Erikson." Tatum stuns in her steps, slowly turning to face the tearful husband and father-to-be. "Please don't make me take one more step, one more second not knowing that the love of my life--that she, my Karla--" his voice falls into sobs.

"We--we did everything--" Tatum's voice runs hoarse as tears drip from her cheeks. She clears her throat. "Mr. Hogan, I--I--" A sudden tunnel of darkness clouds around her head, the room falling silent. She feels her heart begin to panic, thundering in her chest as her breathing becomes more shallow. She's had this difficult discussion before with family members; but death in the maternity ward is never something one should get used to.

Suddenly, Ethan gently puts a hand on Tatum's shoulder, a comforting touch that always brought her back to reality. She takes a few deep breaths, looking up at him. He gives a curt nod as he squeezes her shoulder, stepping forward to talk.

"Mr. Hogan, we did everything we could…"

Tatum slips off her scrub cap, letting platinum blonde wisps cascade down her face. All she can picture in her head is Karla, how she was full of hope this morning‐‐they both were. And in the blink of an eye

"... but thanks to this skillful doctor right here," Tatum is pulled from her thoughts by Ethan's words as he points to her. "--your newborn baby girl is waiting for you, recovering in our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit."

***

After leading the emotional father up to meet his daughter, Tatum turns on her heel, making her way back to her laboring patients in the birthing center. But, before she exits the NICU, she discovers Ethan finishing a conversation with one of the neonatologists. Their eyes meet.

“Proud of you today, Tate,” Ethan offers a crooked smile.

Tatum dramatically steps closer to Ethan, crossing her arms as she raises an eyebrow. “Pardon me,” she lifts a hand up to cup her ears, “but did you just say, ‘You were right, Tatum; I was wrong’?”

Ethan pinches between his eyes while his other hand rests on his hip. “I’m never wrong--”

“Today you were--” she jovial pokes at him.

“You got lucky--”

“And you’re still bitter--”

“‘Bitter’?” Ethan scoffs, “of you--?”

“That someone’s medical intuition rivals your own--”

“Dare to dream, Dr. Erikson, but we both know exactly what your intuition is capable of--” The moment the words left his lips, a painful apologetic look plagues Ethan’s eyes as he watches the stunned hurt flash across hers. A thick silence floods between them, both of them unsure how to recover from such a low-blow of a remark. Tatum stares at the floor, unsure if she should just walk away.

“Tatum, I--” she shakes her head, waving her arm to dismiss the inevitable apology. She just wasn’t sure when she would stop paying for the sins of her past.

“So,” she tries to change subjects as a mischievous grin grows across her face. "I missed the memo. You're my boss."

"I'm your boss," he chuckles, crossing his arms.

"Hrmmm," Tatum raises her eyebrows, turning towards the door as a silence falls between them, again. She motions for the automatic door to open.

"Hrmmm what?" Ethan questions, turning towards her as the doors slowly open.

"Oh, I was just thinking," she lowers her voice, placing her hand on his arm. Ethan bites his lower lip as his cheeks begin to flush. His eyes flutter down to her lips before drifting back to her gaze. He swallows thickly.

"A-About what?" His tone matches hers.

She giggles letting go of his arm. She makes her way through the automatic doors and back en route to her department. But, not before she calls out over shoulder in a dark, sensually husky voice: "It wouldn't be the first time--" she twirls on her heel to look at him one more time, giving him a wink and a knowing smile, "--sir."

***

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