#it’s about hating your hometown but being shaped by it and tied to it in ways you’ll never be able to untangle

[vujava]

gideon nav would listen to the front bottoms you cannot change my mind

#it’s about hating your hometown but being shaped by it and tied to it in ways you’ll never be able to untangle #it’s about thinking the girl you like doesn’t like you and doing whatever you can to be in her life #it’s also that i think she would have bad taste in music #purely based on vibes #tlt #the locked tomb #gideon nav #tlt headcanon

[sinner-as-saint]

Wreck My Plans.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Taking time off work, you come back to your hometown for the holiday season, and you decide to go clubbing with a few friends. There, in the middle of the dark, loud room your eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue ones. Ones which you never thought you’d see again after so many years. There he was, your ex-boyfriend; Bucky Barnes. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff, 

a/n: i missed my Sin Army. Happy evermore day. And to my Marvel fam, how we doin’ after those trailers?!

Time stopped. 

One minute the music was deafening and the next, you couldn’t even hear it. All you could focus on was your current, erratic heartbeat as you stared into a pair of stormy, blue eyes. They looked darker and much more mesmerizing than you remember. 

His name echoed in your head as a smile formed on your face. Bucky. 

The smile on his face mimicked yours as he walked over to you at the bar, crossing the ocean of drunk people swaying to the music. Amongst the crowd he crossed, were some of your friends who ditched you just minutes ago to go have fun with a pair of dudes they met just upon entering the club. 

You could join them, but rubbing your body against a stranger’s sweaty body was not what you intended to do tonight so you stayed back at the bar. 

Good thing you did so, else you wouldn’t have noticed Bucky on the other side of the room. 

You smiled a little brighter once he stood in front of you. Very, very well dressed in his dark suit. 

“Is it really you?” he spoke, teasing you right away. Just like he used to. 

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, mainly to hide your nervousness as you realized how much deeper his voice had gotten. Or how much more attractive he was. He had always been a hottie, now even more so. Muscular and tall, even with the suit on you could tell he had a body to die for. 

You and Bucky broke up right after graduating high school. You moved for uni while he stayed behind and joined his family business. It wasn’t a messy break up, just two 18-year-olds deciding to end a relationship and focus on their futures. 

You finished college a few years later then moved again, for your dream job. And now, almost 7 years later, you were back in your hometown for the holidays for the first time in a long time. 

“It is. How have you been, Buck?” 

He smiled and took the seat right beside you. “Great.” he wasn’t lying. “You?” 

You let out a little laugh. “Are we seriously gonna do the whole work and the weather thing?” you asked, and he laughed. 

Oh how you had missed his laugh. It’s been years since you saw him, but everything about him was so familiar it hurt. The way his eyes closed when he smiled or laughed too hard. The blue in his eyes, the crinkles by them. The perfect shape of his nose which you always teased him for. 

Everything about him reminded you of a simpler, happier time of your life. 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, then smiled in nostalgia. “You’re just as pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes again, casually ignoring the sparks which flew in between you two. 

“Oh please. Enough about me, what about you? You’re quite the talk of the town I heard.” It was true, they were saying all sorts of things about him ever since you came home. No one knew where he lived, whether he was in town currently or no - he was, you just confirmed it a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah? What have you heard so far?” he spoke with a smirk on. Words didn’t affect him anymore. 

You raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?” 

He chuckled, and signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. You watched each of his actions cautiously. Everything about him screamed power. His stance, his movements, his poise. You had heard around that his dad’s business was doing poorly years ago and he turned to some shady stuff. And he dragged his son along. Something about mob, gangs and illegal stuff. You had trouble believing it at first, because you knew him. You knew Bucky and you couldn’t imagine someone as gentle as him being associated with this side of life. 

But the smirk he gave you proved all those rumors and theories to be true. 

“Oh,” you wondered why you didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. “Well, it suits you.” You scanned him quickly and wondered where you got the confidence to do that. 

You were right, it did suit him. The power, the mean yet magnetic demeanor, the way he could get absolutely everyone to stare at him in awe and fear - truly, it did suit him. 

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, then placed his glass down. “You should be running for the hills, not complimenting me. Is that what your strict, conservative father taught you?” The last part was an inside joke so he couldn’t hide his smile. 

You shook your head. Bucky and your dad never gelled well. Ever. “Leave dad out of this, he still hates you by the way.” your words made him chuckle at some memories. “So now what, you have gangs and guns and stuff?” you asked. 

“Yeah I’m kind of the bad guy around here.” 

You laughed. He stared at you in complete awe and he couldn’t help but smile. He felt it too, the pull or sparks or whatever it was that was preventing him from looking away. Like as though something had tied him to you and he couldn’t get away and he definitely didn’t want to. 

“You’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around and hoping you’d say no because he hated the thought of you being here with another man. Which was weird because he was meeting you for the first time in years, yet he was already feeling so protective. 

And that skin-tight coral dress you were wearing wasn’t helping either. 

“With some girl friends,” you replied and he quietly let out a sigh of relief, “But it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” You looked around and couldn’t see them. They were wild party animals anyways. 

Bucky smiled and got up from his seat, extending his arm out for you to take. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” 

You took the last sip of your wine and took his hand. You let him guide you to the back of the club. “You know the owners?” you asked, seeing he was so comfortable in the space. He chuckled. 

“I am the owner, doll.” he answered in that cocky, velvety voice of his. And that nickname, that damn nickname brought back so many memories; they came flooding back in like it was no one’s business. 

The first time he kissed you. Prom. That road trip you took together. All the ones you planned but couldn’t take. All the times you snuck out of the house to hang out at his place. The one time you got caught and how your dad almost lost his shit completely. The time you had your biggest fight and didn’t talk for two whole days. How he apologized first for that one. 

You remembered everything. 

He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his slick, black car. He was quiet when he got into the driver’s seat. But the silence was comfortable, like the kind you have around your closest friends and family; where you’re just happy with sharing space and air, just knowing the other is here and not having the need to fill the silence with useless talks. The kind of silence which spoke louder than words ever could. Comforting, and warm. 

He pulled into the entrance of a private property and your eyes widened for a brief moment. “You live here? This is your home?” you asked, a little surprised at the grandeur of the mansion in front of you, which grew bigger and bigger as you approached it. 

“One of my houses, yes.” he replied, cocky as always. 

You playfully scoffed. “Showoff.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear and laugh at. 

He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You rolled your eyes at his antics, “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” you teased. 

He chuckled and casually reached down to hold your hand in his as he guided you over to the front door. It was chilly out, so he walked a little faster. “Oh come on, I know I’m the bad guy now but I'm chivalrous enough to treat my ex-girlfriend right.” he played along, knowing exactly which word would get a reaction out of you. 

“Ouch.” you pretended to be hurt. He laughed as he ushered you into his home. 

The first thing you noticed were the guards. Then the extravagant foyer which led to the equally extravagant living room. The color theme, the lovely smell of the house, there was something about it which was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place a finger on it. 

“You have a beautiful home, Buck.” you looked around and noticed that the guards had left. 

He smiled and let go of your hand, letting you walk around his personal space for a bit. He could get used to this, the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. He could get used to seeing you in his home. 

“Come on up, you’ll love the library.” he spoke and extended his arm out again. You took his hand and he led you up the large, fancy wooden stairs. 

He was right. You did immediately fall in love with his library/study room. It was everything one dreams of. Spacious, yet cosy. Modern, but with a vintage twist. The right amount of light, but not too much. It was beautiful. 

You walked a few steps further and started noticing the little things; like the mini bar, the unused typewriter on the desk, the scattered papers next to it, the chandelier which made the room look magical. 

“This is beautiful.” you commented as you lazily skimmed through the books on the shelves. You heard him move around glasses in the background. 

“Thank you.” he paused, pouring himself a drink. “You want a drink?” 

You turned to face him for a brief moment. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in his very expensive looking black shirt. “Sure.” you answered, then you turned back around to check out the books and you could feel him staring at your back. You smirked as not so holy thoughts filled your head. 

How would tonight end? You wondered. 

You walked over to his desk and plopped down on his large seat. He walked over as well, placing your glass down and leaning against the edge of the table, staring down at you with a smirk on and a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?” you laughed as you took a sip of the liquor. It was smooth, and sweet and left an amazing aftertaste in your mouth as it slid down your throat, burning just a little. It tasted expensive. 

“Nothing.” He replied, softly as he eyed you carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re here, after all this time.” 

You smiled and looked up at him. “Things changed, haven’t they? I mean, the Bucky I knew hated whiskey and brandy. He liked cheap beers and vodka.” you pointed out. 

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket out of habit. Suddenly he looked much younger and very boyish. “He changed, Y/N.” 

This was the first time he used your name tonight and you felt funny inside. The good kind of funny. 

“Mhmm.” you agreed. “He got meaner.” you teased and stood up from the seat, and looked past him. Right by the couches, was a small coffee table upon which something shiny caught your attention. And being the curious being you are, you walked right over without a second thought. 

“You think?” he sounded playful as he watched you walk over to the coffee table where his guns were kept. He doesn’t usually leave them out in the open like this but he was cleaning them earlier so he left them there. 

Bucky watched how you picked one up and examined it. 

“Yeah,” you spoke up without taking your eyes off the hand gun. “He got dangerous.” You weirdly liked how it felt in your hands. A little heavier than you thought it would be. 

He was surprised at how comfortable you were with this side of him. Another woman would turn the other way and would run. But not you. “Be careful with that, doll.” he warned you softly. “They’re all loaded.” 

You smirked as you placed the gun down and picked up another. And you sensed him tensing up where he stood. 

“Don’t touch that one.” he said calmly. You frowned. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

He placed his glass down and walked over to you. “I’ve done bad things with that one. I’ve hurt bad people.” 

You knew your way around a gun. Your father used to hunt as a hobby so you knew the gun was locked. But just for the hell of it, you aimed it at him and smirked. “Yeah? I think I like this new Bucky a lot better.” 

He smirked, loving the fact that the city didn’t diminish your spunk. He realized then that you were still the same girl he fell for in highschool. “Careful.” he warned again, giving you a soft smile. Seeing you like this made him want to do bad things to you. He felt hot as he watched you aim a gun at him. He didn’t know why. 

“Scared?” you teased, loving the reaction you got out of him. The buzz of the wine earlier and the whiskey just now amplified your confidence and you loved it. 

Oh fuck you looked hot. It made it hard for him to focus on anything else. “Put it down, Y/N.” he kept his devilishly handsome smirk on. You held your ground and it made him groan and roll his eyes. He approached you and you giggled. He carefully took the gun from you and placed it back down on the table, then without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Good girls don’t play with those. You used to be so obedient, what happened?” he teased. 

You smirked, finding his body heat really comforting. “I’ve changed.” you purposely repeated his own words, then added, “Maybe I’m not such a good girl anymore.” you purred. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly. 

“Don’t tease me baby girl. I’m not as nice as I used to be.” his words made you all hot and bothered. 

You smirked. “Prove it.” 

And just like that, with one look of his, you were under his spell. He smirked and leaned in, purposely avoiding your lips as he gently kissed his way along your jaw. You shivered when his lips touched your neck; leaving soft kisses along the side of your throat while his hand wrapped tighter around your waist. 

He made you whimper and whine, you could feel him smirk against your skin. He pulled away after a while, and held your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, and he looked into your eyes with an intensity which made your body tingle. His thumb soon moved up to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and spoke, “I’ve missed you.” he looked down at you softly. 

Your lips parted as he trailed his fingers down your chin, down your neck before he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat, applying just a bit of pressure there. You smirked as you looked up at him. “Not so sassy now, are we?” he sounded cocky and in control, just how you liked him. 

And suddenly all those years which had gone by didn’t mean a thing. You picked up right where you left off. The spark was still there. 

“Buck… please,” you whined under your breath. Oh how he had missed this… 

He chuckled. “Come here, baby girl.” he walked a few steps backwards and plopped down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap where you fit perfectly. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under your dress and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh as he went. 

He smirked when you moaned and kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him easier access. He chuckled when you visibly trembled as his knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy thong you were wearing. He couldn’t wait to tear it off your body. 

His need to have you grew with each passing moment. Hot, fiery, burning desire. Bucky slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit, “You’re dripping, doll.” He chuckled as you moaned when he slowly pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

Your body throbbed. You whined, throwing your head back and letting him do whatever he wanted with your body. 

Bucky looked up at you in pure adoration as he placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand; his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. His other hand gently wrapped around your neck; not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. 

You got a little louder as he sped up; his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and eliciting sounds which turned you on even more. Seeing you were whining and whimpering already, Bucky moved his hand from your throat and pushed two fingers into your mouth; slowly pumped those two as well; an obscene attempt to keep you quiet. 

Your mouth immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he swore under his breath again at the sight of you so salacious and open; his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter; and make him want to devour you even more. You moaned when he sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; intensified by his tight grip at your throat.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, leaning in to just bite your lip; not kissing you properly but just biting down and nibbling on your lower lip and making you go crazy. You whined in pleasure and nodded. He sped up again; and you rolled your hips against his hand in a haze – chasing your orgasm; moaning and whimpering. “Cum for me, come on, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

You let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers; crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. Once satisfied, he removed his hand from your underwear and pulled his hand back from your throat and wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, causing your sensitive core to brush against his crotch. And you could feel his erection. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, baby girl.” He whispered against your parted lips. “I searched for you, but I couldn’t find a way to get to you.” 

“Buck…” your hands reached up to cup his face and you pulled away just a little to look down at him. “I’m here.” you whispered, breathless still. 

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss, just hunger and passion and pure craving. His soft lips moved perfectly against yours through the messy kiss. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. His hands rested on the curve of your ass; holding you close to him as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes. 

He gripped your waist and pressed your cloth core onto his, making you grind against him; causing you to feel his hard on through his pants. You almost moaned at how big and firm he felt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed over you while you shamelessly rocked your hips ever so gently against his clothed hard on. He smirked at your involuntary actions. 

“Fuck… I need to have you. Now.” he growled before pushing you down on the couch and hovering on top of you. He purposely pressed his crotch down in between your parted legs, making you moan at how fucking big he felt. “You feel that?” he breathed into your ear and made you shiver at how deep his voice sounded. You could almost feel the lust in his voice. “You did that, babygirl.” He pulled away from your face a little to look at you, smirking. 

He kissed his way down your body, sliding your dress down your body while at it. You felt his mouth in between your thighs. Your back arched off the surface of the couch as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease. 

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin incessantly, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him a pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name. 

He kissed your inner thighs, licking you clean before kissing his way up your body and finding your lips again. He kissed you with ardor; eager to just be inside you already and make you squirm and shake under him, but he also wanted to cherish each moment and worship your body. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

He pulled away for a bit and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head. “Keep your hands there for me, baby girl.” He mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process. You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body begging him to just take you already. 

“Look at me.” He almost moaned as he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. The dimmed lights made his eyes look darker than usual, and his face looked dangerously handsome. His voice was deep – which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Fuck…” was all you were able to mutter under your breath as he pulled out of you completely, then pushed back into you again; filling you up entirely.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth. You could only nod senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

You could no longer keep your hands off him so you reached out and held onto his shoulders; your nails digging into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

The dim light made his eyes look even more piercing than usual. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his partially unbuttoned shirt; his body heat radiating through the fabric.

You moaned out loud and he very gently tightened his grip around your throat. His voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it drove you crazy. You felt your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Come on.” he panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him. You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was still fading. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more. “Cum for me again, come on.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again.

He kissed you again, while you tried to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. He chuckled when he pulled away to look at how disheveled and messy you were all because of him. His hand left his throat and his thumb traced your lips again, he was mesmerized by how much of a whimpering, tear-stained mess you were. 

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here.” 

---

You woke up in his bed. 

And the flashbacks of the time spent there hit you immediately. 

You felt his arms around you as you peaked from under the blanket to try and reorient yourself. The room was brighter. You checked the time and it was around ten in the morning. 

Well, there goes that family breakfast you promised your parents. 

You felt Bucky stir in his sleep behind you. He peeled one eye open and smiled at the sight of you still in his bed. 

“Morning baby girl,” he said in a deep, groggy morning voice which made your heart flip. 

“I have plans with my family, you know? You’re just, shamelessly wrecking them.” You teased and watched how his smirk grew. His arm tightened around your body, under the covers. His touch was warm and gentle as he tugged you closer to his equally warm body. 

Your bare chest pressed against his and you looked up and stared into his blue eyes. They were so dreamy you still couldn’t believe they were real. 

“Oh please. Admit it, you like it better here with me rather than being confined in that old man’s house.” He rolled his eyes as he mentioned your dad. 

You giggled. Him and your dad always hated each other. 

“Imagine what he’d say once he finds out I’ve been hanging out with the bad guy. Again.” You played along. 

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll deal with him. I’d do anything for you.” he whispered softly, the last part even more so. 

Your heart did that thing where it felt like it was bursting into a millions little pieces in the best ways. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sound of his morning voice. You looked up at him and then leaned in to kiss his neck softly. 

“I missed you, you know?” 

“Hmm, I know.” 

You giggled and hugged him tighter. “What now?” you asked, thinking about what would happen two weeks from now, when you’d have to get back to the city. 

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I was planning on expanding my… business to another city. How is it over there?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as he waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly pulled away and sat up on his bed with a shocked look on your face. “You’re moving?” 

He smiled at you. “I’ll go wherever you go at this point. I just got you back, I'm not giving up on us this time.” 

“Are you sure about this? Our lives… they’re so different.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke. “Will we make it?” 

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, caging you in his arms. “Oh we will.” Then he looked past you for a brief moment, out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He noticed the snow falling delicately. It was truly beautiful, but nothing matched how pretty you looked - messy hair, swollen lips, love bites all over your skin. 

He leaned in to kiss you, then whispered against your lips. “We will make it doll, don’t you worry. Just trust me.” 

a/n: ily.

#bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes au #marvel #Sebastian Stan

[the-slasher-files]

Hello!! It's me again, I loved what you wrote from my last request, and I wanted to try if I could ask for another one. I know it's a holiday, so I understand if it's gonna be a while, or if you'll be unable to do it.

Picture this, s/o is out busy all day, leaving the slashers on their own. Then, while the slashers are in their duties, they spotted something that reminded them of s/o. It can either be clothings, accessories, or even the smell of something their s/o bakes, etc.

I would love to see how Michael and Jason (even the other slashers, for the other readers out there) would contemplate when something like that happens to them. Like a moment thinking about their s/o and recognizing their adoration for their s/o.

(Ask is a little long but I also wanna say I love you writings so much! Happy Holidays!)

oooooh I adore this!! Happy Holidays to you as well! Just to make it more painful I am going to make it so the s/o is gone for ‘longer’ making them yearn more :) Also forewarning there is quiet a bit of gore in this but not super bad, also includes people getting murdered and angsty vibes! hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS BEING REMINDED OF THEIR S/O WHEN THEY’RE GONE

INCLUDES JASON, and MICHAEL

JASON VOORHEES

A creature quietly stirred in the shadows of the trees, moving rapidly but somehow silently. A ghost. A myth. A legend of Camp Crystal Lake. When you were gone and he was on the hunt, the man that bared the name Jason Voorhees, was ruthless. Everything he was with you as a lover was lost and replaced by violence, rage and a malicious intent. Brutally spilling blood in revenge, becoming one with the forest and lake that hid him effortlessly, waiting for the time to strike.

The small group of teenagers were in the rustic wooden cabin glimmering in the night by with the warm glow of the campfire outside, left abandoned for other activities. He could hear the groans, heavy breathes and muffled music from the drunk teens, creaking the old beds in a rhythmic pace. The creature white knuckled the wooden handle of his machete, forcing bones and veins to appear along the damaged skin.

The normally creaky floorboards of the porch did not creak for him, hiding his presence, almost as in appreciation for the man that kept up the camp and fed the woods surrounding. Jason made his way into the wooden structure quickly meeting a sizable man, shirtless, protecting a young female that stood behind him poised to scream but the air never left her lungs for the machete brutally skewered both teens with little effort. A river of scarlet seeped into the old wooden floorboards beneath the killers muddy boots as the blade was pulled out of the slumped corpses. With forceful steps Jason marched into the small bedroom ripping the door open, the hulking frame of the beast lunged toward the naked skinny teen and with the clean whoosh of metal blood sprayed everywhere, the bed, the floor, on Jason and coating the now screaming women beneath the teen. Quickly the creature grabbed her throat, pulling her up and squeezing, watching the life drain from her trembling body, lips turning blue and eyes bulging, she was gone in a simple few minutes.

The night fell silent again until a new muffled song appeared from the bathroom, a familiar song, one the creature had heard many times before. Turning slowly and gingerly pushing the wooden bathroom door open, steam swept through the air and a phone laid on the counter, a woman was in the shower singing alone to the song playing from the device.

The scene was yours but the smell and voice wasn't. It brought the creature to a strange state, one that placed the man in between his two persona's; deadly murderer and gentle lover. Jason stood observing for a moment, remembering all the nights he would come home and find your little naked body in the hot shower pretending as if you were on stage to thousands preforming your favorite songs. So cute, so pure and vulnerable, coating yourself in the beautiful floral scents you always seemed to dawn. Jason would often step into the stream with you usually fully clothed making you laugh-- Your laugh was even so adorable to the large man-- and he would run massive hands where he pleased along your soft skin, making you look so small under him. Perfection was an understatement to Jason, you were his everything and you took him for what he was, loving the man with all of your heart.

Jason missed you and missed you bad; gone for a week seemed like a year to him. Hating when your family pulled you away to the fast and loud city, which you told your lover you hated too but you both knew you would have to see them sometime, making sure you were fine.

A ridiculously out of tone lyric was sung and it ripped threw Jason’s ears, drawing his ire and pulling him into the killer character. This was not you, not your smell, not your voice. Swiping the phone to the floor the creature destroyed it under his boot with ease and forced the giant blood covered machete through the shower curtain and into the unfortunate soul behind it.

MICHAEL MYERS

A scream broke the air of the cool October night. In the traditional white American home a crimson liquid painted the inside, smeared against the walls, sprayed along the flickering tv screen, pouring out of a woman. A man watched her, head tilted as she clawed against the grey carpet with one hand, while the other futility clutched her neck where a stream of blood ran. His anger was bright at the fact it wasn't you beneath him, bleeding out and crawling away helplessly.

The shape of Haddonfield had made home in the shadows tonight, slipping away between the cookie-cutter houses and stalking with warm glow from the windows. A blur of white and navy hid away for the moonlight didn't even want to touch the sick soul, seamlessly blending into the night.

He had watched her from the bushes with a feeling of desire forming in his core, burning fury and sick thoughts incased him. The shape could do things to her that he never could with you, but it wouldn't be the same, he knew. She had your same hair colour. Similar build. The same black hoodie. Baking something that smelled familiar.

You were gone, not at home but in your hometown. Far away from Haddonfield. Only one more night he counted in his head, one night too long. You had done everything to try and convince Michael to take the road trip with you but leaving his town wasn't something he ever wanted, you knew that and accepted it. However, Michael didn't accepted it, rage grew every hour you were gone, knowing he should have just tied you up in the bedroom, threatening to kill you. Fuck, he wanted to see how your blood would run between his fingers and shimmer on his cold metal blade. Something was different about you, and Michael just couldn't place it why he had kept you alive and allowed your touch for so long. It could've been your smell perhaps, it was sweet with a tinge of musk from himself; the copper smell fell flawlessly against your skin and mixed into a dangerous perfume. Maybe it was your nature, treating the man like a human instead of a demon, not ever wanting to push him on why he was the way he was, you just took what he gave you and it was enough. Every living thing has needs and you met his perfectly, unlike the bitch he watched.

Large boots squelched along the damp grass, striding with a wicked intent the shape quietly opened the back door of the home, stepping into the shadows of the hallway. Michael looped into the kitchen where the woman was; she gazed into the black eye holes of the white mask and screamed, faltering to the living room, Michael walked slowly grabbing the largest knife from the wooden block on the counter. Two large strides had the man towering over her figure, slitting her neck from ear to ear.

Michael had planned this from the very moment he saw her yesterday walking past the house you shared with him. She was not you, and that was the point.

#my writing #asks #requests #horror #slashers #michael myers #halloween #jason vorhees #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #friday the 13th #slashers fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o

[jeessss]

An Actual Fic Roundup

Thank you to echo, the patron saint of kindness and getting people to write fic roundups.

I wrote 83k words this year. This was 16 fics, 9 of which were DnP. Fics below grouped by fandom below the cut and then some Thoughts

DNP

Thin Stripe of Skin, 873 words, rated T.  Dan is trying to get some writing done. But he can’t even get through a paragraph because suddenly there it is: the image of Phil with his arms stretched wide, shirt pulled up to expose a diamond in the center of his chest. You could just begin to see the shape of his pectoral muscles. That was definitely Not Allowed.

so much depends upon a cereal box web cam, 6k words, rated G.  Phil thinks fate brought the two of them together. Dan thinks Phil doesn't give him enough credit. Fate didn't bring them together; it was actually a lot of work on Dan's part.

How To Flush A Toilet: An Information Guide, 1.7k words, rated T.  How to flush your broken toilet AND deal with your emotional baggage in just ten easy steps.

Sutures, 2.4k words, rated E.  Phil returns to the forever home after a week away, just in time to pull Dan out of his negative thought spiral.

a thousand (four hundred ninety two) words, 1.5k words. rated T. Dan has developed a strategy over the years. When he wants to stare but not get caught staring, he’ll take a picture. He can look at Phil all he wants through a viewfinder or on a phone screen, and no one will bat an eyelash. He can analyze all the angles of Phil’s face, the shape of his lips, the way his clothing falls around his shoulders. He can take a picture, because it lasts longer.

The Sand, 7.5k words, rated M. Phil loves the kinetic sand, loves pressing it between his palm, loves running it through his fingers. He loves watching it fall from his hands bit by bit. He loves the sand and he needs to share it with everyone.

Kick Me While I’m Down, 14k words, rated T. Dan and Phil meet in an adult kickball league. Phil is just there to make friends. Dan is - not.

call me but love, 1.1k words, rated G. Phil can’t change his last name - Dan won’t let him. He’s been attached to that name since 2009.

Scars, 904 words, rated G Dan thought filming in his hometown would be harder.

Two Set Violin

(please stan tsv with me. did you see that virtual tour. i am dead.)

End Game, 2,7k words, rated T. Brett plays and he thinks about how the real Tchaikovsky would never be able to have this. Brett is glad that he does. A fic about Taiwan and the tour and Tchaikovsky

Oil on Canvas, WIP, rated T. Two Set But They Are Art Majors

Good Bad Ideas, 2.1k words, rated T. “Ah, shit,” Eddy says, hiding his face from the screen. “How did that get here.” He shouldn’t have agreed to take the photo or post the photo and now there it is, the consequences of his actions, staring up at him from their subreddit. AKA the photo and the conversation that came after

ok yes i wrote a hockey fic. it was a moment of weakness. it won’t happen again.

190 lbs, 1.4k words, rated T. Wade was used to Morgan kicking his ass in drills. He was not, however, used to being knocked flat on said ass.

(still the only morgan/wade fic on ao3 though. i am truly a pioneer)

F4 Thailand

listen, do not watch this show. we don’t need another boys before flowers adaptation in the year 2k21/22. but if you DO watch it, ship Gorya/Mira

Lip Gloss Shade, 2.2k words, rated T Gorya keeps a lip gloss ad of Mira shoved in the bottom of her drawer.

2gether/bw

More Than A Dozen Times, 8.2k words, rated T Five Times Sarawat Proposes to Tine And The One Time He Says Yes

the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures, 23k words, rated M Bright would do anything for Win. There are a line of dead bodies behind him proving that fact.

That is so many more things than I thought??? I only started writing in October 2020 so I still have some things I’d like to work on. I’ve been writing songs for many, many years so some of those things translate, but I would like to get better at things like scene transitions and Not Hating My Life Every Time I Write Dialog. But I wrote action for the first time this year! and horror!

Next year I would really like to write a DnP long fic. I just need to get over my fear of writing outlines. I think I've discovered that I’m the type of writer than needs to post WIPs as I go, otherwise the length seems too daunting.

Thank you to everyone who has said nice things about my writing! I am definitely someone who struggles with confidence, and every comment has helped.

#i didn't realize this was like 90% teen #i should write more smut #i had a smut christmas idea but then i was busy looking for houses and writing art majors au

[extremelyblackandwhite]

exile

pairing: carter baizen x reader

warnings: angst & smut (18+)

a/n: this one has been in the working for a while. enjoy.

based off “exile” by taylor swift and “tightrope” from the greatest showman

I think I’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending, you’re not my hometown anymore so what I’m defending now? You were my town now i’m in exile seeing you out. I think I’ve seen this film before ...

The music was softly loud in a manner that one could only describe as annoying for conversation starts. Women dressed in the newest gowns straight of the catwalk and men tied up into various shades of suits. People walked around carrying trays of expensive champagne and every corner of the room seemed to have an ice sculpture everywhere. Everything was splendid and wondrous but Carter was much more interested in the figure leaned against the marbled column. Hair pulled up and held by several golden pins, skin decorated in white ruffled fabric descending up to her knees, matching heels on her feet as a key shaped necklace hanged from her neck.  She was like a vision of time, an hallucination of a memory that was long, long gone. She was gone but near and Carter couldn’t help but feel all his pride slowly slip away from him.

If there was a woman who could say she had held his heart, it was Y/N. She was the daughter of one of his father’s friends, a partner and share owner in most of the law firms around New York, and a French socialite. She carried herself with the elegance and innocence that no Upper East Sider had and Carter had been hopelessly enamoured with her. How could he not? He could still close his eyes and see her, he could the very first time he met her, his mother surrounded by other ladies at tea laughing about new founded gossip but there she was, sat in the chair swirling the platinum spoon on the warm liquid of her tea cup. 

She always found a way to make him laugh, she could always find a way to make him feel like he wasn’t as shallow as he thought he was. Carter loved her the way he could love no other woman but he had to let her go. Her father clearly wasn’t found of having his only child, his precious daughter, dating an ex gambling addict with a bad reputation, and as such he sent her away. She had asked him to help her, she didn’t want to go somewhere alone but he didn’t. At the end of the day he knew he would eventually break her heart. He had tried writing her but every letter he wrote her came back, unopened. He wondered why she was back, out of all places she had decided to go to Columbia. She hated New York, she always hated the fake plastered smiles and the ambitions her parents had for her, she hated the noise and would much enjoy to run away to the Hamptons during Autumn and Winter. Carter still remembers driving down to the Hamptons near twilight to find her laying on top of an old blanket. It was tattooed on his brain, the serene look on her face as she pulled onto the worn out sleeves of a sweatshirt she had purposely bought oversized. Sadly, alongside with that memory was the memory of him driving away from her home, leaving before she could even notice. 

       - Carter. - he turned around at the mention of his name, an old lady stood in front of him whom he could swore was Y/N’s grandmother. Or, at least, the one she enjoyed to speak about. - I didn’t know you were in town. 

       - Sister’s getting married.

       - My congratulations to Caroline. - she smiled. - Oh, have you met my granddaughter? She should be here somewhere here. 

Carter was going to refuse meeting a granddaughter he already knew a bit too well, at least better than her father would’ve liked, but the woman had a death like grip on his tailor velvet black suit and was already walking him Y/N’s way. His throat ran dry and he felt his body fill with static like feelings as she turned around at her grandmother’s request. There, at the sight of her face beautifully and delicately preserved in time with little to no signs of time pulling on the skin, he felt like he was the old type of man, ready to drop everything at the belief that someone was made just for him. She stared at him as if she had seen a ghost, a dead being which had never left her but that she was only noticing now. 

Second, third, and hundredth chances, balancin' on breaking branches. Those eyes add insult to injury. I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending. I'm not your problem anymore so who am I offending now? You were my crown now I'm in exile seein' you out. I think I've seen this film before so I'm leavin' out the side door

The parties were always the same no matter how much time had passed. The glittering chandeliers and fake smiles for seeing someone whom they hadn’t seen in ages and could barely remember the name. Lily van der Woodsen had been the one to host the party, insisting to Y/N’s mother she should attend as a way to get to know some of Columbia’s students but there was no one that Y/N didn’t already know. She had gone to Constance for a few years until her father decided she was clearly going through a dark path. A dark path named Carter Baizen.

Last she’d heard of him he was doing some humanitarian documentary work but others perceived him as more of a intense gambler rather than the portrait of humanitarian. Other than that, she’d never seen him since she was 17 going on 18 on his car listening to his favourite bands and discussing running away. After her father sent her to Connecticut for boarding school for her companies with the eldest Baizen child, she didn’t hear from him ever again. 

As she sipped on her second glass of champagne, she heard her grandmother’s voice booming which made her turn around to see the last person she’d ever expect to see. Once again, she was merely a young girl waited on the steps of her apartment, constantly checking the watch for a man that never came. Things were never clear but looking at him, looking into those eyes only added salt to a wound which had never healed and was instead covered through layers and layers of “You’ll be alright”.

      - This is my Y/N. She’s gonna be a human rights lawyer, we’re so proud of her. - her grandmother poured out love and pride in her voice, something Carter definitely didn’t use to hear from her own mother. - Y/N, this is Carter Baizen. He’s Caroline’s brother, you two went together to Constance. Do you remember?

     - We’ve met before. - there was a sort of icy softness to her voice, no longer the honeyed, happy sound she used to speak in whenever they would walk down the Upper East. No, this was cold, almost as if she had surrounded herself by walls yet soft as if she was still able to show the cracks in her armour. Heaviness settled in him, looking at her, looking at the one he would dub as the one who got away. She didn’t get away, he went away. 

    - I should go check on the other guests. - her grandmother excused herself leaving the ex almost lovers staring at each other through mirrors of past distorted memories. 

    - I didn’t know you were at Columbia. - he grabbed one of the passing glasses of champagne, not entirely sure of what to say. He never knew what to say near her but this time, this time he knew nothing he could say would made up for what he did. 

    - Brown isn’t what I had in mind so I transferred after I finished my first year. Dad thought Columbia would be a good fit. - she stood too far from him, further than he’d like. She used to always be so close, so close he could smell her vanilla and honey perfume, so close he could feel the fabric of her clothing against his hands. Close enough to consider kissing her but that was no longer the case, she was far and her heart was locked. - What about you Carter? Last I heard you were in Machu Picchu. 

   - My uncle got me an chief financial officer job at his company in London. Been spending some time with Serena but I’m mostly here for Carolines’ wedding.

   - Serena? She was at the same boarding school as me. Didn’t know you two were close. 

   - I guess you could say we are close. On and off.

Her curious facade fell as the corner of her lips almost falling into a frown. She didn’t know what to feel if anger or sadness but as a tray passed by, she set down her half full glass on the silver tray before mumbling “excuse me”. She moved through the crowds of people with her hand in front of her eyes, strangled cry in her throat.

   - Y/N, wait. - he followed her, he followed her like he should’ve done years ago. He chase her up the stairs of the van der Woodsen residence, knowing it like the palm of his hand, however she was still faster than him and rushed over to the small balcony on their guest bedroom, stomach hitting the metal railings which adorned the small outside place. - Y/N!

So step right out, there is no amount of cryin' I can do for you. All this time, we always walked a very thin line. You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out), you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs). All this time I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind). I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) ...

    - I really don’t want to speak to you. - she let the tears flow down her face in silence, regretting how her mind seemed to show her images of the times when things were clearer. Times when they would just be kids joking around in central park or times when she would purposely let her hand wander, hoping he would grab it but he never did. The times she would look him into the eyes for longer than usual, hoping he would try to kiss her, but he never did. 

    - C’mon, dove. - he walking up to her but she moved away.

   - Don’t call me that. - she punctuated every single word as if he had offended her. 

   - Why are you upset? 

   - Why am I upset? - she lifted her head, streaks of black mascara rushing down her face. She’d been here before, she’d been disappointed before and she didn’t like it so why was she here again? Why didn’t she just ignore him and went back into the carefully constructed world she had built for herself. - You always told me you were afraid of commitments, that you didn’t want to be shackled down to anyone and I understood it. I understood it and stood by you and waited, waited for things to change and you ... you just weren’t worth it. You wasted my time only to get on a relationship with Serena out of all people. You just weren’t worth it. 

It stung, it stung worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t worth it, he just wasn’t worth it and he knew it. What he didn’t know and was still processing as if he was living some twisted dream was her words. She waited, he knew she had waited for him but he didn’t know what else she had waited for. Suddenly all those fall nights in the beach where she would fall asleep on his shoulder, trying to pull her out of revision sessions after she started crying due to stress, her pretending to let him win whenever they played poker. She had waited and she was right he wasn’t worth it. 

   - Why Serena? - she questioned, heart heavy with emotions too ugly for her to even let unfold. 

   - I don’t know. 

   - Do you wanna know how long I waited for you on those stairs? - he wanted to say no, he didn’t want to remember it, he didn’t want to think of it. - I waited for 5 hours, I waited as long as I could until my parents shoved me on that train because of you. You didn’t write or ...

   - I wrote you everyday. - he still had those letters, stacked on top of his wardrobe in England wrapped in the red string she used to wear around her hair like a headband and had left in his drawer during a particular cold day. He thought he should’ve burn them years and years ago, let it go but something stopped him. The mere thought of her just touching the letters stopped him from discarding them, from burning the only thing which was still hers. - You sent back each and every letter. 

   - I never got any letter from you. - she wanted to scream at him for using his lines, his tricks on her. - Stop lying to me.

   - I wrote to you everyday for two years. - he grabbed her arm, impeding her from leaving this time. As if this simple act could make up the biggest mistake of his life. - I wrote to you every day and when I stopped having any words I wrote down all your favourite love letters. After two years, I thought ... I thought you probably had someone and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. 

   - You wrote to me? - she softened, almost as if she couldn’t believe his words. Her mother definitely would’ve told her not to believe him, “the Baizen’s have a way with words, no wonder they have a publicity and ad agency” and her father would send her straight to Brown if he even dared to dream his precious and only daughter was back with the man he had sent her away from. Her inhibitions fell like a castle of cards and blew away as she stared at the man whom she had loved since she was fifteen and had last seen at seventeen years old. She should know better, she was three years older, no longer innocently in love with the older boy from St. Judes. She should know better, she should know better but she didn’t and looking into his eyes and then his lips she decided to do something she shouldn’t.

Placing on herself on her tippy toes, she held his shoulders and leaned her lips against his. Carter immediately grabbed her, afraid she would slip away or that she was some fragment of his drunk imagination but no, she was here. As he held her close to his body, lips moving in such a synch it could be describe as symphony like, he could feel her, he could feel her warmth, the ruffles of her dress against his fingers. No, she was here. She was here. 

The two of them stumbled backwards into the guest bedroom, too heated in their minds to care about the fact the door was unlocked. His hands came up to the straps which held her dress to her body, ripping it off her and leaving her in a probably too expensive white lacy lingerie with a tiny jewel in the middle of her chest. He was too worried to feel her, to kiss her to even look at her racy form, ever so beautifully revealing. Her finger danced over his jacket, pushing it off him. He helped her discard of the jacket, throwing it somewhere in the room and thus interrupting the kiss. She laid against the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, and that’s when he first took a good look at her. The lingerie looked tailor made, almost glued like a second skin, enhancing her bossom which he only wanted to lay his face on. His lips were partially open, hair broken open from its confines and sprawled all over the white sheets. Fuck, she was a vision.

He climbed atop her, eyes fully darkened with lust as he stood over her before leaning to kiss her again, hand pushing on the back her knee and caressing the skin of her thigh. His other hand came to her back, releasing the strap which held the garment in place. He was just a simple pull away from seeing it, from seeing her in what he only dreamed off in drunk nights. He didn’t want to pull it away just yet, he wanted to look at her and look he did. There was so many things he wanted to do to her but right now he just wanted to bask in her intimacy but she was not interested in that, trembling hands coming to unbutton his white shirt, pushing it down his arms. His once soft skin was now defined, no longer the 18 year old he was but someone whom she would thought to be out a men’s health magazine. Her hands moved through his chest, feeling the ridges and scars of time that had laid there before they lowered to the zipper of his trousers.

    - No, dove. - he grabbed her hands in his, putting them above her head and holding them there. - No, let me take care of you. 

He started to kiss her neck, starting at right at the end of her ear down to her collarbones and up to the start of her breast where skin meet the lace of her lingerie. Slowly, he pushed the garment off her, mouth lowering to take her nipple in between his lips. The girl let out a soft moan, hand tangling in his polished hair as changed attentions to her other breast sucking hard enough to leave marks. She wanted his marks. She wanted to bare them, to do the wrong thing. He moved from her chest down to her navel, making her moan at the lack of teasing until he got too close to her mound. He looked up to her, devilish spark in his eyes.

    - Tell me, dove. How well did they fuck you in boarding school?

   - I will if you tell me how well you fucked Serena.

   - Oh, dove ... are you jealous? - his eyes flickered with a sense of wild pride he couldn’t explain. Her moved up, licking his lips before kissing her jaw. - Don’t be jealous, my little dove. I thought of you every time I fucked her.

His fingers moved inside of her all her making her hold onto his neck, pushing him onto the space between her neck and shoulder. He smiled, biting onto the plump skin while he pressed his fingers deeper into her heat. His fingers moved in and out of her, slowly, teasingly, pushing sweet yet pornographic sounds from her as he hit that perfect spot. His thumb rubbed abstract-like figures on her hardening clit, putting her in a hypnotising-like state which made her reply to each and every move he had.

     - Fuck ... coming here to the Upper East in that little cocktail of yours. You’re all grown up aren’t you, dove? Fuck, I missed you. - he pressed his thumb harder on her climb, kissing from the spot he had just bitten to her shoulder, only to bite it too. That sure would leave a mark her daddy would love to see, oh he surely would love to. - Are you close, dove? 

     - Carter ... - she moaned in want, feeling that familiar knot only she could cause herself starting to tighten. 

     - You’re so fucking stunning. - he rose his head from her shoulder, crashing his lips against hers and his fingers keep moving in and out at a now faster pace. She breathed in and out, letting out sounds which only incentivised him to keep going, small smile on his lips as he keep kissing her, teeth grazing at her bottom lip. She could feel the knot tighten until it suddenly released, having her moan against his lips as the sound turned into pure static energy. - Aren’t you a stunner? Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, dove. 

She could barely move her head, still recovering from her orgasm as he left her lips to pull down her zipper. Looking up as well as she could, she watched him remove his formal trousers along with his underwear revealing his sizeable member. Mindlessly, she bite her lip, smirking through her daze as he pumped himself a couple of times, pre-cum gathering at the red tip of his member. 

    - You’re not a good girl at all, are you dove? - he questioned in a teasing manner before returning to top her, grabbing her hands once more and holding them tight above her head. He ran the tip of his member up and down her slit, collecting the wetness from her former orgasm. - Come on, dove. Tell me, tell me you’re mine. 

    - I ... I’m y...yours. - she spoke through the breathlessness that he seemed to naturally caused in her not expecting the harsh thrusting to begin as soon as those words exited her mouth. He held her hands thightly, thrusting into her in and out with little to no gentleness. He couldn’t do gentle and she didn’t want him to do so, relishing as he seemed to hit her g-spot which sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head. - Carter, I’m yours.

   - I fucking know, dove. I know. - he said through his teeth, growling at the way her pussy milked him in such a way he needed more self control than ever. He continued with no relent, free hand coming to rub her nub which made her lose whatever inhibitions she had left. She was putty in his hands, moaning mindlessly without a care in the world. 

   - I’m gonna cum. - she cried out, turning her head to the side as he leaned to kiss her neck, noticing how hard it was becoming to ignore how she was milking him. Few more thrusts and she came crashing from the high she had been in since the start, moaning his name out loud as he growled before collapsing to her side, not wanting to hurt her. She let out a shaky breathe, feeling him cum drip out of her and onto the sheets. This surely was no house guest etiquette but she really wasn’t in the mood to care.

He turned his head to look at her, sweat dripping from her forehead and gluing the hairs close to it to her skin as her chest went up and down trying to calm down her heart rate. She was surely a sight. He carefully threw an arm over her, pushing her flush with his body before kissing the top of her head. 

    - I’m so sorry. - he blurted out, not sure what to say, how to apologise for things that were long gone. - I’m so sorry.

    - Just stay this time. - she kissed the palm of his hand. - Just stay. 

   - I will, dove. I promise.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan au #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen/reader #carter baizen x you #carter baizen/you #carter baizen x y/n #carter baizen/y/n #carter baizen smut #carter baizen imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

[jennbabeyy]

Tis the Damn Season.

A/N: Happy New Years babes!! I’m back with this Ez imagine to wrap up the holiday season. I hope you all had a great holiday break and I wish you guys the happiest, healthiest new year. Stay Safe 

Song: Tis the Damn Season- Taylor Swift 

No happy endings, sorry :/

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“It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you 

There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me” 

She should’ve known coming back was a bad idea, though it never really hit her until her eyes laid on the damn town sign welcoming those who passed through. Everything inside of her screamed as she passed the familiar town scenery. One that she grew up idolizing but one day ended up cursing at. It was a love hate relationship, she has with Santo Padre.  

She grew up here, the memories of her as a young child are often replayed in her mind. They are cherished and kept in good shape, grasping onto the small details, she knows she’ll never feel again. But with the good memories, there’s the ones she keeps hidden. Ones she knows she’ll always remember no matter how much she tries to make herself forget. 

He will always be in her mind, he had claimed that spot years back. 

It’s been years since she last saw him but when she finally saw him standing outside his dad’s shop. And it doesn’t surprise her that he still looks the same, expect for a couple new tattoos. But he’s still the same kid who used to walk her home every single day after school just to make sure she got there safe. Except she’s not the same girl. She will never be. 

But it doesn’t surprise her, that he doesn’t greet her. It’s usually never cold in Santo Padre but she swears she felt the temperature drop by a couple of degrees, when she passes by.

And it was her doing, so she keeps her head down; wondering if she made a mistake. 

“ So we could call it even

You can call me “babe” for the weekend

‘Tis the damn season, write this down

I’m staying at my parents’ house”

She doesn’t know whether it was the couple of drinks she had before they arrived at the bar. But the sudden boost of confidence allows her to say hi to his brother, Angel. He was always kind to her and it gives her a chance to finally stand up close to EZ. Finally see the ways he’s grown. And it was a beautiful sight in front of her, one that takes her breath away.

A silent nod given by Ez makes Angel suddenly leave the bar, claiming the pool table was calling his name. And the Ezekiel that she once knew was right before her eyes. 

They laughed, they shared stories, ones that made her heart beat faster. Stories that made her face heat up when she catches the way he still stares at her the way he used to. 

Ez walks her home after the bar closes up, by this time Angel had already left home. And it takes her a while to agree, but one look at Ez’s brown eyes and she melts right there. 

“Can’t believe after all these years I’m still walking you back to your parent’s house.” Ez smiles at her as they walk down the street, in the middle of the night. It's comforting and she welcomes it, even if it’s just for a couple of days while she’s back in town. 

And just for once, she feels like nothing has changed between them. 

“The holidays linger like bad perfume

You can run, but only so far 

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave” 

She groans, as she walks to Felipe Reyes’s carniceria on behalf of her parent’s orders. It had been a couple days back to her childhood home but she soon realized that nothing’s changed between her parents and home. The feelings of being stuck in this small town have once again made themselves known. She suddenly feels like she’s 15, walking to her favorite place after school looking for Ez. It seems like no matter how many years pass by, her parents seem to treat her like she was still in high school. The same reckless teenager who has thrown everything away in order to escape Santo Padre. 

The walk there feels like forever even though it’s only a couple minutes in walking distance. But she can’t help but see how much the town she once grew up in changed throughout the years. Only now, it seemed like everyone was in the festive spirit, the bright colors covering every inch of the town. Her eyes followed the people that walked around without a care in the world. How she wished to be one of them.

The last time she was here, she had left everything she once loved behind, She could still see Ez’s face when she had come over to break the news to him. 

She was leaving, and she didn’t know if she ever wanted to come back to this awful town that pretty much killed everything inside of it.

But Ez could never understand her urge to leave this town they both grew up in. And because of that she felt smothered by not only her parents, but by the idea of their relationship as well. He wanted to settle down and of course her parents loved the idea of their wild child being tied down to Santo Padre’s golden boy.

As much as she loved him, she was still young and she wanted the chance to explore the world, and she knew he wouldn’t leave his own family behind to go with her. 

So she left and she didn’t dare to look back at the man she loved with her entire heart. 

Because she knew she wouldn’t leave if she did. 

“I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.”

It doesn’t surprise her when she wakes up in a room that’s not her childhood one. The memories of the day before creep up in her mind, and she lets out a soft smile. There weren't any words between them but she felt every emotion he had in the way his hand caressed her body. It was like they were never apart but she also felt like the missing part in her was complete. She could still feel him as she laid there staring at the ceiling. 

The house was quiet and she knew that neither Ez or Angel were home. It was probably for the best, considering today was the last day she had before leaving this town again. And she wasn’t sure she would be coming back after this. 

Her heart tugged at the thought of leaving Ez again. She hadn’t planned to end up in his bed, she hadn’t planned to see him at all. But just one look at him and she’s suddenly her teenage self. Hopelessly in love. 

“Hey, sleepyhead” Ez smiles, as he breaks her away from her daydream. She knew he saw the surprise look on her face, but thankfully he didn’t comment on it. He instead passed the coffee cup in his hand towards her, sitting at the edge of his bed. 

His eyes lingering at her face, and she couldn’t make herself meet his. He knew, he knew that she was going to leave him behind once more. And there wasn’t anything he could say or do to make her change her mind. 

She was stubborn, god she hated that about herself. But that’s what he loved most about her, she needed things done her way. 

“You’re leaving aren’t you.” It was soft but she still heard it. 

Her eyes finally meet his, and she swears she can hear both their hearts breaking. But she doesn’t hear that one word that she’s been longing to hear, especially from him. Maybe if he did say it, she could stay. 

But it never comes.

“And wonder about the only soul 

Who can tell which smiles I’m fakin’ 

And the heart I know I’m breakin’ is my own

To leave the warmest bed I’ve ever know”

Her parents sent her off with only a hug and safe travel wishes. They don’t even bother asking her to visit soon. It was a lost cause and her father doesn’t hide the disappointment in his face when he closed the front door. 

She’s disappointed them a handful of times throughout her life, but it had never occurred to them that she just doesn't want to be stuck in the same town like the rest of them.

She had dreams and to her parents she was just a failure who runs away from the people who love her the most. But what they don’t know is that her heart breaks every time she thinks about the man she’s left behind. The only one who can make her feel like she’s on top of the world. The only one who truly knows her deepest darkest secrets and her dreams.

It was like something came over her and before she knew it she was at Ez’s house. She sits there maybe hoping, she’ll come to her senses and leave without him noticing her car. A soft laugh escapes her mouth when she see Ez leaning against the doorframe, watching her. 

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye first.” She speaks first as he approaches her car. She silently curses herself when she feels her eyes fill up with tears. She’s usually good at hiding her feelings from others but this time she just couldn’t. This time she doesn’t hide them from him. 

His large hands cup her face and for a moment she leans towards its, feeling him one more time. His thumb catches the tears that streams down her face. 

She tries to smile at him but he knows her better than that. He instead places his lips on hers, making their last kiss way better than she expected. 

“Make me proud.” He leans his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent and closing his eyes. 

Ez steps away from her car, giving her a last smile before nodding at her.

She leaves and she hopes he knows that her heart is breaking as she drives away from everything she’s ever known.

This time she does look back because she wants to see his face one more time before she leaves him behind. And she come to terms that he’ll always be in the back of her mind, the future she could’ve had with EZ. 

It was always him. 

“And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you and my hometown.”

#mayans x reader #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes x reader

[starrysebastians]

Tis the damn season

Summary : On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other. I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help? 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 11k 

Warnings : general sadness, mentions of death and strained family relationships, but holiday fluff to make up for it.

A/n : this was written for @wonderlandmind4​'s fall winter challenge, thank you for hosting this! (Got carried away with the word count while simultaneously having no inspiration and writing utter shit I'm genuinely sorry about this?????) 

"God I hate this damn season and everything about it."

The sound of pebbles aggressively kicked by your foot is drowned out by the driver's door being slammed shut. It echoes around the empty street, morning fog still lingering in the air even in the early afternoon. A white cloud escapes your lips as you sigh, emptying all of your lungs' air before breathing in once again, and your eyes follow the shape — up, up, until it vanishes into the air and you are left staring at a familiar bay window. The curtain moves before you can even begin to turn your gaze away and a curse escapes your lips.

"Think they saw us?" His tone is dripping with irony.

Bucky is leaning against the car, arms crossed against his broad chest and his face as blank as your mind when you try to think about why you chose to do this. In the small moment of contemplation you were having, you didn't even notice him walk around the car and stand next to you.

"Nah, impossible," you say deadpan as a hand waves behind the glass. You stare at it silently before you talk again."We can still make a run for it." 

You don't move as Bucky pushes himself off the car and opens the trunk, bags all held in his metal hand. The trunk slams shut and he is already crossing the road leading to the front lawn. 

"I was being serious!" You call out, huffing when he turns around and glares at you. 

Throwing up your arms and letting them fall back at your sides with a heavy sigh, you begrudgingly lock the car and walk towards the house — it seems so much smaller to you now. 

"Of course they put Christmas decorations literally everywhere," you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling a wave of holiday hatred hitting you at full speed.

Bucky eyes you for a second before knocking on the door, a horrified expression distorting your features when the word wait doesn't get to be voiced out loud. His eyes are more grey than usual, matching the sky, and they hold a twinkle of amusement at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes looking up at the sky as if some sort of alien could possibly appear and whisk you far away from here.

It's intriguing, seeing you this way — in your hometown, nervous about spending Thanksgiving with your parents. Nervous isn't the right word though, because he thinks he has never seen you nervous before ; there are actually a lot of emotions he hasn't seen you display yet. Not that he has a reason to, actually, because he only sees you when you are visiting Sam at their new headquarters, or when you are helping out on a mission. So really, he has only seen you laughing at Sam's jokes, or being angry at armed criminals. And what is left between those two extreme moods are mostly you being silent or passive-agressive — although the passive-aggressiveness is reserved for him, he has noticed.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice makes you want to wince and you purse your lips, a poor attempt at smiling. Bucky had stepped behind you after having knocked on the door and you are at the forefront of every attack. 

Arms feel strange and foreign around you, a warmth you are not used to anymore. You can't really feel your hands as you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, patting your parents' back as your gaze rests upon the staircase, so many memories rushing to your mind at once.

"Hi," you say simply, taking a step back and crossing your arms. You clear your throat, leaning closer to Bucky, your arm brushing his. This is what a regular person would do, right? "This is James." 

You don't really pay attention to the way your mother's arms engulf Bucky — poor guy. Their voices are just noise to you as you step around them and walk to the living room. We have been dying to meet you. Y/N has been keeping you hidden from us for so long. We are so glad to have you here, James. Slow and careful steps, eyes taking it all in — the green walls, the fireplace, the old rug and the stains you've made, the painting you've always found disturbing. It smells just the same. You run your hands across every surface, fingers lingering on cold wood.

"It's a good thing that you're here early. I'll show you to your room and you can settle in, rest a little." You turn around lazily, lids heavy with the weight of nostalgia and old visions. Your mother's hand is resting on Bucky's forearm, probably because his shoulder was out of reach, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wonder if he is uncomfortable being touched like this by your parents or if it is something else. "You must have had a long ride." 

Bucky opens his mouth and you cut him off before he can even begin to utter a single word, eyes boring into his with a warning. 

"We did. Exhausting. Lots of traffic." You have faked enough yawns in your life to fool even your own parents — then again, how long has it been since they last saw you? And it takes little effort to conclude that you and Bucky will rest in your room for a while before coming down and helping with dinner preparations. 

The stairs creak under your feet and you smile a little at the sound. Your room smells like old wood, rays of light playing with dust particles around you. An old fluffy carpet, pastel tones and white walls, very few decoration. Some pictures — pictures of artists you used to like, empty postcards, not personal ones. These ones have been taken off the wall years and years ago.

The mattress dips under your weight as you slump down on your bed, fingers moving on their own to stroke a soft blanket. Bucky closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the almost empty walls. The thought of you and him in your old room and sharing your bed finally crosses your mind.

"M’gonna go for a walk," you suddenly say, getting up from the bed in a swift movement. You don’t walk towards the door, but towards the window instead. 

"O...kay," Bucky drawls out. He watches as you open the window, grunting as it requires some forceful pulling. "Is this a secret code for...I’m gonna jump out the window and die so I can avoid my parents?" 

You snicker, closing your eyes and breathing in as the icy air finally hits your face. Tendrils of hair fly around your features and tickle your skin. You turn around, fingers putting your hair back into place, strands tucked behind your ears.

"I wish," you almost don’t add anything, but Bucky looks so utterly lost and confused as you throw a leg outside that you have to. "I used to sneak out of here all the time. It’s safe, there’s a big ledge and then I land on the guest room's balcony." 

"When are you getting back?" He only asks, pushing his body off the wall and going to sit down on the spot you were occupying just a minute before.

"In time. Don’t worry," this time you’re fully out of the room, feet expertly walking on the ledge. "If they knock just say I’m asleep." You stop in your tracks, voice louder. "And don’t go through my stuff. I’ll know and I’ll kill you."

*

Bucky’s still sitting on the bed when you get back, your hair slightly damp and frizzy from the humidity and the small drizzle outside. Cheeks and nose reddened by the cold and eyes brighter now that you have breathed in some fresh air, that isn't the air from New-York, something purer with a familiar smell. 

"I’ve been gone two hours. Please tell me you’ve got up at least once," you mock, bending down to untie your shoelaces and avoid making mud stains all over the carpet. This floor has suffered enough over the years. 

"No. I’ve been sitting there waiting for you like the good dog that I am." His voice dripping with sarcasm, you roll your eyes. "Told them you were asleep and blocked the door in case they wanted to check on you." 

You raise your head slowly, squinting at him. 

"So...you talked to them?"

He stares back with a bored expression. 

"Yes. I’ve talked to them. I'm spending Thanksgiving with them and sleeping in their house, so I figured maybe I could behave like a civilized person and say hi, you know." You blink. "Plus, I'm your boyfriend." You blink again.

"You didn't have to talk to them so soon. We've got all night," you mumble, now going for your socks.

"I've endured far worse than having a full conversation with someone's parents, Y/N," he chuckles and your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Right." 

Bucky looks at you, really looks at you. Hands going through your hair and gripping it a little too tight as you try to weave your fingers through knots and tangled strands — wind still raging outside. Dark shadows under your lashes from having rubbed your eyes in exhaustion and forgetting you had mascara on. Jaw ticking every now and then as your eyes bore into an empty spot, and he doesn't know if you are staring at an actual object or at something that only exists in your mind.

"Have they asked anything about us?" You say, sitting down on the floor and next to your travel bag.

"The usual. How we met, how long we’ve been together…that sort of thing."

Your stomach twists and you look up, alarmed.

"Oh god. What did you tell them? I forgot to make something up. We should have discussed this in the car, I just forgot." You run your hands through your tangled hair, again. "Fuck."

"It’s okay," Bucky’s eyes follow your every move as you rummage through your bag to find another top, fingers pulling on a soft black fabric. "I told them we met through Sam. And obviously they knew who he was — who I was, so I assumed they knew about you too." There’s an interrogation in his voice and you simply nod in confirmation. "So we talked about our jobs, mostly."

"Exciting," you comment sardonically. "And how long have we been dating?"

"Told them we started dating before the snap." 

You freeze, hands still resting on your black top, a slightly sheer and shiny material you thought would be more festive.

"So…definitely more than five years," you start, and he nods in response. "And...that means I visited Wakanda, right?"

He thinks for a second. 

"Right. Yeah."

You hum again.

"Not very practical. I’ve never been to Wakanda."

"Now you have a problem with accuracy?"

You glare at him. 

"No. Just saying. We could have met in New-York. Would have been simpler. That's all."

"Right. Two months ago and it was love at first sight so you’re already bringing me home to your parents — whom you haven’t seen in years. Makes sense." You clench your jaw and he raises a brow, sparkling blue eyes taunting you.

Glaring at him one last time, you turn around and face the wall.

"First of all, we didn’t meet two months ago," you start undoing the buttons of the cardigan you are wearing. "I'd definitely remember if I had only been enduring your presence for two months." He scoffs behind you. 

You pull your cardigan over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Some deodorant and you grab the festive top. Bucky stares at your back for a second, soft skin covered in small beauty spots and old scars, defined muscles in action grabbing his full attention. Your neck, the way your hair brushes up your shoulders, the glimpse at your breasts and the curve of your waist — he focuses his gaze on the window instead. An afternoon sky blanketed by dark grey clouds, a promise of rain and a mirror of what he guesses is an internal turmoil.

"And?"

"And what?" You face him again, fitted dark fabric clinging to your body.

"You said first of all. I’m assuming there’s a second part." Brow quirked and smirk slowly lifting the left corner of his mouth, he watches your face fall. 

"There isn’t," he nods, full mocking smile on his lips now. "I actually like using first of all knowing there’s nothing else I have to add. It’s a figure of speech."

He scoffs, shaking his head. 

"It’s not."

"It is now," you stand up, brushing your hands against your thighs. You are now dressed in all black and it looks like you are going on a mission. You are, somehow. "Are you gonna change for tonight?"

"What, is it that ugly?" Bucky looks down at his outfit. 

Fitted blue sweater and black jeans with dark combat boots. You know he had cut his hair right after...everything, but it has grown out again and you’re surprised to find curls. You don’t notice him looking up, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon the blue of his sweater and the way it hugs his chest. He clears his throat and you meet his gaze — curious.

"No, it’s not," you force a smile. "It’s very nice, actually. Brings out your eyes." You sigh, turning around and grabbing your toilet bag and makeup. 

"I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not right now," Bucky frowns. Isn’t it part of the job description to know whether people are being genuine or not? Aren’t spies supposed to know that kind of thing? He never can tell with you. Everything you say has that kind of monotonous tone and it's either ironic or deadly serious. 

You let out a light chuckle as you enter the bathroom. "I’m not making fun of you, Barnes. Blue looks good on you." 

You stare at your reflection for a second. Pale skin and dark circles, the remnants of a fight barely visible because your hair is hiding the last remaining scar. The door to the bathroom was left open and you catch Bucky’s gaze in the mirror. 

He busies himself with his bag, going through his stuff and deeming perfume to be the only necessary adjustment to his current state. Fingers scratching an unshaven throat, he calls out your name, meeting your eyes again in the mirror. You only hum.

"Should I call you babe for the weekend?"

Your hand halts mid-air, makeup brush just a few centimeters away from your skin.

"What?"

"Well. We’re selling this thing. What about PDA, that sort of thing?"

You laugh again, and this time it sounds really genuine to him. High and full of disbelief. 

"Didn’t think you were familiar with the term PDA," you shake your head to yourself while he rolls his eyes. "But to answer your question — " you turn to look directly at him, complexion brighter and cheeks rosier. "— call me babe and you won't live to see another day. "

"Why have someone pretend to be your boyfriend if you're just gonna act like he's your friend?"

"Barnes. You think you have to exchange saliva with me in front of my parents for them to believe we’re together? Me bringing you here is already huge, trust me." 

He stares at your back. Dropping the subject. 

"Should I shave?" You don't need to look at him to answer confidently.

"No. I love a man with a stubble."  

You finish your makeup in silence as he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dinner that awaits him. He is curious about you and your family. Not a lot of people in this field still have their parents, or at least are being honest about what they do for a living. But mostly he is curious about you, someone he has been getting used to working or training with, but not holding casual conversations or doing simple things.

*

A week earlier 

Bucky raises a brow as Sam answers his phone. It’s eight in the morning and they just returned from their morning job, among fog and drizzle, the sun slowly rising over New York City and filtering through Central Park's trees and half-empty branches. It is not as cold as it should be for this time of the year, but he can still feel the early morning air biting at his face, even inside the apartment. Sometimes after a run he has breakfast with Sam, when they haven’t bickered so much on the way over that Bucky decided to run home instead. 

"I cannot deal with this amount of bad energy in the morning. Come over," Sam laughs and Bucky stares at his mug of coffee while his mind goes though every possibility. 

And when Sam opens the door and you step in, he goes back to staring at his mug, only watching your every move from the corner of his eye. You do look agitated for someone who probably woke up less than an hour ago. 

"I can’t." The new Captain America shakes his head and you grab him by the shoulders, hands looking so small. 

"Sam. I wasn’t asking. This is not an option." 

"We’re having a Thanksgiving dinner at the VA, I can’t ditch the guys," he says and you groan, head thrown back. 

You plop down on a bar stool, the one across Bucky, and you only nod at him as a hello. He rolls his eyes — typical. He is hunched over the kitchen counter, plate of pancakes drowned in maple syrup placed in front of him. You stare as he picks up his fork and knife and starts eating, following every mouthful with empty eyes.

He almost opens his mouth to snap at you before you slightly shake your head and turn to the window to your left. The beginning of fall doesn't feel like it is supposed to — yellows and oranges and reds could be a palette of grey and you wouldn't even notice the difference. It's not the same anymore.

"Why do you absolutely have to bring someone anyway?" You sigh as Sam asks.

"They think I have a long-time partner."

"Why would they think you have a long-time partner when I've never even seen you hold a conversation with a guy?" Bucky comments.

"First of all, you've been gone five years. I'd shut up if I were you." You scowl, lips almost curling up in anger when you whirl around to glare at him. "Second of all, you're not exactly a god in that area either." 

"Well I have been gone for five years, I've got an excuse," he shrugs with a smirk and you eye the table where they are sitting at, pastries and pancakes, fruits and hot beverages, full glasses. "Throw that glass of water at my face and I'll kill you." 

You hold his gaze for a second and purse your lips, eyes turning away as you sit down and rest your elbows on the wooden surface, permanent frown etched on your face. 

"They think they've missed five years of my life, I had a moment of…weakness. Didn't have the heart to tell them I was still single." You look out the window again. The wind howls loudly and a chill runs across your spine even though you're perfectly warm inside. "I think I'm gonna say he died." 

You don't pay attention to the small beat of silence that follows your sentence — a silence that is interrupted by Bucky's fork scratching against his plate. You scowl at him. 

"You're gonna say what now?" 

You shrug at Sam.

"Then I don't have to explain why we broke up. And since I will spend years recovering my mom won't think of bothering me with boyfriend talk for a while." Which seems like a rather logical and practical plan to you, underserving of such funny looks.

"You can't just make up someone and then say they died, Y/N."

"I don't see why not. A lot of people have died recently, I can easily get away with it." The way you speak and shrug, it's all innocent and casual, but your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look and stare at each other for a second as if a simple blink was enough for them to communicate their exact thoughts. You almost feel jealous.

"Just take someone else. I’m sure some of your friends have nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

Something heavy settles on your chest as you think of the people you would have loved to take home to your parents. Tony would have been impressive — albeit older and, well, married with a child. But your parents would have been starstruck. And Natasha would have seduced them right away. One foot into the threshold and they would have swooned at her feet, hanging onto her every word. Steve would have made the perfect boyfriend — the ideal american sweetheart, thoughtful and selfless, not the kind of person who would let you down. Not the kind of person who would leave everything behind. 

When your silence has stretched for a little too long, you clear your throat, tightening your hold around a steaming cup of tea that you assumed was meant for you. Sam is now sitting next to you and you hadn't even realized he had moved while contemplating how lonely your life was. Bucky is staring at you with an unreadable expression and you shrug, again.

"I don't really have anyone else to bring. But that's okay. I'll stick to my story," you give Sam a woeful smile. "They'll think I'm sad and avoid annoying me for the whole evening so really I couldn't ask for a better story." 

You stretch your arm in order to reach the plate of pancakes, but your fingers barely graze it. Bucky silently pushes it towards you and you simply purse your lips. It looks like a smile, right? Drowning your pancakes in syrup just like he did five minutes ago, you sit up straighter and exhale. Then your tone changes. "Anyway."

Sam crosses his arms and nods at Bucky. Blue eyes fixed upon the dark-skinned man’s face, he already knows. 

"Bucky doesn’t have anything planned for Thanksgiving," he starts and you keep chewing. "You should take him. I’m told he’s great boyfriend material." 

You slowly look up, skeptic look on your face. 

"I feel like you could sabotage me at dinner and I do not want that. The whole thing’s annoying enough as it is." 

He shrugs. Too bad. Sam’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger and Bucky sighs, setting his fork on the counter and leaning back. The leather squeaks under his weight and he clears his throat. The noise makes you raise your head and you look at him curiously. 

"I’ll behave." 

You stay silent for a little while as Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly. Is he better than making up someone and then saying they died? You think about it, and the chance of your mother not leaving you alone and looking at you with pity instead suddenly crosses your mind. Not good. Not your plan.

"Okay," you resign. Your pancakes don’t taste as good as they did before you said yes. Bucky and you have probably exchanged ten full sentences ever since you met, and they weren’t necessarily sweet. It is not that you don’t get along or fight — you work well together, actually. But he’s not your friend either. And sometimes, most of the time, you can’t help but feel something akin to anger build up in your chest when you look at him and see Steve instead. 

*

The table is pretty. Red and green, matching the decorations hung upon the fireplace and all over the house. Candles and elegant wine glasses. Christmas tree already up in the back of the living room, which you can still see from your spot at the table. The flickering lights and glittering garlands are a welcomed distraction to the people actually sitting in front of you, and you can't even remember the last time you had dinner with your parents. So formal.

You notice your mother stealing a glance at you before she fully turns her body towards Bucky. Fuck. You try to shoot her a warning glance but her sweet smile is already into place and there is nothing you can do except watch. You knew appetizers and amuse-bouches and your comments about their incredible taste would not be enough to keep the conversation from turning more personal, but you didn't think it would be so soon.

"You know, this is the first Thanksgiving Y/N is spending with us." Bucky quirks a brow and you scoff in disbelief.

"This isn't true. I have distinct memories of yelling and burnt turkey. Where else would that be?" You deadpan, hand moving towards your glass before stopping mid-air, a single drop of red wine left starring back at you. 

You hold back a groan, eyes flickering between the glass and the bottle. Should you maybe wait before getting a refill and not get any comments from your parents? 

"I meant, this is the first Thanksgiving you're willingly spending with us. You were sixteen last time," your mother's voice holds the same irony, but hers is sad while yours sounds angry. Bucky steals a quick glance at you without ever moving his head, and smiles sweetly at your mother, as if trying to make up for your attitude. "Are you still in touch with your parents, James?"

"Oh god," you groan, hand on your forehead. "Mother." 

You decide that possibly getting a comment about your drinking habits is worth it if drinking means not feeling this crushing weight of shame, embarrassment, and everything else. Bucky looks down at your arm as it emerges right in front of him — you don't spare him a glance, fingers curling up around the bottle and the sound of wine filling up your glass grows higher and higher until you stop. Even this can't drown out the conversation. Your dad's voice echoes from the other room, footsteps drawing closer. 

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting how old James is."

You don't watch as Bucky probably smiles softly at your dad, then at your mom, and says it's fine. Red wine is pretty when it is swirling in a moving glass — it reminds you of fall, leaves twirling in the wind, the red lipstick you're wearing, but mostly blood.

Your mother is babbling out apologies and reaching out for Bucky's hand across the table and he is being so gentle and patient it makes you want to shake him by the shoulders and yell at him for being so good to them. 

"We only heard from Y/N six months ago, actually." 

"Well, you were gone before, so," you mutter, regretting every single choice that has lead you to this moment. Bucky perks up, eyes going quickly between your closed face and your parents, eyebrows drawing in a compassionate frown. Man, is he good at this. 

"Were you both…taken by the snap?" 

You sigh, turning your head to look out the window while Bucky and your parents talk about their shared experience, finger tracing the rim of your glass over and over again. For some the light around them and their alternate universe was all blue, others say it was a sort of ethereal shade of green. Some have non memory whatsoever of the whole experience and you wonder what it would have been like for you. You think that a minute in a world on literal fire would have been better than five years in the real one. 

Natasha's world is probably made out of purple and red — you hear this is how Vormir looked. Pretty. 

The rain suddenly hitting the bay window snaps you out of your quiet moment of contemplation. It was left slightly open and the sound of the wind blowing through swaying trees lulls your for a second, eyes unfocused. 

Your name echoes around the dining room again and your gaze snaps to that of your mother. 

"What?" You say in a sigh. 

"Nothing!" Her tone is unusually high. "I was just explaining to your boyfriend how we reunited. You visiting us when everyone came back." She looks at Bucky again. "It was a big surprise."

You don’t meet his gaze, instead resting your elbows on the table and nuzzling your face in the palms of your hands. You probably should have kept being a ghost.

"A good one, I bet?" He keeps his tone light.

Your mom goes on about how they have missed you all this time and you resume playing with your glass. And maybe refill it a few times.

"Oh. We saw the ceremony you had for Steve Rogers with Captain...Captain America. It was very moving." Your dad tells Bucky with a compassionate frown and you purse your lips. You almost want to put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder — his hand, his thigh, anything to give him some sort of comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to move your own hand. Everything feels really heavy. 

In your opinion, it’s actually a good thing that Steve died so soon. He had first been a man out of time when he woke up in 2011, and managed to adapt. Even said he wouldn’t go back because the past was the past. Right. But coming back an old man, having lived another full life while your friends remain the same? This wasn’t right, for anyone. With Tony and Natasha gone, you would rather have Steve be gone as well. Can’t really move on if something is still holding you back — now they’re all definitely gone. 

Your chair scratches the wooden floor as you stand up on almost-wobbly legs. 

"M’gonna check on the turkey." Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own and your throat hurts. 

Voices are drown out as you close the kitchen door, back resting against it for a moment. The room is hot even though the window has been left open. You breathe in and out slowly, taking in the smell of pies and spices. You walk towards the window, slowly, taking it all in as you calm down. Nothing is in its usual place. Scattered utensils over every surface, traces of flour and sugar on the table and bottles which haven't been closed. Something makes you jump and it's a pan is overflowing.

There are only a few seconds left on the oven's timer. Pan situation under control, oven gloves on both hands, you think maybe cooking more for yourself would take your mind off things. You almost sigh in contentment as the warmth from the plate spreads through your hands, arms and even radiates through your chest. 

All sorts of pies litter the kitchen table, cinnamon, clove and ginger invading your senses. All of you is consumed by spices and sounds of domestic life and it looks so homey but you can't bring yourself to feel at home. This whole day has been like being in a dream, floating through life, childhood and Thanksgiving memories like an intruder. Seeing yourself move around but not being able to control or truly touch anything.

You see yourself with the turkey between your gloved-hand, red lipstick and pretty outfit hugging your body. You see yourself ten years ago, dressed in a red dress and hair cascading down your back, laughing hysterically as you set a turkey down on a large wooden table, candles lighting up your friends' eyes. Seven years ago, in that deep green jumpsuit — the color of Natasha's eyes, Tony had said all night. Six years ago, in that matching Christmas jumper and soft socks in which you kept slipping on the cabin's floor. Five years ago and the years following the snap when everything was dark and hopeless and you had lost so much but you still had Natasha and Tony and Steve.

Every single bittersweet Thanksgiving memory plays out right before your blurry eyes, like a film. A compilation of every celebration shared between loved ones, your chosen family. And it feels so lonely without your best friends and half of the team you used to be.

Your hands shake as you go to set the plate down on the kitchen table — it's greasy and slippery and your hands are starting to burn so you don't even feel the glove slowly slipping.

Fuck.

It takes a moment to be fully registered.

"Fuck!"

On the other side of the door, Bucky’s cough is enough to cover a string of colorful curses and the cracks and tears in your voice. Your hands are as wet as your cheeks and you drop to your knees, muttering shit shit and shit all over again under your breath.

The plate clatters against the floor as you set it beside the turkey. Too loud. The minute your mother enters this kitchen you are a dead woman. "Shit."

Footsteps draw closer and heavier and you curse again, hands greasy and knees hurting from hitting the tiles. Somehow your fingers won’t grasp the turkey’s correctly and it keeps slipping back to the floor. 

The door creaks open and you whirl around, eyes wide open and a strings of excuses ready. But Bucky stands here, hands in his back closing the door behind him and keeping anyone from seeing what is happening inside the kitchen. Mouth agape and tear tracks probably visible on your face, you finally close your mouth to gulp, turning your back to him and breathing in and out as quietly as possible. 

Which is probably not quiet enough for someone whose ears are more than human. 

You sniffle. Bucky stares at your back, hand still securing the doorknob. He doesn’t really know how to proceed with you, so he takes a few quiet steps forward. He clears his throat.

"I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?"

This is so stupid. 

"Bucky. The turkey’s on the floor. Literally."

"Yeah. I can see that," he eyes you, gauging your expression. Your eyes are dead set on the animal and hands still hovering over it, not quite stable. "It’s okay. They won’t know. I made noise when you dropped it."

"You did?" Your voice is smaller than usual and he bats your hands away from the turkey, grabbing it with his metal hand. 

"Yeah. Coughed so hard your mom almost stood up to keep me from choking." You gape at him. He smiles at your stunned expression and the turkey is back in its plate, looking perfectly normal. Your hands are still greasy and you don't know what to do with them.

"Hey," Bucky's voice is softer than it usually is. Or maybe you never really noticed it was soft in the first place. "Look at me." 

You change positions and rest your back against a cupboard, closing your eyes for a second before re-opening them. Crouching down to your level, he studies your face as you wipe off remaining tears with your sleeve. Flushed cheeks and quivering lips, wet lashes and a crease between your eyebrows. You hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. There is a kind of intensity, determination in his eyes as he searches into yours. You aren't sure what he is looking for — maybe he is trying to find the right words, but eventually he just sighs and fully sits down in front of you. He is probably annoyed. 

You bite down on your lip as your throat swells again, sudden shame washing over you. Having a meltdown is not something you do. Not when you are on your own, not in front of your friends and certainly not in front of a friend of a friend, even when his presence has become something usual and almost comforting to you as you hide it between rolled eyes and silence. Sometimes it's nice to visit Sam and have a trio again, even if it is not the trio you are used to. When you close your eyes and listen to the voices around you or when your vision is hazy, the mere idea of feeling surrounded is already comforting.

"M'sorry, this is stupid," you mutter, throwing your head back to have it rest against the cupboard. The bang echoes in your ears and Bucky slides a bit closer.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "Take your time." 

He is so gentle in everything that he does. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes searching into yours but never once displaying pity, as if everything was perfectly normal. It isn't to you, but he seems so relaxed and unbothered. The way he speaks softly and expresses nothing but patience and serenity, the way his flesh hand slowly moves closer to your leg and almost hovers above your skin.

You sigh, head banging against the cupboard again, and spread your legs a little bit further. The right one brushes against his limb and he hesitates for a moment. Another look at you and his hand is resting on your calf. The warmth seeps through your black jeans and at this particular moment it comes back to you that you used to love being touched.

"I can't believe I dropped the fucking turkey," you say flatly. Bucky blinks slowly at you, the only proof that he heard you. He doesn't think he should talk and break your train of thoughts right now. "This isn't…what I normally do. On Thanksgiving. I've never spent Thanksgiving here. I mean, after I moved out."

Bucky's fingers move slowly against your leg, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as you start talking. You purse your lips, somehow wanting to keep your mouth shut but feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting on the floor with his thumb brushing over your jeans-clad skin. You look down, eyes following his fingers before focusing on your own, still numbly resting at your side.

"Yeah, that's what your mom was saying earlier," Bucky nods, eying your hands as well. 

On your left, there is this hook with towels hanging from it. His arm is long enough for him to grab one without having to get up. You don't respond, instead staring at the tiles and the space between your legs. You don't seem to notice when he hands you the towel, so he slowly moves his flesh hand towards yours. The loss of warmth makes you look down to your calf, stomach dropping a little when his fingers aren't dancing on your skin anymore. 

"What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?" 

You blink. He grabs your arms, hands sliding from your forearm to your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse point longer than he should. Then his hands are cupping yours, gently turning your palms upwards. There is this small beat of silence and tension where both of you are looking at your almost intertwined hands as if you were not their owners, as if they were moving on their own and you could only watch as this unfolded before your eyes. 

Should he let go? 

"I always spend it with Natasha." Your voice breaks the moment. His gaze snaps up but you're staring into the void again. "We have this tradition." You blink. Once, twice. Slowly, kind of like a cat. "Had. We used to rent a cabin, somewhere remote and snowy, and Tony used to come as well. Well, before he had Morgan. Then we used to come to his house and have this big dinner with him and Pepper, sometimes Clint and his family." 

Your gaze drops to your hand in his, one holding it up and the other wiping the oily substance away. Every movement seems so soft and gentle it makes your brain go fuzzy for a second.

"That sounds really nice." Bucky comments softly, going for the other hand.

"Steve came sometimes," you add, and he quirks a brow in surprise. "When everyone was taken away. Sometimes he held a little something at the VA, but we had him over once or twice." You nod. "It was nice."

Bucky simply nods. Your hands don't shine with turkey grease anymore, and it physically pains him to let go of your hands. For a second he thinks you are about to hold his tighter and keep him from prying off his fingers, but his ears suddenly pick up movement, and the way his posture visibly changes makes you snap out of it. Back straighter, eyes wider, shoulders squared.

"Shit." 

He is quicker than you and stands near the door to tell your mom that the turkey’s ready — you’re on your feet again even if you have to grip the counter’s edge for a second so your legs don't give out under your weight. His body is blocking your mother's view of the kitchen and you can only hear her voice.

"Look at her, making us Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend," she tells your dad and you snicker. 

"Look at her making us eat a turkey she dropped on the floor!" You singsong, pressing the heel of your hands to your cheeks as you try to make the red disappear.

"Now this is girlfriend material," Bucky mocks. The door is closed again and he takes a few steps towards you, the turkey being right next to where your hand is set.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation and he smiles. He is only a foot away from you and you wonder if the warmth you are feeling is real or if it is your imagination, your mind and chest aching for comfort again. Touch is a vicious and dangerous thing when you can still feel it linger on your skin well after it is gone.

Metal hand reaching for the plate and body almost trapping you against the counter while you fix your gaze on anything but him, Bucky freezes for a moment — he meant to grab the plate and turn around, but this does feel intimate. 

"Hey," he breaks the silence and you have to look up. In this instant, you want to take a mental picture and remember exactly how he looks. Light shining into his eyes, illuminated the tip of his perfectly carved nose and cheekbones. Pink lips parted and tongue swiping over them. Could this be nervousness?

You raise your chin, biting the inside of your cheek and fighting to maintain eye-contact. He is so close that you cannot help but being distracted by his smell, the way your chests would touch if you just pushed yourself off the counter, the way you want to feel cornered and caged if it means resting your cheek against his chest and having his arms around you.

Fuck.

"You gonna be okay?" 

You wonder if his senses can pick up your internal turmoil. If he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage, the quickened and shaky breaths. You fold your arms and hug yourself, a poor attempt at gaining back some control over yourself.

"M'fine," you mutter. He doesn't look convinced and still hasn't moved. You lower your head, the remnants of previous haircut mistakes and bangs falling over your eyes. "Really."

"Yeah?" 

You look up again, mustering up a smile.

"Yeah. A little meltdown can work wonders for a girl." 

He chuckles and you have never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in your entire life, but you blame it on the emotional rollercoaster this day has been. You almost flinch as Bucky raises his hand but exhale as his fingers graze your cheeks, moving your hair out of your eyes.

Your mother calls your name and you sigh. Bucky brings out the turkey and you set the side dishes on the table, carefully avoiding the candles and almost squishing a green garland. It's a perfect picture, you and him stepping out of the kitchen in tandem and smiling down at your parents as they congratulate you on the turkey — this is probably a picture you had in mind as a child. Something out of a romantic comedy.

You sit down and Bucky's hands linger on your shoulders, thumbs stroking exposed skin and your neck. You raise your head, leaning back in your chair to meet his gaze. Should you put your hand on his? Should you smile and gaze lovingly at him — isn't that what you are already doing? He bents down, softly kissing your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear.

"Let's sell this thing, shall we?" 

* 

You step out of the bathroom, silky pajamas hugging your figure and wet hair sending shivers down your back. You sigh heavily, feeling the need to seek warmth but not having enough energy. Your arms are at your sides and your bare feet have a hard time moving.

Bucky stares at the carpet as drops of water trickle down your hair and slowly form a dark spot at your feet. His gaze travels back to your face, eyebrow quirked. You look absolutely drained, with your lips slightly parted and the way you blink slowly, as if your eyelids weighted tons.

"If they ask us to stay for lunch tomorrow," you begin, slowly approaching the bed. "Please say we have a mission." 

Bucky gives you a small nod. You sit down on the bed or rather let your body drop unceremoniously and lay down, hands on your stomach and eyes glued to the white ceiling. The mattress moves with Bucky and you hear him rest his back on the bed's head. Creaky wood that won't stop making noise.

"Well," Bucky starts, looking down at your form. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

You slowly peel your gaze off the ceiling, body and face still as your gaze moves to his face, his eyes already on yours.

"I don't have the strength to answer you right now." 

His shoulder shake and so does the bed. You groan.

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"No."

"Why did you decide to contact your parents after all this time?"

"Did you hear me say no?" 

He gives you a half shrug and you sigh, rolling so you are lying on your stomach, elbows propped up on the mattress. Bucky knows this means you are going to talk, and he sits up straighter, intrigued.

"Everyone was gone," you say simply, fingers drumming mindlessly on your cheek. "It was…utter and complete chaos everywhere. You're lucky you didn't get to see it. Just to go out in the streets, enter a coffee shop and see the look on people's faces…" You don't finish your sentence, eyes fixed upon Bucky's torso but mind miles away from your room. His shoulders sag as he takes in your expression. "And I felt lucky I still had Natasha, and Steve. And Tony. I was so lucky compared to others — sometimes I helped Steve out with his therapy meetings and I just…hearing about other people's loss…I wondered about my parents, somehow. I drove all the way up here and the house was so silent and empty, I just knew." You shrug, lowering your gaze to numbly observe the patterns on your sheets. "We've never been close, and I thought I didn't care about them the way I've always felt like they didn't care about me, but when I realized they weren't here anymore…they're still my parents, you know?" Not expecting you to look up at him, Bucky is at a loss for words when you bite your lip and go silent as if you were waiting for an answer.

You swallow thickly.

"So when everyone came back, I had this urge to make sure they did too. And now we're here," you purse your lips. "Not sure this was a good idea." 

Sometimes you think contacting them was a mistake. Yes, you felt an incommensurable sense of loss, standing in this empty house with the wooden floor creaking underneath your feet, dust flying and twirling around you, your reflection staring mockingly at you whenever you passed a mirror. Too late. Visiting your childhood home was the moment it all came rushing back to you ; the moment your mind finally caught up with reality and you simply crumbled. Orphan, half of your friends turned into dust, a whole world of shades of grey and not an ounce of hope. But spending Thanksgiving here doesn't give you the comfort or closure you thought it would. Being here and feeling like a stranger in your own home, bringing a fake boyfriend, having to sit through celebrations when there is nothing left to celebrate on this earth for you.

"They looked happy to see you."

Your chest tightens for a moment. It's somewhere between guilt and longing.

"Yeah, I guess," you give him a half shrug. Your face is resting right next to his thighs and you stare for a moment. Another barely perceptible movement and the headboard squeaks again. You almost let your face fall on his thighs when heavily groaning. He laughs and it gets worse.

"Well at least it's gonna be easy to convince them we really are a couple, right babe?" He says, deadpan. You look up at him through your lashes, sly smile on your face, a force of habit. Striking blue eyes staring back at you, perfectly sculpted face and a smirk on his plump lips. It would be so easy to pretend this is a normal scene from a domestic life. The creases around your mouth disappears as you blink a sort of haze away.

The moment passes and you busy yourself with the laptop you brought, while Bucky stalks to the bathroom. The sound of water running manages to soothe you, weight on your chest slowly dwindling and breaths coming in lighter. It's a white noise lulling you to sleep. You lazily brush your hair and slide into bed, covers pulled to your chin and body stiff as the cold from the sheets seep into your bones for a long moment. 

The shower curtain rattles, bottles clink against the sink and water runs again with the sound of a toothbrush. You turn on your side, chin tucked to your chest and arms under your pillows, scared to stretch out your legs and meet a biting cold again. The bathroom door opens and you relish the very small amount of warm steam reaching you.

The bed dips and you keep your eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want me out of your bed?" You don't know how many times he has asked this question. You only hum, too tired to voice your thoughts out loud. You feel the covers being lifted and shiver — could it be his thigh brushing against yours?

His mere nearness already warms the bed up and you silently thank a higher presence for the super soldier serum.

"God you're like a personal heater," you mutter, faced squished against your pillow, body moving closer to his on its own until warmth has engulfed you and you can finally extend your legs, feet reaching the end of the bed.

"Mh, I get that a lot," you feel his chest rumble next to you and you hum in response, something between contentment and an attempt to hide a blooming sensation in your chest.

You get closer again, face now pressed against his arm, cheek to warm and toned flesh. It doesn't take long for his arm to move, a frown etched on your features before they ease up again as he guides your face to his chest. An arm snaking around your shoulders and holding you closer, a chest rising and falling with deep and even breaths, a back and forth that rocks you.

You can't even remember the last time you felt this at peace. This warm and safe, arms secured around you like a cocoon, the smell of your childhood and his cologne mixing together. And it hits your half-asleep brain that you had craved this all along, all those years of darkness and loss.

"M'sorry," you murmur, your lips moving against his chests and your words barely discernible. "Just really need this right now." 

His fingers linger on your back, hand sliding down to rest on your waist. Squeezing, thumb stroking your skin, fingers tracing random shapes. You shift, your own arm laying on his stomach, almost hugging him like a pillow or a big stuffed animal. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, legs tangling with his.

"It's okay." His voice is smooth, quiet. "Me too."

*

Eyes bleary and squinting to adjust to the light, you hold on to the banister as you wobble down the stairs. Voices echo around the living room and you frown. It's only eight.

You still as Bucky's laugh reaches your ears and hurry down the remaining steps. The morning light shines through the windows, surprisingly blue and clear skies facing you. Red and green lights dance around the living room's walls, reflections from the Christmas Tree's decoration. Lips parted in awe, you linger for a moment. The atmosphere is different from last night, it feels lighter. It's not just that the downpour has been replaced by a blue sky and what seems to be a perfect fall day — ice cold but the sun still shining. You feel lighter.

"Hey." You whirl around. You didn't notice Bucky approaching you. Coking his head to the side, he looks at you with an unreadable expression. "You planning on spending the day standing here?" 

"Tempting," you give him a half shrug, and he extends his flesh hand towards you, palm up and inviting.

"We made breakfast," he says as you rest you put your hand in his warily. 

"We?" 

The smell of bacon hits you when you enter the dining room, a table full of pancakes and pies greeting you. Steaming cups of coffee, a teapot — Bucky discreetly tugs you closer to him, hot breath on your cheek.

"You prefer tea in the morning, right?" It is whispered as not to draw suspicions towards the fact that he knows nothing about you, but it takes you a moment to recover from the initial surprise of the gesture. You nod numbly, eyes fixed upon your intertwined fingers. When did you say it was okay for PDA? 

The conversation flows more easily in the morning, the sight of a table this impressive and Bucky's touch lifting your spirits. You think life could be this easy all the time. This tranquil and domestic, a good night's sleep with someone and pancakes waiting for you in the morning. You smile as you talk about some of your most confusing missions, as you and Bucky tell stories about Sam. Albeit a bit pained, but it's something.

Leaving your parents after breakfast isn't as satisfying as you thought it would be, and you give warmer hugs than what you gave last night.

You sigh when the driver's door closes, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the cool window. The landscape is an orange blur, the sound of the wind blowing around the car loud enough for the radio to be useless. When you are in the city again, the car slows down and you are stuck in traffic. Bucky's hand reaches out to switch the radio on and you turn slightly in your seat, body leaning towards his.

"I was a bitch to you," you state without any warning and he snorts, looking at you with a confused expression. "When we first met." 

"Oh," his raises his brows high, as if in absolute agreement.

"You just reminded me of Steve," you say softly. "And I hated him for leaving. Still do, sometimes." you think, frown etched on your features. "Most of the time. But it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry." 

He turns his head towards you, a simple nod to you. You fold your hands on your lap, chest lighter now that you have said it out loud. He clears his throat and you look at him again. Sun reflecting on his sparkling eyes, a smile pushing its way onto his lips. Genuine, soft. You find yourself returning the gesture naturally — no pursed or tight lips, no physical pain in your cheeks. 

"And this was nice," you add quietly.

*

"It's not that we haven't talked," you roll your eyes, nursing a drink of champagne and crossing the bal room with Sam at your side. Voice louder than usual, eyelids and lips glittering, your heels click against the floor and you side step dancing couples. 

It's quieter near the Christmas Tree. Well, near the bar.

"So you have talked?" Sam sets his empty glass on the bar counter and asks for a refill with a simple tilt of the head. Perks of being Captain America, surely. You lean against the cold marble, in-between the stools, huffing.

"No, we didn't," you repeat for what is probably the third time.

"Man, this isn't going anywhere," Sam shakes his head, eyes skimming over the crowd. You do the same.

"That's what I told when you insisted on starting this conversation, Wilson." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbles before taking another sip of his drink. You give in with a half shrug and a sigh.

"We just haven't had a reason to, Sam, don't read too much into it," you say casually. "No missions, no meeting…" 

"Right. And the fact that you haven't been to our headquarters in a month."

"Well, as I said. No mission, no meeting," you raise your eyebrows. "You think I'm gonna drive all the way up there to say hi and prove you that everything is fine?" 

"I was expecting this kind of commitment to the team, yes," Sam sighs dramatically and you return to your bubbly drink.

The song switches to Mariah Carey and a chorus of cheers erupts from the room, almost making you physically wince. Hands in the air, feet jumping up and down and literally making the room shake, every vibration felt deep in your chest.

"Now this is a song I haven't heard today."

Sam snickers.

"Here we go. Was wondering when you were gonna ruin the mood." 

"Hey!" You head whirls around, mouth open. Brown eyes twinkling with amusement, eyebrows barely raised, the kind of satisfaction you get when you want to say I told you so. "You have to admit that this is getting redundant." You are definitely not to blame here — surely more there are more than three Christmas songs in the world?  

"It's Christmas." 

"Yes, I'm painfully of aware." Someone falls on the dance floor and you judge them silently. You and Sam probably look intimidating as both of you are leaning against the bar, glass in hand and chins raised. "Plus it took me more than an hour to…" You trail off, a sudden glint drawing your attention to the entrance of the room, right across from the bar. "…get here." 

Sam follows your line of sight. Through a flurry of red figures, glittery and twinkling dresses twirling around with every move and laughter mixed with animated chatter and pop songs, a dark figure parts the crowd and makes its way towards the bar. Something akin to slow-motion happens in your brain. Completely unprepared for something you had been thinking about for days. Not days. Weeks.

Your chest rumbles with the rhythm of the song, matching each beat of the drums. It helps you cover up the fact that your heart is violently pounding against your ribcage and that he can probably hear it. Hell, Steve could probably hear it from his grave — this thought makes you blink, a semblance of composure coming back to your face.

"Hey man!" Sam happily greets his friend, patting him on the back. "Happy Christmas Eve." His hand lingers, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. His gaze is warm and the silent eye-contact you two share when your eyes travel above Bucky's shoulder is a way of wishing you the same. Playful face merging into something sincere. Jolly songs contrasting with the sad look in your eyes and the woeful smiles you three have plastered on your face. Civilians like to call this night the first Christmas into a normal life again. Their old life.

"Hi," Bucky greets you, a little breathless, and you wonder if he took the stairs to get here. 

Sam is whisked away by a politician and you remember that he is here as Captain America and therefore is on duty. Champagne has never looked prettier, swirling in your glass as you try to focus on anything else but the man ordering a drink beside you.

"How have you been?" He asks, mimicking your exact posture and taking a first sip of a scotch. You cast him a side glance. There's a scratch above his left eyebrow and you wonder why no one told you about this mission or called for backup. 

"You mean, have I lost my goddamn mind in the kitchen again and thrown a poor animal on the floor?" He chuckles. Your eyes travel down his face and his midnight blue suit for a moment. Too long, and he notices. "Nope. I'm good." 

He nods, then tilts his head to the side. His once-over is even less subtle than yours and you bury your face into your glass, not knowing where to look anymore. Shit. This was easier when you just bumped into him on your way to see Sam or simply shared missions with him — no small talk, no information on each other, nothing. 

Thanksgiving was supposed to be unpleasant. And it was — bleak, gloomy, melancholic. But he wasn't.

"Care to dance?"

Your head snaps up towards him. You laugh, the rest of your drink downed in a second. Bucky stands up straighter — finishing a drink means being freeing oneself from having to hold a glass, right?

"I don't dance, Barnes." 

"You don't?" You shake your head, already lifting a hand to motion for another drink. He steps around the bar stool that was previously keeping you apart, the smell of cologne and aftershave hitting your senses. 

"I don't. Certainly not on Christmas songs." 

He turns his head towards the crowd, chest rising as he breathes in deeply. The room does look pretty. Golden, red and green. Trees and fake wrapped gifts on the floor, fairy lights cascading down the windows and giving a kind of ethereal glow to everything and everyone standing here. It makes looks softer, eyes lighter. A couple captures everyone's attention ; skillfully dancing on every single song and adapting to every tempo. Their smiles are so bright that your lips quirk up a little without you even noticing it. It is radiant and contagious and for a moment they are all you can see.

A small gasp gets stuck in your throat when Bucky steps in front of you, breaking your focus on the dance floor. How did he get so close? 

He offers you his hand, palms up and inviting. You remember how they felt on Thanksgiving.

"Bucky, I…really can't dance," you shake your head, lips parted.

"C'mon. No one cares."

He doesn't wait for you to place your hand in his, but simply grabs it, fingers naturally intertwining as if they had been designed to fit together. You open your mouth to argue, but all that escapes your mouth is a chuckle. An incredulous and surprised chuckle — almost a giggle but it hurts to admit it, eyes flitting over the crowd and the people surrounding you. Are they looking? Are they seeing what you are seeing? 

He tugs on your hand and it is a slow song that echoes around the room, two bodies felling in step and gliding across the glittering floor. You hide your surprise at the way he leads you effortlessly — you had heard stories about his days in the forties and you suppose this is what he mastered to woo the dames. A warm hand in yours and the other firmly placed around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck, fingernails tingling his skin.

"Is this Bing Crosby?" You ask lazily, body swaying slowly.

He hums.

"Uh. Better than Mariah Carey," you state quietly, almost in his ear. Hot breath on his skin. He huffs, quiet laughter and crinkles by his eyes. Out of all the things you could say to him right now, this is what you do.

"I'm glad you came," he says softly and you look at him curiously. He gives you a half shrug as you slowly twirl in his arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. Didn't want you to be alone today." 

Your stomach twists when you are pulled into his arms again, your hand hesitantly cupping the back of his neck. You had indeed considered staying in bed and possibly crying in front of a romantic comedy, as cliché as it sounds. Completely immerse yourself in a universe that isn't yours and whose characters you do not have to grieve for. Vicariously feeling the Christmas Spirit of others.

But you wanted to be with your friends, as painful as it is to be reminded that your circle is half empty. Sam has poured his heart into this party — a tribute to Tony, a bit of giving after having taken so much, money raised for people in need and an opportunity to reunite and share something as a group again. You admire his strength and will and it is no surprise to you that he gets to carry the Captain America mantle. Someone whose heart knows no limit and who would do anything for his friends.

You smile wistfully.

"It's a nice party," is the only thing you say, small shrug accompanying a casual tone.

"It is," Bucky nods. Eyes going over every decoration again. It is a nice feeling — swaying in his arms, warmth and cologne engulfing you whole and caging you from the outside world. His skin is so soft against your fingers and you want to nuzzle your face into his neck, completely hide away and feel nothing but him.

You shouldn’t let yourself feel this way for someone you might lose, but you can’t help but relish the feeling of being held again. His hands cannot mend the pieces of your broken heart but they can contain them and keep you from crumbling down. 

Disappointment probably shows on your face and your tired smile when the song ends and he steps away from you — hand still lingering on yours. As if reading your thoughts, Bucky casts a glance behind him and motions towards the exit with his chin. You follow his line of sight, then eye the crowd around you. He is right, no one cares.

Trailing behind him with flitting glances around you, hand grabbing a hold of his suit as if you could squeeze fabric tighter than flesh, you don’t notice when he stops and you bump into his back.  The idea of leaving this party with him is taking up all your thoughts — no clear ideas but a definite feeling, an urge to find the comfort of his arms again.You almost don't look up as a string of cheers and laughter erupts around you. Way too close to you to be a simple coincidence. Bucky's hand tightens around yours. Green stares back at you.

Oh.

No.

Mistletoe. 

Should you shake it off with a good laughter that makes it look like this is extremely funny but he is just a friend? Should you pretend not to see it even though your eyes are boring holes into it? 

Bucky has already made up his mind.

Warm flesh squeezes your hand while cool metal rests on the small of your back, encircling your waist and pulling you close so unexpectedly that you almost stumble into his arms. The warmth emitted from his body is already melting away any smart quips or observations you had ready to get out of this. Completely shattering your resolve not to melt into his arms. You can only feel him. His arms around you, flesh hand moving up your arm, caressing and squeezing your shoulder until it is resting on your neck, fingers delicately holding your chin. You don't resist when he lifts it, eyes meeting his through your thick lashes.

This is the opposite of the quiet and intimate moment you were thinking about when leaving the room. Far from discreet touches but right among flashing lights, booming music and expectant stares. You’ve never had a kiss under the mistletoe and this is way too cheesy and holidays-like.

But he leans forward and his lips are on yours. Softly. Delicately. It lasts a split second. It satisfies the crowd and it seems like a peck that could happen to both lovers and friends but it leaves you aching for more.

You look up in a daze when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes wide. You blink it all away and plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face when you fake-bow to clapping strangers, and it takes all the willpower in the world to hold yourself upright. 

The corridor is almost empty, save late-comers jogging towards where you are coming from or drunken people escaping the warm and almost suffocating air of the party. You have absolutely no idea where you are going, numb legs carrying you all the way to a remote corner. Your back hits the wall — his arm around you softens the impact.

Who instigated the second kiss? You feel like he met you halfway, or maybe you stayed rooted to your spot like a deer caught in headlights, pulse probably heard from a miles away. You can only focus on the softness of his lips on your skin, tender kisses on your neck and on the corner of your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, fingers making their way through his hair and tugging, cheek to cheek and chest to chest — time has stopped.

You only open your eyes halfway when he pulls away for air, blurred vision and pounding heart. You feel his hot breath on your face when he chuckles breathlessly.

"Still hate this damn season?" 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #christmas one shot #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

[dylanhawth]

[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE  around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ] 

ooc. 

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that. 

01.      basics.

NAME.   dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth.   AGE.  twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER.  cismale. PRONOUNS.   he/him.

 02.      appearance.

EYES.   green. HAIR.   brown. HEIGHT.   6”0 BUILD.   lean. BIRTHMARKS   /   BURNS   /   SCARS.   a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS.   n/a. PIERCINGS.   n/a.

03.      habits.

ALCOHOL   ?  socially. SMOKING   ?  socially. HABITS.  fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES.   feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES.   being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04.      personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS.   infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC.   pisces. TEMPERAMENT.   melancholic. ALIGNMENT.   neutral good. ARCHETYPE.   the lover. POSITIVE.   empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE.   deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too. 

05.      hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt. 

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it. 

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style. 

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters. 

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.) 

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him. 

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made. 

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know? 

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling. 

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him. 

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends. 

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous. 

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. ) 

( @opalsmedia​ )

#opalsintro #intro #his background and things are in the big ass bio dfsklds but this is the gist of it lol

[halfwall]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪ ⠀   * ⠀ ─          hello!  i’m  so  excited  for  this  genuinely,  it  is  so  seksi  and  socks  +  soda  did  such  an  amazing  job  with  it.  eunjung  is  my  newest  muse  and  the  best  way  i  can  describe  her  is  if  you  took  a  garden  snake  and  aged  it  up  manually  in  the  sims  and  then  took  it  into  the  spore  game  and  gave  it  lips  and  made  it  a  predator.  in  other  words,  my  very  own  looks  like  a  cinnamon  roll  could  k-word  you  (  kiss?  kill?  your  choice  <3  ).  this  intro  is  a  condensed  version  of  my  goog  dooc  and  it’s  still  long  <3  pls  love  n  plot  w  me  anyway.  love  u  guys.

❪  kang  mina,  cis  woman,  she  /  her,  twenty  one.  ❫    i  can  feel  red  energy,  that  must  be  yun  eunjung.  the  third  year  print  journalism  &  international  relations  major  works  as  a  bookkeeper  at  the  house  of  the  lucky  gander,  and  is  known  around  the  manor  as  the  yellow  wallpaper.  i’ve  heard  whispers  about  how  they’re  critical  and  pedantic,  but  everyone  says  they’re  persevering  and  formidable.  i  don’t  know  what  to  believe...  but  with  cc  pulling  the  strings...

links:    google  doc,  pinterest,  stats,  wanted  connections.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

full  name  :  yun  eunjung

nickname(s) /  alias(es)  :  emma  yoon  (  english  name,  not  used  ),  tbd

age  /  dob  :  twenty  one  /  apr  18  ‘99

hometown  :  tbd  ,  oregon

current  location :  fortuna  ,  maine

ethnicity :  korean

nationality  :  english

gender  :  cis  woman

pronouns  :  she  /  her

orientation  :  bisexual

religion :  agnostic.

family :  yun  hajun  (  father,  alive  ),  han  minji  (  mother,  alive  ),  yun  eunsang  (  twin  brother,  status  unknown  ),  yun  sangjung  (  younger  brother,  deceased  ).

face  claim  :  kang  mina

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  (  first  language  ),  english

speech :  sharp  tongued.  she’s  a  lot  of  opinions  and  a  lot  of  things  to  say,  therefore  has  never  learned  how  to  phrase  things  in  a  way  that  would  deem  her  polite.  often  blunt,  she’ll  be  quick  to  rip  off  the  bandaid  and  just  say  what  needs  to  be  said.  she  doesn’t  speak  with  much  class  or  extravagancies,  rather  falls  toward  crassness  and  crudeness  due  to  her  upbringing.

hair  :  quite  dark,  a  nice  chocolate  in  the  sun  and  a  cool  onyx  in  the  dark.  often  tied  back,  though  eunjung  is  only  ever  seen  with  her  hair  in  two  distinct  styles:  tied  back  messily  or  let  down  naturally.  her  hair  falls  straight  as  if  it’s  been  flat  ironed.

eyes :  big,  round,  and  doe  eyed,  a  dark  brown  in  color.  quite  the  weapon  to  use  when  she’s  in  trouble  or  when  she  needs  to  talk  her  way  out  of  something  (  to  proclaim  innocence  ).

height  :  five  feet  ,  seven  inches.

build  :  lithe.  as  a  former  volleyball  player,  she  has  kept  her  shape  up  with  rigorous  conditioning  (  mainly  because  if  she’s  to  admit  it,  if  she  doesn’t  she  kind  of  gets  lost  in  the  walls  ).

tattoos  :  none  .

piercings :  only  earlobes  .

scars  :  multiple  from  surgeries  at  sixteen.

clothing  style  :  preppy,  thanks  to  her  settlement  money  and  her  own  personal  taste.  never  a  hair  out  of  place  due  to  her  perfectionistic  personality  and  nature,  though  if  you  catch  her  on  any  given  night,  you’ll  see  her  true  colors  shine  through  with  old  (  very  old  )  sweatpants  and  a  hoodie  that  has  someone  else’s  name  written  on  the  tag  in  hangul.

usual  expression  :  sour,  bitter  –  life  has  handed  her  a  poor  hand  and  she’ll  make  it  everyone’s  problem.  she  has  one  usual  expression  and  it’s  resting  mean  face;  not  the  kind  of  person  to  wear  her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  she  looks  the  exact  same  when  she  looks  happy  as  she  does  sad,  though  –  she’s  great  at  acting  and  lying  and  you’ve  never  lived  until  you’ve  watched  her  go  from  :|  to  :)  in  two  seconds.

distinguishing  characteristics  :  doe  eyes  that  scream  tragedy  –  reflecting  the  stars  in  the  night  sky  if  caught  just  right,  the  tilt  of  her  lips  when  she  clearly  wants  something  to  work  in  her  favor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

❪  almost  directly  copied  from  my  google  doc  i’m  sorry  ❫ 

mbti:   istj-a,  the  logistician  /  most  who  know  her  would  assume  her  to  be  extroverted.  not  the  most  reserved  in  a  room  and  always  quick  to  speak  up  when  she  deems  it  necessary.  but,  like  most  logisticians  –  she’s  always  had  a  sharp,  fact-based  mind.  she  has  always  been  self  sufficient  and  hates  relying  on  others,  often  seeing  it  as  a  weakness.  she  is  sharp,  dedicated  and  ambitious  enough  to  accomplish  whatever  she  wants  to  accomplish.

enneagram:  6w5,  the  guardian  /  like  most  of  this  type,  her  biggest  fear  is  losing  her  guidance  and  stability,  which  translates  into  her  skepticism  of  the  world.  therefore,  it  often  leads  to  eunjung  protecting  those  she  is  loyal  to,  but  most  importantly:  herself.  she  will  often  think  logically  and  analytically,  solving  problems  practically  and  efficiently  but  she  will  often  be  selfish  and  can  come  off  as  cold  as  a  result  for  her  actions.

moral  alignment:  chaotic  evil  /  eunjung  has  never  been  the  most  –  angelic  person,  though  she  likes  to  pretend  she  is.  at  the  end  of  the  day,  after  everything  she  has  been  through,  she  has  grown  to  be  selfish  –  prioritizing  her  own  personal  gain  and  pleasure  above  all  good  and  evil,  right  and  wrong.  it  could  be  argued  that  she  belongs  in  chaotic  neutral,  but  she  has  no  care  for  law  and  order,  nor  a  real  feeling  of  her  morality  anymore.

hogwarts  house:  slytherin  /  another  reminder  of  her  selfishness  and  how  much  she  cares  about  her  own  well  being.  all  her  life  as  well,  she  has  been  told  that  she  is  shrewd  and  too  ambitious  for  her  own  good  which  has  only  given  her  an  incessant  drive  to  prove  them  all  wrong.  when  it  comes  down  to  it,  like  most  slytherins,  she  will  try  to  view  every  possible  outcome  until  she  finds  the  outcome  that  will  benefit  her  the  most.

comparable  characters:  juliet  capulet  (  romeo  &  juliet  ),  jennifer  check  (  jennifer’s  body  ),  rosalie  hale  (  twilight  ),  blair  waldorf  (  gossip  girl  ),  sansa  stark  (  game  of  thrones  ).

the  rundown:  as  smart  as  she  is  selfish,  life  has  just  twisted  her  to  be  a  bit  cold.  she  isn’t  cruel  by  any  means,  nor  does  she  necessarily  wish  hurt  and  evil  upon  those  around  her,  but  eunjung’s  huge  main  character  complex  often  leads  to  her  priorities  being:  1.  eunjung  2.  yun eunjung  3.  eunjung yun.  her  biggest  trait  will  always  be  selfishness,  followed  closely  by  her  rash  belief  that  she  is  the  best  in  the  room  at  all  times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞

trigger  warnings:  alcoholism  +  death

this  is  a  rundown  on  the  biography  /  death  /  back  room  /  glass  person  in  the  google  doc,  also  better  written  /  explained  because  it’s  not  prosey  <3

hajun  is  not  a  good  father,  he  never  has  been.  from  a  very  young  age,  all  eunjung  has  heard  from  him  are  his  drunken  spirals  about  how  great  they  used  to  be.  his  surname  was  once  held  in  a  high  regard,  the  name  of  an  empress  and  he  has  always  dwindled  about  to  the  three  yun  children  that  because  of  the  greatness  he  has  passed  onto  them,  they  must  be  great  too.  

eunjung  has  only  ever  viewed  his  spiels  as  hypocritical  though.  she  has  only  ever  known  her  dad  as  a  mean  drunk  who  lives  in  the  dirtiest,  most  run  down  house  in  town  with  his  poor  three  kids.  her  twin  brother,  eunsang,  her  younger  brother,  sangjung,  and  her  spend  their  childhoods  taking  care  of  each  other  because  nobody  else  will.  their  mother  does  something,  they  never  know  what  because  she  only  arrives  with  enough  money  for  groceries  and  bills  and  then  she  leaves.

it’s  that  way  for  most  of  her  childhood  and  most  of  her  life.  it’s  a  continuous  cycle  of  eunjung  +  eunsang  taking  care  of  sangjung  (  who  starts  going  my  samuel  when  he’s  ten  and  the  twins  are  twelve.  the  twins  have  english  names,  too,  but  eunjung  has  too  much  pride  –  like  her  father  –  and  eunsang  is  the  eldest  and  will  do  whatever  his  twin  does  out  of  love  )  and  eunjung  is  just  –  quite  the  difficult  child.  she  speaks  her  mind  and  all  of  her  opinions,  as  well  as  letting  the  festering  anger  within  her  too  grow  because  she  doesn’t  know  what  else  to  do  with  it.

death  tw.  anyway,  by  sixteen,  she’s  just  this  bitter  girl  that  the  boys  hook  up  with  because  she’s  the  poor  girl  from  the  dirty  house  on  the  rundown  street.  she’s  got  a  reputation  as  a  shrew  around  town,  but  she’s  fine  with  being  a  shrew  if  she  still  gets  her  way.  samuel  is  much  more  popular  than  either  of  the  twins  (  who  are  epitome  of  bad  boy  /  bad  girl  from  the  wrong  side  of  the  tracks  )  and  is  invited  to  a  party  at  fourteen.  it’s  tradition  to  party  in  this  abandoned  mansion  out  in  the  woods  and  basically,  an  accident  happens  and  samuel  is  pushed  from  the  second  story  balcony  into  the  foyer  and  d-words.

he’d  called  eunjung  before  dying  though,  asking  for  a  ride  so  the  twins  had  went  to  go  get  him  but  instead  found  him  dead.  while  trying  to  figure  out  what  had  happened,  she  spots  some  kid  that  doesn’t  like  her  still  lingering  around  so  she  tries  to  chase  him  and  he....  like....  pushes  her  off  too  and  she  d-words.  end  tw.

her  back  room  is  just  this  little  room  and  she  still  to  this  day  doesn’t  know  how  much  time  she  spent  in  there  because  it  was  just  so  confusing,  all  she  remembers  is  that  she  (  or  someone  )  was  trying  to  convince  herself  that  she  was  home  and  that  everything  was  fine.  but,  she’s  a  bitch  and  was  like  “uh,  actually,  i’ve  never  had  a  home  <3″  and  broke  out  of  whatever  spell.

her  glass  person  is  just  her.  identical,  but  trapped  in  the  walls  underneath  the  ugly  yellow  wallpaper  in  the  room  she  was  in.  same  as  her,  just  more  lifeless  and  it  is  really  the  only  thing  that  still  scares  her  –  and  it  tried  to  escape  the  walls,  but  it  couldn’t.  the  lasting  effect  is  that  if  she’s  alone  in  a  room  for  more  than  an  hour  she  swears  the  walls  start  stretching  like  someone’s  behind  it  and  just  always  feeling  like  she’s  being  watched.  she  also  doesn’t  like  looking  at  her  own  reflection  that  much  anymore  because  it  just  reminds  her  of  her  glass  person.

anyway,  she  survives  miraculously  and  after  testifying  and  blah  blah  blah  (  i  did  research  on  settlements  and  i  still  didn’t  understand  so  ),  the  family  of  the  kid  who  pushed  her  off  –  and  probably  samuel  –  gives  the  yun  family  a   huge  sum  of  money  for  their  troubles  and  calls  it  a  settlement.  it  comes  with  the  condition  that  eunjung  doesn’t  sue  or  bring  them  up  ever  again  and  she’s  like  fine  that’s  cool,  whatever,  i’m  rich  now.

but  her  parents  still  aren’t  happy  and  before  samuel’s  funeral,  eunsang  runs  away  from  home,  leaving  them  with  only  the  daughter  that  neither  of  them  really  wanted.  she  still  pushes  forward  though  and  ends  school  as  valedictorian,  prom  queen,  etc.  and  heads  to  fortuna  because  she  really  doesn’t  think  she  can  go  anywhere  and  also  her  counselors  are  ass  <3

she’s  studying  international  relations  +  print  journalism,  her  hopes  are  diplomacy  or  something,  but  she  just  chose  the  majors  that  she  tested  highest  on  on  that  career  test  i  can’t  choose.  yeah.

please  plot  w  me  i  have  my  wc  linked  up  there  or  at  /w.  i  love  u  all  i’m  sorry  this  was  long.

#coreintro

[johnbernsteinx]

INTRODUCING: John Bernstein

“To create is to live twice.”

THE BASICS

Full Name: Jonathan “John” Bernstein Age: thirty-seven Birthday: August 9th, 1983 Zodiac: Leo Sun, Leo Moon, Virgo Rising Occupation: Gallery Manager and Curator at the Crescent Harbor Art Gallery Length of Time in Crescent Harbor: seven years Neighborhood: Goldfinch Valley [view his apartment] Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Pansexual Relationship Status: in a relationship with @quinn-hawthorne​ Qualities: creative, nurturing, open-minded, loyal, driven, kind Flaws: pretentious, impatient, compulsive, nervous, stubborn, proud MBTI: INFJ-T “The Turbulent Advocate” Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Enneagram: Type 6 “The Loyalist”

THE FAMILY SITUATION

tw: foster care, adoption

John spent his childhood growing up in the foster care system, going from home to home until he was six years old. He doesn’t know his biological parents but is very close to his adoptive parents, which is why he usually refers to the Mannings as his mother and father, despite not being related by blood. The family fostered other kids as well, so there was always someone around. They had two biological children as well, who John also considers his siblings. His youngest adoptive sibling, Rose Paisi (@rosalindpaisi), recently moved to Crescent Harbor which he is incredibly excited about as they are very close.

THE LOOKS

Faceclaim: Dan Levy Height: 5'11’’ Hair Color/Length: black and short, usually neatly coiffed, curly if without product (aka never, unless you live with him or catch him off-guard) Facial Hair: John usually doesn’t go for a clean shave ever. He’s always sporting some stubble. Eyes: brown Complexion: clear, warm undertones Body: Average/Athletic. John enjoys excerise a lot but also likes to indulge in foods that aren’t considered good. Whether he’s keeping up with yoga, running or some light lifting, there’s rarely a day where he doesn’t add some kind of activity to his agenda, mostly to make sure he’s training his mobility. His frequent walks with his dog will also do the trick. Style: John is very interested in fashion and not at all scared to add some more unique styles to his wardrobe. More often than not, he sticks to a rather casual yet formal style, mostly due to his job but also because he likes to dress well and feel good about the way he looks. He’s usually sticking to high quality, if not designer, sweaters or dress shirts with a nice pair of pants but will also wear a good pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt occasionally. He also loves a good print. The man always looks very put together. You can find some outfits here. Smells Like: Considering his habit of going for runs in the mornings, John usually never leaves the house for meetings or errands unless he’s freshly showered. He hates nothing more than being smelly or dirty even, so he tends to smell fresh with a hint of cologne.

THE STORY

tw: foster care, motorcycle accident, injuries

Jonathan “John” Bernstein grew up in the foster care system and moved into a foster home in Toronto when he was already six years old but it was there where he finally got to experience what being a family was all about

He never met his biological parents and isn’t sure whether or not he’d like to some day. He’s in the process of trying to figure out how to go about looking for them, just to know but without success so far. He hasn’t told anyone about thsi and thinks it’s better to keep it close to his chest for now.

John is a very kind and very passionate person. If he’s excited over something, you’ll know! He doesn’t only get excited about things directly tied to himself though but about other people’s interests and successes, too.

The people around him either love him or hate him for it because he will go on and on and never stop until you tell him to. He always likes to indulge in rather intense conversations as it is and will go out of his way to help anyone with patience and kindness if they have any problem at all. 

His intensity paired with his overall level-headedness is very useful when it comes to his profession though because he’s a natural at being a salesman who is always eager to network which makes renting and buying art for the gallery to help it extend and thrive an easy task (if you ignore the amount of overtime he collected over the past few years).

So basically, he’s a big softy who loves art in all shapes and forms and will go on about it to anyone for hours if they let him or dare to step into the gallery.

He moved out to Vancouver right after high school to go to university. He majored in visual arts.

When he was 24, John was involved in a crash with his motorcycle that left him severely injured and in a coma.

He made it through but the accident threw him into a spin and basically had him starting at zero. The healing process took a whole year because of complicated fractures and nerve injuries that he needed a lot of physical therapy and rest for - which only made John realized that he is not as good at taking care of himself as he thought he was up until then.

Jonathan feels incredibly fortunate to have survived the crash, despite the fact that it left him with some issues to this day. On his worse days, he’ll have a slight limp due to a hurt nerve in his leg and a pelvic fracture. He also suffered a minor motor nerve damage in his wrist which makes it hard for him to create art himself or do basic tasks, really. It keeps him from being able to lift heavy items or do other basic tasks due to the lack of strength and control. He learned to live with these remaining injuries and doesn’t really let them stop him, unless he pushes himself too hard and has to give in. He was also left with quite a few scars scattered across his body but considers them a small price he had to pay if it meant he still got to come out of it alive.

He loves to travel and did quite a lot of it after his recovery and before settling in Crescent Harbor where he’s been living for the past seven years. 

John traveled to and worked in Tokyo and London the most and got a lot of his experience when it comes to galleries from his time there.

These days he’s gotten too busy and caught up in his work to even think of taking a vacation which is bad but the workaholic in him would say otherwise. Maybe it’s that or his inability to give up control - the man just needs to relax!

Despite growing up and becoming a lot more confident as he got older, John is still very soft-spoken at times but always polite and definitely happy to talk to anyone. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention and tries to stay in the background more, even though he’s not as shy as he used to be. 

Overall, he’s a very friendly guy and tries to help anyone who might have a problem but don’t make him mad - the switch flips slowly but surely.

When you are in his circle though, he’ll do anything for you. He made quite a few friends in his years of living in Crescent Harbor due to that but his best friend and confidante is Diana Blackwood-Amari (@diana-amari).

Right now, he’s busy house hunting with his partner Quinn Hawthorne (@quinn-hawthorne), while also trying to navigate the ups and downs that come with being in a long-term relationship after having stuck to his own company for longer than he’d care to admit. Lets just say, communication is not their strong suit but they’re learning.

To sum it up: he’s soft, warm and friendly, very interested in art in any shape or form and just wants to be your friend if you let him! Just don’t disrespect him and you’re golden! Otherwise, you might get a pretty intimidating side-eye and a snarky comment or two.

Also, he would die for his dog, a Dachshund-Corgi mix named Merlot, and so would I tbh.

Find John’s wanted connections here, his full stats here, some musings here and his full bio here. 💕

#crescent:intro #( intro. ) #( muse. ) #( about. ) #// i wanted to give this a quick lil update since i've been playing him for over a year now and some details were missing <3

[suponts]

SADIE “SADE” DUPONT ( BRIANNA HILDEBRAND ) is a/an  EIGHTEEN year old teenager from FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA. SHE is known around the island as the RECLUSE because they’re RESOURCEFUL and DURABLE but can also be RESERVED and DISTRUSTFUL. SHE reminds of calloused fingers,  ripped skinny jeans, and a dented camera.

BASIC INFORMATION

NAME: sadie elizabeth dupont

NICKNAMES: sade

BIRTHDAY: january 7, 2002

AGE: 18

HOMETOWN: fargo, north dakota

BIRTHPLACE: fargo, north dakota

RELIGION: atheist

ETHNICITY: german, english, irish, and mexican

NATIONALITY: american

EDUCATION: high school

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: it’s complicated single

SOCIAL CLASS: below poverty line

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 5′3

EYES: brown

HAIR: black

BUILD: muscular but not ‘cut’

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: burn mark from a cigarette butt on her inner, right forearm, stick ‘n poke tattoo of a queen of hearts playing card (inner bicep, right arm) and an angry cat (left thumb), notched scar in her left brow

NOTABLE FEATURES: pierced ears

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: slight limp in her left leg from falling out of a window when she was 12

ALLERGIES: none

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR

HOBBIES: music (guitar), photography, film, people watching, spending time with marnie, petty theft.

LIKES: being alone, cartoons, indie and rock music, the scent of fresh leather and coffee, staying up late sleeping in late, nighttime, quiet observation, bike riding.

DISLIKES: people in better circumstances than herself, the taste of pink bubblegum, crowded places, alcohol, second-hand clothing, meeting new people, feeling like she doesn’t ‘fit in,’ feeling like people are staring at her

QUIRKS: she almost always stands with her arms folded, even if she isn’t upset. it’s an unconscious gesture. she sleeps curled up in a ball with her hands tucked under her cheek. she still uses a walkman. though she says it’s because she thinks it’s cool, the truth is she couldn’t afford an ipod or an iphone. she tends to stand with her weight shifted to one foot.

STRENGTHS: durability. sade is a tough cookie and her instinct is to always get up when she’s been knocked down, even if it means she forgets to check if she’s been hurt. observant. sade isn’t overly talkative, and though she can be combative, she always listens and takes note of what is going on around her. responsive. sade is great at thinking on her feet and getting herself out of ‘tight squeezes,’ even if it’s by the skin of her teeth. faithfulness. although sade is slow to trust and even slower to love, once she becomes attached to someone she’s completely devoted to them (sometimes to the point of it becoming a dependent relationship). physical strength. though sade looks small, becoming ‘strong’ has been a personal goal of hers since she was a child. perhaps one of the only students to take gym class seriously, she also incorporated workouts outside of school when possible. when sade started getting involved with the criminal population in her city, it required agility and physical strength on her part. Though not formally trained in any sense, she had to be able to defend herself, to get away, to climb over, under, and around dangerous places (sometimes while carrying very heavy bags). As a result, she’s deceptively strong.

WEAKNESSES: untrusting. sade grew up in an unstable home environment with little support from those around her. she’s trusted the wrong people before and faced negative consequences because of it. as a result she assumes people have ill intent and holds most people at arm’s length. uncooperative. sade doesn’t know how to work on a team. she’s always done things independently, and though it has made her adept at problem solving, she has a bad habit of going off on her own, not communicating, and thinking for herself rather than the welfare of everyone. dealing with natural environments. though sade has experience dumpster diving and foraging in urban settings, she has little to no knowledge about survival in a real wilderness. she doesn’t know how to start a fire or how to find shelter that doesn’t involve a bridge or a hastily constructed pile of cardboard boxes.

POSITIVE TRAITS: efficient, hardy, observant, creative 

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  judgmental, distant, independent, insecure

MENTAL DISABILITIES: idk if this is the right term for it, but she does have PTSD from her home life

SHARE 5 FUN FACTS ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

one: "sadie” was her grandmother’s name. sade’s dad always told her that her mom was really big on family names, but as sade grew up she felt like the name didn’t fit, preferring to clip it to ‘sade.’ her parents always called her ‘sadie’ anyways.

two: she’s actually pretty good at sewing as long as something can be hand-stitched. her family didn’t have money for new clothes so being able to patch up rips and tears was a necessity.

three: she’s a good singer, though she thinks she’s terrible and insists she can only play the guitar. the only person she’s sang for at this point is marnie.

four: sade has never seen the ocean until now. though she finds it beautiful, she’s also frightened of it’s unpredictability and the breadth of its power.

five: though sade is rather serious and a bit moody, she also has a goofy streak once she’s comfortable. she’s quick to make offhanded jokes and dry, sarcastic remarks, but she’s been known to do something as extreme as trying to walk backwards on her hands to make marnie laugh.

WHAT WAS YOUR CHARACTER WEARING ON THE FLIGHT?

a striped turtleneck that once belonged to her mother. faded. she’s wearing an oversized tee shirt over the top that she got for $1 at value village. it’s a band t from a group Sade doesn’t recognize, but she thought the patchy logo of an alien driving a car through outer space looked cool

oversized red flannel. second hand. there was a large rip in the elbo that sade stitched up, leaving a small scar of black thread behind

black second-hand jeans with a rip in the knee, secured at the waist with one of her mom’s old leather belts

socks with a hole in the right heel, black doc martens marnie gave to her a few years ago when she outgrew them. they’re patchy and worn, but they still have the heels attached so sade held onto them.

braided friendship bracelet from marnie; the colors are light pink, black, and gray. there’s a silver crescent moon charm tied at the tassel. 

silver ring on her thumb - a birthday gift from marnie a few years back. it’s shaped like a silver bird and has a black stone in it’s chest

silver heart locket. sade wears it under her clothes because she hates the way it looks, but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it. it was a gift from her mother. inside there’s a small, hand cut photo of her mother holding sade as a baby. sade had considered scratching it out or pasting marnie in over it, but she can’t bring herself to do it. instead she pasted a little photo of marnie in the other open window to try and make it feel more like it’s her own choice to keep the locket rather than an item she can’t escape.

PLEASE LIST 3 PERSONAL ITEMS OF YOUR CHARACTER THAT WASHED UP ON SHORE

1. her camera. it’s old and runs on polaroids. she’d gotten it second-hand and taught herself how to piece it back into functionality. there are 7 photos left.

2./3. her guitar inside of her guitar case. it’s an acoustic and once belonged to her mother. the case is covered in old, vintage stickers and has the initials of people sade doesn’t recognized carved into it. miraculously, the case protected the guitar in the crash and prevented it from getting completely water damaged.

pinterest

#wilds.intro #headcanons ; sade

[rioneu]

⟨ RYAN POTTER. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, ORION “RION” SHIRO is actually a descendent of A R E S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-FOUR year old PSYCHOLOGY / CRIMINOLOGY MAJOR from SAPPORO, JAPAN has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SHREWD & FOOLHARDY.

— BASICS:

Full Name: shiro orion

Nicknames: rion

Place of Birth: sapporo, japan

Date of Birth: february 29, 1996

Zodiac: pisces

Gender: cis male

Sexual Orientation: biromantic bisexual

Religion: atheist

Major: psychology/criminology

Courses: combat tactics 2, weapon forging 1, telumkinesis

— FAMILY:

Biological Mother: shiro aiko

Biological Father: ares

Step-Father: okado kenji

Siblings: okado miya (half-sister)

— HISTORY:

There had never been a time in Aiko Shiro’s life where she was able to rein her child in. Despite always being told to be polite, to mind his manners, Rion was always very casually cruel. As a five year old, he purposely instigated a fight with another kid so he could punch him with a surprising amount of strength for a child so young. He never stayed in a school for very long, always pulled to avoid conflict with another child or getting expelled after a conflict had arisen. He’d always taken a little too much pleasure out of seeing other’s bleed.

By the time he hit junior high, he’d seen the inside of nine schools and his mother made damn sure he knew there wouldn’t be a tenth. It was a standing threat that if he got in trouble one more time, he’d end up in America, in a military school, where they would absolutely not tolerate his attitude and his violent tendencies. At the very least, they could teach him to redirect the energy into something more worth while. 

The fragile peace between them, with Rion putting all of his effort into not getting shipped into the wasteland that was the United States only lasted until he was thirteen. Everything converged on one day. Rion got into his first real fight, where the other person fought back, but didn’t do any real damage. Ares claimed him that day, shortly after he had been pulled off the other kid, with his face a bloody, bruised mess. And that very same day, when he’d gotten home with his knuckles split and bloody and blood that wasn’t his own smeared on his face, his mother and her fiance (who Rion barely tolerated as a whole) announced that she was pregnant. 

Rion did not take it well. There were things broken, people were threatened and blood was drawn. The only reason he didn’t kill his soon-to-be step-father there and then was because his mother said not to. It’s one of the few times he’s listened to her and it wasn’t out of respect, and especially not out of love. The last thing he wanted was to get sent off to America. When he told his mother he knew about who his father actually was, it was to quiet shock. He got no response, so instead, he made his final statement known by slamming the door as he left. Of course, he was back the next day, because he was only thirteen, but the house never returned to the way it was before. 

Rion only stayed in school until he no longer had to and dropped out when he finished his junior high education. He’s only ever tolerated his family, but he has a true love for his little sister. She clung to him the moment she was born and despite everyone’s underlying fear that he would hurt her, he absolutely adored her. She’s the only person he’s ever been remotely gentle with. 

A trail of bodies followed him from his hometown to Eonia and he only went after he got attacked by something that wasn’t human. He cared little for his own life and happily satisfied his bloodlust by killing people who he deemed weren’t good for the planet, but a monster attacking his home at nineteen surely meant that they would find his sister eventually. He only left so she would be safe and he spent time wandering from place to place until he was twenty-two and landed at Eonia.

— PERSONALITY:

Rion is an acquired taste of a person. He’s not the nicest of people, but he’s very loyal to the few he trusts. Once he considers someone his friend, he would die for them. If they ever betray them, it’s often the last thing they’ll ever do. He’s got a sadistic streak a mile wide and takes pleasure out of hurting others. Some would be inclined to think it’s a cover up for someone who was hurt during their childhood but he’s genuinely just a bad person. He’ll occasionally toy with people for fun without any intent of causing harm but often as he lets them go, he’ll change his mind, just to get a mark on them.

— POWERS:

SONIC SCREAM  — It isn’t a power he utilizes often, because it doesn’t always leave him in the best shape. When he first used the power during his years at secondary school, he passed out in an alley after class because it absolutely destroyed him. As he’s gotten older, he’s learned how to devote less energy to it while keeping it just as powerful. There is no setting on it, he only does it to severely cause pain, he has not cared enough to learn how to change the level of pain.

TELUMKINESIS  — In the wrong hands, anything can be a weapon but for Rion, he can make anything a weapon. When he first manifested the power, he had been at the store picking up staples for his home at the age of fifteen and there was almost a robbery at the store. The staples had turned themselves into a knife, very small but just as capable a weapon. It’s his second favorite of the powers and he practices his ability to control weapons at every opportunity.

ODIKINESIS  — He’s never been the nicest of people. During his youth, he would get a lot of looks for his rudeness or impoliteness, but he’s never seen much use for it, despite his mother drilling it into his head. When he got angry as a kid, everyone around him did and he would end up satisfied seeing the chaos he caused, even if his control over the rage and hate didn’t last much longer than his own anger did. As he grew older and worked on developing his power, the ability to manipulate the emotions wasn’t strictly tied to his own and he was able to make it last longer and more intensely.

— MISCELLANEOUS: 

His mother named him after Orion because he was a fierce hunter.

He gets a sick sense of satisfaction causing chaos and occasionally hurting people. 

When sparring with people, he’ll often place curses on their weapons and say it was fair game. 

He has killed people. Refuses to give a solid answer as to how many. He has gotten away with all but one. 

He leaves scars on people he’s toyed with in the past, usually somewhere they can see it. He doesn’t remember who they are, but this way he knows who he hasn’t tormented yet.

Ares claimed him after his first fight in junior high, when he had mercilessly injured his classmate and had to be pulled off him before the guy ended up in the hospital. 

He will eat anything. Literally. Even the grossest concoction. Candy that went through the washer or drier. Anything even vaguely edible. 

The first person he killed was when he was seventeen and someone looked at Miya the wrong way. He killed him with no hesitations. He was sentenced to probation until he was twenty and he ran out on it when a monster attacked him.

People are probably still looking for him for skipping out on probation. He does not care.

He majors in psychology to look for weaknesses in his enemies and to figure out what makes them tick. He majors in criminology to learn about what common mistakes he should avoid making. 

— WANTED CONNECTIONS:

people he has injured in the past or friends/loved ones of people he’s injured in the past.

GOD I WOULD DIE FOR A GOOD SIBLING BOND FOR HIM. 

Ares kids, someone come get your idiot

#euintro #intro.

[chogiwrites]

300 Yuan To Love || Lay

Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way. Or: Yixing makes a dumb bet but even when he wins, he loses.

Lenght: 5.4k

Genre: Humour/Fluff/mild Angst

Like with all shitty things in life, at least from a masculine standpoint, it begins with the desire to take a cute girl out on a date.

It’s hot and humid in Hangzhou, as is typical for the summer cycle in this part of China, and Zhang Yixing bikes up to Wang Xun’s cake stand with his balls tucked neatly in his wicker basket. This was his grandma’s doing, really. She knew Yixing needed a job and whilst she was wandering the neighborhood one afternoon, she ran into him.

Had it been anybody else, had it even been written in the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, then Yixing would’ve immediately said no. But, it just so happens that Yixing is weak for his granny. So, when she returned from her walk, staggering with a fabric trolley full of leeks and other proteins, with a shiny look in her eyes, Zhang Yixing was honor-bound to accept.

Glutinous rice cakes are Zhang Yixing’s worst nightmare, and he starts work the next day

Just the smell is enough to give him a thick sense of nausea. Wang Xun knows this, and Yixing is about ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that he’s banking off of that. So, what’s it about it all, that has Yixing bike towards there, on a road so quintessential that you could practically hear the 80’s pop music behind him?

Well, he needs a new haircut, that’s what. That, and he wants the opportunity to take his best friend, you, out someplace nice. It’s the latter mostly. Especially the latter.

You both entered Uni not too long ago but only one entered the prestigious option. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t Yixing. It doesn’t bother him much though, because he never intends to be a fancy businessman anyway. He applied to a local college to learn dance, and music theory, which he’s passionate about. On top of that, even though it sees him lose more money than it ever does see him gain it— Yixing enjoys posting his amateur attempts at rapping over on Weibo, which garners some positive feedback.

Meanwhile, there’s you. You’ve been friends with him since the first grade but you’re about as different from him as a banana to a pineapple. You set out to enter business, much like the rest of your family, and Yixing often catches you nowadays during your coffee not-dates in pressed blouses and pencil skirts. Your fierce makeup gives you an air of exclusivity, which makes Yixing’s breezy noncommittal to looking posh, nearly garish.

His idea of having a sense of style is often eclectic and vintage, in conflicting patterns and textures. He got into krumping, and this saw him, in turn, get into wearing blaze red tracksuits and little braids in his hair. It also saw him bleach his hair to the point of no return, which you made fun of him for relentlessly.

The consequence of having such an outlandish appearance—though at this point, he has his hair an ugly, faded red— came one day, full force, during one of your bi-weekly coffee not-dates.

You two were in the midst of a serious conversation when some yuppie mistook your frown as being caused by Yixing’s presence. So, he did what any overbearing yuppie does. He tried to forcibly remove Yixing from the situation with the same technique you use to swat away a pigeon that wants your Kentucky Fried Chicken.

It was embarrassing for all three of you and this is where it does bother Yixing, who’s become notorious for being blissfully unaware of any and everything. For one, he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, and secondly, a part of him worries he’s slowly sinking beneath you.

Sure, this was a lifelong thing. You’d always come from the better and wealthier family whilst Yixing grew up with his grandparents in a relatively small, rickety house. But you don’t feel these things when you’re ten and frog hunting in the mud, you don’t feel these things when you hold your best friend’s dirty hand at the bus stop to ‘see what it’s like’ on your way to the arcade.

Admittedly, Yixing isn’t super certain as to why he feels the way he feels. He’ll figure this out by the end of the day but he doesn’t know that yet. His pretty face earns him a lot of kind-hearted Jiejies who’re happy to pay for his lunches out of pity. Usually, he’ll open up his phone and add a reminder in his notes to pay them back when he can, and this tends to be the end of his guilt. But, he doesn’t ponder on it too long either.

It’s not exactly in Yixing’s nature to delve too deeply into his own psyche, it’s that naive streak of his. He’s simple-minded and he knows that he is. It keeps him happy and he has that mindset from what he likes, all the way down to what he dislikes.

So, when he finally parks by the stall, over-grown bangs tied in a silly looking bun and testicles in tow, he resolves to approach this in the same way Zhang Yixing approaches all areas of his life:

He’ll just have to do his very best.

“Yixing!” Wang Xun says cheerfully, greeting Yixing with a tight hug after he locks his bike up to an iron fence. “Wow! So handsome!” He beams, pinching at those devastatingly high cheekbones as Yixing’s face quickly goes flush.

“Thank you, Gege.” He replies with a small, polite bow. Yixing’s humble and appreciative demeanor is broken as soon as he glances over at the thick, fragrant slabs of cake, just waiting to be touched, fondled and sold. His skin takes on a greenish hue.

Catching this, Xun thinks now would be a good time to have a little bit of fun with his new employee.

See, this job is often a dull one and last night, his wife, bless her memory, accidentally made double the usual quantity. Even on the busiest day, there’s always at least a bit of leftovers. This usually isn’t much of an issue because there’s a homeless shelter nearby. The only problem? They were quickly becoming tired of being constantly fed leftover rice cakes. Wang Xun hates waste, so he has a plan.

Diddling his fingers, he begins, “I heard from your granny that you want to earn some extra money. I know this doesn’t pay so well, but… How would you like to place a wager?”

Yixing turns to him with a look that is simultaneously hopeful and apprehensive. Wang Xun thinks that, oh yes, this will be fun. Very fun indeed. Unfortunately thouh, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way.

For you, whom summer often means being able to forget your studies and instead, focus on your friends and family, this one is already shaping up to be a massive disappointment. Some of your friends went back to their hometowns, whilst others went abroad. The most important contestant though, Zhang Yixing, your closest friend, your secret beloved, had gotten a job.

Your shoulders fell right down to your ankles when you got the news over the phone a night ago. But he sounded so excited that you couldn’t bare to complain. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Did Yixing even have a girlfriend? You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk about any girls, even though he always has at least one woman around him. Maybe he was gay?

You sighed, lying on your back with your phone across your chest.

You only become concerned for Yixing and his mental state, when you find out what his job is, and the strange bet that succeeds it. You receive that text at ten am sharp.

«(Y/N)! Me and Xun-Ge (Do you remember him? He says hi! ^^) Made a bet for three hundred yuan to see who can sell the most rice cakes. The catch is that if we aren’t exact in our measurements, we must eat the surplus. I hope you’ll come and support me!!»

You reply instantly, wondering if all of this is some sick prank but that’s not in his character. Of course you remember Wang Xun, he runs that cake stand near the city square. You like his wife’s cakes but with that you also know…

«Yixing… You hate rice cakes???»

«I know, this means I’ll be even more motivated to win! Please come and support me!»

And this is how you end up on a plastic pull-out chair, watching your best friend torture himself for three hundred yuan, under the hot sun. “Are you ready, Yixing?” Wang Xun asks him and his grin is devilish. You can tell he completely expects Yixing to tank the whole competition.

“I was born ready, Gege! May the best man win!” Yixing grins and throws a little glance over his shoulder, hoping that you think he’s cool.

In that silly ‘Zhang Yixing’ way, he does look pretty cool, especially when he lifts the hem of his neon t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his browbone. The sad thing is that you would put money down the fact that Yixing will lose the three hundred yuan.

Truthfully, he can win this competition on sex appeal alone, if only he was aware of his own pull to begin with. Yixing isn’t though. He never was. He has the habit of presenting himself as a perfect image of self-control. You reckon the only correlation he’s made thus far is that the less clothes he wears, the more the female sex tends to smile around him. It’s a bit silly because Yixing, even now, will still walk around you in nothing but his boxers, as if he doesn’t look like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad.

Needless to say, you, who has known him since a young age, rarely get to see him eschew from that respectability— sans his semi-nudist tendencies, that is.

Well, that’s until he begins losing the bet. Make no mistake though, Yixing tanks the bet before it can even begin.

“Ahhh, just 0.75? Why not make it a full KG?” Yixing whines at the customer, an older woman with a cold and mysterious look to her. “You don’t need to worry about your diet, Jiejie, you’re beautiful just the way you are. Eat the full kilo, your heart will thank you.”

Wang Xun chortles in the background as No-Name Jiejie rips him a new one. Somewhat offended yourself, you instinctively cross your arms across your soft middle and bite your lip. The next customer is another female, this one about high school aged. She orders a meager 0.25 KG and you try not to look at her with too much jealousy.

As she leaves, she turns to say: “Gege, you’re very handsome, but you shouldn’t make comments about a woman’s body like this. I think it’d be better if you found her and apologized for wounding her pride. Have a nice day~”

She waves before turning on her heels and Yixing looks at you in desperation, not understanding where his sales tactics are failing him. Your response is to cock a brow.

Even before his embarrassing comments, which you can only attribute as being brought on by a semester spent in South Korea, where he held a part time job as the person advertising Gangnam PS on the train, you were already slowly becoming annoyed with him. Why did you even bother to come out here in the first place?

It was unbearably hot and all you’re doing is watching the sweat stain on his back grow and grow while your thighs become welted from the plastic straps on the chair. Your leg skin is ruddy and bumped from shaving the night before and even though you like rice cakes, that and the smell of humid, mowed grass is threatens to make you sick.

Plus, it’s not as if you enjoy watching Yixing lose a dumb bet he should’ve already known he’d never win. By the time the sun is at it’s peak, around one-ish, you confront him behind the pagoda, where he gags in his fist.

“Yixing, I want to go home.” You say with your arms crossed, leaning against a ridged wall as you stare down at the dirt between you two. Yixing instantly looks up— churning stomach be damned. His eyes are wide and his face is a sweaty mess, but despite that, the disappointment is evident.

“You can’t go!” His voice comes out more frantically than it perhaps should. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, trying not to seem too upset with him. Rather, you wish to simply look like you’re not feeling well. The snap to your tone betrays you though. It always does.

“This is ridiculous. It’s too hot outside and you’re making a goddamn fool out of yourself. What was the point of even having me here?” Yixing’s lips press into a thin line.

“We haven’t hung out in a while so—”

“So you think having me watch you make yourself sick is fun?” Normally, you would dislike the mean edge in your laugh, whenever you got the least bit annoyed with him. It might be the oppressive heat making your adrenaline run higher. Or, maybe, just maybe, Yixing’s lack of negative aspect gets on your nerves a lot more than you’d like to admit. Maybe, a deep, dark part of you wants to see Yixing get annoyed with you too, show you a face more offended than just one of mild hurt.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, Yixing shoves his palms down his back pockets and rocks on his heels. Exhaling through his nose, Yixing opens his mouth to speak but closes up, pouting in a way which makes his lips look even pinker than they already are. It’s aggro, plain and simple.

“Aiyo! All this for an extra three hundred yuan you won’t win anyway?” You scoff, “If you need it so badly, ask me. I’ll lend it to you.”

Finally, his facade cracks and you’re not sure you like what you see. “Three hundred yuan may not mean much to you but it means a lot to others! Not everybody is wealthy like you!” His voice raises an octave, tone turning nasally and thick.

“You’re right. It means jack shit to me.” To prove your point, you reach into your daisy-shaped purse and pull out a few crumpled notes. “That’s why you should just relieve me of my burden and take the fucking yuan.”

Yixing, with his face as red as a chili pepper, gently pushes your hand back towards you. “You’re not treating me like a man.” He says.

Stomping your foot against the grass, you cry out: “Because you aren’t a man, Zhang Yixing!”

With that comes a steady, harsh silence. Yixing looks at you with an expression which you can’t decipher, as it’s not one you’ve ever seen on him. Once the guilt hits, and it hits fast, you let out a choked, “I’m going home. I’ll text you later.”

Just like that, you leave him there, before you lose control of your emotions in an entirely new way. After all, if Yixing never wanted to kiss you before, he certainly isn’t going to want to kiss you now, after what you just said to him.

Throwing your leg across the body of your bike, you push yourself until your knees hurt and Yixing is but a speck in the distance.

Things don’t get any better for Yixing after you leave, if anything, they become even worse, which is saying something. The idea of winning this bet begins to seem more and more fantastical, especially with the strange feeling holding onto his heart.

Whether it’s due to your hurtful words, or an impending heart attack, remains uncertain but one thing is for sure. Yixing has brain cells, and those brain cells are rapidly depleting.

“Ahh!” He screams, in Xiang, out at the neighboring lake and all the people paddle-boating. They stop and look at him like he’s an insane chipmunk. “It’s such a beautiful day!”

Yixing waves his fists around before cramming more baked shame down his gullet. Whilst singing an obscure folk song, he nearly falls over the stony ledge whilst doing a jaunty little dance.

Wang Xun, who has greatly overestimated his own mathematical prowess, as well as his abilities as a businessman, is the one who stops Yixing from meeting his soggy demise.

He places two sobering hands on Yixing’s shoulders. “We still have more cakes to sell.” When he speaks, passerbys can see his soul leave from his lips. Much like Yixing, Wang Xun has consumed so much goddamn cake that he fears he’ll wake up a rice cake. He reconsiders his line of work, but its much too late for that quitter mentality. He and Yixing are in it to the death.

Yixing, gaunt-cheeked, turns around with a rattle. “Gege… I want to give up.” He utters miserably. Xun considers calling the bet off himself but, the sun is setting, twilight is nearly upon them. He’s already lost so much money that unless he returns home victorious, there was a big chance he wouldn’t see the next day as a married man.

He laughs so hard the button holding his jeans together pops and hits Yixing right in the big toe.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Once you get home, the first thing you do is kick off your sweaty sandals before lying belly-first across your bed. Your eyes prickle as you shake your head to yourself. This is so stupid, you’re not really about to cry over Yixing again, are you?

Your fingers twist in your bed sheets as a few tears manage to squeeze their way out of your eyes. It seems like you are.

Flipping over so that your nose is in the air, you try to blink away the wetness. Throwing your arm across your face, your thoughts go to how stupid Yixing is. How stupid you are. Anybody with half a functional brain cell could see that you have a crush on him, one which spanned nearly the entirety of your friendship.

In elementary school, it was strange, because you never felt this way about anybody, not even the handsome actors you saw on TV. The only thing you had a full grasp on was that you liked this strange, chubby boy, who was also your close friend— a lot.

He had a sweet penchant for taking care of cats, none of which he could remember to name and whenever you were sad, he would lift his shirt and jiggled his belly.

His grandma also made delicious, albeit very spicy food, and they spoke in a dialect of Chinese which you couldn’t understand but found amusing to listen to. Afterwards, Yixing would let you rest your ear against his soft middle to hear the way his food digested, and all those gurgles and pops.

Your first experience with unrequited love must have been that. When you began wanting to nudge your head, so that your lips could press tender, butterfly kisses between his fleshy, brown rib cage. Instinctively, you knew not to.

High school was bearable, but only because for the majority of it, you were more popular than Yixing.

It was during the second to last year were his height shot and he became taller than most of the other boys. Suddenly, girls started to look at him with the same eyes as you. Suddenly, girls began to notice how handsome he was, how kind he was. It leaves you as you are now, supine on your mattress, unsure where to go from this point on.

With your pride majorly wounded, you stand up and waddle your way across the hall. Rarely are you ever desperate enough to ask your older sister, Mei, for advice. You knock on her door.

“What do you want?” She snaps, sliding off her headset. You take this as the okay to sit on her bed and divulge, and she eyes you with suspicion every step. “It’s just,” You sigh, smacking your lips as your legs cross beneath you. “Do you remember Yixing?”

Her face falls instantly. “Oh no. No. No. Not him again!” She grabs a small My Melody plush from her desk and chucks it towards your head. “Get out. I’m not listening to any of this Yixing shit. If I wanted a Korean drama, I’d go look on Tencent.”

You grabbed the toy and threw it back at her, whining, “I’m serious!!”

Mei kicks your knee with her manicured, cream toes. “Listen!” She cries in exasperation, throwing out her hands. “How many times will you bitch about this? If Zhang Yixing liked you back, he would’ve made a move by now. It’s as simple as that!” Conceding yourself to the understanding that, yes, Yixing doesn’t see you the way you see him, you look down at the small floral decals over her nailbed and begin to pick with a puffed cheek. “I understand that, Jiejie… But I may have said something mean to him.”

Seeing the sad look on your face makes Mei relent. “Then apologize to him, dummy.” She sighs as you lay across your side, clutching her foot to you as you try to hold back tears. She pushes herself closer, replacing her foot with a hand in yours, using the spare to push some wet strands from your face.

“Look,” She rolls her eyes, though she’s taken on a gentler tone. “Zhang Yixing sees you as a friend. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck by your side for all of these years. If you said something mean to him, just tell him you weren’t feeling well and that you’re sorry. He seems like a nice guy, I’m sure he’ll forgive you easily. But before that, I think you need to forgive him for not being able to return your feelings, (Y/N). You’re always getting into these petty arguments, it seems to me like you’ve become bitter over your unrequited feelings. You need to make peace with the fact that you’re his friend and nothing but, or else the day will come where Zhang Yixing will no longer feel like accepting your apologies.” You nod, but why does it hurt so much to let go of this love, even if it’s hopeless?

Eventually, after you calm yourself down and rinse off your face, you begin to feel more and more uncomfortable with the way you’ve treated him. It grows and it grows until you can’t take it anymore. You set off to try and find him and, hopefully, make things right again.

“I lost, didn’t I?” Yixing breathes, sitting on the stone steps as Wang Xun begins to pack up for the day. With an apologetic smile, the older man replies, “Yes, but barely.”

“Ahhh,” He sighs, looking up at the stars. Today has been a real nightmare. It seems like nothing he set out has accomplish. He’s offended people for no reason, rocks live in his stomach and worst of all, you’ve become upset with him. Yixing swallows thickly.

“(Y/N)’s become rather feisty since I’ve last seen her.” Xun points out. “She has.” There’s a silence before Yixing adds, “Gege, I don’t know if there’s room for me in her life anymore. The more I think of it, the more I feel I don’t belong by her side. We used to laugh and smile together but nowadays, whenever I call her out, she’s tense. We never used to fight this much, I think she thinks I’m beneath her, and is only trying to spare my emotions.”

Wang Xun takes a seat next to him, stretching out his legs before glancing up at the sky as well. “All this because of what she said?” Yixing doesn’t respond, which is confirmation enough.

“Women— No, not just women, people will often say things they don’t mean when they feel as though they’ve been hurt.” He says, “I think the same is true for her. She’ll apologize soon enough, so don’t take her words to heart.” Pause. “And if she doesn’t? There are so many more women out there for you to pine after. Eventually, you’ll find the one who doesn’t break your heart.”

Neither of them speak after this, not until something, or rather somebody, catches Yixing’s eye. It’s the Jiejie from earlier. Excusing himself, Yixing jogs up to her.

She stops the moment she sees him and scowls. “What do you want?” She snaps, her dog running off into the bushes. Her expression is so fierce, it reminds him a bit of yours.

Though he freezes up, he pushes past it and she jumps back when he bows so deeply, there’s a crack to his spine.

“I wanted to say that I’m really sorry if I offended you earlier today,” Yixing blushes, “You see, I had a bet with that man over there.” He points over to Wang Xun, who’s in the process of cleaning his ear out with his pinkie. “And I’m afraid in my attempt to earn a bit of extra pocket money, I’ve said and done some things I normally wouldn’t say or do. I hope you can forgive me.”

The woman stood there stunned and Yixing is afraid that might not be enough. She thinks of his apology for a second before shaking it off. “I see,” She nods pensively. “I take it, this was all for your girlfriend’s sake?” Yixing stands up straight, blinking a few times for clarity.

“What girlfriend?”

“The girl that sat behind you, she wasn’t your girlfriend?” Yixing shakes his head. “Christ…” She mumbles, instantly grateful that she’s already lived through the ‘stupid love’ phase. She sighs.

“I forgive you. We all have lapses in our judgment and as long as you understand that, and think before you speak next time, I don’t see a reason to hold it against you.”

“Thank you, Jiejie!” Yixing says with a big, happy grin, bowing deeply once more. His heart clears itself a tiny bit.

Unfortunately for his cardiovascular health, at this moment, you bike up next to him and Yixing’s heart is back to feeling like it’s about to burst. Shit.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You ask, much to the woman’s amusement. “No. Me and your ‘friend’ over here were just touching base. I need to go home anyway.” She says, tugging the leash so that her puppy comes running back at her ankles.

As she turns around, she makes sure to tack on a “Good luck!” It’s for both of your sakes.

You park your bike up by the tree trunk, feeling the awkwardness finally hit. It’s already nightfall and the air has cooled off significantly, but you’re so ashamed that your cheeks are blazing and hot.

“Did you apologize to her for earlier?” You ask despite its redundancy. Yixing nods and you can see it from the illumination caused by the lampposts. “I did.”

“That’s good!” You hum, trying to keep your voice steady as you fish a green, rectangular bottle out of your purse. “I got you a probiotic drink to help you with… y’know. Here. Catch.”

It lands in his hands and Yixing beams brighter than the stars. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Because you came back.”

Saying it outloud only has Yixing smile wider and it eats up at his eyes in the most charming of ways. You feel your heart throb.

Clearing your throat, you stutter out. “Right! About that…” You will yourself not to mask your true emotions with the air of nonchalance but you meet his eyes and, fuck, you might as well do that or just start crying.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. It was wrong and I regret ever treating you this way.” You expect Yixing to hold a more serious stance, but he laughs, opening his arms.

“Aw, it’s alright. Come here and give me a hug.”

Slowly, you take steps towards him before burrowing into his chest, hands fisting against his shirt as tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Yixing smells too sweet and sweaty but past that, you can feel the warmth of his skin. His body is solid yet comforting and you want to be in his arms all day and all night.

“Why are you crying?” Yixing asks, feeling the moisture through his shirt. and you laugh dryly. He sways you side to side before pulling at your face. “If you cry, I might start crying too.”

Yixing’s fingers release from your skin and instead, move to hold you. “So, no crying, alright?” The touch makes you breathless.

“Yixing, I…” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them. He tilts his head, smiling softly in anticipation. Should you confess to him? You already know you have to let this go. Will it make your shoulders lighter if he knows how you feel? You shake your head at yourself.

No. Yixing is too delicate of a person to treat you the same knowing you’ve fallen for him. Seeing your knees buckle, Yixing leads you to the bench. Swallowing your heart, you resolve for the next best truth.

“Yixing, I’ve missed you a lot.” “Oh! I’ve missed you too.” Yixing responds with an annoying ease, uncapping the pribiotic before taking a sip. He grimaces at the bitter taste, making you giggle at his cute reaction. As you laugh, Yixing’s heart does a somersault and suddenly, there’s not enough air in the world. It’s an emotion that only you cause in him. Not even the prettiest girls give him this type of feeling and it puts him on edge, but in the most tender way.

“Why did you accept this bet anyway?” You ask, gazing at the lake, which is now devoid of people. Steady and dark, with the reflection of the moon.

Yixing considers it. “I think I did it to feel better about myself.” He leans back and caps the bottle, fingers almost touching yours as he holds the bottle between his knees.

He stares up at the silver moon.

You turn to look at him in surprise, gazing at his profile. Yixing catches you in his peripheral and nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”

He swallows and then adds, “My hair needs fixing and…” He considers closely the next thing he’s about to say, but throughout the past several hours, this is the only conclusion he can draw. The more he says the words in his head, the righter they feel. “And I wanted to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen and Yixing grabs your hand, too afraid that you’ll run from him again. “But I lost the bet, so there’s that.” He mumbles.

With the air squeezed from your lungs, you whisper, “We don’t need money to—”

“I know we don’t, but I wanted it anyway. It was selfish and vain of me, I know. But, I thought… Maybe if I had more money, you’d be more inclined to see me as a man… As somebody you can actually date.”

Taking the leap of faith, you lace your fingers through his. Yixing squeezes tight and you close your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his hand. Years. It’s been years since he’s done this.

You’ve waited so long, since that day at the bus stop, to feel his hand on yours again and for it not be just to see what it feels like. Finally, you feel like you can breathe. It fits as perfectly against yours as it did back then.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I do think of you as a man. I’m sorry that I’m bitter and dramatic. I’ve taken these emotions out on you without realizing it, all because I’m bothered that you don’t see me the way I’ve seen you throughout all these years. I hope you can forgive me, I’ve been a bad friend.”

“When you speak with such a voice,” Yixing laughs, “It’s impossible for me not to. I’m scared of what you could do to me.”

There’s a silence and you bring his knuckles up to your lips. Yixing’s eyes flutter shut with a lazy grin.

There’s never been such a perfect moment in his life.

“I like you just the way you are.” You whisper, the feeling is just about the same for you too. “Thank you.”

“And I’ll wait patiently for you to take me on the date you feel we deserve.” “Thank you.”

He repeats as you two lean against each other and enjoy the serenity of an empty park. If this is what all these years have been working towards, then it must all be worth it in the end. It may not be a crescendo of epic proportions, a searing, tear-filled kiss in the rain, a loud, emotional ‘I love you’ shouted in the middle of a crowded airport, but this is perfect.

Zhang Yixing can turn the mundane into something extraordinary, this is what’s most beautiful about him to you. For a moment, it’s all quiet and that’s just fine.

Until he gets sick all over a bundle of Lotus roots, that is.

#lay exo #exo x reader #exo x you #zhang yixing #lay fluff #yixing x reader #yixing #Lay

[dragon-fics]

DOS: Survivors [1/2] (Male Dragon X Human Reader)

Chapter summary: The Black Plague is running rampant through the land! Your sister and you are trying to get away from it. It has already taken your father, so you must run, except you have nowhere to go and no money. One evening after robbing more food, you come across a cave to take shelter in... what you didn't know was that it was already occupied.

It's odd what you're willing to do to survive, even when everyone else is suffering the same as you. Especially when it's something you would consider wrong to do under different circumstances. For the past few days we've been riding non-stop to escape the sickness that's running through the land, infecting people left right and centre. Their deaths were slow and agonising. Yet, there was nothing the doctors could do, dressed in their black cloaks and their crowface-like masks.

My younger sister and I had fled our hometown after our father had become infected with the disease. He begged for us to leave as sweat ran down his pale face. I still remembered the pain in his face, and I hated leaving him. We both did. And so I bit my lip and took my sister's hand.

Goodbye, Father.

The words still rang in my ears. Even as we raced from another town. I had attempted to rob food from a half-empty baker's stand, before quickly running away. But I ran into some boxes and dropped two of the loaves. Leaving me with a loaf and three small rolls to feed myself, Elizabeth and Silver—our grey mare. So, now we sat on Silver's back as she walked through the damp forest outside the town.

Elizabeth tore off a chunk from one roll and held it up in front of me.

"No, thanks, Lizzy," I said. Her little hand retracted back under her green cloak and I heard her teeth biting down on the crust of the roll. I tugged my cloak closer to me as I felt the chill on my arms. We needed to get out of the damp and in somewhere drier.

I looked up. The last few rays on sunlight clung on to the top of the hills behind us and the night would only get colder. If only I had saved up more of the money I had earned doing jobs at the tavern, or the tips they had given me when I had helped Father's customers.

Father.

The thought of him made my heart ache and my throat burn. I swallowed hard and tugged on my hood, keeping it close to ears to block out the cold. Nothing will stop the cold, (Y/N), I thought to myself. I was about to get off Silver, to give her a rest and so I could stretch my legs, when something alerted her. The mare stopped and stood straight, her ears tilted in different directions before falling back against her mane. Her nostrils flared, and I felt her heart race against my boot. I gripped the reins tightly.

"Hold on," I whispered. Elizabeth tucked the bread away and gripped on to Silver's mane. A rustle of leaves came from behind us and Silver bolted. My cloak flapped behind me like a dark flag, I heard Elizabeth sob in front of me as I reached for my bow, tied to Silver's saddle. "It's going to be all right," I whispered into her ear as time froze for a second. "Silver will get us out of this." I heard heavy paws bounding after us. But before I could noose an arrow, the heavy paws thumping after us, stopped, and we were in a clearing.

Silver came to a sudden stop, throwing me off. Elizabeth sat up the saddle.

"Are you ok?" she called, sliding off the saddle. I forced myself up on to my feet.

"Yeah, I'm all right," I replied, brushing down my clothes. Elizabeth ran to my side, and I got down to her height, her red locks wavering in the cool evening breeze.

In front of us stood several tall ogham stones, though what they said, I could not tell. Behind them stood a low extinct volcano, with an easy, well-worn path led up to the caldera on top. Then I heard Silver snort from behind us. I looked back at the mare and rose to my feet. She threw her head up and down and reared up on her hind legs a few times, her ears flat against her neck. She was still pretty spooked after being chased by... whatever that creature was. I moved toward her, pulling down my hood and holding hands in front of me, hoping to calm her. She allowed me to touch her, and I stroked her nose.

"It's all right, girl, you got us away from it... Shh, shh." I soothed. Her snorts quietened and her nostrils returned to a more relaxed form of breathing. But her ears didn't stand up like they usually did. I assumed she was still in shock and shrugged it off. I looked back up at the hill ahead of us. The hill itself wasn't that high, and the path wasn't steep. And two-thirds of the way up was an opening, a cave. Shelter. I smiled a little and looked at Silver's saddle. While I had been trying to get food for us in town, Elizabeth had been gathering sticks for a campfire.

I tugged on Silver's reins to get her to follow me, but she refused to budge. I pulled a little harder. She still fought back. Elizabeth giggled as a played tug-of-war with the mare. I fought her for a few minutes before giving up.

"Fine." I huffed. I took off Silver's saddle and untied the bags of blankets and food, and the bundle of sticks. I left my bow and quiver by the saddle, hidden behind one of the tall stones. I shouldered the bag of blankets, carried the sticks under my arm and held the pack of food in my other hand. As I started towards the path, Elizabeth took the pack of food. Silver snorted and threw her head as if to tell us not to go.

The sun was long gone by the time we reached the mouth of the cave. The cold nipped at my face, I could see Elizabeth's nose turn red. But finally, we got there. The cave was as dark as the rest of the world, so I lit the fire quickly. It was then I noticed the full size of the cave. It wasn't all that big, about the size of a small tavern. The stone walls were smooth, as was the floor. I noticed small gold flecks of light shine back at us when I looked at the end of the cave which was smaller and out of shape that the rest of the cave... or maybe it was the poor lighting. Either way, I'd inspect the pieces of gold tomorrow, in a better light, in the hope they were coins.

Elizabeth lay down by the fire, lying on a blanket, with her cloak on top of her, with another blanket. I was about to sit next to her when I looked down and checked on Silver. I peered over the edge of the path. It was hard to spot her for a moment, but then I saw her. She stood restlessly where we had left her, surrounded in fog. I felt bad for leaving her down there, alone and in the cold: without her, we wouldn't have been able to make it from town to town before running out of food. I moved towards the bag of blankets and rummaged around for her horse blanket. I felt it and pulled it out. I kept it rolled up and jogged down to her; the cold burning my legs. When I finally reached the base of the hill, she trotted over to me, whinnying happily. I stroked her nose.

"It's good to see you too, girl," I said. I made my way to her side, throwing on the horse blanket and tying the straps. I went over to where I had left the saddle and my bow. Everything was still there. The saddle was covered in a light layer of water droplets and the bow wasn't much better, but it hadn't been stolen, so that was just fine by me. I glanced up at the cave. All seemed fine. I took a few steps back and took in a deep breath.

As I started back for the cave, I looked up again at the cave. The light from the fire flickered and pulsed. Then I saw something; the shadow of some sort of... beast covered the glow from the fire.

"Lizzy," I whispered. I grabbed my quiver and bow. I threw the strap of the quiver over my head and bolted up the path. I can't lose her too! I prayed to the Gods above that the beast wouldn't hurt her, that it'd inspect her for a bit, or even better, thought she wouldn't even make a good snack. Those moments running up the hill, we're the longest of my life. But finally, I reached the mouth of the cave. I let out a battle cry as I pulled back the arrow... But the sight of Elizabeth facing a shimmering gold reptile head interrupted me, looking at her in curiosity. The head raised itself and looked at me; I held my arrow tight. It was only a head, no neck or long body. It was paranormal.

"It's OK, (Y/N), this is Argarth," said Elizabeth, coming to my side. I half looked at her. "He lives in this cave, and he's very good a hiding, look!" The head seemed to grow a gold neck, body, four legs, wings and a tail. I saw now the cave was that bit wider at the end; which must have been where he slept. On The floor there was a makeshift rug made of a light layer of sheep's wool. There were also scrolls littered on the floor around where he slept.

A dragon. I lowered my bow in awe. He wasn't much taller than me, his shoulder was about level with my own, but his horns were long and twisted, like a ram's.

"Much better, young one," said the dragon, the voice was old and wisdom-filled, like that of an elderly storyteller or teacher. Yet it was not weak, he still had strength in him.

A drew in a breath. "I apologise for disturbing your place of slumber. We're—"

"—Running from the plague, I imagine?" Said Argarth cutting me off. He turned around towards his scrolls.

"Yes," I replied quietly.

"Hmm, I heard you arrive here earlier," he said, laying down on the sheep's wool, "so I hid. I apologise for my ignorance, but I know that if travellers see me they run," Elizabeth made her way over to him, sitting down on some wool, "so I camouflage myself to hear their stories, the problem comes when people—such as yourself—choose not to speak much, and so I fall asleep easily, which is when this little one," — he nudged Elizabeth on the shoulder — "saw my camouflage fade away. And that brings us up to this moment." He finished. I tugged on my cloak. The fire was dying, and with that fog, there was no way to get any dry firewood, not to mention the creatures that lurked in the forest.

"Come closer, I don't bite, and I can't breathe fire—" he gestured to the scrolls on the floor "—otherwise I wouldn't have so many." He laughed a little. Elizabeth came nearer to him, leaning against his side. Elizabeth could always tell whether people we're trustworthy by looking at them and hearing them talk, and so I trusted her instincts. I moved closer, sitting beside her, nearer to Argarth's head. He moved his wing close to us, almost covering us, before laying his head down.

"Rest. I'd like to hear your stories in the morning." And then the cave was silent. Inside, our little wing-tent was so warm. Argarth emitted such warmth, and his wing held in that warmth. After almost a week of sleeping rough, it was nice to be warm. And so, with little resistance, I fell asleep to the rhythm of Argarth's sleepy breathing.

#dragon one-shot #dragon one-shots #male dragon x reader #dragon x reader #Argarth x reader #medieval fantasy

[thetvmoviefan]

Nabrina FanFics Part 8

Sabrina Spellman & Nicholas Scratch (Nick Scratch) FanFics MASTERLIST

Updated: March 5, 2020 (3/05/2020)

AND so guys we’re back to another hiatus this time we’re waiting for the last part of the season Part 4. How did everyone feel about Part 3, it was definitely A LOT. But every OTP there’s bound to be angst and journey, it only makes them stronger in the end. Anyways, while the show just officially finished Part 4 Filming (2/22/20) we’re all anxiously waiting for renewal and the announcement of when Part 4 will air. Here’s a newly updated list of Current and NEW Nabrina FanFics for anyone waiting for our POWER couple to comeback.

As Always have a Wicked or Hell-ish time with these fics and ENJOY!!!!

Fics in order by Last Update: 3/05/2020

[Key: AU=Alternate Reality - AH=All Human/All Mortal - * = New Fics to List]

1. “If You Let Me”*

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys​

Summary: After pouring all of her time and effort into obtaining a law degree in the city, Sabrina Spellman moves back to Greendale for one last summer before she departs for good. She's fully intent on enjoying her stay in her hometown, even deciding to pick up a part-time job at her Aunt Hilda's cafe to save up some money. The only problem is that the boy in the bookstore across the way is one she's had some not-so-good history with and it's becoming increasingly harder to ignore him. Before long, she finds herself exploring the complexities of old high-school grudges and what-ifs, all while trying to sort out her present-day relationship with the boy she has long since deemed as non-existent.Meanwhile, Nicholas Scratch wonders if it would just be easier to remain non-existent. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 7/? - Last Update 3/04/2020

2. “When the Bones Are Good”*

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: Sabrina Spellman is enjoying her life as a normal teenager. Sabrina Morningstar is reigning Hell with an iron fist. Ambrose Spellman is searching for a solution to bring them back together and close the time loop, Sabrina's wishes be damned. And Nicholas Scratch? He's faced down his own demons and he's desperate for redemption.Except the clock is ticking.On time and Terrors. (Part 4 Fic) - Rated General - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 3/02/2020

3. “I knew you were trouble”

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90​

Summary: Sabrina didn’t know that being away from home for the first time could be so hard.Away from her aunts, friends and her-lifelong-boyfriend, Sabrina have to deal with the nostalgia but also with the new challenges College's life mean: get used to share a room with a not-so-nice roommate, put up with long hours of study and very few of sleep, learn to live from pre-cooked meals instead of her aunt Hilda’s homemade ones, find balance between her studies and her new social life… And resist the temptation a certain Nicholas Scratch mean for her. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 14/? - Last Update 2/22/2020

4. “I Need to Know”*

Author: raeinthedark

Summary: Love isn't that easy to erase... and that song is on again. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 2/29/2020

5. “Cruel Summer”*

Author: thoughtsaboutshows @thoughtsaboutshows​

Summary: A mix between AU and Cannon, where the young members of the Church of Night also attend Baxter High. The young witches and warlocks then go to the Unseen Arts Summer Camp to bolster their gifts. However Sabrina, being half mortal, only began attending after her Dark Baptism. To the mortals of Greendale, Unseen Arts Camp was for the wealthy. An elite sector of the Baxter High youth that attended a camp deep in the Greendale Wood far upstream of Sweetwater River. Many had tried to find and break in, but none have succeeded. To the mortals, the divide between the camp attendees and the not was of money and status. When in fact, the difference lay with light vs. night.Set between two timelines- the present and the summer, Sabrina attends camp for the first time and grows closer to Nick only for them to be torn apart as school starts. Rated Mature - Chapters 4/? - Last Update 2/27/2020

6. “The Institute for Divine Craft”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch​

Summary: After a humiliating spat with Father Blackwood pushes Sabrina away from her witching life and the Academy, Madam Satan crafts an alternative solution to move Sabrina Spellman further down the path of night. Ultimately leading her to the Institute for the Divine Craft. A handsome Headmaster with mysterious ties to her father, convinces Sabrina to abandon her mortal life, and cultivate her abilities as a child of the Church of Lucifer. AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 18/? - Last Update 2/27/2020

7. “My Lover of Blood and Milk”*

Author: Unseemingowl aka @unseemingowl​

Summary: It didn’t feel as though it had only been a few hours since she had made her way to the Greendale woods for Lupercalia. As she sat there, shivering in her muddied and bloodied silk slip, it felt as if a completely different person had made her way back out of the forest...... Or how Sabrina struggles with lust and trust after her disastrous Lupercalian night with Nick. Rated Mature - Chapters 2/4 - Last Update 2/26/2020

8. “Off The Record - One Shots”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: Missing scenes from completed piece, 'Off The Record.'AU/AH - Not Rated - Chapters 4/? - Last Update 2/23/2020

9. “I hurt myself today” 

Author: ssteelatoms

Summary: After everything he's endured, Nick Scratch decides he can't hold on any longer. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 2/23/2020

10. “Be True To Your School”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch​

Summary: Nicholas Scratch is the Golden Boy™ of Baxter High; star athlete, top of his class academically, and devastatingly handsome. Sabrina Spellman sees Sophomore year as an opportunity to expand her horizons; joining the cheerleading squad, running for student council, and making new friends along the way while working to maintain her relationships with her old friends. What Sabrina Spellman doesn't know: sophomore year is about to turn her world upside-down. Rated T - Chapters 6/? - Last Update 2/23/2020

11. “Ocean”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: AU, M-Rated. Nicholas Scratch has everything working in his favor. He's got a decent job as a history teacher, his roommate Melvin is always up for video games and getting high, and Sabrina Spellman lets him mess up her sheets frequently. Sabrina knows Nick isn't good for her, but she can't stay away, no matter how hard it is to pretend she's completely okay with their casual arrangement. But when life takes an unexpected curve, Nick is forced to face a new normal he doesn't know how to navigate. And Sabrina may or may not be there to help him through it. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 27/27 - COMPLETED 2/10/2020

12. “I’ll be there”*

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90​

Summary: She couldn’t stop looking at him, since she had recovered him from the claws of the Dark Lord, she felt unable to be apart from him and had to admit that part of her was afraid he would disappear if she moved from his side. And Sabrina wouldn't let anyone or anything separate him from her again. Never. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 1/30/2020

13. “Walk away”*

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90​

Summary: Pain. Could he someday escape the pain? He sometimes thought it impossible. It was strange, his relationship with the pain, it was an enemy and a friend. The pain numbed him. The pain didn’t let him sleep. The pain hurt him and soothed him. It was unhealthy, the way the pain helped him relieve the pain. But it was the only thing he had left. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 1/27/2020

14. “To Hell and Back”*

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: Sabrina was successful in her efforts to retrieve Nick from Hell, but the damage - physical and emotional - is deep. Sometimes, the only way to heal is to go your separate ways and trust things will work themselves out in the end. (Written before Part 3 - an alternate take on how Nick recovers from his time in Hell - with and without Sabrina). Rated Mature - Chapters 3/3 - Last Update 1/26/2020

15. “The Morning(star) After”*

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch​

Summary: A Painful NickxSabrina Reunion Rated T - Chapters 1/3 - Last Update 1/24/2020

16. “My only love sprung from my only hate”

Author: filmharlot

Summary: High School AU where Nick is based on the version of him that Sabrina creates in her dream during the Batibat episode. Harvey and Sabrina have broken up and don't want to work together on the Romeo and Juliet assignment in Drama class, so she ends up being partners with Nick AU - Not Rated - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 1/19/2020

17. ”Ground Beneath Her Feet”

Author: mindlesshappy aka @feministstree​

Summary: Sabrina is born out of a miracle - one that she wishes would repeat for her, but when she is destined for someone else, how much can she resist before her heart decides to give in. Alternatively, Nick is Sabrina's soulmate, but she really just wants Harvey to be it. Also, in the backseat are all the other possible ships, getting their own soulmate glories. Rated T - Chapters 17/? - Last Update 1/17/2020

18. “A very witchy Christmas”*

Author: Miss_Kath90 aka @misskath90​

Summary: Just a bit of silly Christmas fluff that I couldn’t help but write, placed in the series universe after a huge jump in time. Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 12/25/2019

19. “Mortal Little Christmas”*

Author: HeartsInJeopardy 

Summary: ‘Twas the night before Christmas – and the first for Nick Scratch - but Sabrina’s holiday movie was not a good match. Rated T - Chapters 2/2 - Last Update 12/21/2019

20. “Lessons in the Unseen”

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys​

Summary: Academy Teachers AU. Sabrina Spellman lives as simple a life as a half-mortal half-witch can. Despite her dislike for the headmaster, she enjoys spending her time teaching Ritual Magic at the Academy of Unseen Arts, hoping to positively shape the minds of young witches and warlocks. However, with the sudden dreadful announcement of her aunt Zelda's engagement and the appearance of one mysterious - and strikingly handsome - Nicholas Scratch, Sabrina finds that her life is not so simple anymore. Or all that safe. AU - Rated Mature - Chapters 32/32 - COMPLETED 12/17/2019

21. “Just a Little Obsessed”*

Author: eyerys

Summary: Nicholas has developed a tinie-tiny crush on Sabrina. Nothing like major or whatever. It's not like he thinks about her all the time or daydreams about what it would be like to be with her or how cool she is. No, not at all.Sabrina doesn't have a crush on Nick. No, not at all. Uh-uh. She has Harvey. Sweet and loving Harvey Kinkle. But for some reason, she can't help but find her mind wandering. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 12/13/2019

22. “As The Moon Rises”*

Author: venzaren

Summary: Sabrina Spellman is tired.Tired of living a double life. Tired of facing discrimination at the hands of her pack. Tired of dealing with her status as an Omega. And most of all, she's tired of people hounding her about finding her mate.Then Nick Scratch returns to Greendale. AU - Rated General - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 12/07/2019

23. “Thirteen Memories”

Author: tempestbreak

Summary: (Set at the end of Season 2) Sabrina and her friends go to Hell and rescue Nick -- but what happens when that's the easy part?It turns out, having the Dark Lord inside your mind for months can do some damage, and Nick comes back different. His memories of the events leading up to his sacrifice, including his relationship with Sabrina, are gone. How can Sabrina help him regain his memories of their time together when she's not even sure she trusts her own? Rated Mature - Chapters 6/? - Last Update 11/02/2019

24. “But The Greatest Is Love”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: The acheron captured Lucifer Morningstar, but their problems are far from over. The coven is decimated, the Church of Night is no more, Father Blackwood is on the run, and Nick and Sabrina's relationship is in ruins. How do they pick up the pieces and move on? There are more questions than answers and the consequences could be of biblical proportions. Rated Mature - Chapters 25/25 - COMPLETED 10/28/2019

25. “Back to You”

Author: nadiaselite

Summary: Sabrina brings Nick back from hell. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 10/11/2019

26. “The Open Road”

Author: paradiamond

Summary: Nick wants her back, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes. In fact, he insists on it. Rated T - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/22/2019

27. “The words “I love you” aren’t enough”*

Author: Miss_Kath90

Summary: “Look at me, Nick” he was reluctant but when he finally looked up she took his face in her hands making him unable to look away “What you did that day… Nick, you sacrificed yourself for my sake, even when I mistreated you and told you all those horrible things. You did it for me, because you love me… Don’t you see? You’re incapable of being evil.”Or... Sabrina gets her boyfriend back but things don’t go as smoothly as she thinks they will. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/22/2019

28. “Mission: Let’s get my boyfriend back”

Author: My_Evak_Heart

Summary: Sabrina and the Fright Club ventures on their first mission: getting Nick back from Hell Not Rated - Chapters 1/1 - Last Update 9/7/2019

29. “Jealousy is a killer”

Author: Melissa1226

Summary: Will Sabrina and Nick Start something new? and who is watching them from the shadow full of jealousy? Rated Mature - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 8/28/2019

30. “The Jock”

Author: mikaila_ealum

Summary: An Alternate Universe where Nicholas Scratch is Baxter High’s quarterback along with one of the most popular boys at school. With few knowing the truth, Scratch is living a double life as a warlock at the Academy of Unseen Arts. Sabrina takes a hiatus from the Academy to get more in touch with her mortal side. When Sabrina gets back she becomes partners with Nicholas for a project in theatre class. AU - Chapters 8/? - Last Update 8/07/2019

31. “act 5, scene 2 (thou and i are too wise to woo peaceably)”

Author: ghostemo aka @wickedscratch​

Summary: When Sabrina Spellman rose to a challenge issued by Prudence Night, she never imagined she’d actually make the varsity cheer squad - or that doing so would upend life as she knew it. Now she has to navigate her new role within the social hierarchy of hell -er Baxter High as well as trying to get her boyfriend to actually communicate. It certainly doesn’t help that she’s been paired up with the annoyingly handsome Nicholas Scratch, captain of Greendale’s beloved football team, for a project in her theater class. It’s exactly as, if not more so, cliche as it sounds. AU/AH - Rated T - Chapters 3/? - 7/25/2019

32. “Off the Record”

Author: sarahkwut

Summary: AU. Detective Nicholas Scratch left New York for Greendale in desperate need of a change of scenery. The small town takes some getting used to, but local reporter Sabrina Spellman quickly grabs his attention. It's the fresh start he needed until Greendale's residents start turning up dead. With a murderer on the loose, no one is innocent - and anyone might be next. AU/AH - Rated Mature - Chapters 29/29 - COMPLETED 7/22/2019

33. “Bring You Close To Me”

Author: BridgetMcKennitt

Summary: Sabrina and her friends managed to bring Nicholas back from Hell. There was a lot the two of them needed to discuss, but tonight, they had this. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 7/13/2019

34. “A Brief Moment”

Author: bunivy aka @bunivys​

Summary: Ever since he's returned from Hell, Nicholas Scratch has been having nightmares. With help from Aunt Hilda, Sabrina unknowingly shows him a light and for a moment, Nicholas knows everything will be okay. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 6/24/2019

35. “To Hell and Back”

Author: swtnerdgirl

Summary: A year has passed since Sabrina and her friends rescued Nick from Hell. No one came back the same. They all had their scars. Some emotionally. Some physically. In the days leading to Hilda's wedding, they all prepare for their lives to change and heal their wounds. Rated Mature - Chapters 16/? - Last Update 6/06/2019

36. “Dead Witch Walking”

Author: rayo aka @its-nabrina-bitch​

Summary: Faced with the possibility of being harrowed to death by her classmates, Sabrina finds an escape. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/26/2019

37. “Moonlight Beneath Rough Lips”

Author: ivylikeveins

Summary: After the encounter with the thirteen witches of Greendale, Sabrina enters the dining hall with moonlight locks bathed in soft blue hues, and Nick does not know what to do. He ends up with a soft and small Sabrina pressed into his chest, sleeping, and wrapped around his very much over-sized jacket with Nick's lips pressed into the soft, pearly strands he wants his soul to get entangled within. Rated Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/19/2019

38. “The Hunt”

Author: OnlyInAutumn

Summary: Nick howled into the night, up at the stars to signify that he was ready on the eve of Lupercalia, the darkness of midnight around them. The first sound of the horn sent them into the forest. The hunt had begun. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 5/11/2019

39. “Secrets, Secrets are no Fun”

Author: filmharlot

Summary: Sabrina is the new kid for the first time in her life. Choosing to go to the Academy full-time seems to be a hard transition than she was expecting. With the Weird Sisters harassment at an all-time high, dealing with leaving her mortal friend's and condescending teachers, Sabrina is suffering. She's not even allowed to have Salem for comfort. It's not all bad though. She is finally free to do magic whenever she wants, and there's a charming warlock who is being particularly nice to her. Plus, someone is leaving kind gifts on her bed at the end of the night. She just wishes she knew who it was. Not Rated - Chapters 1/? - Last Update 5/06/2019

40. “Unsettled Nighttime Creatures”

Author: mindlesshappy

Summary: We all know Sabrina is going to save Nick. This is how Nick reacts to being saved - which, spoilers alert - is like a very stupid warlock. Rated T - Chapters 5/5 - Completed 4/25/2019

41. “Selfless”

Author: sarahwut

Summary: Sabrina Spellman dragged Nicholas Scratch back from Hell. But Hell might be better than a world in which they aren't together. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Completed 4/23/2019

42. “Homecoming”

Author: cherrystems

Summary: After several months Sabrina is able to get Nick back from Hell with the help of her family and friends. However, Nick has to adjust to Earth again while dealing with PTSD and anxiety. This tells the story of the growth of Sabrina and Nick's relationship over the recovery time. Not Rated - Chapters 3/? - Last Update 4/20/2019

43. “Under Your Spell”

Author: londonmarie

Summary: Sabrina doesn't hesitate to have her Dark Baptism and things go differently. Rated T - Chapters 10/? - Last Update 4/18/2019

44. “Photographs”

Author: Greyowl9831

Summary: It's been at least 150 years since Sabrina signed her name in the Book of the Beast. One day she finds an old photo album. Will the memories it contains be a great walk down memory lane or will it be more than she can bare? Not Rated - Chapters 4/? - Last Update 4/14/2019

45. “An itch That Needed Scratching”

Author: umbrellacorp

Summary: What if Nick slayed his familiar and Sabrina and Nick got to experience the last night of the Lupercalia festival alone. Tonight, Sabrina would be transformed. Nick was going to show her power that she never knew she had, an innate carnal power. They were about to become the most powerful union of the Church of Night. Rated E Mature - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 4/13/2019

46. “and I keep waiting (but I won’t say I’m waiting)”

Author: lost_n_stereo @lost-n-stereo​

Summary: You would think that it would hurt less as the days go by, since it’s been nearly two years since Nick sacrificed himself for the greater good and Lilith took him to hell. Except, he didn’t sacrifice himself for the greater good, he sacrificed himself for her. And that makes it a hell of a lot tougher to let go. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 4/10/2019

47. “The Four Pictures”

Author: Copper_16

Summary: It’s been 10 years. Nick and Sabrina are teachers at the Academy along with some familiar faces. It’s been a decade there can’t be that much chaos anymore, right? Wrong. Rated T - Chapters 3/? - Last Update 4/09/2019

48. “Fire”

Author: OnlyInAutumn

Summary: Their power—together—was overwhelming. It was something that she had not felt either, the consuming feeling of expanding power. It was entirely addicting. Rated Mature - Chapters 2/2 - Completed 3/24/2019

49. “something I can believe”

Author: Anry

Summary: Missing scene after Sabrina's baptism. I wouldn't say that it's really a relationship here, just conversation. Rated General - Chapters 1/1 - One Shot - Last Update 1/25/2019

AND THERE YOU GO AGAIN!!!

Everyone again please make sure to leave love through the comments and giving kudos to all these amazing writers who have worked so hard on delivering these stories. Some who have newly popped up with amazing fics during the Part 4 Hiatus. Because of course without them this wait for Part 4 would be so much harder....now especially since the cast has officially wrapped Part 4 Filming.

But seriously these writers work hard on these stories and truly deserve the encouragement and love for their hard work with these amazing stories. Giving a simple “Love the chapter, can’t wait for more” will keep them going. So make sure to show your love by leaving comments our sharing their stories with other Nabrina Shippers or just CAOS fans.

If anyone has any other suggestions for the list feel free to message me :).

ANYWAYS ENJOY!!!! LET THE PART 4 WAIT BEGIN

#Nabrina #Sabrina Spellman #Nick Scratch #CAOS #chilling adventures of sabrina

[divineluce]

Beers Over Fears || Celeste & Luce

Location: The woods outside of White Crest

Timing: May 18th, 2020

Tagging: @celestelavie

Description: Celeste and Luce meet up for beers and a break from their responsibilities.

It’d been entirely too long since Celeste had been on a date and she was absolutely kicking herself in this very moment for leaving her best blouse behind when they ransacked the house. The shade of red would have been perfect for a hot date and Luce was undeniably a very hot date. She supposed she’d end up putting her leather jacket over whatever blouse she’d chosen anyway so she opted for a pale blue that accented her eyes nicely. Not that one would be able to tell as much under a night sky, but it did add a little confidence boost which never hurt. As she approached where she was meeting Luce, she felt herself begin to relax a bit. A night completely devoid of werewolf and hunter talk would be a welcome change. The sky was perfectly clear, too, which set a nice mood. She waved and smiled as she saw Luce approach. “Hey,” she greeted, looking the other woman over, “You look great… which I’m sure you knew already, but still.” Smooth. 

Parking her car in the lot not far from where they planned on meeting up, Luce grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and hopped out. She slung her bag over her shoulder, the bottles of beer rattling against the small picnic blanket she’d shoved along with it. Walking out into the woods, Luce grinned as she saw Celeste. Her Al’s uniform had done her absolutely 0 favors, but this look? Luce could get behind it. Or rather, she smiled inwardly, under it. “What can I say, I’m a snack.” She joked, doing a spin with no small amount of bravado. Dark tank top to show off her arms, tight jeans to highlight her legs, and a red and black flannel tied around her waist to emphasize her curves?  She knew she looked damn good and wasn’t afraid to show it. “You look gorgeous. Your top goes really well with your eyes.” She said, gaze lingering on the curves of the woman’s body for a moment before smiling. “Now, how about those beers?” She said, holding up her backpack.

There was something appealing about the way Luce carried herself. She certainly didn’t lack for confidence though it was entirely warranted. She was beautiful and talented, it’d be crazy for her to be anything but confident in herself. Celeste still found it to be a refreshing trait. “Indeed you are,” she said with a smirk, looking her over as she twirled. Her eyes lingered on her hips momentarily before meeting her eyes again. “Thanks. Couldn't let you be the only one here looking like a snack tonight," she laughed lightly, her cheeks slightly flushed from the compliment. With a nod, she answered, "A beer sounds perfect right about now, lead the way." She followed closely by Luce though, keeping an ear out for anything shifty. As much as she loved the woods, she had little trust in White Crest not trying to throw a creature shaped wrench in her evening plans. As they settled into a spot with the picnic blanket, she asked, “This is a beautiful spot, nice clear sky tonight, too. Do you come out here a lot?" 

“You know it, babe.” Luce said with a wink and a smile at the other woman. Watching the way Celeste’s cheeks darkened, she let out a laugh. Not at her actions, just the words. “Well, you certainly delivered on that.” She said, giving an approving nod at the woman. As they walked through the woods, Luce led the way up the slight hill, where the forest receded and gave way to a nice view of White Crest. Spreading out the picnic blanket, Luce set the beer down on the edge of the blanket and cracked open one of the bottles. “Here you go.” She said, holding it out before opening one for herself. “It’s a great hidden gem, for sure. One of the perks of living here my whole life, I know all the best spots.” She said, taking a sip. “Not too often, I reserve spots like this for when I’ve got company.”

“Cheers to that,” Celeste said as she clinked her beer bottle to Luce’s. There was a smirk on her face before she took a sip of her beer. This really was the perfect setting to relax and actually enjoy Luce’s company in. She looked Luce over momentarily, clearly pleased with the sight in front of her. She was lively, that was for sure, and the way the moonlight hit her hair looked like something out of a painting. “Well, I’m glad I got to accompany you then. I’m getting all the best views in town.” She was feeling a bit more relaxed and scooted a bit closer to Luce on the blanket, taking a moment to look out at the town. As dead set as Ariana was on calling this place, she had to imagine growing up here to be pretty wild. It seemed doubtful that Luce could live her whole life, work with Ulfric, and be completely clueless to the town’s true nature. “So growing up in White Crest,” she mused, “What was that like? Were there always so many mimes?” 

“Indeed you are,” Luce agreed, very much a fan of their little back and forth. Not that her ego particularly needed it, but it was still gratifying all the same. “Then again, I could say the same. I’ve got a pretty great view myself.” She said, leaning back on her elbows to take in the night sky and the lights of the town along with how Celeste was silhouetted in the foreground. It’d make a great painting, if she had her supplies with her. Taking a long sip from her beer, Luce thought about the question. What was it like, growing up in White Crest? How could she frame it in a way that didn’t reveal much about the fact she grew up in a family of magic, knowing that the world was never “normal?” She tapped her fingers on the bottle as she mulled it over before replying, “Your typical small town experience-- everyone knows everyone, high school drama boiling down to the cheerleaders and the football team with no one giving a fuck about anything else.” At the comment about mimes, Luce made a face, “Don’t even get me started on those stripey fucks. I hate those guys.”

This was decidedly one of the best nights Celeste had in awhile. Their easy conversation and the view of the sky over the town made it easy to forget the sense of impending doom that always seemed to try and fight its way to the surface these days. She looked to Luce and smiled, “Seems like a win-win.” Celeste watched her as she explained life growing up in White Crest. It all seemed so fairly simple for crazy the town had been since she’d arrived. Either she was none the wiser or was smart enough to not talk about vampires and werewolves on a first date. It was hard to say which was better, but it mattered little anyway. Right now, they could enjoy themselves without worrying about all of that. It almost reminded her of her own hometown, not that she’d been back in the last 15 years. She took a quick swig from the bottle and mused, “I grew up in a small town, too, it has its charms. I miss it sometimes.” Not that she could visit, but it was nice in theory. She laughed at her reaction to the mimes, giving her a nudge, “What? The stripes don’t do it for you?” Her voice took a more serious tone, “Probably for the better. I’m not a big fan either. I had to fight a mime that looked just like me a few weeks back. Bitch stabbed me. Definitely not a fan.” 

Luce kept her eyes trained on Celeste’s face and, while her gaze occasionally dipped to her lips and lower, she did keep her focus on the words. She was a good listener, she had to be-- it was part of her job. “Oh? You from around the Northeast or somewhere else?” She asked, genuinely curious. “What do you miss most about where you grew up?” Luce asked, taking another swig of beer. Playing with fringe of the blanket, she wound a strand of material around her fingers before absently braiding three of them together. “Ugh, fucking mimes. If I never saw one again, it’d be too soon.” Luce groaned, casting the braided bit of blanket aside. Raising an eyebrow at the woman, she tilted her head. “You fought a mime? You got stabbed?” She asked, intrigued. Celeste didn’t look like the type to go around fighting things, or betting stabbed by them. “Are you okay, now?”

Celeste found she liked the way Luce looked at her and couldn’t take her own eyes off Luce. It was hard to ignore how soft her lips looked and she supposed there wasn’t a reason to. This was a date, after all. “Tennessee, actually. Small mountain town called Seven Devils.” She pondered the question a moment before answering, “That’s a tough one. It’s been so long since I’ve been back, but I do miss the little hole in the wall country kitchens. They always had the best food.” She leaned back a bit to level herself with Luce, resting on her own arms, beer still in her right hand. She tried to shrug it off. “I could go my whole life without seeing another mime and I’d be happy. And yeah, I’m okay now. I’m tougher than I look.” She figured she could gloss over the part where she killed her own mime clone and had to stitch herself up. She turned on her side, leaning on one arm to look at Luce as she mused, “So, I know you’re a gorgeous artist who works for Ulf, but what do you do when you’re not absolutely charming the ladies who come into the shop?: 

“Tennessee. That’s pretty cool.” Luce nodded, a bit intrigued at the idea of having lived somewhere outside of White Crest. She’d been in Maine her whole life-- or at least, for as long as she could remember, Las Vegas hardly counted. Aside from a view travelling out for tattoo expos and visiting other shops, Luce had never really been out of the state for anything. “Makes sense. Gotta love some good old fashioned home cooking.” She replied. That said, she couldn’t relate with the Southern cooking that Celeste probably liked. Being raised in a Turkish home meant that comfort foods were gözleme and lamb mantı, but same difference. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’d hate to see a pretty face like yours in pain.” As Celeste lay back on the picnic blanket, staring up at her, Luce grinned in response. “Oh, you know, a bit of this, bit of that.” She shrugged, “But, I’m a little more interested in cashing in those good ideas you owe me.” Luce said, before leaning forward to close the distance between them, pressing her lips against the other woman’s.

Though Celeste wasn’t sure she’d call it home cooking, it was a small thing she’d miss. There were some friends too, but it’d been so long that she wasn’t even sure they’d even share much in common anymore. Food was a simple answer. “Exactly, haven’t found a place here that gets biscuits and gravy just right yet.” She smiled at the mention of having a pretty face. She knew as much, but it was still nice to hear every once and awhile. “Thanks, I like to think my tough fighting back face still has its charms at least.” She had a slight smirk on her face as she spoke. It was almost amusing how quickly Luce could divert the conversation away from herself. She wasn’t complaining. They didn’t need to get to know everything about each other. She was hardly looking for a relationship in the midst of the shit show that her life was currently. Still, Luce was a fascinating woman and she wouldn’t have hated learning more about her.  “Very insightful,” Celeste had retorted with a laugh before welcoming the feeling of Luce’s lips on hers. It was easy to let the rest of the world slip away from her thoughts as she leaned in closer. How soft Luce's lips felt on her own and the tickle of the other woman's hair against her arms only made her want more. Instinct kicked in and a hand ran through Luce's hair which was also insanely silky. Was there anything about her that wasn't just inherently hot? As she pulled away for a breath, she whispered, "Have any other good ideas? I think I like owing you." 

“Mhm, I’m full of insight.” Conversation wasn’t the reason why Luce was out here and a part of her was relieved that Celeste wasn’t pulling away and trying to get her to talk. She’d had to deal with way too many girls who didn’t seem to get that she wasn’t interested in talk-- or relationships-- than she’d wanted to. Not that there was anything wrong with relationships. She just didn’t want one right now, that was it. At least, that’s what she’d always told herself. All thoughts went out of her head as the woman ran her hand through her hair and a grin played against her lips. A fantasy played through her mind, one of Celeste yanking her head back, biting her neck before-- Mhm. When the other woman pulled away and mentioned good ideas, Luce couldn’t help but smirk at her. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of good ideas.” She said, leaning back in to kiss Celeste once more before moving her lips to brush against her ear, voice low and full of desire, “One I’ve got right now is you and me, heading back to my place. And then,” Resting her hand on the woman’s hip, she pulled back to gaze intently at Celeste. “We can see where the night takes us, hm?” 

For a moment, Celeste found it easy to focus on only the present. There was something freeing about it. Being able to just focus on the way Luce’s hair felt in her hand or the feeling of her breath on her ear. It was intoxicating and more than anything, she wanted to forget about everything else, but at the mention of going to Luce’s home, reality came crashing back. This had been a bad idea. Why did she think she could have a normal night in the midst of all that was going on? She knew the bounty was picked up and she couldn’t risk someone finding her at Luce’s. Putting someone else in danger was the last thing she needed to do right now and she frowned slightly at Luce, not quite pulling away. “Trust me when I say I want to, but I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” There was no good way to explain why without sounding paranoid, crazy, or both so she looked down momentarily. “It’s definitely not you, I mean, look at you,” she gestured at Luce, who did indeed look like something out of a fantasy, “I’m sorry.” Weak finish, but she should have known better. 

When Celeste pulled away, Luce didn’t protest. As much as she would have enjoyed a night of what would have been undoubtedly hot sex, she wasn’t that disappointed. She could just as easily call up one of the women on her phone for a booty call or hit up one of the bars in town to see if anyone was interested in going home with her. But, honestly, just hanging out with Celeste was nice in its own way. With a quiet laugh at the woman’s hurried reassurances that it wasn’t her, Luce waved a hand. “It’s whatever, don’t worry.” That said, a slight frown crossed her face. “It’s not because I live with my sisters, is it? Because… they have no room to complain.” She said with a slight scowl. The number of times she’d walked into the kitchen to see Dario standing there, waiting for Bea to make breakfast, was incredibly fucking annoying. “But yeah, don’t worry about it. Besides,” She said with a smirk, “We can still hang out here.”

Celeste had to admit Luce was being pretty cool about the whole thing. She had undeniably been giving her the green light before and put on the brakes out of seemingly nowhere. Somehow the prospect of her being mixed up in the current danger Celeste was facing didn't seem like a reality until she mentioned her home. It had been foolish, but Luce seemed like a good woman that she wanted her parents to stay far away from. Really, she wished they'd stay the hell away from White Crest altogether, but she'd have to deal with them eventually. Maybe Luce couldn't know about all of that, but she was being understanding enough with the very minimal reasoning provided. She relaxed a little bit, leaning back watching her as she asked if it was about living with her sisters. Her head shook slightly and her brow line scrunched up a bit as she began connecting the dots. "Sisters," she asked, "Wait... Are you Bea and Nell's sister?" She watched waiting for an answer before adding, "Thanks for... well, understanding."

At Celeste’s questioning tone, Luce felt the back of her neck heat bright red in a rare moment of embarrassment. She hadn’t even known that she was related to them. Well fuck. She hadn’t meant to out herself as living with them, or the fact that her sisters were Bea and Nell. But… Fuck, fuck, fuck. Cat was out of the bag now, and it was all her own doing. With a slightly pained sigh, Luce nodded. “Yeah. That’s them.” She said, doing her best to keep her tone neutral. But, it was impossible to keep the faint traces of bitterness entirely from her voice. She hated it when people referred to her as Bea’s younger sister, as Nell’s older sister. Or worse. Nisa’s middle daughter. Ugh. Lifting her beer to her lips, she took a drink, grateful for the distraction. “Of course. I’m not some pushy fratbro, if you say you’re not into it, you’re not into.” She nodded.

It seemed that her sisters may have been an off topic, but Celeste wasn’t quite sure why. She didn’t want to push it. There was the sinking feeling of realizing Luce probably already knew about her. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it begged the question of why was she here with her to begin with. Though that meant she must also have magic at her disposal and could probably fend for herself. She mulled it over and looked at Luce thoughtfully, “I’m not sure why I didn’t realize that. I’ve technically already been over then.” She realized how bad that sounded the moment she said it, “Wait, not like that. They were helping with some protective things.” That didn’t give too much away. If she knew, she knew. If she didn’t, she probably had a million questions. She could feel the sweat building up in her palms and her heart thumping heavier in her chest. With another sip of beer for good measure, she looked back to Luce, “Thank god, I hate frat boys.”  

“You were at Bea’s house?” Luce echoed, confusion mingling with a slight tinge of ‘oh fuck’ in her voice. She’d checked their group chat before coming out here and it wasn’t as though Celeste was a super common name. Plus, after the debacle where she and Bea thought they’d slept with the same person last year, they’d made a point of adding last names to the list. And, after the Jennifer/Jenn/Jenny debacle, they made it law that they had to add last names. But, when Celeste quickly clarified, the tension eased. “Huh. Okay.” Hang on-- they’d been working on protective things? Celeste knew Ulf, had been looking for him when she’d stopped by with lunch. Was she one of the people he was helping? Rather than dwell on that revelation, Luce began to draw shapes on the folds of the picnic blanket. “For sure, for sure. Frat boys are fucking annoying. Take it from someone who works with them on a nearly weekly basis.” She said with a grin. 

While she didn’t push it, Celeste had the feeling Luce would eventually find out. Her sisters and her boss both knew about her situation. It felt inevitable Luce would eventually find out, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain when it was the last thing she wanted to think about it. More than anything, she wanted the whole situation to just disappear, but there was only one way that would happen. She tried to push the thoughts away. They brought a certain queasiness to her stomach that needed to subside. She took another gulp of beer, hoping it’d help her relax again. She focused on Luce, hands making shapes in the blanket still looking like a dream under the sparkle of the night sky. She masked her sigh with a small laugh, “I’m sure you’ve heard some especially heinous things from them. At least you get to poke them with a needle over and over when they’re being gross. I get the joy of bringing them extra ranch.” She raised her bottle and toasted, “Here’s to hoping for minimal frat boys in our future.” 

#p: bof #p: celeste bennett #wickedswriting