#I also think light shoulda won

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

I Know What You’re Thinking, You’re On My Mind (You’re Right)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel are in love and these are different moments in the span of their relationship.

Warning(s): Just a lot of fluffy goodness....okay some angst (it’s me lol) but mostly fluff

Word count: 2,526

AN: This is kind of a songfic, but also not really? I think of it as a bunch of drabbles loosely connected by random parts of a song. Song title and inspo from Come Close by Common ft. Mary J. Blige. The sweetest little fic I’ve ever written. Fat Black girls deserve to be loved loudly. This is for us. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

Smile, happiness, you could model it And when you feel opposite I just want you to know Your whole, being is beautiful I'ma do the best I can do Cause I'm my best when I'm with you

The sound of a domino being slammed on the table caused several other park goers to turn their heads and see a striking woman jumping out of her seat.

“That’s domino bitches! Y’all really thought you could beat me in dominoes? Shoulda checked my credentials mofos!” Y/N shouted, a huge smile on her face as she talked shit.

The guys around the table all groaned and huffed as she celebrated her win. Coco swore up and down that he would be the winner and Gilly was just as sure that he would be the one. EZ just wanted to play and Angel kept his mouth shut knowing his girl had been playing dominoes with her father and uncles practically all her life.

“Whatever, Y/N. You not seeing me in poker.” Coco grumbled, though he was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was impressed.

“Well this aint poker is it? Run me my money.” She replied, rubbing her fingers together before holding out her hand.

The men all pulled out their wallets and placed the correct amount of money into Y/N’s hands. She grinned as she fanned herself with the money before draping her body across the smirking Angel’s lap.

“Oh hey there sexy. If you’re nice I might buy you something with this considerable fortune I just won.” Y/N winked.

“You my sugar mama now?” Angel teasingly asked.

“I do taste sweet so I think I fit the description.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, before leaning down to kiss Y/N’s lips.

Santo Padre’s mayor, Antonia Pena, had put together a community fair to help raise money for the town and uplift spirits. It was also a great way for local businesses to showcase what they have to offer. Services and items were put into a raffle that everyone who attended the event got entered into. Y/N even managed to convince Felipe to have a little booth to show off his fine cuts of meat and how they could best be used in meals.

Angel was so in awe of her. She managed to pull even his grumpy ass father out of the house and she was constantly a source of light in his life. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he knew he never wanted to let her go. He loved her more than anything and he knew she felt the same about him. She never doubted him or made him feel inadequate. She understood even the ugly parts of him. Didn’t excuse or condone his behavior, but she understood it and always reassured him that she knew he could do better.

“Whatchu staring at?” She asked, after the kiss ended and he kept his intense gaze on her.

“My whole world.” He answered honestly and she felt herself get a little emotional.

“If you make me cry in public, I will hurt you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He replied, nipping at her shoulder and making her grin.

I know in the past, love Has been sort of hard on you But I see the God in you I just want to nurture it Though this love may hurt a bit

Neither of them had the best track record when it came to relationships. Angel had an awful habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. Impulsive isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he is. He runs on emotion a lot of the time. It frustrates Y/N to no end. She doesn’t operate like that. She rarely if ever acts on impulse. She thinks too much. Worries too much about how people will react to her and her actions. Her hesitance to engage in things before she’s run every possible scenario through her head makes Angel want to pull his hair out. He hates seeing her unsure of herself. He makes it his mission to help her just get lost in the moment sometimes. And she tries her hardest to slow him down and make him think more on things before he acts.

His lifestyle also guaranteed their love won’t always be sunshine and roses. The first time Angel got hurt Y/N thought she was going to pass out. The level of panic and fear she felt almost took her down. When she finally got to see him in the hospital bed, she burst into tears. Once he was healed, she tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. The one time Y/N was verbally and physically accosted in front of Angel, he almost shot someone right in front of her. The need to protect her almost overrode his need to keep her away from the more violent side of himself.

The silence was deafening. Neither one was ready to take the first step and speak. The whole ride back home, Y/N never said a word. Not when Angel was getting chewed out by Bishop or when several people practically gawked at her even as they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. She was silent as she went through her nightly routine and prepared for bed.

It was as she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slide under the covers that Angel finally snapped.

“You’re really not gonna fucking say anything?” He practically growled at her, glaring at her from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had on his usual sleepwear of a tank top and sweats.

She sighed, “What do you want me to say Angel?”

“Anything. Cuss me out, kiss me, or I don’t know, maybe thank me?” He suggested, sarcasm in his voice at the last part because he was clearly exasperated.

She cut her eyes at him fiercely. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”

“Yes.” He stubbornly confirmed.

She shot up from the bed and spun to face him full on. She had never been so mad at him. “Thank you Angel for causing a bigger scene. Thank you Angel for almost igniting a war between two gangs over one stupid joke. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way and almost giving me a heart attack. Thank you so much Angel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It wasn’t just a stupid joke. You think I care so little about you that I wouldn’t fuck someone up for you?”

“I’ve heard way worse..” She argued, so used to minimizing her pain. Her dismissal of the incident as something trivial made him even more pissed.

“I don’t give a damn what you heard. Aint nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me and think I’m just gonna let that shit slide.”

“You could have killed him.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.” He exploded, making her freeze and stare at him with her mouth slightly open. “You’re mine. I don’t know what kinda cowards you been dealing with before, but I don’t play that shit. There is no joking when it comes to you. Not from some hijo de puta who has the audacity to put his hands on you. He’s lucky the only thing I did was bust him in the head with my pistol.”

“Angel…..” She sighed, her eyes closing as she took in his words. She understood his point but was still uncomfortable with the methods.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He spoke only after she opened her eyes, “You can be mad. I already know you are, but I’m not apologizing for protecting you.”

She had to get used to being loved and protected so adamantly by someone. So often left to comfort herself and bury her hurt, it took her a while to accept Angel’s form of protection. A part of her kept her guard up waiting for him to turn it against her, but that day never came. Any violent outbursts he had in her presence were never directed at her and so she found herself trusting him whole-heartedly. Her love for him deepened as time moved forward.

You helped me to discover me I just want you to put trust in me

Y/N loved Pops and she enjoyed the family dinners with him and EZ, but she knew he was not the perfect father. He made mistakes and Angel still hasn’t completely dealt with the issues the mistakes left him with. Everything just got buried. She knew when he was starting to feel inadequate or like he didn’t deserve her because he would become even more clingy. He was already very affectionate with her, always having a hand on her back and kissing her head. She loved how open he was, but when he was going through it the touches would have a desperate edge to them. Like he was trying to prove something.

A new episode of Joseline’s Cabaret played on the tv showing off the Puerto Rican Princess’ latest antics. Y/N had on sweats and a tank top as she laid on your back and giggled at the fight on her screen. She doesn't know why she watches that show, but it was entertaining.

Her front door opened and in walked the man she’d been seeing for a year now.

“What did I tell you about leaving this door unlocked?”

“I knew you were coming over so why would I lock it?” She argued, tilting her head back to watch Angel toe off his shoes and take off his kutte.

“You’re so hard headed.” He slapped the outside of her thigh and leaned in for a kiss before lying in between her legs. His head rested on her stomach and her hands immediately began running through his hair. His hands ran over her thighs as he buried his face in her belly and just breathed her in.

“You walked right in so obviously I was right.” Her hands moved from his hair to slide down his back, feeling for any new bruises. “How was your day? Do I gotta kick someone’s ass for messing with my man?” She asked, a teasing tone to her words even though she was kinda being serious.

“I’m all good, mi dulce.” He responded, already knowing her touches were to comfort him but also give herself some peace of mind that he was with her and he was still whole.

It was quiet for a moment before Angel propped his chin on her belly and looked at her. She brought her attention from the television to him. There was a gentle look in his eyes, full of love but also a vulnerability that made her heart clench.

“You love me right?” He gripped her hips tightly as he searched her eyes for the truth in her words.

Her eyes widened at his question. “Of cour-”

He interrupted her. “Because I love you so damn much, querida. I know I’m not easy, but I try to be better for you.”

“Angel…” Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she softly smiled at him. “You are my favorite person in this whole world. You love me like no other and I’ll always love you. Never forget that. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips and felt his grip on her hips loosen.

The two shared loving kisses for several minutes before he pulled away and kissed her stomach before laying his head back down. His attention finally focused on the television. “What the fuck are you watching?”

She was unable to contain her giggles.

I kind of laugh when you cuss at me The aftermath is you touching me

“Oh, is that funny? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not at all gorgeous.” His words and his facial expression did not match.

“Then why are you smirking? I’m as serious as a heart attack. If you miss the ceremony where I’m awarded for my work, we’re gonna have some big problems Reyes.” She threatened, not letting that smirk get to her as it usually did. The club pulled him away a lot but some things she just needed him present for.

“Mmhm…how big?” He asked, still joking around.

“Angel!” She admonished, striking out to punch him in the stomach and making him grunt.

“You know I love when you scream my name. Sexy as fuck.” He growled, before playfully tackling her to the bed. She finally laughed as he kissed and nipped at her neck. He pulled back to look down in her eyes. “Hey, come hell or high water Imma be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The smile she flashed him was bright enough to light the darkest of nights.

I'm tired of the fast lane I want you to have my last name

Dabbing her eyes with a napkin, Y/N smiled as Angel and EZ shared a heartfelt hug after the best man speech. She knew EZ’s speech would be beautiful and she thanked him for his kind words.

“You’re my sister for real now.” He responded, making her wanna cry again but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before Angel pulled her into a side hug.

“First dance time.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

“How does it feel to be Y/N Reyes?” Angel asked, his eyes taking her in. She looked so magnificent in her wedding dress. He wanted to rip it off, but also he couldn’t take his eyes off how good she looked in it. If he shed some tears when she walked down that aisle, who could blame him?

“It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m so beyond honored to be Mrs. Angel Reyes.” She responded, her eyes filling with happy tears but she refused to let them fall. She just felt so overwhelmed with happiness. Even though he’d long gotten rid of the jacket, she loved that he actually wore a suit. He hardly ever wore one and it was a damn shame. He looked so delicious she couldn’t wait for them to get back home.

Y/N found herself really taking the moment in. Their family and friends watched them with huge smiles on their faces. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Angel for long as he held her in his arms, his hands always making her feel safe. This was her life and he was her future.

Her eyes twinkled as she asked him, “Ready for forever?”

Come close to me, baby (Yeah, love) Let your love hold you (Let me hold you tonight, babe) I know this world is crazy (It gets crazy, but I'll be right here) What's it without you? (We gon' make it, I love you, I love you, I love you)

#angel reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #black!reader #plus size reader #angel reyes x black!plus size!reader #hhgbyebruh fics #i know what you're thinking you're on my mind

[forasecondtherewedwon]

hey I loved what you wrote for sarahbucky! You are so talented. I was wondering if you are comfortable writing any NSFW content or smut related content for this pairing? If you are I would love you to write something, anything of the sort. If you're not comfortable that's absolutely fine!!

Chasing Water Pumps

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: E Word Count: 5288

Summary: After banishing Sam, Sarah gets Bucky's help reinstalling the boat's water pump.

The water pump sits there on the dock through the morning. It sits there at midday. In the late afternoon, Bucky laughs when Sam almost falls over it as he walks backwards, waving his hands to guide a reversing pickup truck into position. A neighbour bringing spare lumber so they can replace a few rotting boards on the Wilsons’ boat.

Bucky can see—has been able to see all day—that Sam’s itching to just fix the damn pump back into position. Sam’s conscientious, neat, completing one job before moving on to the next, replacing pliers in the toolbox after rewiring the radio, coiling up the cord of a borrowed drill so no one can trip over it. Leaving a hulking piece of machinery just sitting there is killing him. All because Sarah won’t let him touch it.

For Bucky, watching this claim-staking over an old water pump is hilarious. It’s also something he takes absolutely seriously, backing away from the thing the minute Sarah ordered the two of them to quit tinkering and just leave it alone. He’s got no issue ceding to her authority. Oh, he’ll argue with Sam about other parts of the project, but he’s not gonna push back against Sarah. He’s only here for a couple days and she already won his loyalty by letting him bunk on her couch last night. They might be repairing a boat, but Bucky’s not making any waves.

When the sun starts going down and the helpers from the community start heading home to their suppers, almost as many of them shake Bucky’s hand as Sam’s. Bucky feels really good about that. He likes that they’ve become comfortable with him—many of them slapping his Vibranium shoulder as they take his right hand, like it’s just an arm. He likes the lingering warmth of the day and how it’s dried the back of his shirt where he sweat through it. He likes squinting into the sun to watch the vehicles pull away and seeing Sarah standing there, smiling at him. Cupping a hand above his eyes, he smiles back.

“Alright,” Sam says, taking a big step to bring him from boat to land. “Let’s get this water pump back in place.”

Immediately, Sarah comes forward.

“Uh uh, no. That’s not your job.”

“This whole thing is my job,” her brother protests.

Bucky stands on the sidelines, content to witness Sam lose this argument. Getting to study the way the sinking, burning glow of the sun catches on Sarah’s earrings is the equivalent of being handed an ice cream. The breeze that blows her open button-down against her to show him the intimate dip of her waist is the cherry on top of that ice cream. His gaze trails unhurriedly back up to her face and he sees that she’s been watching him admire her. Normally, staring is his default expression, but now his heart hammers with giddy yearning as he holds her eye. She smiles fleetingly before looking back to Sam. Oh right, Sam’s talking. Bucky had kinda tuned him out.

“It won’t take long.”

“No it won’t,” Sarah agrees. “Not if I do it. You’ve messed around with that pump enough for one day.”

“Sarah, come on. Be practical,” Sam pleads. “You can’t do it by yourself.”

“I won’t do it by myself. Bucky here can do the heavy lifting.”

Ok, he’s surprised about that, but when she glances to him, he nods readily. He refuses to meet Sam’s side-eye. He’s sure the message is ‘You traitor.’ Ignoring him, Bucky beams at Sarah.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he tells her.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Sam demands. “Watch?”

“Since you asked,” Sarah informs him, “you’re supposed to go pick your nephews up from AJ’s friend Marco’s house. If they haven’t eaten yet, feed them.”

“But—”

Sam motions indignantly towards Bucky, but Sarah waves away his complaint.

“You asked what I need from you and I told you. Let us get on with what we’ve gotta do here. We’re losing daylight.”

“You heard her, Samuel,” Bucky says, striding to the pump.

The wrench he and Sam passed back and forth while unbolting it is in the top tray of the toolbox when he flips it open. Tucking the wrench into his back pocket, Bucky turns and heaves the pump off the ground. Sarah’s watching. He throws her a smile with a little upward jerk of his chin. She rolls her lips together like she’s hiding her own smile but stands firm until Sam gives up and stalks off across the boatyard.

“You think it’d be cruel to yell after him not to wait up?” Sarah asks Bucky nonchalantly, hand on her hip as the two of them observe her brother’s retreat.

Bucky almost drops the pump before hugging it to himself too tightly, stopping when he hears the metal creak. But he tries to be cool.

“Only if you mean it,” he says.

She spares him a glance that doesn’t tell him either way and walks past, stepping onto the boat.

“You got it?” she asks.

“Yep,” Bucky assures her, adjusting his grip and jumping down onto the deck. Coulda stepped. Wanted to show off. Story of his life since he met Sarah Wilson maybe 36 hours ago.

He follows her into the cabin and she digs through a box of supplies, grabbing a flashlight.

“Might need this soon.”

Her explanation’s unnecessary (the sky’s darkening above them) and Bucky can see the nervousness in it, how she self-consciously plays with the hem of her t-shirt and twists her earring now that they’re together in a semi-enclosed space.

“Unless that arm of yours glows in the dark,” she adds.

“Unfortunately not,” he says with a smile as they duck below deck. His feet clomp sturdily down the steps, but Sarah still looks up at him from the bottom like he might teeter. “You shoulda been there while they were deciding on the specs.”

Sarah laughs, navigating the protruding inner workings of the boat more smoothly than movie spies crossing rooms streaked with red lasers. (Stupidest fucking scenes Bucky’s ever seen.)

“That was in Wakanda, right?”

“Sam told you?”

“He did. I guess you’ve seen a lot. Been a lot of places,” Sarah amends.

For a minute, his throat’s thick. She corrected herself to make sure he knew she wasn’t being nosy about his past. He wouldn’t mind. It’d be fair of her to bring up any worries she had, what with the two of them being alone here. But then, maybe he doesn’t make her nervous in that way. She’s the one who asked him to stay. (Or just told him he was staying more than asked, really.)

“So has Sam,” Bucky points out.

“Yeah, but Sam has to come back here to avoid getting an earful over the phone. Why would you wanna be here? Right here,” she adds, motioning to the spot where the water pump sat until early this morning. Bucky was one of the people who removed it, plus there’s a clear silhouette where the side rests against the boat, inside of which shape the wood’s less weathered, but he’ll be as clueless as Sarah wants if it results in more of this—her hand on his back as she trades places with him to guide him in ahead of her.

“It’s nice here,” he says simply. “Like a holiday.”

The instant he says it, he wants to backtrack. None of this is a holiday for the Wilsons; in spite of the block party atmosphere of the community coming together to restore the boat, they’re doing all this to ensure their livelihood. A good future for Sarah and her boys. She shoots him a benevolent smile like she knows he knows he just put his foot in his mouth. He can only shake his head at himself and carry on.

Squatting, Bucky aligns the holes in the pump’s base with those in the plate it has to mount back onto. They’re a little rusty, but the old blue paint’s just flaking, no problems with the actual integrity of the metal.

“You always do volunteer manual labour on your holidays?” Sarah jokes, putting a hand on his shoulder as she maneuvers around him. She drops to a crouch at his side and directs the beam of the flashlight down onto the pump.

“I like to be busy. I sleep better that way.”

“Until your host’s kids wake you up.”

“Aw, that was no problem.”

“Wrench?” she asks.

“Back pocket.”

Bucky could pass it to her. He could take one hand off the pump, retrieve the wrench, and hold it out for Sarah to grab. Hell, he could take both hands off the pump. The thing’s just sitting here. But he’s selfish, trying to make it look like he has to keep the pump from shifting out of the position he’s put it in, because he wants to find out what Sarah wants. He hasn’t completely thought this through, but some part of him’s saying a good way to find out what Sarah wants is to see if she’ll take the wrench from his back pocket while he’s squatting, jeans hugging his ass.

She laughs softly, looking at the floor.

She slides the wrench out of his pocket.

Now, there’s no actual contact required there, but she has touched him a couple times, so when she asks, “Bolts?” he looks at her in the dim light—flashlight still tilted towards the floor—and tells her, “Front pocket.”

When Sarah elects to maintain the angle of the light by holding the end of the flashlight in her mouth, Bucky thinks she might be capable of cruelty after all; he feels his face go slack at the sight of her lips around a fucking plastic cylinder. The choice leaves her hands free though, which is perfect because she apparently needs to grasp his knee with one for balance while the other goes to his hip, feeling out the line of his pocket. Bucky tries to breathe deep and even. This has gotta be it, the scenario Sam was most worried about when he left them here together.

Mercifully, when Sarah gets her fingers hooked into Bucky’s front pocket, she removes her other hand from his knee and uses it to hold the flashlight. He shifts forward onto his knees so his pocket isn’t pulled so tight and she can get her hand in there. Clearly a bad, terrifying plan now that his dick’s started to stiffen from the lingering image of the flashlight in her mouth and the proximity of her fingers to his crotch. It’s dark. Maybe she won’t see.

“Bolts,” Sarah says, wiggling her fingers deeper. “Nuts too?”

Their eyes meet and she pulls her hand back. Not too fast. Not like she embarrassed herself, saying something she didn’t mean to. Just like she did her bit and now the plan is to see what he’ll do. All he’s really capable of doing for the moment is extracting the nuts and bolts himself, dropping one of each into the raised palm she offers. He takes over with the flashlight and purposely doesn’t touch the end. It’ll drive him crazy if the plastic’s still wet.

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

He spends three bolts being awkward, just pinching the head of each between his Vibranium fingers to hold them steady while Sarah tightens the nuts with the wrench from underneath the mounting plate. His other hand shines the light right where she needs it. They’re a different team than he and Sam are. Somehow, they can do two parts of the same job in the smallest scale, their hands practically on top of each other without either of them getting in the way. Bucky tries to think about that rather than her leg pressing against his or the fact that the gentle rock of the docked boat reminds him of rocking his hips forward when he… well. Does something he’s trying not to think about.

The wrench is old and though Sarah flicks the adjustment with her thumb to make it grip each nut in turn, it loosens and slips. It makes the task take longer and Sarah have to work harder. With two bolts to go, she sits back and pulls her button-down off, draping it over a pipe. Her t-shirt only catches Bucky’s eye because, even in here, the yellow’s so bright. It’s just the shirt. Absolutely not the shape of Sarah in it.

She leans back in, dropping the second last bolt through the hole. She feels beneath the plate to start the nut up the bolt’s threads with her fingers. With a soft noise of effort, Sarah simultaneously applies the wrench and reawakens Bucky’s erection.

“Sorry for keeping you from dinner,” she says, still tightening in the circle of light he provides. “You must be starving.”

“You have no idea.”

Bucky doesn’t mean for the words to sound the way they do, or maybe he does. Sarah falters, then finishes, but when she leans forward to fit the final bolt in place, the side of her breast presses his arm, and that’s the beginning of the end. Or possibly the end of the middle. Anyway, Bucky lets go of the flashlight and wraps his hand around Sarah’s waist instead. The flashlight must land on its button because the boat goes pitch-black. Why didn’t either of them think to turn the overhead light on? He hears the nut fall from her hand. It’s not one of the nuts he’s concerned with at the moment, so he tells himself they’ll look for it later and focuses on Sarah leaning in to find his lips in the dark.

Kissing her is… Hell, it’s something he’s been thinking about since they met yesterday. When she marched straight over to the boat and then changed her posture the second she spotted him. Bucky appreciates clear body language—it’s something he can do a quick read of and understand. If they’d had more time at that first meeting, of course he would’ve talked to her, flirted with more than a smile, but the smiles they swapped were an effective stopgap until they could end up right here. His mouth on hers. Being careful not to trap her braids under his fingers when he skims them up the back of her neck.

“Um,” Sarah says, breaking away with a shy laugh.

He keeps his hand on her lightly and feels her tilt her head forward like she’s avoiding his eye, even in the dark. Before he can worry that something is wrong, that he’s done something wrong, she lifts her head again and her braids flick, pattering across his forearm like rain.

“You should know,” she says, “since my husband passed, I haven’t really had a lot of time or inclination for this kinda thing, but...”

“That’s ok,” Bucky quickly assures her. “This doesn’t have to be anything. I didn’t mean to push.”

“And you didn’t.”

They sit in silence for a minute before he clears his throat.

“I’ve never… I’ve never had anybody special to me in that way, like your husband was to you, nobody to lose like that. But I do understand… uh, the sort of, um, momentousness… when it’s been a while.”

“You do?”

He can hear humour in her voice. This wasn’t supposed to be a funny conversation. Is he making it that weird?

“Sure. You know about me,” Bucky says quietly. He knows she must. She never asked who he was to Sam to be showing up here, being offered their couch for the night. Never asked about the arm, though he hasn’t tried to hide it. (He can’t remember the last time he just lived like this and the relief is enormous.)

“Tell me about the momentousness.”

He’d like to be able to see her better, but it’s also nice to know she has no idea the way he’s blushing over her request. It’s his own damn fault. Trying to be tactful and generous. Trying to say he knew how she felt, only for Sarah to call him on that. He’s gotta learn that this is not a woman who lets a man speak for her and, if he blunders into doing just that, she doesn’t let him off the hook. And she has a fish business. Who woulda thought.

“Well, it’s, uh…” Bucky rubs the back of his neck with the hand not cupping hers. “It feels like a big deal. Almost like being young all over again.”

“Hey,” she interjects, “some of us are still young.”

He laughs.

“Sorry. I just mean it’s… exciting. You know, thrilling. You wanna do everything at once but you’re also so scared to just…”

“Just…?”

“To just touch her,” he breathes out.

Sarah leans her head back so his hand’s not only touching her neck but holding it up. He laughs again as she straightens. He gets the point; he’s already touching her. So maybe it’s easier than even he thinks it is. Touch. Intimacy. Defiling the belly of a fishing boat with somebody who turned his head so fast he’s the one who needs something bolted back into place. Maybe one on either side of his neck, like Frankenstein’s monster. He sure does feel alive.

“I said I haven’t done this a lot lately,” Sarah says, loosely grasping his wrist. Bucky slips his hand off her neck to line it up with hers, lacing their fingers. “Not that it’s necessarily been that long since the last time I went on a date that ended with more than a kiss at the door.” Abruptly, she laughs. “I’m trying to tell you there’s a condom in the pocket of that shirt I threw over… wherever it got to. If you want this to keep going in a direction where you’d need to use it.”

“Yeah. Yes. I want that.”

“And not just to annoy Sam?”

“Not just.” Bucky smirks in the dark.

“Ok then.”

“I like you, Sarah,” he says as her fingers play with his. He shifts to face her better. “You don’t make things complicated.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of that.”

He can only make a noise of agreement as he comes close enough to feel out her mouth. He’s wishing he’d shaved his face smooth for this—obviously not as certain this encounter was going to happen today, or at all, as the woman who’s been carrying a condom in her pocket—but with a rough tilt of his head as he takes Sarah’s mouth harder, his cheek rubs against hers and she makes a sound into his mouth. A positive sound. An arousing sound. Bucky does something he never does and holds her face in both his hands, metal and skin. Sarah’s go to his hips, hooking into his beltloops, and they both rise up on their knees to press closer.

But she says, “Ouch, kneeled on the wrench,” and Bucky’s only being helpful when he moves his hands to the back of her thighs, running up over her ass as he urges her to her feet with him.

His hands behave themselves a little better when they’re both standing; he keeps them on the small of her back, scrunching her t-shirt in his fingers when she bows into him. He could kiss Sarah for a long time. It’s something he’s always enjoyed, got a lot of practice at when he was young, kissing in the back row of a theatre or savouring every moment until a girl’s curfew with some feverish necking in the alley around the corner from her family’s apartment. Nobody’s counting down the minutes on Bucky’s time with Sarah, so it’s looking like he might be able to just keep dragging his lips across hers for ages, stroking his tongue into her mouth. The geography decides otherwise.

He hears the speedboat’s motor approaching long before he really makes sense of the noise. That happens when the choppy wake hits Sarah’s docked boat, tossing her forward against him.

Alright, tossing him forward. He’s the one whose sea legs are for shit.

It’s evident that she feels his erection against her stomach. She’d have to be really unfamiliar with how this dance went not to notice with the way he’s swelling for her.

“Yeah?” Bucky checks when Sarah digs her fingers into his hips to hold him to her body.

“Yeah.”

He pulls out of her embrace to hunt down that shirt.

“You know, I’ve done this before.”

“I know. I’ve met your kids.” His voice says he’s joking even as his hands move desperately, caressing the boat’s innards in search of soft cotton.

“I mean specifically on this boat,” Sarah confesses, laughing.

Bucky hears a pair of thumps he determines to have been her shoes hitting the floor after the next sound he hears is her unzipping her pants. Wildly, he snatches her shirt from the pipe and dumps the condom out of the pocket and into his hand. He forces himself to calmly replace the shirt where he got it from so she can find it after—just the thought of there being an after has him hardening further.

“It’s startin’ to feel like I’m not so special,” he teases, lurching back to her when the speedboat seemingly swings around upriver and makes a second pass, causing the ground to slope once more.

“You might be,” she teases back. While his legs are tensed to keep his balance, Sarah has to be stretching up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “We’re gonna see about that.”

Her hands curl around the back of his neck as she presses up into the kiss. Bucky groans and gropes for her hips, condom caught between two fingers. His hands run over the sides of her underwear, but it’s mostly skin he touches. Warm and smooth. Kissing Sarah deeply, he traces the soft grooves of stretchmarks, signs of her body’s endurance. She’s given birth twice, lost her partner, come through the Blip and out the other side. This is a survivor’s body. Although she didn’t remove her shirt along with her pants, Bucky breaks the kiss to strip off his. With trembling fingers, he guides her hand from his neck to his shoulder, letting her feel the scars.

Sarah grazes her palm over him. It isn’t hesitant and it isn’t harsh. She touches the place where metal and skin converge the same way she’s touched his neck, his knee. Her other hand strokes over his chest, dawdling to outline his dog tags, then sliding lower. Her fingertips are so light on his abdomen that they almost tickle. The river flows around and against the boat in faint slaps. Sarah’s hand falls to fondle his erection and he gasps into the stillness.

He crowds into her and she presses back against the wall of the boat.

“Is it too cold?” he wonders.

“Cold?” she asks distractedly, popping open the button of his jeans. “No, I’m good.”

Smiling to himself, Bucky ducks his head until they’re almost kissing.

“Ok,” he says. “Well, you let me know.”

His hand wanders from her hip, down, then up her inner thigh. Sarah shivers but doesn’t say anything about being cold, so, breathing harder, Bucky touches his fingers to her underwear between her legs. He can tell she finds his tentativeness a little funny—she exhales a soft laugh—but he needs this short pause to stop him from getting too eager. Though he didn’t want to clarify, he’s figuring that Sarah probably had sex on this boat during her teenage years, and he really doesn’t want his touch to remind her of some adolescent boy’s horny fumblings. Not when the setting’s already bringing up memories for her.

“No heckling,” he jokingly protests.

“I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

He can hear the humour in her voice and he likes the way her words hitch into a panted breath when he relocates his hand to her stomach and nudges his fingers under the band of her underwear.

“Second thoughts?” Bucky asks before he touches her anywhere too interesting.

“Nope. Just a lotta thoughts about you lifting heavy loads off trucks and workin’ a wrench.”

“Yeah?” He pushes his face up under her jaw, kisses there while she tilts her chin to give him room. “You been thinkin’ I might be good with my hands, Sarah?”

He hears her shaky breath when he says her name and thinks there’s a chance he’s not too bad at this. Even now. Not with somebody he seemed to emotionally fall right into step with the instant they clapped eyes on each other.

“No might about it. I’ve been watching you for two days. I know you’re good with your hands.”

Pressing his mouth hard to hers, Bucky slides his fingers down towards warmth and, it turns out, wetness. He groans against her mouth and she jerks his zipper down with demanding fingers. Wedging her hands between his skin and his clothes, Sarah begins forcing his jeans and underwear off together. Even as he’s aching for her to get him naked, he’s gathering her body against his, arm wrapped securely around her back as his fingers slip through her arousal. He curls two fingers inside her and her hips jolt in an apparently automatic attempt to get him deeper. She tries to widen her legs for him, but his hand’s intrusion has stretched her underwear across her upper thighs, so he plucks at them hastily until they fall and she kicks them aside. His own bottom layers are hanging on around his knees. Bucky can’t be fucked to deal with that. He’s punched through a lot of walls rather than going through doors; he knows what is and isn’t a serious obstacle.

Sarah lifts her thigh to his hip and their mouths part with a ragged, shared breath. The Vibranium arm around her supports her—metal fingers clamped tight on the condom between them—as his other hand works her with more pressure when she asks for it in a moan.

“Can I get you off like this, or you want me some other way?” he pants.

It’s like Steve used to say about damn near everything—Bucky could do this all day. He withdraws his fingers from inside her to scrub his fingertips up and down over her clit.

“I’m sure you can,” Sarah says, chest heaving as her hips sway in response to his touch, “but…”

Her hands, which had climbed to his arms after undressing his bottom half, creep lower. The grip of one hand catches in his elbow, thumb to his pulse. The other wraps around his straining cock.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But.”

Insistent on putting on the condom himself, he does it with one arm still encircling Sarah. While he’s tearing it open, he drops his face to her neck again. She sighs as he kisses down her throat and goes mmm when he licks along her collarbone. She’s sweaty, like him.

Though Bucky’s just dying to sink into her, holding her this close is a whole other kind of satisfying. He flicks the condom wrapper away and dips his head, taking hold of the front of Sarah’s yellow t-shirt with his teeth.

“Bucky! What…?”

But her hand pats the back of his head in time with her laughter as he drags the material up until it stays put above her breasts. Tragically, the ghost of Sarah’s horny teenage encounter on this boat possesses him and he’s compelled to mash his face into her cleavage as soon as it’s exposed. He rubs his lips over her breast and she takes the condom from him, reaching between them to roll it down his cock. The feel of her fist makes him grunt into her chest.

“You ready?” Sarah asks him.

Bucky lifts his head and looks at her. It’s dark, but not too dark to judge by her expression that she’s not just asking casually. This isn’t a carefree, youthful hookup—a couple teenagers sneaking onto a parent’s boat or perfecting their hickey-making technique in an alley. Is he ready? He hasn’t been. Not for the occasional assessing stare of a stranger on the sidewalk, or for dating apps and the staggeringly forward pictures people send in response to a simple ‘hi,’ or even for the low-stakes combo of beers and Battleship. But now? For Sarah?

“Yeah,” Bucky states, loud and clear, angling his hips forward when she takes her hands away.

“Alright,” she says, “so am I.”

He kisses her. He believes her.

He grips the underside of her raised thigh with one hand and his dick with the other, bending his knees slightly before pressing up into her. Heat slinks up his chest and twines around his neck like a scarf. Despite the tripping hazard of his pants around his legs, Bucky shuffles forward, holding Sarah so close. She doesn’t make a sound as he fills her, but when he pulls out and thrusts again, an uuuh catches in her throat. God, it feels good to be back in business.

Fingers digging into her leg and her ass, Bucky rocks his hips steadily, huffing sharply through his nose. Sarah’s hands move all over him. They’re on his shoulders, then squeezing his arms; grabbing his hips to encourage him to drive into her harder, then seizing his ass to hold him deep. When he does something good, he feels her tighten on his cock, a quick clutch and release. When he does something really good, she moans so loud the back of his neck tingles and he has to summon every bit of discipline he has not to just let go now.

The feel of the muscles in Sarah’s leg and ass flexing to sync the rhythm of their hips when things get rougher makes Bucky’s eyes roll back. He lifts her off the ground, thighs in his hands as he slings his hips sharply forward. Sarah curls into him, nipping one shoulder as she cups her hand over the metal of the other one. Her breasts bounce against his chest. He pins her between his groin and the boat and feels (and hears) it the second the motion of his hips drags at her clit.

“Bucky!” she gasps. “Don’t—”

“Stop?” he guesses, grinning even as he pants, even as he shifts his feet to make sure they’re gonna stay under him until this is over and he can set her down gently.

Sarah nods rapidly and Bucky keeps the closeness but progresses to fast, shallow thrusts. They should hum, like a machine, like a piston, like a pump, because that’s what it feels like, fucking her and falling for her, doing their dance with just the right friction. How it really sounds is wet, filthy, oh, but her smile is beautiful as she strives, fingers tangled in his dog tags. She comes calling his name. He’s right here, right there with her. She’s clenching so firmly around him that the pleasure might not end and he’ll just have to stay here on this boat, with her, and be Bucky, and get used to the luxury of it making sense again, his name in the mouth of somebody who needs him and wants him and could know him, after a few more nights on her couch and mornings with her kids. He could stand the sound of her name leaving his mouth every single goddamn day, but he’s gonna start with one day, this day, right now.

He says, “Sarah,” and wraps his arms around her, and hopes those arms feel strong.

#Anon you knew what you wanted and you asked for it nicely and I respect that #my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #Sarah Wilson #bucky x sarah #sarahbucky

[clan-of-scattered-stars]

Hey, hey, hey! Look at me, writing a short story about one of my dragons. I’m almost proud lmao.

In truth, I just had motivation to write this and knew it wouldn’t last forever so I got down and started writing this in the morning. So here you go, for your viewing pleasure!

This short story is all about my dragon, Atticus, the only son of the matriarch of my clan and head ranger to boot. Please enjoy!

(Also a massive thanks to @sodareaper for explaining to my tiny feral brain how to properly format this)

Ambush!

On the prowl, Atticus could be a deadly foe. Each foot fall was light and agile, his garb doing well to keep him hidden within the shimmering foliage of the Starwood Strand. His eyes practically glowed with the intent to strike true as he crept further into the undergrowth. His opponent had to be near, he had seen their pelt through the leaves.

It was the fall of hooves that gave them away, though. Just to his left, the darkened centaur left the safety of her hiding spot and bolted towards Atticus. All according to plan. Though the centaur’s bow was raised; an arrow already pulled back and ready to fire, the coatl was quick. Launching into the air, Atticus readied his own shot, firing it off just as his claws touched the ground again. His agility was all that saved him from defeat. The arrow struck dead center, causing his enemy to stumble but not enough to send them reeling like he had hoped.

Improvising, Atticus tackled the centaur to the ground with a thud. His feathery hood was raised in defiance as he bore his fangs down at his opponent.

Only then did he manage a smile.

“Close, close…but not close enough.” He chuckled as he got off his friend. The centaur rolled her eyes and snorted, refusing the claw that had been offered to her to help.

“I almost had you, you have to admit! You had no idea I was there until I was practically on top of you.” She snipped, the tips of her ears turning red in embarrassment.

The heavy accent with which she spoke with made it hard for Atticus to understand her words, but her tone made it obvious that she hadn’t been expecting to lose their practice skirmish. He shook his feathers once before flicking his tongue out at her playfully. “I never said it was an easy fight, Rhea. But I still won. What was that, the sixth time in a row?” He teased her.

Rhea didn’t meet his gaze as she went to retrieve both of their faux arrows. The tips had been completely removed, replaced with sand filled clothe instead. It would have been deadly had they used actual ones. “Stars above, I knew it was a mistake to train with you. All you do is talk,talk,talk. Shoulda gone with my brother instead, that would teach you a lesson.” She grumbled, though there was a small quip in her voice as she held out his arrow for him.

Taking his arrow and placing it back into the quiver, he cocked his head to one side. “How is he by the way? Last time we talked he-“

“Tried to skin you alive? Yeah, he’s fine. You know older brothers, they can be pretty defensive sometimes.” The centaur responded quickly.

Atticus hissed at the memory. He hadn’t meant to hit Leo’s head that hard. Then again…it was training. “I told him I was sorry!” He squeaked.

The herd Rhea and Leo belonged to was one of the most tight knit ones he had ever witnessed. Ever since one of their kind had forsaken their ways and attacked another member…it wasn’t a happy memory. Atticus was there when it happened and it wasn’t something he thought of lightly. Dinza told him that it was inevitable one of the local centaurs wouldn’t take kindly to their presence but he never wanted to believe it. No one had.

“Listen, I’ll make it up to him. And you for failing to let you win once, your highness.” He amended after a moment of silence between the two. A flick of her tail revealed to him that Rhea was listening to whatever he had to offer her. Feeling his own confidence returning as his friend became a little more agreeable, he sat up taller.

“It’s almost harvest season and that means that all the crops are gonna be at their absolute finest. Both of you can have a pick of what you want and it’ll be on my own treasure. How does that sound?” Atticus offered, head tilted again in questioning.

Rhea was quiet for a few moments, causing the coatl to inwardly start to panic. Did he say something wrong? Was she still upset with him? Finally, she lifted her head and smiled at him. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, friend. You know the butcher’s figs are my favorite.” She teased lightheartedly.

Atticus’ hood rose in amusement at her statement and he narrowed his eyes in good humor. “I know they are. I think we’ll have a good harvest of those this year too.” He reassured her.

A snort escaped his friend as she came to give him a light punch. “Don’t go getting all soft on me now, fish breath,” Rhea warned him playfully, ignoring his grunt of indignation. “I should get going before the sun goes down. My da wants us to stay up tonight. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Suit yourself, loud mouth. I’ll go too, then. Isn’t too fun to train without someone to win against.” Atticus said, stretching his wings in anticipation.

Rhea chuckled as she turned away. “Don’t forget your promise!”

“Do I ever? See you during the harvest, friend. We can train more then. And I’ll still beat you!” He exclaimed as he took to the sky.

A/N: If you could actually get through all this, thanks for reading!!! I really appreciate it and hope you enjoyed it

#flight rising #my writing #my lore

[t4twolfstar]

Pearl Jam songs as the marauders' story

listen here

explanations under read more

Red Mosquito - Remus is bit by Greyback

two steps ahead of him, punctures in your neck…/ Hoverin' just above your bed... (2x)/ I was bitten...must have been the devil…/ He was just paying me…/ A little visit, reminding me of his presence…

Jeremy - most of the song, Sirius

Okay so we’re going to look at the verses not the refrain for this one bc (TW su*) this song is based on an actual boy who diy died in front of his class so like no we’re not relating to that part but the “Clearly I remember/ Pickin’ on the boy/ Seemed a harmless little fuck/ But we unleashed the lion….Daddy didn't give affection, no/And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear”

Daughter - Sirius at home

Trans sirius in an abusive household………. “Mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it/Tries to make her proud/ The shades go down, it's in her head/ Painted room, can't deny that something's wrong/ Don’t call me daughter, not fit to”

Leash - Sirius and Remus’ toxic codependent love and then yelling at the establishment/people who say they’re too young going too deep too hard too fast

“Troubled souls unite/ We got ourselves tonight, oh/ I am fuel you are friends we got the means to make amends/ I am lost I'm no guide but I'm by your side/ I am right by your side….We will find a way we will find our place/ Drop the leash drop the leash/Get outta' my fuckin' face”

Why Go? - Sirius becoming disenchanted w his family

Trans Sirius too of course. She seems to be stronger/ But what they want/ Her to be is weak/ She could play pretend/ She could join the game, boy/ She could be another clone….don’t come visit/mother/ why go home?

Blood - Sirius’ family trying to make him into something he’s not

Spin me round/ Roll me over/ Fucking circus/ Stab it down/ One way needle/ Pulled so slowly/ Drains and spills/ Soaks the pages/ Fills their sponges/ It’s my blood/ It’s my blood

WMA - basically about all the big pureblood families that can get away w anything

“He won the lottery when he was born/ Took his mothers white breast to his tongue/ Do no wrong so clean cut/ Dirty his hands, it comes right off” (tw for song: police, implied police violence)

Do the Evolution - Sirius ranting abt/mocking his family

Admire me, admire my home/ Admire my son, he's my clone…./ I'll do what I want but irresponsibly/ It’s evolution, baby/ I’m a thief, I'm a liar/ There’s my church, I sing in the choir:/ (Hallelujah, hallelujah)

Bushleaguer - abt the aristocracy etc

This song is literally about George bush lmao but I love it abt the upper class

“Born on third, thinks he got a triple…./The aristocrat choir sings, "what's the ruckus?”/ The haves have not a clue/ The immenseness of suffering”

Mind your manners - You guessed it - Sirius rejecting his family

I've got an unfortunate feelin’/ I've been beaten down/I feel I don't believe/ And now the truth is coming out/ What they've taken is more than a vow/ They’ve taken your innocence/ And then they throw them on a burning fire/ All along they're sayin’/ Mind your manners

My father’s son - SIRIUS

I am my father's son,/ Yeah, too bad he was a psychopath and now I'm the next in line, , dear mother, yes, surely she's a work of art,…/Can I get a reprieve?/ This gene pool dark and deep…./Now father you're dead and gone and I'm finally free to be me,/ Thanks for all your dark gifts for which I've got no sympathy,/ I’m living in a walled-up place in the bounds of 5th symphony

Yellow Ledbetter - Sirius

Okay so 97% of the the lyrics are indecipherable when Eddie sings them but you can hear I don’t wanna stay

Go - Regulus to Sirius as he’s trying to leave

(Abuse tw) So sorry about this one yall …… .but yes I think this is regulus finally realizing that he shouldn’t have let things get so bad at home (Sirius blames him for not stepping in even tho he’s a child there’s nuance here etc) and he’s begging Sirius not to leave him here “Oh please don't go out on me don't go out on me now/ Never acted up before don't go on me now/ I swear I never took it for granted just thought of it now/ Suppose I abused you just passing it on….I pulled the covers over him shoulda' pulled the alarm/ Turned to my nemesis…Please don't go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ please”

Rearviewmirror - Sirius running away

(Tw abuse) Time to emancipate/ I guess it was the beatings made me wise….Forced to endure/ What I could not forgive/ I seem to look away/ Wounds in the mirror waved/ It wasn't my surface most defiled

Can’t Keep - Sirius running away from home

I want to shake/ I want to wind out/ I want to leave/ This mind and shout/ I’ve lived/ All this life/ Like an ocean/ In disguise/ I don't live for ever/ You can't keep/ Me here

Hail, Hail - Remus and Sirius’ codependent strong love

A how I love you till the day I die...ah and beyond…/ are we going to the same place? If so, can I come?/ It’s egg rollin' thick and heavy...all the past we carry…

Release - Remus thinking about his dad

Remus’ dad is so full of guilt for his hand in remus’ transformations that he extracted himself from remus’ life. Remus laments here, “Oh, dear dad/ Can you see me now?/ I am myself/ Like you somehow” “I'll hold the pain/Release me” he’d would rather have a dad, guilt and all, here, than the self appointed absence but since you left me with the absence and grief and loss of it, at least release me from it, loosen your grip so I can move on.

Present Tense - Sirius and Remus talking probably laying in the forbidden forest assuaging one another’s beliefs of the gnarled beasts they think they are

BUGS - prob remus when he turns before the boys know

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Who you are - probably James at remus when he thinks he’s a big monster

Who are we?/ Who we are./ What’s your part? Who you are / You are who you are.

Save you - GOD THIS SONGG okay this is probably James @ Sirius when home life is bad and also Sirius @ Remus and also Remus @ Sirius it’s all of them @ all of them

Gonna save you fucker, not gonna lose you/ Feeling cocky and strong, can't let you go,/ Too important to me/ Too important to us, we'd be lost without you/ Baby, let yourself fall, I'm right below you now/ And fuck me if I say something you don't want to hear/ And fuck if you only hear what you want to hear/ Fuck me if I care, but I'm not leaving here/ You helped me when I was down, I'll help when you're down/ Why are you hitting yourself, c'mon hit me instead

Life Wasted - Sirius @ Reg re: leaving

I escaped it, a life wasted./ I’m never going back again…./ You're always saying you're too weak to be Strong./ You’re harder on yourself than just about Anyone/ Why swim the channel just to get this far?/ Halfway there, why would you turn around?

Severed Hand - Reg joins the death eaters

Big man stands behind an open door/ Said, leave your lady on the cement floor./ Got some kicks, want to take a ride?/ I said, yeah!/ Oh please understand I just need, my friend,/ A way a way a way home

Brain of J. - Reg and Sirius arguing after he joins the death eaters

The whole world will be different soon/ The whole world will be relieving/ You, you've been taught/ We’d been the same, now they got you in line/ Stand behind the stripes/ There will be order, so give it a good mind…./And by name/ The name they gave me/ The name I'm letting go

Deep - Regulus knows he’s in too deep

This is Regulus knowing he’s in too deep, Voldemort and the death eaters are such bad fucking people and he’s in too deep now (massive tw for this song for drugs and se*ual violence)

“Ponders his Maker, ponders his will/ in too deep/ can’t touch the bottom”

Pilate - Remus abt Sirius ;0)

Like Pilate I have a dog/ (Obeys listens kisses loves)/ Walks me out of town/ Still one's a crowd/ Making angels in the dirt/ Looking up looking all around

You Are - in love 🥰

Love is a tower/ Of strength to me/ I am the shoreline/ But you're the sea

Red Bar - the war begins

War, I’m crazy/ War I’m crazy I’m war the song is also a lil goofy so it’s maybe just like going crazy being so in it that it’s funny now

Porch - WARTIME EVERYONE @ THEIR LOVERS

It’s the war and everyone knows today could be their last day and tensions are running high in relationships and they love each other so much and need each other but snap at one another nonetheless

What the fuck is this world running to?/ You didn't leave a message/ At least I could have learned your voice one last time/ Daily minefield, this could be my time by you/ Would you hit me? Would you hit me?/ Hear my name, take a good look/ This could be the day/ Hold my hand, walk beside me

Thin Air - babes in love

There's a light, when my baby's in my arms,/ There’s a light, when the window shades are drawn…/ And I know she's reached my heart, in thin air.

All or None - More war time songs soz

Here's the selfless confession/ Leading me back to war/ Can we help that our destinations/ Are the ones we've been before?/ I still try to run on/ But it's all or none

Parting Ways - Lily @ James during the war

She knows their future's burning/ But she can smile just the same, same/ And though her mood is fine today/ There’s a fear they'll soon be parting ways

Love Boat Caption - Sirius/Remus, Lily/James, etc etc. during the war

Love boat captain/ Take the reigns and steer us towards the clear, here/ It’s already been sung, but it can't be said enough/ All you need is loveIt's an art to live with pain/ Mix the light into grey/ Lost nine friends we'll never know/ Two years ago today/ And if our lives became too long/ Would it add to our regret?…./Hold me and make it the truthThat when all is lost, there will be you

Evacuation - going into hiding

Lukin- Lily and James have to go into hiding

(Tw st*lking mention in explanation, gun mention in song) The song was written by Eddie when he was being stalked and he had to bring himself and his wife to a friend’s house for safety.

In Hiding - Lily and James are in hiding and enter Peter

No way in or out/ I turned and walked the hallways/ And pulled the curtains down…./I swallow the truth to keep from lying/ i'm no longer overwhelmed and it seems so simple now/ Yeah, it's funny how things change so much/ It’s all state of mind

Once - Peter Pettigrew betraying the marauders

Literally about someone committing a mass murder. “Once upon a time I could control myself.” “Mimic whats insane.”

Around the Bend - I'm so sorry ummm but Lily to Harry on Halloween 💀

I am wishing you a well…./ I hold your head deep in my arms/ My fingertips, they close your eyes/ Off you dream, my little child/ There’s a sun around the bend/ Please forgive me, won't you, dear?/ Please forgive and let me share with you, around the bend/ You’re an angel when you sleep/ How I want your soul to keep, on and on around the bend

Garden - Sirius being taken to Azkaban

He’s just taking his fate as it comes to him.

The direction of the eye/ So misleading/ The defection of the soul/ Nauseously quick/I will walk, with my hands bound/ I will walk, with my face blood/ I will walk, with my shadow flag/ Into your garden/ Garden of stone

Even flow - IS SO VERY MUCH SIRIUS IN AZKABAN

sung from the pov of an incarcerated person waiting for life to begin again

BUGS - Sirius in Azkaban (yes I already said this abt remus but idc)

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Black - Remus lamenting about Sirius’ perceived deception

Remembering their love and how now so many of his memories are tainted (by) black and that all of this has changed him fundamentally (star imagery, “black”, “tattooed everything”)

Indifference - Sirius in grimmauld place, sirius in Azkaban

Sirius taking his home life in stride until he can leave, taking Azkaban in stride bc it doesn’t matter any way bc he believes he deserve it anyway

“Pretend I'm free to roam/ I will make my way/ Through one more day in hell/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I will hold the candle/ Till it burns up my arm/ Oh, I'll keep takin' punches/ Until their will grows tired/ Oh, I will stare the sun down/ Until my eyes go blind/ Hey, I won't change direction/ And I won't change my mind/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune/ I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room”

Alive - Remus post ’81

Eddie originally wrote the song as a lament - why did I live when he didn’t? Why am I still alive?

“Is something wrong she said, of course there is, you’re still alive she said, but do I deserve to be?”

Animal - Remus after ’81 when he needs to transform alone

Feat. A throwback to being turned (so tw: abd*ction) “Torture from you to me, yeah/Abducted from the street/I'd rather be with an animal”

Nothingman - Sirius and Remus after ’81

Once divided nothing left to subtract/ Some words when spoken can't be taken back/ Walks on his own with thoughts he can't help thinking/ Future’s above but in the past he's slow and sinking…./ She once believed in every story he had to tell/ One day she stiffened took the other side/ Empty stares from each corner of a shared prison cell/ One just escapes one's left inside the well

Smile - Remus @ the marauders (except it’s after ’81 and he just thinks of them fondly)

Don't it make you smile?/ I miss you already/ I miss you always/ I miss you already/ I miss you all day/ This is how I feel/ Three crooked hearts swirls all around/ Don’t it make you smile?

In my tree - remus abt sirius after ’81

I remember him, yeah…/ I swore I knew everything, oh yeah…/ They say knowledge is a dream, yeah…/ He's growing up just like me, yeah…

Light Years - Remus abt Sirius

But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why/ I’ve come up with riddles and jokes about war/ I’ve figured out numbers and what they're for/ I’ve understood feelings and I've understood words/ But how could you be taken away?/ Back pages and days alone that could have been spent/ Together, but we were miles apart Every inch between us becomes light years now

I’m open - Remus!!!! Post ’81

After spending half his life searching he still felt as blank/ As the ceiling at which he stared/ He is alive but feels absolutely nothing/ So is he?/ When he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him/…..So this is what it's like to be an adult/ If he only knew now what he knew then

Thumbing my Way - Remus post ’81 again blah blah ikik

I can't be free with what's locked inside of me/ If there was a key you took it in your hand/ There’s no wrong or right but I'm sure there's good and bad/ The questions linger overhead

Rats - we know how remus like to soliloquize …. This is him waxing poetic about how fucking horrible Peter is

The song itself is kind of listing the many ills of humankind saying how rats don’t compare to people bc they don’t do all this. But Peter isnt really a rat. He’s a man and oppresses like a man and betrays like a man and takes like a man.

“Drink the blood of their so-called best friend….They don't scurry when something bigger comes their way….Don't take what's not theirs“

Oceans - Sirius escaping Azkaban

Hold on to the thread/ The currents will shift, glide me towards/ You know something's left/ And we're all allowed to dream of the next…..The sea will rise/ Please stand by the shore/ I will be there once more

Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Sirius after Azkaban

200004309248% sirius returning from 12 years isolated. He doesn’t really recognize most things. Remus wouldn’t recognize him. He’s different. Changed by being unchanged. He couldn’t grow and learn and morph and become. He stagnated yet decayed. But he’s back and he recognizes your skin and your breath. He’s back.

Off He Goes - Sirius is a Sagittarius in the first half, second half is post PoA

Know a man his face seemed pulled and tense/ Like he's riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds/ So I approach with tact/ Suggest that he should relax/ But he's always movin' much too fast/ Said he'll see me on the flip side/ On this trip he's taken for a ride…./ And now I rub my eyes for he has returned/ Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned/ For he still smiles and he's still strong/ Nothing’s changed, but the surrounding bullshit, that has grown/ And now he's home, and we're laughing, like we always did/ My same old, same old friend/ Until a quarter-to-ten

All Those Yesterdays - and cue the bath scene, remus washes his lost love

Don't you think you oughta rest?/ Don’t you think you oughta lay you head down?/ You don't think there's time to stop/ There’s time enough for you to lay your head down tonight tonight/ Let it wash away/ All those yesterdays

#literally put me down #unless you like it #then kiss me #some of these are big brain and i do want yall to read it at least but i also know I'm like a feral dog rn so it's ok #text post #long post #read more #playlist #pearl jam #marauders #harry potter #hp hc #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans

[avengerscompound]

Bartoned - Chapter 37

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Rating:  E

Warnings:  Family angst, birthday parties.

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count:  1818

Summary:  Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up.  When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

Chapter 37

Holding a birthday party for a one-year-old was a very odd experience.  For starters, Nattie had no idea what was going on.  As far as she was concerned it was just a regular day, only there were a bunch more balloons around the house, which was very exciting for her.  She would throw them up in the air and chase them until she fell on her butt, giggling.

Along with that, Nattie didn’t exactly have friends.  There were older kids who played with her and she got excited to see, but they often got bored of her and went to do things she wasn’t yet able to do.  So the people coming today were mostly the adults in her life that loved her.  Which meant family and close friends.  So along with the juice boxes and plates of candy and baked treats was a cooler full of beer and antipasto platters.

The other very strange phenomenon was that because it was a kids party that adults were attending, most of the adults arrived early to help set up for the party, so 90% of the people who were invited were there almost an hour before the official start time.

Still, it was exciting to think that one year ago today this little life had entered the world and changed your life forever.  Seeing her walking around and saying the collection of seven words (which now include mama, dada, no, yes, baby, and shoes), excited that all her favorite people were there showering her with attention was exciting.

By the time the party officially started and the kids showed up, Nattie was already waning because she was overstimulated.

“We should do the presents and cake before she has a meltdown,” you said, picking her up off the ground because she’d decided that throwing herself down on the grass and whining was the best thing to do right now.

“Hey, Nattie,” Kate said.  “You hear that.  Presents!”

You took a seat in the swing chair with her and swung it gently back and forward while she sat beside you.

“Here, I’ll go first,” Natasha said.  Handing over a small box.

Nattie had no idea what to do with it and immediately tried to throw it off the edge of the chair.  Clint caught it and started pulling off the paper with the box in front of her.  “Look, bub, it’s a present.”

“No,” Nattie grumbled and took the gift wrap off it and started swinging it around.  You started laughing and Clint opened the box.  Inside was a little gold chain with an arrow clasp and a plate with ‘Natasha Katherine Barton’ engraved on it.

“That is so lovely.  Thank you, Nat,” you said.

The next gift was from Kate and contained a selection of various kid’s Hawkeye merchandise, including a little dress with pale purple arrows on it, and a homemade bear in what looked like Clint’s Avengers’ uniform.  Nattie was a little interested in the bear but still it was the paper that kept her attention.  After Kate was a gift of books from Bucky, Steve, and their kids.  She did show interest in one of the Spot books and ignored the next three presents in a row while she flipped up the flaps in the book looking for Spot.  When it got to Tony’s giant gift that he wheeled around from the side, she suddenly gained a whole lot of energy.  He’d gotten her an electric kids car that was Iron Man themed.  Both she and Cruz immediately got in it and began driving it around the backyard.

“I think we might have lost her,” you said.

“Ha, I won the best present,” Tony teased.

“Alright, now,” Pepper said.  “No one likes a brag.”

“Then why do they hang out with me?” Tony joked.

“You can just do the rest of the gifts when we’re gone,” Bruce said with a shrug.  “It’s no big deal.”

“Besides we should do cake,” Kate added.

You and Clint got up and were heading to the kitchen when a man with red hair came around the side of the house, holding a large, brightly colored box.  You knew you recognized him from somewhere but you couldn’t quite place it.  “Barney?”  Clint said, sounding confused.  That’s when it hit you.  This was Clint’s brother.  You’d met him at Clint’s birthday when you’d first hooked up with Clint and he’d gotten you pregnant.  It had been such a brief interaction, you’d forgotten about him.  Clint had mentioned him since but he’d always spoken about him like he was a dead man, and it had never clicked that his brother was still out there living his life.  Yet here he was, right in front of you.

“Hey, Clint, Guess what?”  Barney asked.

“You’ve got my money?”  Clint answered.

“No, chicken butt,” Barney said, “When are you going to learn that?”

Clint scowled at his brother and tapped his hand on his leg like he was trying to decide what he wanted to do.

You stepped forward and greeted Barney, giving him your name and holding out your hand.  He took it and pulled you into a half-hug, kissing your cheek.  “I met you, right?  At the party.  I didn’t know about… well -” he gestured to the kids playing around the Iron Man car.  “Which one is my… uh… is it a niece or nephew?  I got them a present.”

“Niece,” you started to explain but Clint cut you off.

“What are you doing here, Barney?  Who even told you?”  Clint asked.

“Uh, that was me,” Kate said.  “I know he took off with your money, but I also know you love him and he hasn’t even met your kid yet.  Or your soon to be wife.  And you’ve got a bachelor party coming up. You know you want him there.”

“If I’d known…”  Barney said, moving toward Clint.  “Come on, man.  You’re my brother.”

“How could you have known?  You came to my birthday, stole $50 grand from me, and took off without a word,” Clint said.  “How could I have told you?”

“Maybe,” you said looking around.  “We should take this inside?”

“Yeah, okay,” Barney agreed.  “Can I give… the kid… the present though.  It really needs to come out of the box.”

“Sure, come meet her,” you said gesturing to the car.

“Her?”  Barney asked.

“Yeah,” you said.  “You have a niece.  Natasha.  We call her Nattie.”

You took him over to where Nattie was playing and he crouched down.  “Nattie, this is your uncle Barney,” you said.

“Bwee?”  She said looking up at him.   You lifted her out of the car and she struggled to get back in.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Barney said.  “I just wanted you to see the present I got you.”

He opened the box lid up and a puppy popped its head out.  It was little and yellow and looked like it was part labrador.  All the kids immediately went crazy.  Trying to pat it and play with it as it wiggled and licked them all.  Nattie sat on the ground and let it push her over and lick over her face.

Steve approached and put his hand on your shoulder.  “I can supervise this if you want.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, kissing his cheek.  “Barney?  Want to get this over with?”

He nodded and stood up, following you and Clint inside.  You decided that while you were there you might as well get her cake ready to go out and you went and pulled it out of the fridge.  It was a large sheet cake with a fairy on it and you put it on a tray and went about getting plates, napkins, a candle, and a knife while Clint and Barney talked.

“You got her a puppy?”  Clint asked.  “Without even asking.”

“Kid should have pets,” Barney said.  “And besides, who are you kidding that a dog is an issue.  You’ve been saying you wanted one since you were a kid yourself.”

“You shoulda called first.  Asked.  Something...” Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest.  “You shoulda called when you left with my fuckin’ money.”

“Come on now,” Barney said.  “This isn't about the money.”

“Oh yeah, you're right.  Maybe it's about the time you tried to kill me,” Clint snarked.

“Which time?”  Barney asked.  He was aiming for a joke but it missed completely and you stared at him open-mouthed.  He laughed feebly.  “So he hasn't told you anything about me?”

“I know about when you were kids in the circus,” you said.

“Right,” Barney said, running his hand through his hair.  “Well, I'd say I was the black sheep, but dad wasn’t exactly a fine upstanding man.  We’ve had some… Friction.”

“That's putting it lightly,” Clint grumbled.

“You're still my brother though, and you're a dad now.  I wanna …”  Barney paused and shook his head.  “I want to be an uncle.”

Clint didn't say anything, he just looked down at his feet.

“So when did this happen?  I know I met you at the party, but I barely remember you.  Didn't figure you were dating,” Barney asked.  “I thought Tony was into you.”

“He was and we weren't,” you said.  “Clint and I hooked up that night for the first time and had a little accident.”

“Shit,” Barney said.

“Was a bit of a surprise.  We worked it out,” you said.

“And you're getting married now?” Barney asked.

“Yeah.  In October,” you said.

“You think I might be able to come?”  Barney asked.

“How will I even know where you are in seven months?”  Clint asked.  “You think I didn't try to find you?  You think I didn't want to get my brother's advice when all this shit went down?  That I didn't want to have you meet Nattie when she was born?  You disappeared.”

“I took a big chunk of your money,” Barney reasoned.  “This time I won’t.”

“You might,” Clint huffed.

You looked between the two men and furrowed your brow. “How come I never knew any of this?”

“Yeah, Clint,” Barney added.  “Why is that?”

“Because I don’t like talking about my lying, stealing, trying to murder me brother,” Clint said. “So sue me.”

Barney frowned.  “Come on, man,” he said. “I’m your brother.  Think about everything we’ve been through.”

“Fine.  Fine.  You’re invited but I’m not keeping my hopes up,” Clint huffed.

A smile broke out on Barney’s face.  “Great,” he said and pulled Clint into a hug.  “You’re gonna have such a great, bachelor party.”

“You better have brought things for that puppy too,” Clint grumbled as he returned the hug.

“Yeah,” he said.  “It’s in my car.” 

“Alright you two, grab the plates,” you said, lighting the candles of the cake.  “Cake time.”

The three of you went back outside singing happy birthday.  Nattie was asleep by the time the cake was cut.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #bartoned

[littlekatleaf]

I am the offering and the fire which consumes it

In which Junkrat and Roadhog rob a Hindu temple. (Shameless kinkfic. PWP)

In the embrace of his beloved a man forgets the whole world, everything both within and without; in the same way, he who embraces the Self, knows neither within nor without. — Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

“Swear that fuckin’ game musta been rigged,” Junkrat said as they walked down the hall. He patted Hana’s arm. “You shoulda won, no question.”

“No big,” she shrugged, unconcerned. “Everyone loses sometimes.”

“Too right - when the opponent’s a cheat. Me an’ Roadie’ll take care of him for ya.” Junkrat pressed his hand to the locking panel and the door opened with a hiss. Hana followed him into the room, glancing around curiously.

Roadhog looked up from the book he was reading. “Take care of who?”

“Drongo what cheated the D.Va. Think he needs a lesson.”

Roadhog turned to her and his voice went low and cold. “Just give us a name.”

“Woah woah, guys,” she held up her hands. “It’s just a stupid show competition. It wasn’t even ranked.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. Not to mention, been too bloody quiet around here. Trigger finger gettin’ itchy.”

“You have principles,” Roadhog said, skepticism clear in his tone. 

“In me own way.” Junkrat crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t believe ya doubt me, Roadie. Breakin’ me heart.”

Hana’d clearly moved on to other things - she picked up a small silver figurine, cocked her head. “Why do you have a Ganesh,” she asked.

Junkrat grinned, glancing at Roadhog from the corner of his eye. “Ya ever been to a Hindu temple?”

She shook her head. “You’re telling me you have?”

“Course! Might not guess it, but Roadie ‘n me are dead spiritual.” Junkrat bit his lip, trying to hold in the laughter that was bubbling. Gods, the memory of that night… hadn’t thought of it in ages. Could practically smell the incense just looking at the Ganesh. Sandalwood and plumeria. Sweet and spice. He rubbed his nose, wondered if there was any left stashed somewhere. Heat radiated from the center of his stomach until he was suffused. Felt Roadhog staring. Even through the smoked lenses of his mask, his gaze burned.

Then Roadhog snorted a laugh and Junkrat finally let the giggles spill free.

Hana frowned. “I know I’m missing something here, but…”

“Don’t ask,” Roadhog said.

Suspicious, Hana narrowed her eyes, but then yawned hugely. “Probably better not to,” she agreed. “Too tired to deal with whatever … shenanigans were going on.”

“Now ya sound like Morrison.” The word sounded hilarious, coming from her.

“Night guys. Or should I say, g’noight mates.” She saluted.

“One of these days yer accent’s gonna kill someone.” But he was still grinning as he locked the door behind her.

The color was high on Roadhog’s neck, his shoulders were tight. He’d picked up the Ganesh, cradled it carefully. Looked tiny in his palms. Such big hands. Capable of immense violence and, unexpectedly, equally immense gentleness. Never once did Roadhog hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. Or want it.

“Thinkin’ about the Temple heist.” Junkrat wasn’t really asking. Could tell Roadhog was.

They were smoking that night, passing a joint back and forth as they wandered through the London streets. Hadn’t had a plan in mind - only arrived that morning. Body thought it was time for brekkie, though was well past midnight. To Rat’s perplexed bemusement, Roadie was actually humming a song under his breath. Teased a memory somewhere on the edge of Junkrat’s thoughts but everything felt hazy and he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“You’re quiet,” Roadhog said as he passed the roach back.

Junkrat sucked a lungful of smoke and held it. Shrugged. “You ain’t.” When he spoke the words puffed out in a cloud.

“Huh,” Roadhog seemed surprised. “Hadn’t noticed.”

As he handed the last of the joint back to Roadhog, a glint caught his gaze and his eyes widened. “Crikey, Hog. Get a load o’ that place!” Ornately carved arch stretched over a gleaming silver door. “The hell is that?”

Roadhog followed his gaze. “Looks like a Hindu temple.”

Junkrat stopped, considering. “With a door like that, gotta figure they’ve got some decent shit in there….”

Roadhog also paused. “Not sure I like where this is going.”

“Hey, we ain’t hit anything in days. Gotta make this shit worth your while or you’re gonna quit bein’ my bodyguard.” Junkrat crossed his arms. Little miffed Roadie might not approve of his plan. Idea. Supposed wasn’t detailed enough to technically qualify as a plan. But they’d pulled off plenty of heists without one, technical or otherwise.

Roadhog sighed, tossing the end of the joint in a bin. “Fine, let’s do it.”

Junkrat grinned. “Right.”

It’d been ridiculously easy to break in. Seemed like God would have better security than an ancient crook vid camera that even he could hack, and an even more ancient Claytons Cop sound asleep in his office who didn’t even twitch when they passed by.

The main sanctuary was lined with small niches, each holding several golden statues of goddesses looped with gold chains and pendants, surrounded by flowers, candles, incense, and plates of money and food worshippers had left as offerings. Junkrat started pocketing cash from the offering plates and gold chains, a small silver statue of an elephant god, but after only a minute realized his nose was itching. Strange sensation… not like he was getting sick, not even like the usual insistent sharpness of allergies. Lighter, just barely there. Teasing the edges.

Rubbed his nose, sniffed. Unfortunately did no good at all. Still those light itching tickles that maybe felt like a sneeze? Maybe? No… ? He sighed, a somewhat wavery sound that had Roadhog glancing over.

“”M f...fine,” he managed. Talking made it worse, but still not enough to go anywhere. He blinked, slowly. At his foot wisps of smoke rose from incense sticks, floating up on random air currents. It was a heady smell, sweetness edged with spice. He breathed it in, and it felt like the tendrils had curled into his nostrils. The tickling sensation teased, a will-it, won’t-it, that had his whole body in a state of oddly pleasant, if confused, anticipation. 

Roadhog’s boots thudded on the marble floors as he crossed the room. Junkrat tried to smile, even through the fluttering desire.

“I… hihIssshew!” The sneeze sent him stumbling forward and he put out a hand to catch himself. Roadhog steadied him. “Sorry, just… hit’issshew!” Even with both, his nose still tingled and the way Roadhog was staring brought the heat up in his face. “I think…” he paused, waiting. Again? It was such an insubstantial feeling, and the sneezes didn’t really clear it, they were too floaty. “Think I might be…” A breath. Another breath. “Allergic… Huh R’aahshh!” The last one echoed in the sanctuary and the cop let out a snort and they’d run. But not before Junkrat’d pocketed a packet of incense sticks. 

They’d sold off all of the treasure, except for the little silver Ganesh. Now Junkrat opened a drawer, and discovered a few remaining sticks. He held one up, and a joint. “Again?”

Roadhog lit the joint as Junkrat lit the incense and they lay back on the bed together, staring up at the curls of smoke that rose to the ceiling. In the background music pulsed, deep bass, lighter electronic tones over. Something of Lucio’s. Fit perfectly with the dreaming feeling that was suffusing his body.

His skin buzzed gently, as though infused with smoke and music. The lightest tickling sensation edged his nose again with the sweet spice smoke. Everywhere tingled, wanting, and like Roadie knew, he peeled the shirt from Junkrat and ran his hands over his chest, calluses scratching just slightly. Rat sighed, a puff of air. “Tickles,” he said, meaning his skin, his nose, everything.

Roadie said nothing, just watched. He’d taken off the mask to smoke and his eyes were bright, burning.

“Feels… so good.” A surprise. Never minded sneezing, exactly. Specially when he knew what it did to Roadhog, but never realized how it felt. The exquisite ache as the sensation built up. His eyes drifted closed, better to focus on the sensation. “Hih-isshew! Issh! Issh! Isshuh!” The sneezes tumbled out of him in a rush, one almost over top of the next.

“Bless you, Rat.”

Wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but couldn’t get the words out, disappeared in the haze and the need to sneeze again. “Huh… isshew!  Hih-issshah! Issh!” Sweet scents floating over him, Roadhog’s fingers drifting over his skin. Piano over the bass, notes dropping into the center of him. Felt like he was drowning in sensation. 

Then Roadhog’s hands at his hips, unbuckling his belt, tugging open his shorts, freeing his cock. Mouth closed warm around him and he gasped and reached for Roadie as well. Rat rubbed his nose against Roadhog’s thigh, the rough denim satisfying the itchiness. Took Roadie into his mouth, only stopping to sneeze every now and again when the feathery tickle grew too strong.

They moved together with the music, moving like waves and the desire burned through Junkrat, not like the explosion but like the bright burn of a candle, the warm glow of the edge of a stick of incense. And when the fire consumed him, he let himself dissolve into it.

#oversnez #snzfic #look I managed a shortfic #R/oadrat #it's 1 am I must be posting smut #everybody must get stoned

[haeresyys]

Smoke and Whiskey

The irony in a conman taking interest in a lawyer was not lost upon Rei.

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic Pairing: Rei Amayado/Hitoya Amaguni Rating: Mature (to be safe) Other shit: Implied sexual content, third person POV, Rei being a stubborn mf about feelings.

Reposted from my AO3 acc, I thought I’d share it here too since I still like how it turned out :> Full fic is below the read more!

Sometimes Rei was thankful for some of the people he associated with. He was certainly glad he'd come up with the idea of having more divisions formed; His own division was certainly interesting enough. Sasara always knew how to brighten the mood, even if he did frequently crack terrible puns in the process. And Rosho was honestly a bit cute. It was certainly fun to ruffle his feathers.

But frankly, he was also interested in the other division. Badass Temple... Interesting name. He was far less interested in that monk with connections to his son, or the little musician. He had his eyes on their third member.

Hitoya Amaguni. Lawyer, MC Heaven and Hell. The irony in a conman taking an interest in a lawyer was not lost on him, but it wasn't anything too much, either. They'd met by chance a couple times. He was about as straight-laced as Rei would expect a lawyer to be, definitely had some interesting stories to give. Handsome as well, but since when had Rei Amayado ever been truly open or honest about how he thinks of someone? He preferred to drop hints. Tease a bit, leave them guessing.

So when they ran into each other, he'd do just that, not hesitating to turn up the charm. And the reactions he'd get were a great source of amusement--Startled looks, sometimes with what seemed to be a faint blush on the lawyer's cheeks. Snappy responses, frequently amounting to 'shut up'. Frankly, it was a little bit cute. He wasn't sure how long this continued on, until one evening he decided to take more of a chance than he had been.

"Yo! Been a while since I've seen you, sensei~. Been busy?" Hitoya had jumped a little at suddenly hearing Rei speak, before sighing.

"Understatement. This recent case has been hell, I need a drink." Rei tilted his head a little. Huh. Considering he'd just gotten done making sure one of his recent schemes didn't leave any trails back to him, it made him wonder a little. Did it blow up more than he expected?

More importantly, Rei noted how happy he was to see Hitoya after a while... Odd. He'd thought he was merely fooling around... Rei would hope he hadn't been reckless enough to let himself get attached.

Given who he worked for, attachments would only cause trouble.

"Mind if I join you? Sounds like an interesting story." Hitoya quirked a brow... And eventually just shrugged.

"Well, haven't gotten the okay to talk about this one yet, but I have other tales." They talked a little even as they were walking to a bar Hitoya frequented. And Rei wondered how long they'd sat there just talking and telling stories over their drinks. And as the time passed, he found his eyes drifting ever so slightly. Looking over Hitoya's figure, but his gaze always eventually rested on Hitoya's lips. The way they rested on the rim of the glass. His little smiles, proud of himself and the things he accomplished, the cases he won. 

He would blame the alcohol in his system for how much more attractive Hitoya seemed all of a sudden.

An hour passed. Two hours. Soon after that point, Hitoya finishes another story, another drink. He looks Rei right in the eyes.

"That was definitely one of my better wins." He smirked, and at that point, something in Rei said fuck it. He downs the rest of his drink and stands up, putting down a sum of money on the bar. 'Keep the change,' he told the somewhat puzzled bartender, before he grabbed Hitoya's wrist and pulled him to his feet.

"O-oi, oi!" Hitoya stumbled a bit as he was pulled to his feet. Rei glanced over his shoulder at him, before putting his focus elsewhere. "The fuck are you doin'? The fuck--" He pulls Hitoya a few meters into an alleyway, away from the bustle of the streets. And there, he throws Hitoya against the wall. There was enough light he could still see the lawyer's face.

"Oi, you gonna tell me what the hell you're plannin'...?" The startled look on Hitoya's face, and the blush on his face made Rei grin. The hand not next to Hitoya's head on the wall slid up his front, messing with his tie a bit.

"I'd rather show you." A swift tug of the tie, and his lips were on the other's. He heard a shocked noise from Hitoya, and felt how he tried to make Rei let go of his tie. But he seemed to slowly relax. The kisses grew more heated little by little, Rei took his chances and his tongue slipped past the other's lips.

"Hah... You weren't fuckin' around, were ya...?" He heard how heavy Hitoya's breath was once he finally pulled away. Rei could only grin and try to level out his own breathing, waiting for the thumping of his heart to quiet down.

Ah... This is getting a little dangerous, he thought to himself.

"Heh? You thought I was just stringing you along? You wound this old man." Hitoya looked puzzled, and Rei was about to just dive back in--

"Hitoya-san?"

Rei blinks at the sound of a voice calling for the other man. It sounded young... Timid. Hitoya curses under his breath.

"Jyushi... Did that kid spot us before we ran back here...?" Rei just shrugs.

"That's probably enough for now anyway... Here." He reaches into his pocket, handing Hitoya a small piece of paper. On it was his number. He gives Hitoya a wink and nothing more, leaving the confused (and riled up) lawyer to watch him leave.

It was as he was making his way home that he received a message on his phone, from Hitoya. His grin only widens.

Their chats didn't stop after that night, rather they only became more frequent. The next they saw each other, they once again exchanged stories, but along with that, there was many a stolen glance. A number of comments on Rei's end that left the lawyer red-faced; Not because of the alcohol, either.

Those meetings happened again and again, and the tension between the two of them only grew more apparent each time. And as he recalled the taste of whiskey on Hitoya’s lips, how they felt against his own, Rei found it increasingly difficult to keep away.

It was the fourth meeting that he made his move. Hitoya seemed far more relaxed that night, Rei thought to himself about how the lawyer must have had a good day. He had such a nice laugh...

Time passed once again, a glance to his watch reminding Rei it was getting late. 10 PM. He looked over to Hitoya; The lawyer had fallen silent, bringing his glass up to his lips once again. He catches Rei looking at him.

“Got somethin’ ya wanna say?” He questions, Rei’s gaze seeming to soften in a sense. He chuckles softly.

“Mm, I was just thinkin’, it’s getting pretty late, you know?” There’s a small pause, and Hitoya would see those mismatched eyes fall to half-lidded. “We could part ways for the evening… Or, we could take this somewhere else, if you’d prefer.”

Hitoya almost seems to squint a little bit at him. He seemingly thinks on that offer, before he huffs out a little sigh.

“Y’know what? Sure, I’ll bite. I wanna know what the hell you’ve got up your sleeve, conman.” Rei bites back a grin. Perfect. “I’ve got some more whiskey back at my place, if you think you can handle a couple more drinks.” Finishing off what was in his glass, he pays for the drinks before leading Rei out.

The trip back to Hitoya’s home felt agonizingly slow, and they’d barely even made their way in before Rei’s lips were on his, his hands making their way to pull off Hitoya’s jacket. The lawyer fell into the kisses fairly quickly, finding himself pressed up against Rei and inhaling sharply as he finally pulled away to breathe.

“Mm… Shoulda figured this was what you were after.” Hitoya sounded as though he were smiling as he said it, Rei looking down at him to confirm that yes, he was.

“Heh… At first I was content with just ruffling your feathers a little, but this works too.” He grins, and he could feel how hard Hitoya’s heart was beating, with how close he was. Hitoya then shoves him back slightly, and Rei blinks.

“No use doin’ this in the doorway, y’know? Get over here. And lose the stupid coat.” Hitoya rolled his eyes at the way Rei pouted at the coat comment.

“Oi, oi, it suits me just fine~.” That was all Rei could say before he was pulled away. He found himself thrown onto a soft bed, lips on his own, and from there, the rest of the night was a blur.

Though, the following day, he received an angry-sounding message from Hitoya about how much of a pain in the ass it was to hide the marks on his neck.

Rei wasn’t one for attachments, they would cause him trouble... Or at least, that was what he had thought for a very long time. But he’d only grown more attached to the lawyer as time went on, just a simple message was enough to get him to smile now. He found himself able to be more honest with Hitoya. And stranger, unless he was going crazy, the fondness seemed to be mutual. At this point, he was even wondering if what he felt bordered on the romantic… That would present a problem.

He was confident it wouldn’t impact his ability to fight in the Division Battle if that were the case, but even then, he tried to keep the idea out of mind.

And when they encountered each other once again before the battle, in Chuuoku, alongside their teammates, he kept quiet. But as Kuko and Sasara spoke with each other, Rosho looked to his teammate to see the older man on his phone, typing something out.

“Amayado-san, is this really the time to be contacting some client or another-?” Rei glances over at Rosho, before he shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that. Just messaging… A friend, we’ll call them.” He looks down at his phone again, sending out the message. He glances to Hitoya, who looks at his phone, eyes briefly widening at the suggestive message. And before their teams part ways, Rei lowers his sunglasses with a smirk, throwing the lawyer a wink. The embarrassed scowl and reddened cheeks he received in return made him stifle a laugh, and as they walked away, he could hear those kids questioning why Hitoya’s face looked so red.

#Hypnosis Mic #HypMic #Rei Amayado #Hitoya Amaguni #ReiHito

[illfoandillfie]

Could we get a threesome with Joe and Ben bc I'm just a big whore??? Also ur like the queen of tiresome fics sooooo. If not that's okay! D18: Don't come yet + D13: Let me help you forget that jerk D12: let's put that mouth to good use + D47: all mine + B30: I'll always be here for you + b26: it's not morning yet Thank you lovie, congrats on you reaching a big milestone!!

Sorry this took so long to get to but you’re in luck!! I’ve been listening to Todd audios, I’m really in my Joe and Ben feels, and I’m also a big whore so threesome it is! (also dsjkfhksdhjfk if you’d told me this time last year that someone would call me the queen of threesome fics I’d have called you a fuckin liar. I’m just a dumbass virgin, I don’t know a goddamn thing about threesomes. Thank you so much)

Ended up a bit long so under the cut

D18 - Don’t cum yet + D13 - Let me help you forget that jerk +  D12 - Let’s put that mouth to good use + D47 - All mine + B30 - I’ll always be here for you + B26 - it’s not morning

600 followers celebration blurb prompts

Nights out with Ben and Joe were never uneventful. Quiet nights in your favourite booth at your favourite bar somehow always managed to turn into drunken dancing or loud and offkey karaoke or any other number of activities you’d never do while sober. Things had gone differently tonight though. You’d had just enough to drink to dull the anxiety and inhibitions that usually pervaded your brain and kept you quiet, and had set your eyes on a very attractive young man standing by the bar. Ben and Joe cheered you on as you walked over to make your move. It went disastrously and the two men had quietly watched you walk back to your booth, head bent and shoulders slumped like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. One look at your face and they were both hurrying to get you out of there, Ben rushing to pay the tab as Joe slung his arm around you and led you to the door. The two of you began the walk back to Ben’s place, slow enough that Ben had no trouble catching up. 

“You wanna tell us what happened?” Joe said softly, still not letting go of you. 

“He wasn’t in to me. Which is fine but he was really harsh about it.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Just said some stuff about my appearance and how I’m not the sort of chick he’d go for. Very detailed, he was.” 

“Wanker.” Ben said loudly, “Insulting out Y/N. How fucking dare he. Shoulda given him a thump while I was at the bar.” 

“Don’t know if that’s helping, bud.” Joe said, softer than Ben though that wasn’t hard. Looking down at you again he said, “C’mon, let’s get you home. We’ll find something to cheer you up.” 

“Thanks guys,”

You did feel marginally better by the time you reached Ben’s door, his and Joe’s constant chatter enough to lift your spirits no matter what. Once inside Ben offered to get everyone another drink, suggesting a few rounds of drunk Mario Kart as a possible way to spend the night. You and Joe agreed, both of you flopping onto the couch like you lived there. You kicked off your shoes and leaned back into the couch. Joe kept looking at you, still a little worried by the way you’d been as you left the bar, but you seemed fine for the most part. Maybe a little quieter than usual but you’re always quiet until you get a few drinks in you and you hadn’t had quiet as much as you would have on another night. Ben came back, three glasses in his hands and a bottle of gin under his arm, distracting Joe. 

“Not the best but it’s all I’ve got. You guys fucking cleaned me out last time and I haven’t had a chance to restock.” Ben dropped onto the couch on your other side, handing out the glasses and pouring everyone a few mouthfuls. 

“Hey, we’re not the ones who just kept topping up glasses. You’re gonna run out of booze if you just throw them around willy-nilly.” 

“Shut up Mazzello and drink. I’m going to demolish you.” 

You stopped listening to them bickering over who won last time, taking a sip of the gin, still thinking about what the man at the bar as said. Suddenly the question spilt out of you, cutting through both their voices. 

“Do you think I’m fuckable?” 

“Jesus Y/N,” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The guy at the bar. One of the things he said was I didn’t look properly fuckable. Said I looked too sweet to be a good fuck so he wouldn’t bother. Was he right?” 

“Y/N, c’mon,” 

“You’re our friend, love.” 

“Yeah, we’re not gonna talk about you like that,” 

“So he was right.”  

Ben sighed and then tipped what remained in his glass down his throat, “Okay. I am going to tell you something right now, but only because you’re upset and you don’t deserve to have some wanker make you feel like this and I fucking hate seeing you thinking hateful things about yourself.” 

“What is it?” 

You felt Joe lean in on your other side, curious.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut like not being able to see you would make his confession easier, “Lately I’ve…fuck, lately I’ve been thinking about you while I wank.” He peeked at you through one eye when you didn’t respond, finding both you and Joe staring at him. That hadn’t been what you’d expected. 

“Really?”  

“Yeah, really?” 

“Shut up Joe,” Ben said waving him off as he turned back to you, “yes, really.” 

You paused, considering his words. It’d be a lie to say you’d never thought of Ben in the same situation. Or Joe for that matter. And it should have been enough to know Ben thought of you like that, the very idea making you shiver, making your heart quicken and your pants wet. But you wanted details. You wanted to know how he’d pictured you. Maybe you could use it later. 

“Anything specific?” 

“Honestly?” Now that he’d gotten over the initial embarrassment of admitting what he’d been doing he was much more open to discussing it, the weight of his hand suddenly far more noticeable against your knee. “I like the idea of making you lose control. You’re usually so softly spoken and polite and I don’t know, stuck in your own head I guess, and I kind of want to change that. There’s one fantasy I keep going back to. You, tied to my bed, begging. I keep imagining you moaning my name, so desperate that you’ll say anything, do anything without hesitating or overthinking.” 

Without knowing when exactly, you’d begun panting. Ben smirked at you, fully aware of the effect he’d had on you. 

“Well shit,” Joe said, breaking through the haze in your brain, “That was hotter than what I’ve been picturing.” 

“Y-you’ve been picturing?” 

“You didn’t think Ben was the only one, did you? We’ve spent enough nights together to have me…wondering. Started after I crashed at yours one time, few months ago, I was on the couch and you snuck out to the kitchen for a drink of water, wearing just the shirt I let you borrow that you never returned.” 

“Sorry,” 

“Looks better on you anyway. I assume you had panties on underneath but I couldn’t see them. Couldn’t help thinking maybe you didn’t. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about bending you over the sink. Ended up having a shower at three in the morning just to get off cause I couldn’t stop thinking about how good your cunt would feel. Amongst other things.” 

“Other things?” you whimpered as Ben’s hand slid further up your thigh but when you turned to look, Joe caught your chin and brought your attention back to him. 

“What d’you say you let me and Ben help you forget that jerk from the bar. We’ll fuck you the way you deserve.” 

You weren’t sure you’d be able to do more than whimper if you opened your mouth so you nodded, eyes locked onto Joe’s. 

“No, baby, you gotta talk,” Ben said softly, his hand replacing Joe’s on your chin as he turned your head to look at him, “wanna hear you ask for it.” 

You could feel your face heating up, the words catching in your throat. 

“Don’t be shy princess,” Joe said softly against your ear. 

“Please fuck me,” you squeaked. 

“That’s our good girl,” Ben’s praise sent a wave of heat straight to your core before he leaned in to kiss you. He was firm but soft, holding you still as he gently encouraged you to part your lips for him. Joe leaned in to suck at your neck, one hand resting on your waist as the other began moving slowly up your leg. You whined as he tickled the apex of your thigh. 

“Oh she sounds so needy already. What d’ya say we get her out of those clothes.”

Ben pulled you to your feet and reached for the hem of your shirt. Joe, still sitting on the couch, wrapped his arms around your waist and began unbuttoning your shorts, leaving a line of kisses down your thigh as he began wriggling them off you. It was overwhelming, your brain not knowing who to focus on as Joe sucked a hickey into your leg and Ben squeezed your tits through your bra. 

“Aww princess, this all for us?” Joe said as he pulled your underwear down, “Naughty slut’s excited to have us both I think, should see how fucking wet she is Ben,” 

Ben grinned at you as he dropped his hand from your breast, sliding a finger along your slit. Your whine turned into a yelp as Joe leaned in and bit your arse, laughing when he pulled back. 

“You weren’t kidding, Joe, she really is soaked.” Ben held up his finger in front of you, glistening under the overhead light, before taking it between his lips. “Dibs on first go of her cunt. Need to taste her properly.” 

“Okay but I get to fuck her first then.” 

“Sure,” Ben reached around to unclasp your bra, seemingly oblivious to the way hearing them talk about you was turning you on, “Bedroom?”

The next thing you knew was Joe’s lips crashing against yours as they led you towards Ben’s room. He pulled away once you reached the bed, pushing you backwards, sending you sprawling on your back over the middle of the mattress. You tried to push yourself up on your arms to see where the other two were but before you got too far you were on your back again, Joe pulling your arms over your head. 

“Lie back Princess,” he said softly, “Ben’s gonna take good care of you.”

You didn’t have much time to react before Ben was on you, tongue flicking slowly over your clit, almost lazily. Gradually he sped up, your breathy gasps turning into breathy whines as your arousal built. Joe kept a firm grasp on your arms as he murmured filthy words to you. 

“Seeing you like this is better than I ever imagined, Princess.” 

You squirmed as Ben trailed his tongue down to your hole, back arching as he pushed inside. Joe readjusted his grip on your wrists, holding them in one hand as he placed the other on your throat to pin you in place. 

“Can’t have you squirming too much, trying to grind against Ben. Not allowed.” 

Ben threw an arm over your hips to hold you down as he continued to lick and suck at your cunt.  

“Does that feel good, Princess? You like having Ben between your thighs?” 

“Yes, fuck, so fucking good.” 

“You want him to make you cum?” 

“Y-yes,” 

“Ask nicely,” 

“Please, Ben, please make me cum,” you whined, raising your head as much as you could to look at him. Joe’s hand was still at your throat but only loosely, at least for the moment. Ben raised his own head to look at you and grinned, pushing two fingers into you as he lowed his mouth back to your clit.  

“Such a pretty sound,” Joe growled softly in response to the moan you released as Ben sucked on your clit.  

“Ben, oh my god, yes,” 

“Don’t cum yet, Princess.” 

Ben’s mouth left you again, right when you felt on the edge of your orgasm. 

“What was that for?” you whined, looking up at Joe. 

“I don’t want you to cum just yet.” 

“Please, I need to, it’s not fair.” 

“No, it’s not really. But I want you fucking dripping and desperate when you take me.” 

“I can be desperate after I cum I swear,” 

“I don’t believe you. No, the only way you’re cumming tonight is while you’re cunt is stuffed full of cock. Right Ben?” 

“That’s right Joe,” Ben chuckled as he lowered his tongue back down to your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm was once again approaching. Joe tightened his grip on your throat as you began begging, trying unsuccessfully to pull your hands free so you could hold Ben against you. 

“I’m getting bored of your begging. You know it’s not going to work, so let’s put that mouth to good use instead. You felt yourself being pulled along the bed until your head was hanging off the edge. Upside down you watched as Joe striped off. 

“Open,” 

Without thinking you did so, letting Joe push his cock between your lips. Ben readjusted his position, making you moan as he dived back in.  

You were completely lost, unable to think about anything but how good it felt being between them. Joe went slow, easing himself into your throat. He was the complete antithesis of Ben who seemed to go harder and faster every time Joe paused, like it was his personal mission to break you and make you cum without permission.  

“God I love your pussy,” he rasped, lapping at you between each word. You jolted every time, not sure whether you were trying to get away from him or closer. 

“Does baby wanna cum?” he asked in a mocking voice, pushing his fingers back inside you. 

You moaned around Joe, making his hips buck forward, his cock slipping further down your throat, until your moan ended in a gag.  

Ben laughed, “too bad baby. Your pussy is all mine and I say not yet.” 

Joe pulled out of you and you took the chance to gasp for air. “I think you mean all ours,” he looked down at you, “Her pussy is all ours. And I think it’s about time I got to use it.” 

“Alright, alright,” Ben muttered as he dragged his fingers from you and brought his hand down on your cunt, leaving you with a single stinging spank before you felt yourself being flipped over and dragged around. You barely had time to register to the new position before Joe was pulling your hips into the air and sheathing himself into you fully. 

“God you’re close aren’t you, Princess? Fucking squeezing me. Ben really did a number on you,” 

You dropped your forehead to the mattress, moaning as he started thrusting into you.  

“It’s okay, you can cum whenever you want, Princess.” 

Almost as soon as he said it you came, clutching at the sheets as Joe swore behind you. Gentle fingers on the back of your head made you look up. 

“That was pretty fucking hot,” Ben said, looking down at you as he stroked his cock. He’d undressed while your attention was elsewhere. “But I’m feeling mighty left out right now.” He tapped his cock against your lips and you parted them, taking his head into your mouth. Ben kept his hand on your head though he let you set the pace. It was easier to control from this position, though the force of Joe pounding you didn’t help, pushing you forward so Ben slipped into your throat. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your moans building again as you remained trapped and full of cock. Joe was grunting as his grip on your hips tightened, driving harder as he neared his own release. He slipped a hand down to your clit and rubbed it in tight fast circles. 

“I’m not – fuck - I’m gonna cum.” 

You let Ben fall from your mouth as Joe buried himself deep in your cunt, grunting as he came, triggering your own climax. You whined as he pulled out of you, giving you a tired spank. 

“My turn,” Ben said, “help me get her round,” 

Joe nodded, both of them grabbing you and spinning you back to your original position on your back. Ben took hold of your ankles, pulling your legs around his waist as he sunk into you as deep as he could go. 

“You’re taking us both so well, Princess. You gonna cum for Ben too?” 

“I don’t kn-now if I c-can,” you whined as Ben pulled out of you slowly, almost all the way before he pushed into you again. 

“You can. And you will. We’ll make sure of that.” Joe climbed onto the bed, lying on his stomach with his feet hanging over the end. Propping himself up on an elbow he leaned down to kiss you slowly as Ben started pumping into you faster. Joe began trailing his other hand down your body, pulling at your nipples until you whined again.  

“She likes that Joe, I can see what you meant about her squeezing. Fuck,” 

Joe chuckled as he stopped kissing you, “What if I do this then?” He grinned at you as he shuffled down the bed, kneeling so he could slower his head to you breast. Using his tongue he drew circles around your nipple, pinching the other.

“Shit. Not gonna last much longer like this.” 

“C’mon Princess, gotta cum again. Show Ben how good you feel when you cum.” 

Joe switched to suck at your other nipple as Ben brought his hand to your clit. You had no choice but to let another orgasm roll over you, stimulation coming from every direction to pull you over the edge. Ben moaned at the same time as you, hitting his own release as you clenched with yours.

You were completely spent. It took all of your remaining energy just to move up the bed and lie back against the pillows. You didn’t even bother with the covers, letting Joe and Ben sort them out as they climbed in on either side of you. 

“Feel better?” Joe asked softly, draping one arm over your stomach. 

“Much,” 

“Good.” 

Ben snuggled up close, pressing his nose into your neck, “Y’know I’ll always be here for you. We’ll,” he preempted Joe’s outburst, “We’ll always be here for you.” 

“You mean this is on the table every time a guy turns me down?” 

“Not what I meant, but maybe. We’d do anything to cheer you up.” 

“Mission accomplished.” 

You fell into a comfortable silence for a while, the heat from both men and the sounds of their breathing lulling you into a doze. 

“I spose I should go home now,” 

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked. 

“Figured you’d want your bed back.” 

“Fuck off. It’s warmer with you both here.”

“God why would you volunteer to leave? I’m staying here til Ben kicks me out.”

“More likely to kick you out than Y/N,”

“Rude. But come on Y/N, you really think we’d let you go?” Joe squeezed you tight. 

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere until tomorrow. I’ll make you breakfast and everything.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah of course. It’s not morning yet, you’re not getting out of here.”

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy x reader #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy x reader x joe mazzello #600 followers #Anonymous

[fruit-teeth]

Lullaby

Alternate title: The Day Scout Used a Bat for Something Other Than Baseball.

/(Scout is next! Not much to say, except that this one is pretty long and kinda violent...but I threw in some Dad!Spy at the end cause why not. Hope you enjoy!)

In Jeremy’s memory, things were much simpler when he was a child.

Although he didn’t get along with his older brothers on account of them being so much older, he was inseparable with the three brothers closest in age to him— Jimmy, Phillip and Joey. The three boys were very fond of Jeremy, though they’d never admit it. They played with him nearly every day, they taught him self-defense skills, and late at night they’d stay up and tell each other scary stories in the dark. Though they didn’t have much money, and they didn’t exactly live in the best of towns, Jeremy forever would look back at these moments as being part of an idealistic childhood.

Out of all of his brothers, though, the one Jeremy aspired to be the most was Phillip. Phillip was eight years older than him, and he seemed to be the best at everything. He was a star athlete at his high school, he played the guitar like no one’s business, and he had girls swooning over him almost constantly. To Jeremy, he was literal perfection, and Jeremy wanted nothing more than to just be him.

But time changes everything. First, Jimmy went off to college, and while he dropped out about two years in, he somehow ended up with a pretty good job as a tie salesman. Not terribly impressive, but considering that many of his other brothers didn’t have such luck, it was quite the feat.

A year after Jimmy went to college, Phillip won a scholarship from playing baseball, and his whole family celebrated with a graduation party. Everything seemed hopeful, for a moment, as it looked like Phillip was going to really make something of himself.

So, what happened? Inevitably, Phillip got tangled with the wrong people. The details, to this day, are rather unclear, but he became involved with a local gang and, consequently, all of their many antics. All of this culminated in that infamous moment when his coach turned on the lights to the supply shed, only to discover that Phillip had orchestrated an orgy with his fellow gang members and local prostitutes right there on campus.

This led to Phillip getting dropped from school, and afterwards, he lived with his mother and brothers for a while. When he and his mother got into a disagreement over him not having a job, he disappeared into the night, and he didn’t return.

At this point, Jeremy was twelve years old, and the only brother who was still closest to him was Joey, who was sixteen. They hadn’t seen Phillip for quite some time, and by March of that year they seldom spoke about him.

In fact, it was March 15th when everything in Jeremy’s life got flipped on his head: this was the same day he’d gone through his first breakup with his first girlfriend, Joanelys. Joanelys had announced to him that morning during their homeroom period that she was in love with a boy named Nelson, and that she was going to leave Jeremy for him. Oh, how Jeremy had cried! He’d never been so hurt and angry up until that point, and he vowed never to speak to Joanelys again (he would run into her again, years later, and he attempted to speak to her then, but she acted like she didn’t know him).

Jeremy confronted Nelson after school that day, and he made it very clear what his intentions were.

“Hey, fatass!” Jeremy barked, fists balled in anger, storming over to where Nelson was waiting for his bus. “Ya think you can just steal my girl like that?! Huh?!” He grabbed Nelson by the collar of his shirt. “You got somethin’ to say!?”

This confrontation was not a smart move on Jeremy’s part, since Nelson was significantly bigger than him. Nelson just glared at him, before sneering, “She likes me ‘cause I ain’t no string bean like you,” he then raised his fist and punched Jeremy right in the nose, knocking him straight to the ground.

Nelson’s bus arrived then, and he got on it, but not before smashing his foot down on Jeremy’s prized Godzilla lunchbox and leaving a significant dent in it. Jeremy scrambled to his feet, just in time to see the bus doors slam shut, and he noticed his dented tin lunchbox laying in the ground.

As Jeremy began to cry again, the other children waiting for their rides home watched him in silent fascination before whispering to each other and pointing. Joey came stalking up from the high school just nearby, and he snatched up Jeremy’s wrist.

“Again!?” Joey snapped at him, leading him towards the sidewalk. “God, Jeremy, ya can’t keep cryin’ over every stupid thing! It ain’t right!” He then turned over his shoulder and barked at the kids watching, “Ain’t anyone ever teach you brats to mind your own business!?”

Joey led his little brother home, and all the while Jeremy told him all about his breakup with Joanelys and his fight with Nelson. Joey commented wryly, “You shoulda smacked the shit out of Joanelys instead, see if that bitch respects ya then!”

When they arrived, Jeremy intended to run straight to his mother and lament to her about his rough day, yet when he and Joey entered the house, they were greeted by the last sight they’d expected to see: their mother sat on the couch, and beside her sat Phillip.

“Phillip!” Gasped Jeremy, dropping everything and racing towards him. “Ya came back!”

Phillip set down his glass of water and caught Jeremy in a hug, pulling him in tightly. “Hey,” his voice sounded different: he sounded tired, worn down. “Hey, there, buddy. How’s it hangin’?”

Jeremy pulled away, and he took a moment to just observe. Phillip looked so much older, now, and his hair had grown longer although it looked as though it hadn’t been washed. He also smelled strange, like a mixture of sweat and fried food.

Joey paused in the middle of the living room, staring Phillip down before asking, “The hell happened to you?”

Their mother answered before Phillip could, “Boys, Phillip is very tired. He just came a real long way, so don’t overwhelm him,” she had a strange look in her eyes, although Jeremy couldn’t quite tell what she was feeling.

Phillip ran a hand through Jeremy’s hair, assuring him, “I’m gonna be okay, I promise. Hey, d’ya wanna play Scrabble later, Jeremy?”

Jeremy nodded. “Okay!” He didn’t actually like Scrabble, he wasn’t good at it, but he really just wanted to spend time with his brother.

They never got to play Scrabble.

Phillip was oddly quiet during dinner, barely mentioning anything about where he’d been all these months, what he’d been up to, or really any details. All he did was tell a funny story about how he saw a naked man at a Taco Bell. Other than that, he seemed more invested in what his brothers were up to more than anything else.

“Jeremy, hun, could you help me with the dishes?” their mother inquired of her youngest son once dinner had ended, and Jeremy nodded.

“Yeah, Ma,” he began to clear up the sliverware, but it was then that the phone rang.

Phillip answered with a “Yeah?” before his entire demeanor changed. He fell silent, listening, before he tried to ask, “How did you—?” He stopped, and then quickly hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” Joey asked, looking up from the comic book he’d just pulled out to read.

“No one,” Phillip answered hastily, before throwing on his coat and stumbling out the door.

Jeremy noticed Phillip leaving, and he cried out, “Phillip! Where are you goin’!? I thought we were gonna play Scrabble!”

Their mother had gone upstairs, so she didn’t see when Jeremy pursued Phillip out the door. Phillip jogged down the sidewalk, looking all around in a panic before he realized Jeremy was following him.

“Jeremy!” He hissed, grabbing his brother by the shoulder. “The hell you doin’!? Go back home!”

“No!” Jeremy retorted, clenching his fists. “Why are you leavin’ again without sayin’ anything!? It don’t make any sense!”

Phillip grabbed Jeremy’s hands, looking into his eyes with a deep earnestness. “Jeremy, I’m just tryin’ to protect you. Get inside, now!” His voice quivered, and Jeremy knew he meant it.

Jeremy blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Protect me from what?”

“You—,” Phillip was cut off by the screeching of tires, and he whirled around, his face paling. “Shit!”

A beat-up van pulled up, and a cluster of men poured out of the doors. In reality, there were only about six men, but to Jeremy there seemed to be more, and they all looked huge and terrifying.

A man in a roughed-up suit stepped forward, his lizard-like eyes scanning Phillip and Jeremy. After a moment, he spoke.

“So, Phillip,” he began, his voice rough and raspy. “You thought you could get away this easily, hm? You thought that bringing this child with you would keep us from what we need to do?”

Phillip gritted his teeth, stepping in front of Jeremy to defend him. “Shut the fuck up,”

The man snorted, stepping closer, the streetlights illuminating his face. He was hideous, and Jeremy didn’t even want to look at him.

“Don’t think we won’t hesitate to snuff out the kid, too,” the man snarled. “We don’t need a witness here,”

Jeremy started to shake, gripping Phillip’s arm. “P-Phillip?”

Phillip spoke again, but he was pleading this time. “Diego, please, I’m beggin’ ya. Leave my brothers out of this! It’s me you want, not them!”

Diego pursed his lips together, thinking. The other men behind him began to move in closer, circling Phillip and Jeremy and effectively trapping them.

After a moment, Diego commanded in a cold and monotone voice, “Kill the boy, and make him watch,”

Two men snatched Jeremy up, startling a scared yelp out of him, but Phillip whipped out his pistol and aimed it at both of them. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

One of the men snickered, pulling out his own gun and pressing it against Jeremy’s head. “Phillip, if ya know what’s good for ya, you’ll put that gun down,”

Jeremy shook and cried out, beginning to sob loudly and futilely attempting to wiggle free. “No, no, no! Lemme go!”

Another man grabbed Phillip from behind, but Phillip was prepared. He whirled around, shooting the man in the head before aiming higher and shooting Diego right between his eyes. As both men went down, all hell broke loose.

One of the men holding Jeremy let go of him to rush at Phillip, while the other one pulled out a knife and poised to slash Jeremy’s throat. Jeremy, however, managed to duck away and sink his teeth into the man’s exposed arm, drawing blood with his overbite. The man let out a yell, dropping Jeremy, and the boy promptly scrambled to get away.

“Run, Jeremy!” Jeremy heard Phillip screaming as he was swarmed by the gangsters. “Run, don’t look back!”

Jeremy darted to the backyard as fast as he could, heading for the shed, where he scurried inside to hide. Catching his breath, he crouched down, hugging his knees as he felt himself still shaking like a leaf.

“I ain’t scared,” he repeated in a whisper to himself. “I ain’t scared, I ain’t scared, I ain’t scared...”

It was then that he noticed Phillip’s old bat leaning up against the wall, and he grabbed it, holding on to it tightly as he stared at the door. He could hear all the commotion happening outside, but he didn’t want to register it or even think. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply before pushing the door open just a crack to look outside.

“Gotcha!” A voice bellowed, and that man from earlier grabbed Jeremy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him out of the shed. “You miss me, kid?!” He held Jeremy above his head, nearly choking him.

Jeremy yelped, and before he even had time to think, he raised the bat up and in a swift motion, he brought it back down and cracked it over the man’s head.

The man dropped Jeremy again, letting out a scream and staggering backwards. Jeremy could have taken that time to escape, but rage took over his body. He began to brutally beat his attacker with the bat, smacking him repeatedly and without mercy, reaching whatever part of his body he could with the bat.

“This is for my brother!” His voice pitched as he thrashed the man, not even stopping when blood began to dribble on the bat. “This is for tryin’ to kill me! You’re a fuckin’ asshole, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

The man finally got a moment to reach for his knife, which he raised to try and stab Jeremy in the arm. However, he never got the chance: a different man, one Jeremy did not recognize from the gaggle of gang members, seemingly appeared out of nowhere and plunged his own knife into the man’s back.

“The police are here!” The new man shouted at Jeremy. “Run— go to them, now!” His accent definitely wasn’t a local one, but Jeremy didn’t even question it as he got up and ran towards the flashing lights, bat still clutched in his hand.

As soon as he ran up to the cars, an older woman caught him halfway there. “Are Jeremy?” She asked him, holding him still to look him in the eyes.

Jeremy sniffed, nodding. “Y-Yeah! Where’s Phillip!?”

The woman just stared with eyes that seemed to glow golden, before she put an arm around Jeremy, solemnly leading him to an ambulance just a few feet away. There, he saw his mother inside, hunched over someone on the stretcher, and she had an expression on her face that was unlike one he’d ever seen on her before.

“M-Ma?” Jeremy began, stepping inside the ambulance. “Ma?”

She lifted her head, her mascara ruined from tears, her eyes wide open. “Jeremy...” Her voice broke, and she grabbed him, holding him close and so, so tightly. “Jeremy! Oh, my god, oh, my god!”

Jeremy hugged back, unsure of what was happening, but he buried his face into his mother’s chest. “Ma, some guys tried the kill me! I dunno what happened to Phillip, did they get him!?”

A cough came from the stretcher, and Phillip’s destroyed voice met Jeremy’s ears. “They did...”

“Phillip?” Jeremy tried to get a good look at him, but his mother just pressed him to her chest so he couldn’t look.

She reached over with a gentle hand, touching Phillip’s face, shaking all over. “Honey...why did this happen to you?!” She sobbed. “Why would they do this!?”

Phillip didn’t answer, and instead he asked, “Is Jeremy okay?” He lifted his head a little, and Jeremy could see that his eye was swollen shut, and he was covered in bruises.

“I-I’m okay, Phillip!” Jeremy cut in, tears rolling down his face.

“Good...” Phillip let his head fall back down. “Thank God...that’s all that matters...”

His mother sniffed, hovering over Phillip, stroking his hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Phillip,” she whimpered, her lower lip shaking. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise...”

The rest of the night was a blur to Jeremy. The man who had saved him earlier showed up in the ambulance, hugging Jeremy’s mother, and she hugged him back while sobbing. Jeremy didn’t go with Phillip to the hospital, though— instead, the man took him back to the house, picking him up and carrying him up the stairs.

The man told Jeremy to get ready for bed, and he obeyed, brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas. Once this had been done, he climbed into bed, suddenly feeling immensely tired and wishing to go to sleep as soon as possible, just to escape this hellish reality.

As he began to drift off, though, the man sat on the edge of his bed, where he stroked the boy’s hair and rubbed his back. He acted very lovingly towards Jeremy, almost the way his mother would, and Jeremy just barely registered a quiet lullaby being sung to him.

“Berceuse et bonne nuit,

Tu es le delice de ta mere,

Anges brillants a cote

Ma cherie demeure.

Doux et chaud est ton lit,

Ferme les yeux et repose la tete.

Doux et chaud est ton lit,

Ferme les yeux et repose la tete...”

#long post #writing #my writing #this took FOREVER but hopefully its worth it #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 scout #tf2 scoutma #tf2 spy #tf2 dad spy #dadspy #tf2 administrator #gang violence tw #guns tw #blood tw #violence tw #im tagging these just in case #origins

[adevotedappraisal]

Short Story: Gershom, part one of two

A short story about a memorable day in the life of the most famous folk-hero of Barbados, one Winston Hall.  I played loose with the actual facts of Winston’s life, the way all folk tales do, but also because the story is less about the particulars of his life and more of the imaginary mind-state and desires of a person in solitude who wishes to connect with a country that is as scared and confused about him as he is of the country itself. Enjoy.

Gershom part one (the mid-day son)

By Christopher White

Run always. Run until it doesn't make sense, until it gets too thick and it makes more sense to stop. Do the patrol. First go up to Old Ledge and do some sight seeing from there. Look. Look at the brown on the rooftops. Look at that section there with the path by the side. You made that path, trample all over the grass. It makes the runs quicker. Sky is clear. No rain smell, good. Mrs. Graves must be cooking by now. She makes good veggies. Are you hungry? You aren't hungry, good. Anything out the ordinary from the sight-seeing? No. Children going school. Look at that little one. Cheez on bredders I know he mother back when she was a child, now look she got a lil' boy. What's her name? She was cute girl, she used to look at me and smile sweet. I thought she did love me, but I was seven, I ain't know what love was then. She was cute. What was she rassole name now? It's an 'M' name. Anyway, check the trespass traps. No one has been up here. Good. Look up again. Look at that sky. Now look at the green. Go over by that mango tree and tie your lacens. What was her name? Winston stood by the mango tree overlooking St. Joseph and tied his shoe-laces carefully. The wind was soft but enough to push the trees to swaying. Down the hill was a pasture, a display of overgrown grass with an arcing path carved into it, made by Winston four months earlier. The countryside was silent save for the cheering that the leaves made in the wind, the occasional high shout of the school-children going to the nearby Primary School. A wooden crate laid half buried and overcome by the dirt, and one of the primary school boys stopped to kick at it. His mother quickly came and slapped his hand and the boy cried and breathed in, cried and breathed in, breathed in, then breathed in again, and then let his cry carry over the sloping section of the country, through the primplers of the dunks trees, over the ribs of the stray dogs, under the stereo of Stephen ' Step-Hen' Roberts, and into the tightly knit and thatched corridors of the Hill-trees (sparkling from the sun light coming through), past the perpetually deciduous Breadfruit tree until the last bit of the cry met the mango tree, and made Winston Hall look up, causing him to pity the boy and his own childhood, the recollections of which were as faded as the child's bellow.

The sun went on during the morning as Winston stayed mostly behind the large and thick line of trees, and carried his supplies as he made the trek to Chimborazo, where a sizable patch of farm land lay.  On his walk along the ridges and down the dips along Joe's River and up through the slowly-swaying trees Winston remembered bits about his childhood. He thought about Primary School sports and how he was real good with the egg and spoon race. His little secret was to do the race on near tip-toes. A strange sort of balance, a strange sort of control occurred when he did this. The finals race was him up against Peter from down the gap, and Peter was the favourite because he had just won the 200m easily, but Winston had his technique. By this time of the day the sun was becoming soft around the Pasture of the school sports, and the sno-cone vendor had run out of evaporated milk, and Winston was ready. He got the lead early, trying to absorb all the shock of movement through his toes and knees. His eyes were on that egg, brown and wobbling, then he looked up at the yellow tape. He kept his nerve, trying to keep all his might and auspices on this one task. Mrs. Licorish was shouting "Go Winston! Lick down boy, lick down!" and he kept it all out while he warbled on. Winston stopped his thinking of his younger-Winston and looked up because he thought he saw someone. Down boy. keep low. Look for shadows that don't move like trees. Could be an animal. Could be nothing.  It's not a person, you would have heard something by now. People is mek noise when they walking without minding their walking. Look the field over there. Good carrots and lettuce. The soil real dark. Gets turned over alot. He could grow some weed at the back there. Make himself some extra money. Remember Dizzy. Dizzy used to get a small boat and go over to Tobago every fortnight to get weed from he stash. Went with him sometimes. On the boat over he used to sing Sam Cooke tunes. Good voice. Barely used to hear him and was right across from him. It real hard to sing at a whisper and sing well. But you could do it if ya practice. I shoulda win that egg and spoon race. I lose concentration. I was thinking about the prize before I get it. Got complacent. Rest pun my laurels before I had de laurels. Peter just took advantage. He was safe tho. It was my fault. I wonder where that silver medal is? Mummy was proud or not? Mummy say once that she wish she had chinee eyes. I tell she I still proud of she eyes. She hug me. Okay stash de bags here. Come back later tonight. Get some carrots then. Sometime during the day you gine be hungry. Just hol off till you get to Robert. Robert got something for you. Remember. Later this evening. On his way back near Suriname, Winston heard a rap song. He wondered when was the time that rap got so popular in Barbados. He cared neither way for the music, it wasn't the music of his youth, and he really hadn't the time to learn new music. After getting free from prison during the late nineties he made it to the foot hills of his home-hamlet of Suriname, but on the way he remarked at all the antennae that were on top of roofs, all the fancy new cars on the road, and the even more churches that popped up during his imprisonment. By the time he reached Robert's house he was dirty, smelling of sweat, and tired, but the first thing he whispered to Robert was "wait Robert, Bajans sell dey ass to de Devil to get these new tings or wha?"

  The sun had gone behind a sudden construction of clouds. Through the spaces in the clouds the sun came down in verdant lines. Winston was in a tree looking out at the country-side and nursing his right knee with a handkerchief in a way similar to this:

He had injured his knee on his latest escape from prison around four years ago. It was morning and the guards knocked on his door and said "Hall! Bath!" Winston got up off of his lumped bed and pushed against the wall. Silently he pushed against the inside of his cell, grimacing his futility only to himself, fingers clawing the faded paint, the thick stale air reminding him of his situation, of his choices. He did this same gesture to the walls everyday he remembered to do it. The young guard knocked on the door then the door opened. He stared at Winston. "Come 'long." he said.

Down the corridor he walked with the two guards flanking him, looking at the sorrowful structures of the century old prison. The feeding chain in the prison no longer surprised Winston. 'Big Criminal eat the little one' he mused. He noticed his feet chains were not the way he remembered them. He was walking with more freedom than the previous mornings. 'water goes to the path of least resistance' he thought. 'Geography teacher said that. But what was his name?' he thought. Then he pushed the guards fiercely aside and ran.

A large percentage of the Prison officials were in a meeting, and Winston ran like if he knew this beforehand - with reckless determination. Prison pants-legs rubbing swiftly against each other as Winston darted through some boxes then up near the play-court where Justin Maynard and Harold Peters stared in amazement at Winston's bursts. So concentrated, yet so risk-taking. Winston ran like freedom to the wall. The guards ran in pursuit and motioned others to tell the rest in the meeting. Gravel sparkled over his legs, then no gravel as he leaped up onto a shed and then onto the sharp-toothed wall. He looked back, at the galloping guards, at the stunned new-comer prisoners and the observant veterans who stopped the basketball game the moment they realised that this was an example that their fellow prisoners should view. They stood up, some cheering, most just beholding. Beholding Winston thirty feet up in the air on the precipice of a barbed wire wall that overlooked an over-run gully packed tight with all types of things discarded.

Winston jumped, not flailing, but not sure.

Don't squeeze it, just put you hands around you knee. Just let it know that you there for it. That jump was messy as blood. Uneven ground to land on. Thought it was broken. Thought it had snapped. Still bothers me to this day. Doesn't hurt when I bend down, only when I get up. This is good enough. Look at the sky. Sun coming back out. Look at the cloud shadow on the ground. That woman is coming back from dropping she son off from school. She doesn't work. Now I remember, she does, she just goes out 'round mid-day. She breasts look good. She do she hair pretty well up just to drop she son off. That's what I like. A woman that care what she look like. What is her name? I should run down there and ask her. Just ask her and kiss her and tell her I ain't got shite to give you but my heart and hope. I should tell she I want she to hope for me. Hope I work something out of this life. I is a good kisser I feel. Suck bubbies good. I would be a good father for de child. Child father aint around. I don't see any man ever with her. I would discipline the child good. I would love the child good. Tell he everything I know. Tell he everything to make sure he never end up like me.

 Miriam Lowe walked down the cracked road to her home. She took her glasses off and started to clean them while walking by memory. She put them on again and stared at the trees and over-run grass behind the row of houses where she lived. Some of the children call that area the jungle and so she forbade her young one to go there without her. Her slippers flapped lazily as she walked up staring at this elaborate chaos back there. Fear truly resides in the unknown. Because fear implores you to assume, demands that you suppose the nature of the things that scare you. She day-dreamed a cabal of mad rastas in the hills, scorning the plaintive practicality of a remote control. Or she dreamt about drug dealers with huge weed trees reaping their harvest that would stick a knife through anyone who discovered their bounty, or any little boy. Maybe back there was a time warp, and pirates and runaway slaves and vampires and duppies and ravenous forest wolves all lived between the trees, all waiting to feast on the minds that fear them, the minds that are so scared of them, that they imagine them on morning walks while cleaning their glasses. Miriam walked up the unpainted steps and into her home. She put the boy's colouring books into a pile, and looked at the back of the newspaper. She then looked straight ahead at the picture of Kevin Lowe, staring straight ahead, policeman hat and visor sloping and shiny across his forehead, lips pursed, against a plain blue background. She stared at him and smiled at the dead man. On the nights that she would invite a man over for a night-time coupling, she would turn that framed picture down onto the glass cabinet that held assorted souvenir cups and decorativia. She put the kettle on the stove, sat down to gather herself before she left for work at a Christ Church hotel. She sat in her chair, bright from the sun coming through the ajar door, and thought about the duppies going to work in the bushes behind her house and up the hills. She thought about this until the kettle began to scree, unsure at first, then full throated as soon as enough of the water had boiled within it. Winston was down in a depression near Joe's River checking on stash B. He had a series of places where he stashed supplies, clothing and weapons. He walked further into the dense grass and further into the hills to Stash C. Stash C had dry foods and loose magazines he managed to get. He took out a green plastic bag filled with dry food and walked further down until the denseness stopped and the ground became softer. The ground gathered on his shoes but he walked on. The ground became sturdy again and a small pasture emerged; mostly dry grass and cracked earth. At the far end of the pasture was a tree with rope tied onto the base. Attached to the base was a dog, pacing silently back and forth, wagging all the while. There he is. He always lets me know he missed me. Give him a hug. Scratch his belly. Wrestle the bastard to the ground. There you go. He likes so much games. Is that lice there? No just dirt from the play-fall. Well, give the bag of dog food. Look at him nose through that. Sometimes you wait too long to feed him. Remember that. There was a boy in primary school who used to take children food from them. Used to call him Charles Bronson. Found out years later he was taking all that food home to feed his brothers. I would have given him the food if I had known that was the reason. He didn't have to hit me that one time. I cry but stop real quick. But I learn that sometimes you could reason with a man, but sometimes it doan matter. When a man hungry, all he know is letting go blows for food. Everybody like that. When dey back to the wall, they would beat they dog for food. Policemen is got to beat confessions out of people to get de case finish. Dem aint care, but when they job on the line dey beating up poor people. And if that poor person was a policeman he would do the same thing. Sometimes my back was to the wall. Sometimes I didn't have nuh big money for nothin. And sometimes I had to share out fuckin blows too.

 And so Winston went through the day, hiding between one spot and the other, travelling with his dog, scouting out movement in the areas of St. Joseph, and thinking an assembly line of thoughts to stop himself from going mad. Winston's torment was not only his choices of his youth ( a naive 20 year old creeping up to a plantation house looking for quick money), but also the realisations that these choices were simultaneously making him more popular and more apart from this country he took for granted in his youth, as we all have. By the time of his second escape from prison (third from police custody), Winston Hall had managed to become the most well known male in Barbados while at the same time being the one person who had the least knowledge of what was occurring in his country for a man his age. He could tell you the best escape route from the gully near Richmond's house, and the best unguarded breadfruits in the parish, and how to separate normal flashlights from more expressive police flashlights, but at the same time Winston had no idea of the movie theatres that were cropping up, the dynasties of night-clubs that rose and fell over the decades, the spread of the internet, the drugs, the government, the rise of women in schools, the travel accounts for black managers at insurance companies, the carve of a rally-car tire into the asphalt, the smell of the west coast after it flooded and killed a few people, the look of a signature on an invoice slip of a DVD player bought at a department store, the progresses, the illusions, the pursed lipped rage of this country, all these things were apparitions - stories he might hear about but never care about because his country was not our country, his anthem was not the same we sing at events half-heartedly, his motto was of no high-minded Pride and Industry, but of only one word embedded into his thoughts, permeated into his action. His only motto was Survival. The sun was beginning it's slope downward now. Mid-day had come and Miriam was in a Transport Board bus rocking slightly, hopping up whenever the huge busses went down into a hole in the road. The grass and boundless grass that went by the window went into her eyes, left the memory that this road had grass on the sides of it, and then the rest of the images left her mind. The distinctions were only picked up by her under-mind, her subconscious, and her under-mind seldomly reminded her of how the world truly looked, of how the world truly operated. While the Bus stopped at a traffic light, and in the background, Grantley Adams Memorial School loomed sprawled by against the pastures. It was then that her under-mind began to remind her of the way her life truly was. The images of her late husband slapping her into the wall of their house came up. Miriam closed her eyes. She countered by reminding herself that he truly loved her, and she was not a door-mat for her man because she could get any man she wanted in Surinam or most places. She knew of the constitution of her breasts. But she stayed because she realised that things get complicated when you get older. "When you are a teenager or a girl like that of course you coul' leav ya boyfriend like that, because the only obligation is to the relationship. There is that thing telling you that you could get a better man. "But when you get married to a man, have a child with a man, get a house with a man, appliances, garden supplies, new bed sheets with a man, ya is become more entrenched. It's harder to leave. All of a sudden you start weighing everything. You is say to yaself 'yeah he hit me las night, but he change de child diaper real good and fix de back door'. The practicality of him over-weighs the emotional shite he might get on with. All of a sudden you get stresses when he get stressed, and vice-versa. We hurt each other differently when we in bad moods that is all. He shoved me into a wall when he was angry, and I tell he that he need to clean he ass better or I ain't gine suck he balls no more. People get hurt in different ways I guess." she thought to herself. The bus went along through the country. Past the mini-marts and the wooden churches and the rum-shops, and into the roads filled with hotels and night-clubs and well-designed restaurants. She rang the bell and got out, and went into her hotel. In the back room Janice Callender had her hand up her skirt pulling her shirt tail down so that it was all flat against her. The younger girl looked at Miriam as a bigger sister, an aunt, a guiding hand of some sort. "Miriam," Janice said while they got prepared for their work of work and smiling. "Yeah what happen Janice?" "Um, wha you would do is you man cheat on you? You woul' cut off he doggie?" "Nah, I wouldn't do that." Miriam said, "Men gine do tings like that sooner or later. I wouldn't even leave he." "Fuh trut? Why you wouldn't leave he?" Janice asked. "Because if you want to be in a relationship you is realise that ya aint in just a relationship, you in a life together. You have to learn patience, and hope, and most o' all, forgiveness. Love is mess up we head, and make us put up wid a lotta shite from de people we love. But to tell ya de truth, I wouldn't have it any other way." Miriam said. The two stood in the back room fixing up, and then Janice said, "but what if he was pun de down low with a man?" "Then I woul' throw he bullin ass out de house and cut off he doggie." Miriam said as they both laughed themselves into the hallway.

All was calm during the afternoon. The grass was knotted up amongst each other and the clouds moved softly. Years ago, there would be Reddifusion boxes wheezing out the hymns and solemn-spoken events of the day, but now those radios were gone and now a home stereo would vibrate bass-lines from a house where an unemployed man might live, or a woman at home with her child, or a middle-aged man going through a youth resurgence, listening to young-people stations while taking a day home from work. The community was at rest, as it usually is, as it usually expects itself to be. Winston sat behind a clutch of dunks trees mostly bare from being picked by Winston all the time. He was sharpening a piece of wood by planing down the edges to a point. Maybe he'd use it as a weapon, maybe he could stick it in the ground, tie rope to it and use it as an anchor for a make-shift tent if he suddenly had to run. Mostly he was doing it so see the soft, tender slices of wood peel off from over the knife and flick off playfully to the ground. Thin bends of wood, making not a sound as they were cleft from the wood that they were part of. No reason that they were now separated from their wood except from pure boredom now, or maybe pure usefullness. In any event, the wood shavings probably understood that these things were a course of life, and it didn't have to be fair, or expected, or planned, or even holy, in order for it to be a part of life. Winston took up the shavings from the ground lest anyone find them and suspect that he was living nearby. He was chewing some tamarind leaves slowly. "Tastes just like de tamarinds" he always told himself, and even as a little boy, it always calmed him down whenever he remembered that tamarind leaves calmed him down, because sometimes he didn't remember. He sat in the shade, his stomach not grumbling, and just stared at the countryside. Most would not believe this but he was not overly concerned with his legacy. He was so pre-occupied with survivng for no other reason than to survive that he seldom really thought about the impact of his survival on people who didn't have to. He once read an article when he was in Trinidad about the situation of the ghettoes around and the near Port-Of-Spain. The reporter asked a question, "How do you think your condition here in this squalour reflects on Trinidad and Tobago on a whole?" and then the reporter reported that the ghetto citizen had nothing to report on the question initially. He wrote that the man just stared at him as if he had never thought of anything related to this. The citizen then said " Ah cahn really say what other people should tink, ah only know what I tink. Maybe it reflect bad bad bad, but maybe nobody else really tek this ghetto into dey mind. In fact ah doan tink they do tink about the ghetto enough to feel ashamed or anyting about it." He heard shouting, but did not startle himself because he immediately recognised it as children's shouts. He slowly looked out and down the road from behind the trees and stared. He counted the money and objects in his pockets as he stared. Bajan women legs either small or big. They either skinny or meaty. no inbetween. They hips move like if only the hips dancing. Mrs. Fenty hand is getting better. Moving it better. One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve I feel her husband broke it thirteen fourteen fifteen she looks like the type that would get beaten sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty and that's where ya is usually grab a woman when ya hold she rough twenty one twenty two twenty three twenty four - twenty four dunks in de right pocket. There's the little boy. The neighbour is carrying him home along with her son one two three four five his face is round just like his mothers six seven eight nine what is her name? ten Maureen? eleven Mary twelve wait Mary? thirteen Mary-Ann? fourteen fifteen Maybe Mary-Ann is she name. That is the closest I could get. I still feel I wrong, but less wrong than before sixteen seventeen. Seventeen bills I got, de same as yesterday so I know is de same amount. I is think about that girl too much one two three I getting feelings for she but I need to still concentrate on tings four five six seven eight she is treat people so good tho nine she so sweet to de other people ten when she laugh I is could hear it eleven and it is a laugh that so sweet twelve I want to mek she laugh like that bad bad bad thirteen rassole I love she? fourteen love who? I only love myself and mummy fifteen I have to talk to she, introduce myself to she, mek she laugh for me eleven, shite I think I lost count. Miriam tugged on the left side of the bed to make sure both sides of the sheet tails draped evenly off the bed. She looked outside the window at the sand, at the waves. She thought about drowning and then moved away from the window. She walked down the corridor, light thumps on the carpet when she walked. She sat down in the break room where the lockers were and unfolded the foil over her lunch. The smell of the beef chunks rose up and made her scramble for her fork. She speared one and shoved it in her mouth, biting down forcefully. She pushed the other chunks to the side to keep for later and scooped up the rice with her thumb on top of the place where the fork bent downwards. She enjoyed the meal but didn't smile about it. Smiling usually comes from enjoying the thing itself only for the entertainment in it. Food that you ate when you were hungry served the purpose of keeping you alive more, so there was little entertainment to enjoy about hunger-eating as opposed to say, eating ice cream. Miriam thought about when she was a child hiding from her father. Balled up inside a suitcase, she watched through the open zipper teeth as her father looked under the bed, sweetly growling her name, with his penis dripping. Yolanda came into the break room. Miriam looked up at her. Yolanda smiled back. "Doan be so sad Miriam. Jesus helps us all." "yeah...you right." she said, then took the beef into the fork and carefully bit the meat from the solid bone, using her tongue to rotate the piece, while she thought about dark rooms.  

The sun was on it's stage to rest by the time Winston got underway to see the dog again. He thought about the future for the first time in a long time. He usually only thought about the future in terms of where things should be, where things are expected to be tomorrow: the sun comes up over there in the future, the school children sound this way in the future, the crickets will go like this in the future, the wind is expected to blow like this, and then like that, and then it would relent. But he never usually thought about that other future - the future that you can change. He wasn't one to think about five years into the future, because in his mind that was absurd. Other than the days, or maybe hours before a jail break he didn't think about his involvement in the future. Even in Trinidad during the calm nights, rain outside and the woman warm against him cooing herself to him saying, "Tony you is mek me feel safe, ya is a strong man ya hear me?", he never thought long about marriage, or where the little children would be in ten years or anything large like that. He just went on in his mind about what the rain was expected to sound when it slowed down to a drizzle, where the only big sounds would be the fat-as-cunt rain drops that fall from leaves, or dribble down the galvanize roof notching into the ground. He would think about that, then about the next day, and only after tomorrow came would he start to think seriously about the day after that, and what the accoutrements of then should look like. End of Part one.

#short story #winston hall #caribbean #barbados #long read #Black Fiction #island fiction

[izzy-b-hands]

Christmas Morning

A Soft Xmas morning fic with Sledge and Snafu for my friend @peachessir! Thank you for the prompt, and I hope this fic makes your day better!!

This song came up while I was writing, and I feel it fits p well with the emotion of this fic, so here it is for y’all as well!: https://open.spotify.com/track/5b43XehPlGYoOGjl9AncUV?si=pVQhOYuaQiyh-PPLL6WgYQ

re: part of this fic, here’s my reference for it. Also just a cool reference to look through, tbh: https://vintagedancer.com/1940s/1940s-mens-accessories-history/

For reference, this is set as like, their second holiday back home after the war. So they’ve got a routine kind of, but home still doesn’t necessarily feel like home yet. Written sort of out of my other hc where I have them in Maryland for a bit after the war,in this one they are already in Mobile, having taken over Eugene’s parents old house as their home, his parents have a new house elsewhere in town. Still keeping all their pets though because...well, I want to lol. 

Okay, that bit of housekeeping done, below the cut is the fic!

The bed was shaking, violently, as he woke. 

“Get your ass up, we got presents to open!” 

Eugene attempted to mumble the thoughts in his head, from ‘but didn’t we open everything at my parent’s house last night?’ to ‘is four o’clock in the fucking morning??’, but was too half-asleep to manage it as Snafu helped him downstairs, the cats and dog traipsing after them, meowing and barking for an early breakfast. 

“Okay kids, simmer! Lemme get your papa sat down here and then I’ll get you fed, let you outside for a bit,” Snafu soothed as he led Eugene to the couch near their Christmas tree. 

He blinked to try and wake up as Snafu went off to tend the children, and looked to the tree. 

Presents. Why were there more presents? Not many, only four actually, but they’d taken everything they’d bought for each other over to his parent’s last night, to be opened on Christmas Eve. Today, Christmas Day, was their recovery day after having been around family so much. 

“You ready?” Snafu dropped onto the couch beside him, nearly in his lap. 

“I think so? But where did those-” 

“You’ll see once you start opening,” Snafu interrupted, and went over the tree, nearly tripping on the edges of the too-long open bathrobe he wore over his pajamas. “Here, you go first.” 

Eugene barely caught the gaudily wrapped box., and read the tag. “To Sledgehammer from...Burgie? How the hell-” 

Snafu only smiled at him expectantly, so he tore into the paper and opened the box. 

Inside were two of the nicest crystal glasses he’d ever seen, engraved with their names, and a note: ‘I know you might not be able to have a church wedding, but y’all are essentially married now and deserve a nice wedding gift. My pa is the one who did the engraving, he wishes you all the best as well. When you two next come out to Texas, wrap these up and bring ‘em with, and we’ll have a toast to you both, and to being home. All my love, Burgie.’

“Next one’s for me, from one of the...” he sighed, and his voice shook just a bit. “From one of the boys I fought with in Gloucester. His mother sent it along this year, said it was meant for last but she...she wasn’t ready to send it yet. Guess he’d had her save some things, so he could send ‘em to us after we all got home.” 

Eugene carefully set the box with the glasses in the kitchen, away from where the cats liked to jump, and joined him on the floor near the tree, wrapping him in a gentle hug. 

“This asshole,” Snafu laughed, even as the tears dripped down his face. “Look.” 

He took the box from Snafu, and bit back a laugh. It was a set of poker chips, and a note: ‘Next time you can come around my neck of the woods, we’re gonna play again, and I’m gonna win this time. You just got lucky, last time. Can’t wait to see you again, Snafu.’

“Nah, you won buddy,” Snafu said softly, his eyes somewhere else as they filled again with tears, and he set the box near the tree. “He should have too, I really did just get lucky that game. God I miss him.” 

He held onto Snafu for the next few minutes, letting him sob and remember. He hadn’t gotten to meet this particular company member, but he wished he had. 

Snafu pulled away from him, and handed over another box. “Next one is for both of us, technically. But I want you to open it.” 

He took the light box, so light it seemed nothing would be in it, and opened it carefully. 

He nearly dropped it then, but held on with shaking hands. 

It was a letter. From Ack Ack, to both of them. Talking about how while neither of them had come straight out with how they felt about each other, he was glad they weren’t really hiding it otherwise, and he promised them safety, from other soldiers and anyone who might say anything to him about it. How he knew war was pain and loss and fear, but he was glad all the same it had brought them together, and he hoped they’d be happy together once they made it home, because he knew in his heart they would.

Snafu was crying again when he looked up from the letter. “Read it before I wrapped it. Burgie found it, and saved it when they were packing up Ack Ack’s things to send home. He sent it along with the glasses, and asked me to make sure it was a separate gift. Said Ack Ack would have wanted it that way.” 

They fell into each other’s arms again, openly weeping. It was a wound that they both knew would never fully heal, none of the losses would. But it was still so open and fresh now, that as wonderful as it was to have more of Ack Ack’s words, it almost hurt just as much, because he would never get to say them to them, never meet them in a city in the States for a drink and reminiscing. 

Once they’d both settled again, holding back the rest of the tears, pushing the hurt back down to where it usually sat, Snafu took the letter and walked to the desk in the corner of the living room. He pulled a frame from the drawer of it, and placed the letter in it. 

“Bought this for it as soon as I got Burgie’s stuff in the mail. Wanted to wait till you’d seen it too before putting it up somewhere though. Can you imagine what he’d say, if he knew we were hangin’ his letter up? He’d rag on us for ages,” Snafu sniffed, but smiled as he brought the letter back over, and settled it on one of the spare nails in the wall near the entrance of the living room that they’d not yet managed to fill. 

“He would,” Eugene managed a laugh, and though it hurt it felt good all the same. “Wish he could see it.” 

“Me too,” Snaf sighed, and went back to grab the last present. “You get to open this one too.” 

“This is from you,” Eugene smiled. “You already spoiled the hell outta me, what else did you possibly get me?” 

“Something that I didn’t have with me overseas, but that I wanted to give you. Part of courtin’ your cute ass, that I finally get to do, even though we’re past that.” 

The box was small, and gorgeously wrapped. How on earth Snafu had even found the paper, Eugene didn’t know. He notoriously hated the shops as it got close to the holiday, but all he could envision was Snafu having gone in specifically to find the blue and white paper, with artfully drawn snowflakes on it. He half-hated to tear it, but he was also curious as could be, and Snafu was clearly just as excited. 

He opened it carefully as he could, and opened the box. 

“Had my family in New Orleans send it to me. One of the only things I left there. Shoulda heard them on the phone, going on about how they knew I’d never give it to a girl like the other boys did. But I finally found the person who’s supposed to have it,” Snafu said. “It ain’t much, but-” 

Eugene interrupted him with a kiss, before returning to the box, which held Snafu’s ID bracelet. It had been and as far as he knew for some still was a common thing for a man to give to his girl, to show they were together and that it wasn’t a passing fling. And him and Snafu certainly were no passing fling. 

He put on the bracelet, then gave Snafu another kiss. “Be right back.” 

“Where are you goin’?” 

“Gimme a minute!” Eugene called back down as he found his bracelet, and jogged back downstairs, dodging the cats as they trotted by him. 

Snafu took the ID bracelet from him with a reverent look. “This...this is big. Everyone’ll know. I mean, I think most of ‘em know already in town or suspect and everybody’s kind enough to keep any thoughts to themselves, but-” 

The tears were back again, happy tears this time as Snafu put on the bracelet. 

“I know,” Eugene interrupted. “I know...we have to be careful. But most everyone knows us round here now, and we’ve been fine. So I want them to know now. If I’m gonna be wearing yours, I want you wearing mine, along with our rings, and I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

It was half warm embrace, half tackle as Snafu climbed into his lap, nearly tipping him over with the enthusiasm of his movements, shrugging off his robe as he kissed Eugene like it was all he knew how to do. 

Eugene fussed with his own robe and pajama top, trying to get them off and tossed behind him to soften the hardwood floor somewhat as he lay back, pulling Snafu with him. 

In a few moments they were down to just their underwear and the bracelets and their rings, the jewelry glinting in the soft morning light from the sun just starting to rise, and Eugene thought if he would ever see an angel in his life, then it would look like Snafu did now. Warm and soft and transcendent, moaning every time Eugene ran his hands through his curls, sighing with every kiss, heated skin melting against his own. 

By the time they’d finally paused enough to toss aside their underwear, they were both too close for much more, Eugene knew that for sure. In the way Snafu rutted against him, whining sweetly, whispering love and admiration in his ear as he left hickeys on his neck. In the way he wanted nothing more than to come across Snafu’s stomach and to feel Snafu come on his, to reach that high together and lay in the heat of the moment after. 

He didn’t have to wait long for it, between their continued feverish kissing and roaming hands and the occasional nip on his chest and shoulder from Snafu (who loved nothing more than leaving marks and having marks left on him.) It was perfect in its timing, both of them coming within a moment of each other, Snafu moaning into his shoulder as his hips and cock crashed against Eugene’s, while Eugene used a hand to pull them as close together as he could. 

It was silent then. The cats and dog happy moving about the house on their own, no cars on the road outside. Just the sunlight streaming in, and their limbs intertwined as they came down together, kissing gently. It was another world, and Eugene never wanted to leave it, to look anywhere other than Snafu’s gorgeous eyes. 

For the next few minutes at least, he knew he didn’t have to. Snafu was clearly just as comfortable and enamored with the moment, smiling and running a hand through Eugene’s hair while the other pulled him near, though they were about as close as any two bodies could be. But it was never quite close enough for them, and if closer ever existed he knew they’d jump on it in a heartbeat. 

“This was a good Christmas, wasn’t it?” Snafu asked, breaking the silence. 

“It was,” Eugene sighed. “Know what I’m lookin’ forward to, though?” 

“Can’t be cleanin’ up what we just did,” Snafu smiled. “Only downside to doin’ anything down here. Least we had your robe down for part of this.” 

Eugene nodded. “True. But I’m lookin’ forward to havin’ more good Christmases like this with you.” 

“Me too,” Snafu replied, snuggling close. “You know we can’t fall asleep down here like this, right? I’m gonna get up in a minute, get us cleaned up.” 

“Sure,” Eugene chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Snafu, and watched Snafu’s eyes flutter shut, fighting to keep himself awake. “I’ll wake you in ten.” 

“Mmhm,” was Snafu’s only response as they snuggled amongst the torn wrapping paper in the sun, warm and happy. 

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu

[dayaray]

Who: Daya Ray and other miscellaneous characters What: A summary of Daya’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week Where: Unknown When: Friday, July 19 Warnings: Severe humiliation

She thought it couldn’t get any worse.

The week started with the blackout, the long trek from Bayview to the hospital with a sick Freddie on her back, cough rattling his little lungs painfully. It started with questions and barbs and feeling like she might throw up at any possible moment because all of the secrets she held inside her. 

Then there was Aidan. Her body found, not two blocks from the Seaside, in a way that she knew was intentional. She wondered if Marcelo had wanted Daya to be the one to find her. A clear reminder of the power he held, and more importantly, the lack of her own power. She remembered seeing flashing lights as she walked home that night, but that wasn’t an uncommon thing in Bayview. She simply kept her head down and continued walking. She only learned because she had settled into her small cot that was tucked behind a partition in the living room, and checked her phone as she fell asleep. 

An alert flashed across her scene, something that Kat had taught her to set up when the other girl had fortified her phone. A small program that searched for certain key words. Heart in her throat, she immediately sat up, tapping at her phone anxiously until the article popped up. Her body had grown cold, blood freezing in her veins like ice as she read the first five words. ‘Missing Police Officer Found Slain”. She knew in her gut that it was her, and she forgot what happened in the next three hours. Jakob had come out to start breakfast as he always did and found her in the same position, staring blankly ahead with her phone in her lap. 

That night had been a reminder of the secrets that were buried in her chest. How she had let her guard down and with every action that Henri took, was another nail in her coffin. It felt like her world was spinning out of control and no one seemed to realize. Like she was drowning and no one cared to help. 

Of course that wasn’t true, but she felt so paralyzed in guilt, knowing that had contributed to someone’s death. It shook her to her very core, waiting for the next shoe to drop at every turn. She felt foolish for thinking that maybe she could find her own brand of happiness, only to have it ripped away without a second thought. 

All because someone thought she was a possession to be had.

By Thursday, she was hanging by a thread, doing her best to keep pushing through. The small kindnesses that people had shown were appreciated, but were ultimately swallowed up in the sea of terror and self-loathing she had fallen into. Daya knew that Jakob was worried about her, and that the twins could tell something was wrong, even though she tried to muster a smile. Even that felt draining.

Of course all throughout the week, the Nameless had been making demands throughout the city. The blackouts now were mostly frustrating rather than scary, and the masked idiots largely ignored Bayview. She thought that maybe they would be in the clear after Friday, that people would finally figure out that it was simply easier to let them believe they had won so they could move on with their lives instead of being held hostage. 

After all, it couldn’t get any worse right?

Nine years on the job had taught Daya to be acutely aware of her surroundings, and to trust her instincts when something felt off. So when a cold tendril of uneasiness coiled in her stomach, she quietly reached for the mace in her bag as she walked toward the Seaside. The streets were largely empty at this hour, and the few transients that were usually set up in alleys and doorways were oddly missing, though that wasn’t entirely out of place.

She pushed forward, knowing the Seaside wasn’t too far off, and in a brief moment of perverse humor, she wondered whether Charlie would tell her I told you so for wearing those stupid ass heels. Someone grabbed at her arm, but she was ready, turning with the momentum and spraying the pepper spray towards her assailant. Even with the terrifying masks they wore, some of the chemicals got through, judging by the angered cry of pain and the backhand that cracked across her face. It sent her to the concrete, and Daya only had a second to look up before a boot came slamming down onto her temple. 

The next thing she knew, she was bound, gagged, and kneeling amidst a group of five others. While this position was something she was used to, it was far more terrifying when it wasn’t something she had consented to. Looking around, she glanced at the others who were with her, faces she mostly recognized. The announcements passed in a blur, and she was yanked up roughly, and spun to face Lex, who looked terrified, but also resigned to her fate, even as she begged Daya to just do as the Nameless asked.

How could Daya be complicit in this? Lex was one of the few friends she had, if they were actually that, and after the awful week they’d had, she couldn’t bring herself to pile on even more misery. There was a cold note of steel in her voice when she refused and one man pressed close, his voice distorted by the mask he wore. “Shoulda expected nothing less from a traitor whore,” he spat in her face. 

They strung her up beside Lex, and no one hesitated before advancing on them both. Slurs, taunts, and ridicules were all thrown at her as hands groped and pulled at her body. She didn’t look down at the things they were writing, almost certain that they were all words that had been said to her face at some point in her life. Someone scrawled the word ‘TRAITOR’ across her forehead, which she only saw by catching a glimpse of the broadcast behind them. All she could think about was praying that Jakob had the good sense not to watch, or to let Hanna and Freddie watch. 

Jeers and shouts echoed in Daya’s ears and she heard a familiar grunting noise as warm globs landed on her stomach. There were several exclamations of disgust, but no one moved to wipe it away, and only wrote around where the fluids were beginning to drip down her body. The only time she showed any expression at all was when someone produced a pair of rusty scissors and approached her, and a flash of fear went through her body as she cringed away. Strong hands shoved her back in place and held her down as the Nameless hacked away at her hair. Long strands fell away until she was left with a hackjob of a bob, choppy and uneven. 

It was at that point that she forced herself to disconnect from reality, in order to protect her fragile psyche. She silently endured the torment, not once begging or crying, only stone-faced as she stared at a spot on the wall above the screens. She couldn’t look, couldn’t think, and could only focus on breathing. When they were forced into the cages, metal scraped against her arms, leaving small cuts and she didn’t blink as food and water was slopped together on the ground in front of her.

It smelled awful, like it was rotten, and she simply curled up as far away as she could from it, even as the Nameless continued to taunt and jeer and throw food and water into the cage. Daya didn’t flinch as she was pulled out of the cage, though her legs were asleep from the cramped space and she nearly fell flat on her face until someone yanked her back so hard that she feared her arm would get pulled from its socket. They were marched to Manor Park, and Daya wasn't sure whether people were actually cheering as they walked by or if her imagination was filling in the blanks.

The end was almost anticlimactic in comparison to the week that she'd had. The police rushed in and chaos erupted once more, but Daya merely stayed put, even as the others were escorted away. It was almost fifteen minutes before someone seemed to realize she was still kneeling in the grass, staring blankly ahead. The ride to the NEPD was near silent, and at the very least, someone had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. However her interrogation wasn't a pleasant experience. The harried detective was brusque, and it was clear that he wasn't sure if he believed Daya was a victim in this. She didn't have the energy to fight him, and simply responded to his questions to the best of her ability. He was dissatisfied by the lack of information, and kept her there well into the night, long after the others had been released. The only thing she could think about during the entire ordeal was that she was glad Aidan didn't see her like this. But it still didn't stop herself from wondering what it would have been like to have someone actually interested in her wellbeing, instead of leaving her to the mercy of chauvinistic men who knew exactly what she did for a living.

Almost 24 hours after she'd been first snatched off the streets, Daya was dumped back onto the street. One police officer had tried to tug the blanket from her shoulders and would have succeeded if another officer, a blonde woman, told him to knock it off. Daya simply ducked her head in thanks and walked outside. No one offered to give her a ride back to wherever she needed to go so she began the long walk back to Bayview. Her heels were long gone, but she was still riding the edge of adrenaline and dissociation.

It wasn't until she got back to the Seaside almost an hour later that the events of the day began to sink in. Her hands trembled as she tried to unlock the room that was effectively hers. Finally, she burst through the door and immediately slammed it shut behind her, flipping the deadbolt. The meager contents of her stomach emptied into the toilet and she rinsed her mouth in the tap. It took another ten minutes for Daya to muster enough courage to look at her body. Her fingers traced the words that littered her skin and she turned to turn the water on, as scalding hot as it could go.

She scrubbed for half an hour, until her skin was pink and raw from the heat and friction, but the marker stayed put stubbornly. The ones on her body were easily hidden with the proper clothing, but the bold block letters on her forehead would be present for several days yet. Her hair was a mess, strands all at different lengths but she didn't have the energy or money to fix it right now. So Daya turned away from the mirror and she pulled her phone from the bag of evidence that the police had shoved into her hands as she was escorted from the station. She ignored the clothes that had been cut from her body and she turned the device on.

A flood of messages and missed calls arrived all at once, mostly from Jakob in frantic worry, several from Leon, and a surprising amount from Cam. She wouldn't have thought that he cared so much. Daya quickly tapped out a message to Leon to tell him that she was fine, and then hovered over Jakob's number. A phone call wouldn't be helpful right now and Daya wasn't sure she could speak without breaking, and she couldn't put her baby brother through that. So instead she sent him a short message as well. "I'm fine. I'll be home in a few days. Don't tell the little ones."

Drained of all energy, Daya turned her phone off and laid down on the bed where she'd fucked so many clients. Another reminder of who she was. She couldn't escape it even if she tried. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined being back in the cage again, or being pinned down by a sweaty body. She imagined Aidan's ghost standing in the corner, and the figures of her siblings, looking at her with such disgust that she felt like her heart was disintegrating in her chest. She lay in the same position until the sun came up. Another day. Another chance to push through. She just had to push through.

It's not like it could get any worse, right?

#thread: self #tw humiliation #yikes yikes yikes #mobile so who knows if the formatting stood up #if it didn't I'll fix it later #just wanted to get out this heartbreak

[regret-dot-jpg]

Run Run Rudolph

Chapter 1: (i’ll add on the other chapters in reblogs)

If there was one thing Blackwatch knew how to do, it was how to celebrate the holidays.

They celebrated just about every major holiday— Shogatsu, Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, you name it. Genji suspected it was largely because the agents just wanted a reason to party.

When he first arrived at Blackwatch, he had found it annoying. The constant cheer was...a bit much. But even he hadn’t been able to resist the buzz of excitement that came with the holiday season. Eventually, after an unbelievable amount of bargaining, he ended up being dragged along to Overwatch’s annual Christmas party by none other than a certain cowboy.

Overwatch and Blackwatch threw a joint Christmas party each year, one that was known for being a very big event. With a lot of people there, which was why Genji had been apprehensive to attend. But against all expectations, he had actually enjoyed himself. A large part of it was thanks to Jesse, who at that point he had taken a liking to (not like he would’ve admitted it though). Looking back, Genji guessed that the Christmas party was what had started his definite fondness for Overwatch’s holiday season.

Whatever the case was, he was willing to admit that he was also looking forward to this year’s Christmas party. But that had nothing on Jesse’s excitement, which was practically tangible as the cowboy eyed the decorations lining the walls of the lounge.

“Just a week til the party, Gen.” Jesse grinned, drumming his fingers on the cup of hot chocolate in his grip. He lifted the cup to his lips, only to wince and immediately lower it.

“And you are just one more sip away from completely burning your tongue.” Genji noted with dry amusement.

“Pretty sure I’m already there.” Jesse made a face, gingerly set the cup down on the round table between them. For good measure, he pushed the cup a few inches away from him.

Genji snorted in amusement. He paused to eye the agents setting up a mistletoe right above the doorway.

“That’s either gonna go really wrong, or really right.” The cowboy mused, following his gaze. The agents were now giggling uncontrollably, probably thinking about the chaos that would ensue, “Probably a bit of both.”

Genji couldn’t help but agree. At the very least, it was bound to be a little entertaining.

“Is Blackwatch doing anything special this year?” He asked, leaning back in his seat. His leg was bent and drawn up onto it, letting him rest his arm on his knee. Jesse liked to say he made sitting look “edgy”.

“For the party? I think we’re getting a bouncy house.”

“A bouncy house.” Genji repeated, blinking. He raised an eyebrow, “Those are for children.”

“Then it’s a bouncy house for not-children. Don’t know if we actually are getting one, though. I’ll ask Reyes. But speaking of the party…” Jesse leaned forward, grinning. There was a very noticeable mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “What say we have a lil wager?”

“I’m not wearing a mistletoe headband, Jesse.”

Jesse blinked, was silent for about five seconds, then promptly burst into laughter.

“That’s not what I was gonna suggest, but I shoulda.” He snickered, “Missed an opportunity right there. You’d probably punch the lights out of anybody with a two foot radius.”

Jesse paused there, then mock-dramatically clasped his hands together, fluttering thick brown lashes, “And who knows? We could’ve even smooched a little.”

Genji purposely ignored how something in his chest twitched at the joke.

“If you so much as think about getting me a mistletoe headband, the next time I’m on laundry duty, I’m burning your laundry.”

As per Blackwatch tradition, all the agents with for, rooms in the same hallway took turns doing everybody’s laundry. While it wasn’t the worst thing to do, nobody (including Genji) enjoyed laundry duty. But he and Jesse had room right next to each other, so the threat was very much possible.

“Relax, I ain’t doing that. Yet. But, funny you should mention laundry duty….”

Genji’s tilted his head in curiosity, “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could have a bet for the Christmas party.” Jesse smiled slyly, “Loser takes the other’s laundry shift for a month.”

Genji raised an eyebrow. Oh, he was really interested now.

“Is that so?” He said, the corner of his mouth quirking up, “What’s the bet?”

Jesse paused to think, drumming on the table as he thought. After a few moments, his face lit up with an idea.

“How bout this—I wear something completely fucking ridiculous or the entire party. If it’s crazy enough, I win. If not, you win.”

Genji considered the bet. Fair enough, he supposed. But he couldn’t pass up the clear opportunity laid out before him.

“Hmm. That might be a little unfair.” Genji declared nonchalantly, a faint smirk spreading across his face, “It might be hard to find something even more ridiculous than what you’re already wearing.”

Jesse’s mouth fell open in a mix of amusement and indignation.

“Really. Is that what you think?”

“Yes. Why?” Genji teased, looking straight at the cowboy in what was clearly a challenge, “Already worried you’re going to lose?

Jesse laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, Genji, sweetheart.” He smiled sweetly, “You’re definitely losing this bet.”

                                                  _____________

The problem with being two of Blackwatch’s— scratch that, Overwatch’s — most elite agents was that they were well known. That, combined with Jesse’s general popularity because of his charm, Genji’s apparently “mysteriously dangerous” persona, and their reputation as the “dynamic duo” (Jesse’s words, not his) word of their bet spread relatively quickly.

It wasn’t like it was plastered everywhere he went, but Genji had definitely seen multiple agents trying to figure out the outcome of the bet. Every now and then, he would catch a couple agents looking over at him and Jesse, excitedly whispering. Hell, even Reyes brought it up during a team briefing (“Just don’t walk into the party naked , okay?”). And then Angela mentioned it during a routine checkup the next day.

Jesse, of course, ate it all up.

Knowing him, it was no secret that he was going to wear something utterly ridiculous. The question was what. It was a wild card. He refused to say what he was planning, so all Genji could do was guess. By the day of the party, Jesse had definitely found something, if the excited, conspirative grin he had on his face throughout all of lunch meant anything.

Lunch that day was light, largely because of how busy the kitchen staff was with preparing the food for the Christmas party in the evening. The bustling, buzzing energy of the kitchen staff was matched intensely by all the other agents. The general atmosphere could only be described as excited, something which Jesse embodied pretty well.

“Hate to break it to ya Genji, but you’re going down.” The cowboy declared matter of factly, slapping a hand down on the table for emphasis.

“Hmm.” Genji cocked his head, “In what? Today’s training session or the bet?”

“Both, probably. You’ll see.” Jesse winked,  “You’re in for a big surprise, hon.” 

“And what would that surprise be?”

“If I told ya it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Jesse sarcastically shook his finger at him, pretending as if he was scolding a child. Genji just shook his head in fond exasperation.

Turns out, the both won the training session, being that they ended up on the same team. It was them against a team of four, which sounded unfair until you realized how easily they wiped the floor with their opponents. Genji would have felt a little bad about it, if it wasn't so oddly entertaining. But the moment the session was over, Jesse glanced at the clock and began packing up his gear.

“You’re in a hurry.” Genji noted, watching Jesse quickly undo the straps of of his standard issued training chest armor. He could see the four agents they fought walking past out of the corner of his eye, regarding the two with almost reverent expressions.

Jesse glanced at the clock once more, then nodded.

“Yup. It’s five. Just two hours until the party. I have to shower and get ready.”

Genji leaned against the wall. He didn’t have to wear any armor, being his most of his body was armor, so he just waited for the cowboy to finish taking off his.

“You need two hours to get ready?” He asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Hey, I ain’t just wearing some generic ugly sweater. Besides, I don’t think I’ll need all that time, but just in case, ya know?” Jesse gesture vaguely, then dumped his armor into a bin. After double checking that Peacekeeper was in its holster, Jesse turned to the cyborg with an impish grin.

“I gotta go. And I’ll see you at the party.” Jesse snapped both his hand into a finger gun. With that, he turned and strided off, a noticeable pep in his step and cheerful whistling giving away his excitement.

Genji watched him go, undeniably curious about what was in store. But, he figured, he could wait. He would find out soon enough, anyway.

                                               _____________

“Genji!”

The cyborg turned in the direction of the voice to see Angela walking towards him in a green sweater, a cup of eggnog in her hand and a bright smile on her face. Thankfully, the Christmas music blasting over the sound system wasn’t too loud, so she didn’t have to yell again to be heard.

The party was starting to reach full swing around them, as Christmas music blared over the loudspeakers and agents mingled and danced. Genji could hear the distant voices of a lively karaoke duet by the piano. The walls were lined with paper snowflakes, shining Christmas lights, and other decorations. Every now and then, little fake snow machines would shoot out artificial snowflakes, dousing nearby agents, which either made them laugh in delight or groan in annoyance.

It was around 7:30 or so, and Genji could say that, yes, he was enjoying himself. While he was no longer much of a big party person, he was much better with such events than he was when he first joined Blackwatch. As long as he could do what he wanted at his own pace, parties weren’t bad.

“Hello, Angela.” Genji tipped his head in greeting.

“Have you tried the eggnog yet?” Angela paused to take a sip of said drink, “It’s very good.”

“I will later, once Captain Amari has finished beating Reinhardt.” His voice lifted upwards with amusement towards the end of his statement. Ana and Reinhardt were currently in a competition to make the best gingerbread house in the quickest amount of time. To put it lightly, Ana was winning.

“That must be soon, by the looks of it.” She smiled, watching the competition for a bit, before resuming the conversation, “Is Jesse here yet?”

“If he was, I have a feeling we would know.” Genji said dryly. Angela laughed, nodding.

“That’s true.” She said, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Jesse still wasn’t here yet, and Genji couldn’t help but wonder what was taking him so much time. Had his costume ripped? Or perhaps he was chickening out, Genji mused. No, that was unlikely. Jesse was too much of a reckless idiot to chicken out over something like this.

“It must be something big, if he is taking so long.” Angela mused, “Maybe he’s wearing a giant inflatable snowman costume.”

Genji snorted in amusement, “Knowing him, that’s actually possible.”

At that very moment, the set of double doors slammed open. Being that there was a party going on, that was a pretty common occurrence with people coming and going, so Genji wouldn’t have paid it any special attention.

But what did get his attention, and the attention of everybody nearby, was the giant red and green present box being wheeled in. The present box was huge, to the point that if it was any bigger it might not have fit in the doorway.

The agent wheeling the giant present in was a man he didn’t recognize. The man looked around the room, as if he was looking for somebody, then set his gaze on Genji.

“Present for Genji Shimada.” The agent announced, wheeling the present towards him. Genji blinked, confusion settling in as he belatedly registered that, yes, the giant present was for him. Angela gave him a curious look, but he was just as lost as she was. The man came to a stop a few feet from Genji, sliding the metal wheeling contraption away from the present and setting it down.

With that, he backed away, allowing a curious crowd to form around Genji and the giant present. This close, he could guess that box was probably big enough to hold at least two people. This all happened within the span of a few minutes, and it was so out of the blue Genji wasn’t sure if it was real.

“....What?” Genji muttered in confusion, taking a half-step forward. And that was all he was able to do before the present suddenly fell open, the cardboards walls of the box hitting the ground and revealing—

“ Suuurpriiiiiiiise!”

The first thing he noticed was the red mini skirt.

A second later, his brain caught up with was happening and then he actually registered what he was looking at.  Jesse was standing inside the now open box, posing flamboyantly with his hips swung to one side and one arm up in the air with flourish.  He was missing his cowboy hat, instead wearing a  Santa hat cocked slightly to the side, more of a decoration than actual a hat. But as Genji’s eyes dipped lower, he realized that there was a much, much bigger problem on hand.

Jesse hadn't just ditched the cowboy hat; he had ditched all of his normal getup. Instead, he had on what appeared to be a Santa costume of some sort. But....barely. There was no way that qualified as clothing.  He had on a red, off the shoulder crop top and sleek white gloves covering half of his forearms. The sleeves of the top went down to his elbows, ending with a strip of fluffy-looking white cloth. But the part of the top covering his torso, however, was nowhere near as modest.

The neckline of the top, being that it was off the shoulder, dipped distractingly low. To make matters worse, the first of the three black buttons on the front was unbuttoned, making the center of the top dip into a sharp, revealing V. That, coupled with how distractingly tight the top was, practically put a spotlight on Jesse’s pecs. The red fabric clung to his chest, leaving little to the imagination.

What was almost equally distracting was how the red crop top cut off directly underneath his chest. All the golden-tan muscle of his torso was on full display, from his abs down to his hips. God, his hips. Genji’s eyes couldn’t help but follow down the bare curves of his body, tracing from the waist to wide hips.

A matching red mini skirt clung to Jesse’s noticeable hips, with a fake black belt with a golden buckle along the top edge, and..….oh, wow, that was a short skirt. It only reached past a few inches down his thick thighs. The entire image was only amplified by how the skirt seemed to strain over his thighs and hips, hugging the curves tightly. It was short. Dangerously short.

Genji was keenly aware that skirts like that could slide up very, very easily.

When he was finally able to drag his gaze lower, down legs that seemed to go on for miles, he noticed the above-the-knee red and white socks. The socks, which were spiral-striped like a candy cane, disappeared into black high heels with shiny golden buckles.

Once he had dazedly taken in all of the outfit, Genji’s gaze flitted back up to Jesse’s face, only to be caught off guard again when he realized that Jesse had put on makeup. His lips were shiny with glittery lipstick, and his thickly lashed, brown eyes were embellished with dark red, slightly glittery eyeshadow and winged eyeliner.

“Well?” Jesse grinned, lowering his hand back to his side and waiting expectantly for a reaction. The crowd surrounding them was entirely quiet, seemingly just as shocked.

Genji stared wordlessly, eyes wide and at a complete loss for words.

“You…” He muttered, internally grasping for full sentences. Jesse raised an eyebrow and strided closer, which of course made Genji lose his train of thought as he stared at the cowboy’s swaying hips.

He swallowed dryly.

“You win.”

Around them, the crowd gathered burst to life, hooting with the energy that could only be found at parties. Jesse’s eyes lit up with victory, “Told ya so, sweetheart. You are stuck with laundry duty, sucker. And one more thing...Check this out. I even got one a’ those temporary tattoos.”

Jesse spun on his heel, and all coherent thought flew out of Genji’s head as he stared at the sight before him. Beside him, Angela let out a surprised little gasp. There, on the small of Jesse’s back, was the word “Naughty”, written out in gaudy cursive font. A tramp stamp, that part of him from his old life pointed out.

And even using every last bit of his willpower, Genji wasn’t able to stop his eyes from dipping even lower.

It was downright illegal how goddamn amazing Jesse’s ass looked in that mini skirt. Something in Genji must have short circuited, because there wasn’t a single thought in his mind in that moment, aside from the ones that he immediately shut out. He just couldn’t stop staring.

Thankfully, Jesse turned back around to face him after a few seconds, and Genji was resolutely not disappointed.

“Wow.” Angela said, eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline. She shook her head, a disbelieving smile on her face.

“That’s not all. Got one last surprise.” Jesse declared patting his hip.

He adjusted his skirt, hips wiggling as he shifted it around slightly.Then he dipped his thumbs under the fabric and suddenly pulled up two very thin black strips. Jesse pulled the strips up over his hip bones, then let them snap onto the skin there.

Genji stared at thin, string-like black strips standing out against the the tan skin just below Jesse’s waist, brain faltering as he the realization slowly sunk in.

“Guess what?” Jesse grinned, lips glinting with the glittery lipstick, “It came with a g string.”

Genji looked down at the black strips, then up at Jesse, then back down, and finally made the connection between the words and what he was looking at.

The crowd around them practically exploded. The agents clamored with delighted laughter and whooping, loudly cheering on the entire scandalousness of the situation. Somebody wolf whistled loudly. Jesse laughed and blew a kiss in that general direction. His flamboyant entrance and his outfit was just what was need to start tipping the Christmas party into the wild spectacle it was known for being. And he knew it, too, if his smug grin said anything.

This was going to be a long party.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #angela ziegler #lena oxton #gabriel reyes #ana amari #jack morrison #torbjorn #reinhardt wilhelm #fic #run run rudolph

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #3: Dirty Laundry

“OH MY GOD. OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD. I CAN’T BELI— ACTUALLY NO. I TOTALLY CAN BELIEVE IT. I NEVER DOUBTED YOU FOR A SECOND.”

 The way Mike McGuire was acting, you’d think that she was the new TV Champion. But she wasn’t. Her partner, John Bishop Church was. That seemed completely irrelevant though. He’d won a hard fought victory over the legendary veteran Ruthann Hunter, gone the distance, and prevailed. She’d stood beside him in his moment of triumph and, as she looked to him then, he shone. As if for a moment, all the misfortune he’d borne was gone. 

Now, though, a lot of that shine had been knocked off. His brow was furrowed in concern for his opponent, and still as before, his partner was beside him. She settled down, her own jubilation dropping a bit. You never wanted to see this sort of thing happen to a peer, especially not due to a match you were in. 

“…you okay?” “This is what I mean. Inside there, Mike, you turn it off. But what I saw afterwards. That didn’t feel right.” “Course it doesn’t. It sucks when this sort of thing happens. But don’t start blaming yourself for it, okay? I know you. Turning it off or not, you’d never hurt somebody in a way they couldn’t bounce back from.” 

She patted him on the shoulder, then fidgeted a little.

 “I got you something. I knew you were gonna win, I’ve known for a while. We’ve worked too hard, YOU’VE worked too hard. So I got you a congratulations present. You… still want it? I get it if you want me to sit on it a bit.” John looked down at the title and stared at his own reflection in the silver plate. “You’re right. And a part of me wants to wait until later but this is special. And I couldn’t have done this without you.” She smiled at him, and reached into her bag. Shuffling some things around, she pulled out a box wrapped in shiny green paper, tied up with an orange satin ribbon. Reaching out, she handed it to her partner. “It ain’t much. Just somethin’ I thought you could use on the tour comin’ up.”

 And much to her amusement, John neatly removed the ribbon, removed the tape on either side of the gift, and carefully undid the wrapping paper. John stared at the box and she knew this wasn’t disappointment, it was just him. “What is it?”

 “It’s a Kindle Fire. Kinda like an iPad, sort of, but this one’s special. Cuz it does the stuff a tablet does, but at heart? It’s an e-reader. You can buy books on Amazon and they get downloaded right to the Kindle, and then you can read ‘em on here. I can get it set up for you later, and there’s even a gift card in the box so you can get a couple e-books to get you started.” She rolled her shoulders a little, smiling.“Figured it’d save you from having to pack extra to bring your books along.” 

“This is really neat. Thank you.”

 So they’d spent their first evening with one of them as champion playing with the Kindle- getting it set up, picking books out, learning how to navigate the pages. Picking out which apps to add and which to avoid, at least for now. Church was still trying to get the hang of it a while later, but Mike was certain he’d learn. He always picked things up eventually- after all, he was ridiculously smart. But with that out of the way, it was time to look forward. And oh, what a forward they had to look toward. Finally. At long last, after ducking and dodging them for weeks, Rob ‘Cherry’ Garcia was finally going to be standing across the ring from them. Granted, he had a friend- a turncoat, no-good piratey friend- but still. This is what they’d wanted. Title on the line or no, it was well understood between the upstart members of NSFW that they wanted to test their mettle against the best. They had stood toe to toe with the Trinity in a match that Mike could barely remember- being dropped on one’s goddamn head onto steel will do that- and had come out on the losing end, but had proven that they weren’t going anywhere.

 She’d felt awful, though. And not just in the physical sense- her head had been splitting for two days, during which her partner insisted she stay down and rest- she’d felt that the failing had ultimately been hers. After all, through her hazy memory she could distinctly recall she ate the pin. She’d been slumped against the cold painted cinderblock afterward, holding an icepack to the opened goose egg on her head, trying to keep blood from dripping into her left eye. 

“…sorry, dude. Really. I shoulda done better.” John, who was sitting on the well-worn wooden bench, drenched in sweat and slumped against the concrete wall of the now emptied out locker room, shook his head. “Why are you apologizing?” 

“…I dunno. Fuckin’ can’t remember the last fifteen minutes so good. Pin was mine though. Musta been me who fucked up.” “We are a team. One perceived setback would never shake the foundations of this partnership. A million of them, even.” “Jeezus, you’re sweet.” She smiled a little before wincing in pain, hissing softly through her teeth. “Okay. Won’t… beat myself up anymore. Reckon I got beat up enough, huh?” And she didn’t. She’d felt plenty terrible over the next couple days, but none of it was from guilt. By the third day she’d been on the mend, and now she only had a scab under her hairline that she supposed would wind up forming a pretty righteous scar. A lesson learned and the rest of it left behind them, their eyes now firmly focused ahead on what was shaping up to be the most exciting week of their young partnership.

 Her eyes flicked over to her partner, nestled in the window seat, clouds and blue sky drifting past. He had been messing around with the Kindle she'd gotten him for a while, but eventually opted to stop playing with it, stuck it in the magazine pouch, and was now deeply focused on what he was doing, pencil scribbling away in a notebook- one she recognized right away from the slightly rain-warped cover. It wasn’t just any notebook- it was the one he wrote his prose in. His really, really good prose. She’d read a piece of it- not exactly on purpose- and Church'd caught her. It’d been late- way later than she thought it was. She had to have read the entire thing four or five times, though she at least had the tact to not venture elsewhere in the notebook. She was captivated by this story, but part of her knew she really shouldn’t be reading it. In fact, she should probably stop altogether. Just as soon as she finished this read through… 

“…what are you doing?”

 It was a soft inquiry, but it nearly made Mike jump out of her skin. It was 1 in the morning- holy shit, had that much time passed?- and he usually got up for a drink of water around now. But here she was, her hair still mussy and a little damp, clothes likewise, sitting in the dark by tablet light. All she could muster was a very sheepish smile and a statement in the tone of someone who knew they were in some degree of trouble. 

“…it’s really really good?” 

“Okay.” Church pulled out the chair across from her and sat. “It’s just … something to pass the time.” “I still don’t think I oughta’ve read it.” She closed the notebook, sliding it across the table to him. “I’m sorry. I just… I saw it was out in the ring when it started raining fuckin’ buckets, and I didn’t want it to get ruined, so I ran out and got it but it still got wet so I opened it to make sure the words didn’t get all fucked up and kinda got sucked in.” She was rambling a little, and she scratched the back of her head, looking down at the tabletop, fingers fidgeting with each other. She might not have felt so guilty about it, but something told her that what she read hadn’t been ordinary prose. The name of the spaceman was a big clue, and the entire series of events just rang way too familiar. No, she’d accidentally stumbled on some sort of fictionalized diary or something. Had to be. “It’s okay. Th-thank you. I would just like if you asked. That one. I didn’t have access to a pencil so when the lights went out and I couldn’t read anymore I’d think of my own stories. But I think I forgot most of them. They all got replaced with stuff i don’t like to remember.” “Hey. Just so you know, if that ever happens here- like if the power goes out again or somethin’ and you can’t sleep and it’s too dark to read… you can wake me up. It’s okay, I won’t be mad’re nothin’. I don’t want you t’ have to have nothin’ but thoughts you don’t wanna think. Cuz I know what that’s like and it sucks.” A brief vision of a hospital room in the dead of night passed through her head. She shook it out and sighed, her fingers fidgeting a little more. “So… you really almost left, huh? I thought I heard the front door open and shut in the middle of the night, but I was also half asleep. Thought I dreamed it.” Suddenly, the power flicked back on, the AC sputtering a bit before kicking back to life and the lights illuminating the previously dark kitchen in a sudden flash of brightness that made Mike blink. She’d felt suddenly exposed, though, her expression more pensive than she’d really wanted to be revealed. Church looked at her and at first it was the same blank expression he always seemed to give her. Sometimes when when they conversed, she imagined a complicated set of cogs, pulleys, and levers working in his mind to put together a careful calculated response, but here it seemed very different. His fingers pinched at the corner of one of her green plastic placemats. His mouth was slightly agape. Church looked down for just a moment but when his face raised up to her hers, the normal expression resumed. “Yes. I guess I did. My life has been for public consumption for a long time now, Mike. I thought it would have gotten better but at that time I had been made to feel like I was nothing. And then you come along. You’re the first person to come along and lend a helping hand.” Church shook his head. “It was a shock to the system. And I hated it. I just wanted to have what i had before. I know, I know that sounds weird. Because it was nothing. But it wasn’t, Mike. It was all I had. But then even, you appeared in my door way and brushed away all of that pity. You wouldn’t allow it. I’d been thinking about that a lot recently. I wanted to tell you but sometimes I can’t figure out how to say. I feel so frustrated sometimes. I can’t seem to put the pieces together.” “It’s okay. You don’t have to. If it’s meant to come, it’ll come. And if it ain’t… you don’t need to say stuff out loud for me to get it. I mean I ain’t psychic or nothin’, shit no, but… heh. I guess that don’t make a lot of sense either but, eh. I dunno. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, even if I ain’t really some super cool space hot-rod rescue ranger, I think I’m really startin’ to get you. Maybe. I’m trying anyway. But either way… I’m glad you changed your mind, bud. I’m really… really glad you did.” 
Stretching, she stood up, striding along the aisle and swishing aside artfully to avoid a flight attendant pushing a minibar. First class had its perks- they’d decided to treat themselves. The big cushy seats and special amenities were fantastic, and Mike had to say that even the staff even seemed cuter. Allowing herself a slightly longer than necessary glance at the liquor-serving blonde’s firm posterior, she loped along the length of the aisle before turning back. Comfy chairs or not, this was a long flight- both she and Church’s first overseas. She’d never dreamed of going someplace like eastern Europe, and yet, here she was, on a plane bound for Minsk- not quite the dramatic, romantic setting of Moscow, with its distinctive colorful onion domed cathedral and palace-like seat of government where Putin made late night overtures to his favorite tangerine puppet, but still. A country she’d never been to. Sights she’d never seen. There was a serious thrill in her gut that had nothing even to do with wrestling, and it harmonized well with the thrill that absolutely had everything to do with it. 

She was so happy and excited that she could almost forget about that morning. She’d been all packed, with Church putting his last few odds and ends in his suitcase. She was pacing around the house, giving everything a once-over- lights off, back doors locked, tarp over the ring, et cetera- when she saw a figure through the front door window. 

It was too early for the Uber she’d sent for and she didn’t think she recognized his face. Slipping out front, she narrowed her eyes, folding her arms, sizing up the unfamiliar man standing before her. Dark hair. What she’d call an outright punchable face, with a big awkward looking grin and almost weaselly looking eyes. He looked, in her opinion like a complete shitheel, and she squared up a bit. One would get the distinct mental image of a ferocious guard dog, set to rip any perceived threat to hearth and home to fucking shreds.

 “Who are you an’ the fuck do you want? Make it snappy, bucko, we got places to be that ain’t here.” “David Hodges. I’m a reporter.” the suit looked past her and eyed the house number plate that was drilled into the wall beside the door, “Miss McGuire, I presume?” “You certainly fucking do. News hound, huh? Unless you’re here to tell people about the greatest fucking tag team the world’s ever seen since the goddamn Hart Foundation, you don’t got shit.” However, he didn’t react to that all. “I see. Miss McGuire, do you know a Melissa Perez?” “Yeah, she’s a feckless fucking cu*t. What about her?” Mike’s stance didn’t start out warm and welcoming, and was getting more hostile by the second. She didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down. David looked down at a sheet of paper clutched in his head, “Melissa recently tweeted that you, an employee of…” The paper rustled.“Extreme Wrestling Corporation, are living with a fellow employee John Bishop Church. The same John Bishop Church that was exonerated for the murder of his wife Christina. And their unborn child. I’ve talked to her. She has texts between you two that prove this connection. It’s one thing to appear at the work place together. That’s a job. It’s another thing all together to … well, I’m not going to say what Melissa says you’re doing with him. I think it’s quite obvious.” “Yeah, if you’re a fuckin’ rube.” She took a deliberate step forward. “You don’t know shit and I ain’t telling you shit, and I’ll tell you why, fuckwad. You said the magic word with your own stupid mouth. Exonerated. The whole fucking thing is online. The facts are right there on any public fucking record, black and white. Anything else ain’t your business, or anybody else’s business, and you’re almost lower than rat shit if you came all the way over here for dirt based on a tip by my FUCKING EX GIRLFRIEND.” He smirked in the face of all of this anger. “Is John in there right now? I met him a few months back. Not too talkative, is he?” “I wouldn’t want to talk to your stupid weasel-lookin’ ass either.” She deliberately avoided the question, though her poker face was immediately wrecked by a flick of her eyes to the door behind her. Stay in there, buddy. Just stay put for a little while longer, you don’t need to get mixed up with this. Just stay there. Please. “So you mentioned exoneration, Miss McGuire. He confessed. Quite vividly. It’s all there for the public to listen to.” It’s at this point that most people would have acted shocked. Or, perhaps, began to germinate a seed of doubt. But Mike was not most people, and if the reporter expected her to waver at all in her stubborn refusal to cooperate, he was about to be sorely disappointed. She bared her teeth in a snarl, and the emeralds of her eyes could cut glass. “People confess to a lot of shit. Drill into somebody long enough an’ they’ll tell you they’re fucking B.D. Cooper just to get you to lay the fuck off.” “He said he did it.” “Piss fucking Christ, are you deaf and stupid? Did you not hear what I just fucking said? What, you want me to toss you in a room for thirteen fucking hours and ask you the same questions over and over and not let you eat or fucking sleep till you answer ‘em in a way that suits me?” “Right. Detective Ray Geschkes was in charge of that interrogation. I’ve listened to the whole thing. He was on the force for thirty five years. 13 hours or not, that interrogation was by the book. John confessed. He wrote it down. He signed off on it.”

 “By the book. By the FUCKING BOOK. Don’t you dare say that. That fucker planted evidence. And it was STUPID evidence. You know how I know? Church doesn’t fucking drink. At all. Made margaritas yesterday afternoon cuz it was fucking hot. Regular for me, virgin for him, and he still didn’t have any. So Mister By-The-Fucking-Book is a nasty little mental midget for planting DNA on something that Church wouldn’t have fucking touched to begin with.” Another step forward. “Go ahead. Say one more stupid thing. I fucking dare you to not just turn around, get in your ugly-ass car, and leave like a decent human being.” He raised his hands defensively. One hand clutched a pocket-sized tape recorder. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Miss McGuire. Speaking of saying stupid things - they’re all right here. And you’re right. But that doesn’t explain everything else. Decent human being, huh? You fell for that dopey aw, shucks act hook, line, and sinker, didn’t you?”

 Her movements were whip-quick. One hand jutted out like a striking cobra and grabbed ahold of the reporter’s necktie, dragging him with it halfway across the yard before stopping. She was just a few short inches from his face. “Listen up. You know what I have to do? I get up at five in the fucking morning. I filter through hundreds of fucking Facebook and twitter comments and delete the vilest shit you could ever imagine. Small, cruel little fucks like you, calling him the worst kind of names and tellin’ him to do shit that you oughta be doin’ yourself. But I delete it. All of it. Because he don’t deserve to see that. He gave you fucking people twenty fucking years. That’s enough. That’s more than fucking enough. Now get off my fucking property before I get all Stand Your Ground on your pathetic ass.” And the reporter backed away slowly. “That’s alright.” And he was half way into his tan Corolla when he shouted over the roof of it, “Miss McGuire. Send me a DM when John becomes your next Steve. Maybe then we can work together to shine a light on this whole ugly ordeal.” And seconds later, he was gone. 

Mike was speechless. She was absolutely livid. Her hand was shaking as she checked her phone. Five minutes. Not a ton of time. She ran to the driveway and threw Alundra’s door open, slammed it behind her, and screamed. She screamed for about a solid minute. She would’ve very much liked to hit something but she’d recently finished repairing damage to her baby- she didn’t want to cause the Mustang any more. Panting, she slipped back out, and opened the front door, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and trying to sound chipper.

 “Hey buddy, Uber’s gonna be here in three. You ready?” “Yes. Hey, who were you yelling at outside? Another salesman? It seems a common occurrence these days.” 
“…nobody. Nobody worth a pint of horse piss. Doesn’t matter. Next couple hours, we’ll be headed to motherfuckin’ Belarus. … Fuck, you know what? Let’s do something ridiculously indulgent. We deserve it. Let’s upgrade our tickets to fuckin’ first class. Cushy seats, leg room, open bar, and no dickfucks allowed.” Church nodded. “I trust you.” She bit her lip, paused, leaned forward, and gave him a quick but firm hug. As brief as it was, there was something fierce in it, something incredibly protective. She pulled back just as a lime green Volkswagen with an Uber sticker on the back windshield pulled up in front of the house. She locked the door behind them. 

But that was this morning and thousands of miles away. And as she headed back to her seat, she couldn’t help but pause, a huge grin crossing her face. The gangly teenager in the aisle seat was likely the child of one of the wealthy people occupying one or two of the other cushy chairs. Or maybe they’d gotten a cheap upgrade and decided to fly in style. But either way, one eye was covered by a deliberate shocking violet comb-over of bangs, their grin had the telltale silver gleam of new braces, and they were wearing an NSFW t-shirt. And fiddling with one of their ridiculous fidget spinners. Good to know at least one of those things sold.

 “Holy crap, you're Mike McGuire. Awesome.”

 “Nope. YOU’RE awesome.”

 Mike gave the kid a clicking wink and a double finger point, and found her seat next to her partner, closing her eyes. It was still a long way to Minsk. A couple hours’ nap later, the camera clicked on. Two mildly jet lagged but happy travelers grinned into it- one muted, one big and toothy. 

“Say hey, EWC faithful! It’s ya boys, NSFW- one of us, who I really need to mention, is YOUR NEW REIGNING AND DEFENDING EWC TELEVISION CHAMPION- and we are currently on a plane- IN FIRST CLASS, BAY-BEE- headed to Belarus. It’s our first trip overseas, and frankly? We’re pretty fuckin’ hyped.” “I am ecstatic.”

 “We’re gonna be landing before long, but before we have to fasten our seatbelts, put our tray tables in the upright position an’ turn off all electronic devices, we thought we’d take a couple minutes to say… Jesus fucking Christ last week. The so-called top of the pops around here may have got the better of us, but at the end of the day, does anybody really give a shit? Same old rhetoric, different fuckin’ day. Yeah yeah, I know we didn’t come out on top and I got knocked fuckin’ loopy for my trouble, but our opposition totally failed to live up to our expectations. And they’ll totally be crowing their asses off about it too, dollars to fuckin’ doughnuts. They’ll come out with their cool music and awesome pyro and toss a couple Benjys to the monkeys in the truck for some nice piped in crowd noise, and go on about how they put down a couple of big-mouthed upstarts. IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PROPHECY. VOLUME 2 COMING SOON. Maybe Reid’ll even get a new Xbox One from his parents for doing an extra good job.” The camera panned to Church’s blank expression towards his partner. “The Trinity. They’re in our rearview mirror. Mike, some would say that we are the masters of foreshadowing.” “And why is that, my erstwhile compadre?” “Our friend. And I am being insincere when I say that. Our friend found himself a partner after all.” Mike gave a curt nod. 

“He did indeed. Or should I say- a pARRRRRtner.” “You’re allowed one of those. Only one.” “Noted. It was fuckin’ worth it. But somethin’, no pun intended as I’ve hit my limit, smells real fuckin’ fishy here. Cap’n Darkwater isn’t supposed to be the kind of pirate that would associate with a bilge rat like Cherry Garcia. Ain’t he supposed to be a nobler breed of buccaneer? What, did his morals and sense of fucking decency walk the goddamn plank? And don't think that sad line about being keelhauled into this is gonna make us shed a fuckin' tear for you. Who in their right goddamn mind would believe a fuckin' pirate, one who's obviously just proven he's a fuckin' moral degenerate?” “Seems like that charade of his burned to cinder when his greatest opportunity blew up in his face.” “Bitter, bitter pirate. So now he’s back in fighting form, and he decides to put the screws to Nostalgia and get in bed- oh, sorry, was FORCED into bed- with Garcia. Come on, dude. I kinda really hoped you were better than this.” 

She shakes her head and looks, if briefly, sincerely disappointed. John’s reaction to that isn’t the same. It’s unflinching. “I’m not surprised. His charming roguish qualities seemed to be an act. It’s easy to mug for your adoring public when everything seems to be going his way. There is no explanation. No excuse. No wiping away the cowardice he displayed. Many eyes were opened that evening to his true nature. But his transformation was a long time coming. He has weathered the storm of his would-be challengers and when they seemed to be out of play - here he comes to take possession of something he never earned.” “What a combo. A guy handed a belt and a guy who had to fucking make one up.” “They do have something in common, though, don’t they?” There was a plain sense of amusement plastered on Mike’s face as she looked up at her partner, brows raised inquisitively.

 “What’s that?” “Delusions of grandeur. One’s obvious enough. It drips out of every word he says. The other. The big guy. Mike, I want to level with you on something. The virtuous marauder act only suited him when he needed it. He’s a charlatan afforded the privilege to buy his way into this fantasy of his. He’s a stereotypical romanticized idea of a pirate and believe me, it’s easy to rationalize the crimes committed against the oppressors that were the English and Spanish. But like that matters to him. If he stopped playing pretend and looked into the mirror, he’d see that he’s become the very thing that his predecessors fought against.” “What he oughta do, frankly, is use those big bucks of his to buy a DeLorean, slap a Flux Capacitor in that son’bitch, and head Up North circa 1995. He’d be right at home with all the plumbers, clowns, and garbage men. But before you go and do that, Cap’n, some food for thought. See, Garcia here. You know why he is, or was before you sailed into the picture, a tag champ all by his lonesome? I’ll tell you. All his buddies fucking ditched his sleazy egomaniac ass. How long before it grates on you too? And once it does, then what’ll you be left with? Your reputation’s fucking shot, dude, and you’ll have pissed it down your leg for nothing, and that, me hearty, is just sad.”

 She shook her head, tisking. “See, we are pretty good at foreshadowing because what waits for us at the end of this journey?” “A decisive victory over the tag champs, that’s what. The belts may not be up for grabs this time around but that’s okay. Ain’t nothin’ new for ol’ Cherry Garcia. We ain’t ruffled. Us beating you is gonna send a big fat message to the guys in the front office. If they ain’t noticed us yet we are gonna MAKE ‘em take notice by swabbing the deck with the goddamn champions- not too tall an order considering one was just handed the belt out of nowhere and the other’s too lazy an ass to ever defend the fucking things.”

 She leaned forward.

 “Speaking of tall orders. Don’t think I’m scared of you, Captain Kangaroo. You’re a big guy.” “For you.” Mike held up a finger and tilted her head off camera. There was audible snorting before she rejoined the shot. “God Bless the fucking internet. But yeah. You’re way bigger than me. Maybe even a tad bigger than my partner, but that ain’t stopped him from chucking guys about as big as you around. How about he sends you sailing for real? I’d sure like to see that, but not before I take a nice chunk out of your pirate’s booty myself.” “With his looming visage, it’s so easy to forget the other part of this equation and just what he is capable of.” “What… IS he capable of? Making his own belt and pretending it’s a fucking accomplishment? Perpetually coming up shorter than he says he will?” Church smiled at her. “She means that it’s a constant part of the remnant’s makeup. There is something that he is good at. He’s gonna take one look at NSFW and he’s gonna laugh. We’ve got ourselves an easy night, he’ll say. That’s the delusion kicking in. This newly minted duo, they’re going to overlook us. They’re the superstars here and we are their tune up. That about cover it?” “Other than him being a delicious nut-free ice cream? Nope, that’s it. But, oh dear team of Pirate and Puss, you’ve got us pegged all wrong. This won’t be a night off. This may well be the worst fucking night of your lives. Because we want this. We’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks, and now that we’ve got it, we ain’t lettin’ you take your eyes off us. We’ll be haunting you like the fuckin’ Flying Dutchman from here on out. And there’ll be a whole fuckin’ fleet behind us. Do you hear that? The dead ships are comin’ up from the maelstrom and they’re comin’ for your stern. You’ll come out and they’ll be chanting our name. The people who want something different, somethin’ to fuckin’ believe in. Like this awesome kid right here.”

 She swung the camera around. The purple haired teenager across the aisle and a few seats back, suddenly realizing they were in an honest to God NSFW promo, waved a skinny arm wildly and gave a whoop.

 “NSFW, YEEEEAH!”

 The camera swoops back onto them, Mike giving a smirking nod.

 “Just like that. Every fuckin’ week. Louder and louder until you’re left with one single solitary question.” 

Her face splits into a huge jawbreaker of a grin.

 “What’s cauuuusin’ all this?” “It’s us. In some small way, we quantify the idea that the time for polite discourse is over. Whether it’s bigots, wanna-be fascists, ideological frauds, or text-book case of narcissism and a scalawag who talks out of both sides of his mouth, we are going to show the world how to take them down.” “By playing fair… and maybe a little dirty too.” Church opened his mouth to object, or at least that is what Mike anticipated. “Just a little.” 

That huge grin grew a little more devilish. “But how we do it ain’t as important as the fact that we are. Don’t look behind you for us, mates. Look beside you, and later, look in fucking front. Cuz we’re Not Sailing in your Fucking Wake.”

 There was a tinny voice over the intercom that they were approaching their destination, and the camera cut out.



#archive

[ebrabbit]

THOUGHTS ON HAPPINESS

As I approach my 62nd birthday and it hits me that I most definitely have more behind me than ahead of me, I have been taking stock of my life. I have realized that while there are many things I may have done differently, I don’t think I would have changed much, if anything. We all have those “woulda, shoulda, could have” moments, but the thing is, it never changes anything, and it only fills you with regrets. I have come to look at it this way, everything I have done, everyone I have known, every decision, good or bad, I have made has led me to this moment.  And when I really look at my life, reach deep down, I realize I am a very rich man indeed. Not in material things but in the things that really matter.

I have found a place of great peace for myself. I have an abundance of love around me. I have an abundance of happiness. I am at a place in my life where I treat every day as the gift that it is and an opportunity to make my mark, no matter how small, to help leave the world a better place than I found.

I now take great joy in little things. My early morning walks, quiet and dark before the sun rises, so peaceful.  As I am writing this at the beginning of October, the changing of the leaves and the cool, crispness in the air. I love the sound of the children playing in the street I live on. The crunching sound that the leaves make as I walk through them. Most of all, I take great happiness in watching my husband achieve his dreams and get excited over hard won victories. For each goal he checks off his bucket list, my heart grows fuller.

I have found that I love the sound of laughter, both mine and others. As I am an early riser, I also go to bed somewhat early. Freddy is the night owl in the family, and I love the way he stops whatever he is doing to come to bed with me each night so we can cuddle a little before I go to sleep. It’s our little ritual. We play with our dog in bed and laugh at how silly she gets, we talk about plans, and other things we want to do. Then he gives me a kiss goodnight and turns off the light for me so I can fall asleep.

Sometimes, I wonder if I deserve to be this happy. God knows, I certainly don’t feel I’ve always been the best person I could be. How have I landed in this place of contentment?

I have discovered that life hands you choices. And you can choose to be happy just as easily as you can choose to be unhappy. For a lot of my life, I choose not to be happy. To dwell on what I didn’t have, what I couldn’t afford. Material things and status where what I thought would finally make me happy. What I found however, was that the more material things I had, the more status I achieved, the more unhappy I became. That is when I realized that I needed to change my priorities. Don’t get me wrong, I still like nice things, it’s just I don’t need them in my life to make my life happy. I already have everything I need at this very moment to bring me happiness and contentment. What a wonderful way to start the rest of my life.

[valkyrjuk]

*vacuums you up*

*puts you in a little bucket*

*feeds you to a toad*

*grinds you into a little paste*

*reconstitutes you*

*gives you concrete boots*

*throws you into a river*

*holds a nice funeral for you but tells your family terrible lies*

*reveals in three months time you are still alive but gaslights your folks in a way that fits with the definition somehow*

*gives you a really bad haircut*

*tells you that you look fantastic in outfits that make you look atrocious but only so other people look at you in disgust not to mess with your confidence or anything*

*rearranges your appendages*

*puts them back*

*makes one of your legs exactly 3/16" shorter than the other so you are always standing in some weird contra posto stance but also everything looks slightly unlevel*

*ruins your credit score*

*sells you a bunch of sheets that nobody wants in a pyramid scheme that I am open about but refer to it in a different, more friendly way so you believe its chill*

*gives your skin a slightly green hue*

*paints your walls that gamer green color*

*gives you gangrene in one foot*

*gives you ganred in the other*

*heals you but really implies you owe me some money for this but never really works out the details so you just feel like a little guilty idk*

*remember that toad? you have made an unlikely alliance and, after you begin to not only trust him but... feel.... something for him, I give him a jar full of flies and he betrays you, forcing you to kill him despite your growing affection*

*puts a grizzly bear in your bedroom*

*puts a sexy bear in your bedroom*

*they fight*

*I dont let you watch, but I do inform you the sexy bear won flat out and it was awesome you shoulda seen it bro*

*gives you like a weird pain in your knee but it's so vague you dont know how to talk to a doctor about it*

*puts you up for adoption in the local kennel*

*finds you a loving home*

*changes their economic situation so they have to give you up*

*re-adopts you*

*never feeds you ANY table scraps*

*reconditions you*

*turns you into some kinda weird monkey man but I make sure it's not fun in any way*

*brings you back into society like George of the Jungle*

*sends you to therapy but it's a series of therapists that dont fit and I make you think that you're just irreparably broken instead of just lacking key insight from a specialist who fits YOUR needs*

*reminds you of that time I healed your gancolors and you still owe me a couple bucks and brings back feelings of guilt*

*let's you off the hook but you still feel like you owe me*

*I never accept any of the casseroles you bring me*

*I tell other people you smell even though you dont and they just believe me implicitly*

*stuffs you in a locker and leaves you there for the entirety of 3rd period*

*tells you I love you on April 1st and when you light up I laugh and call you a fucking idiot*

*just sprays you with an entire can of axe body spray to a point everyone including me feels sick*

*knocks you out and puts you in a forest with several other strangers who dony remember anything from their pasts and everyone has weapons*

*hunts you*

*when you win I tell you it was all a fun game show*

*exposes you to incomprehensible horrors*

*makes you comprehend them*

*let's you loose in the streets of New York with nothing but a blind rage and a gun*

*puts you in a jar for study*

*pickles you*

*recucumbers you*

*slaps you on the face a little*

*pokes you in the eyes like one of the 3 stooges*

*breaks four of your toes, you pick*

*pushes you around a bit*

*tells you top secret information that you need to share with the world but cant as it would ruin it too*

*hurts you emotionally*

*reconciles our differences*

*takes you out for a beer and a smoke*

*bleaches your cigarette*

*tells the IRS you have been committing tax fraud*

*makes you popular on the internet*

*cancels you*

*ruins your credit score again*

*sells you to 1 direction so I can buy some booze*

*defeats you in mortal combat but I let you live, just this once...*

*allows you to track me down 24 years later so you might exact your revenge after I've lived a long successful life of pwning noobs*

*dies with honor*

*when you leave the ruined landscape that is our battlefield my eyes open very suddenly and the screen goes black, implying a sequel that will have a bigger budget but will blow it all on expensive and terrible CGI while leaving the story in the dust*