#( i get abandoned and find a friend and future lover )

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i grew up into something good

( michael kaiser x fem! reader )

♡ a/n —  for my childhood friends to lovers series! ( please note: i read back through the manga and scoured the internet and couldn't find definite ages on kaiser's past- so i may have got it wrong !)

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — michael kaiser x reader, fem! reader, TW! mentions of abuse ( both kaiser and reader ), SPOILERS! for kaiser's past, nickname 'liebe' used once, goes from ages 8 to 19, slight angst?, slight fluff, childhood friends to lovers

♡ synopsis — you were michael kaiser's god given solace, but were you enough to make him stay?

Snowflakes swirled in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, the cold gnawing at your exposed skin like a starving animal.

The bruises on your arms and legs throbbed, but they weren’t new. Pain had become as familiar to you as breathing, as inevitable as the cycle of being dragged down and getting back up again.

You walked through the slush-covered pavement barefoot, having been thrown out before you could grab your shoes. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of your too-thin sweater, trying to keep the warmth in, but it was no use.

The winter night bit into your bones, and your body trembled from more than just the cold.

And then you saw him.

A boy, barely eight years old, sitting alone on the rusted swings of the abandoned park down the street.

His lip was split, a bruise already darkening along his cheekbone, and his hands were stuffed into the pockets of a jacket too thin to fight off the winter wind.

His breath came in short, shallow puffs, and even from a distance, you could see the glint of unshed tears in his bright blue eyes.

For a long moment, you just stood there, watching. Because you knew.

You knew what he felt. The sting of rejection, the loneliness that pressed against your ribs like a crushing weight.

The pain of being born into a world that decided you were unwanted before you even had a chance to prove otherwise.

And somehow, he knew too.

“…Hey.” His voice cracked from the cold as you stepped closer, his head tilting slightly. His eyes flickered over your bruises, the red marks on your skin, the way you hugged yourself like you were trying to disappear.

Without a word, you sat on the swing next to him. The chains creaked under your weight, a sharp sound in the silence.

He didn’t ask where you came from. You didn’t ask why he was here.

You simply existed together. Two broken children, sitting in the dead of winter, finding warmth in each other’s presence.

That was the first night you met Michael Kaiser.

And from that night on, you were never apart.

At thirteen, the weight of your shared existence became heavier.

You had each other—that was all that mattered. In a world that had discarded you, the two of you had carved out a place where you could just be. Where the bruises didn’t matter, where the cruel words faded into nothing.

But the world was relentless.

You still had to go to school, while Kaiser roamed the streets, making money however he could, playing soccer like his life depended on it—because, in some ways, it did.

He lived without structure, without rules, without an escape plan. His future was a black void, stretching endlessly in every direction, and you were the only light in it.

“Why don’t you just quit?” he asked one afternoon, sitting on the rooftop of an old apartment building where you sometimes hid out together. A soccer ball sat beside him, spinning idly under his fingers. “School’s a waste of time, anyway.”

“I want to go to university, Micha.”

Something about the certainty in your voice made him pause. You had never sounded like that before—so sure, so determined.

He scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “More school? For what?”

You peeled off your blazer, revealing fresh bruises underneath.

He was the only one you ever let see them.

“I want to be a doctor,” you said simply. “To help people when they’re hurt.”

For the first time in his life, Kaiser felt small.

Because you believed in something. Because you had a dream. And as ridiculous as it was, as impossible as it seemed, he wanted to believe in something too.

It was in that moment that Michael Kaiser realized he loved you.

At fourteen, he kissed you for the first time.

It was his birthday.

To his father, it was just another year spent stuck with a child he never wanted.

To Kaiser, it was another step closer to getting away. One more year survived. One more year closer to freedom—or death. He hadn’t decided which yet.

To you, though, it was the day Michael Kaiser was born into this world. And for that, you were thankful.

You found him at the park, the same place where you had first met, holding a single bread roll with a candle stabbed into it.

You had stolen the candle—and maybe the lighter too—but that didn’t matter.

“What’s that for?” Kaiser asked, amused, as you plopped down next to him.

“I couldn’t find any cake,” you admitted sheepishly. “But you have to make a wish on your birthday. That’s how it works.”

Rolling his eyes, he blew out the candle, and you beamed.

“What’d you wish for?” you asked, voice full of childlike wonder.

Kaiser didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his breath warm against your lips, and kissed you.

It was soft, hesitant, uncertain. The first good thing he had ever been given in his life.

“What was the wish?” you whispered when he pulled away.

He looked at you, eyes burning with something you didn’t yet understand.

“That,” he murmured. “You. For you to be with me forever.”

At fifteen, he left.

Ray Dark came into his life like a promise, like a lifeline, like the devil disguised as salvation. He was everything Kaiser had ever wanted—a ticket out, a future worth something.

“This man is going to change my life,” Kaiser told you, voice filled with something close to hope.

You weren’t dating. Not really. But you had kissed each other more times than you could count, fallen asleep tangled together, breathed the same air as if it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And now, he was leaving.

“What about…” The words died in your throat.

What about me? you wanted to beg for an answer.

“What about what?” he pressed, tilting his head closer.

What about us? your heart screamed.

You swallowed hard. “Never mind.”

He sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Liebe, don’t cry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll be back. I’d never leave you.”

He kissed you then—deeper, more meaningful than ever before. And the next morning, he was gone.

You waited. You waited for years.

At nineteen, you saw him again.

Not in person. On a television screen, in the common area of your dorm.

His hair was different—shorter, the ends dyed electric blue. A tattoo curled around his skin like a brand, like a reminder of who he had become.

He wasn’t the boy you knew anymore. He was Michael Kaiser, the star of Bastard München.

You stood frozen, staring, as the commentator sang his praises. The people around you cheered.

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they had started.

I’ll be back. I’d never leave you.

But he had.

And maybe you couldn’t even blame him.

Because Michael Kaiser had made it out. And he had left you behind in order to save himself.

And somehow, even after all these years—after all the promises and all the distance—you still weren’t sure whether that was something you could ever forgive.

do i dislike kaiser? sort of. is he still one of my favorite characters to write for? hell yeah.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | steve x reader ; eddie x reader

summary: when your boyfriend dies as a result from saving you and your friends, you find yourself deep in the throes of grief. and in your lowest moment you find a new vice, something… or rather someone unexpected.

6.1k, reader is named “nellie” simply bc i refuse to use y/n, smut, 18+ only, multiple chapters, future drug use, mature themes, heavy depictions of grief/suffering leading to questionable decisions

big s/o & thanks to @rebelfell + @rxqueenotd for spit ballin’ ideas and beta’ing ❤️‍🩹

⋆⭒˚｡���

His body laid for three days before Owen’s team braved that cold and eerie pit of desolate hell. Strong hands had pulled you away from his body, and you had tried to claw your way back to him, begging for death to take you instead. 

That night you watched him choke on his last breath, his lungs gurgling with a squelching pop of blood as hesmiled one last, and final time, his last words played over and over again. 

“I’m so lucky to have been loved by you.”

His skin was still warm when the others found you clutching onto him, laying beside him as if you were cuddling during another time. A time when monsters didn’t exist and all you had was happiness. Legs thrown over one another as you watched a movie in the Wheeler’s basement, or when your wet hair seeped into his skin after a late night of swimming at Lover’s Lake, or the feel of his fingers tucked into the nape of your neck while you kissed him at your lockers back in high school. 

Never. You’d never feel that from him again. 

Large arms wrapped around your middle hauling you away. And you scrambled, kicked and slapped to get back to him. Screaming his name over and over. Because they weren’t his hands, and they would never hold you again, he was dead, Steve was dead. 

The hours after were a blur, somehow the rest of you had managed to get away. Eddie jump started an abandoned military vehicle that a rescue team had left while under attack, driving back to the gate that reopened under the ruins of StarCourt. 

Your head laid in Robin’s lap the entire ride back while Eddie drove, silent tears falling down everyone’s cheeks, Dustin sobbing into Nancy’s bony shoulder. 

You all stayed together those first few nights, laying in a fortress of blankets and couch pillows in your living room. It all seemed to move in slow motion, a terrible aching dread filled your soul and refused to leave the hole in your heart. 

The house you and Steve had rented was large enough to accommodate everyone for a few days. Those days were spent telling favorite stories of him. Talking about the pride he had for everyone, the mother hen of the group. How he would lay down and sacrifice himself for everyone he knew and he did just that.

A solemn silence fell over everyone, after a kick to the chest of reality fell like a veil—that he would never again come walking in the door. That Robin lost her best friend and confidant. That you would mourn your boyfriend, lover, and friend until your dying days. That Dustin lost his first male father figure. It all came crashing down at once, and no one spoke much after that besides the occasional sniffle or to open the back door to chain smoke the anxiety away. 

Claudia eventually called to have Dustin come home. Jonathan stopped over with his long haired friend from California, and you were anything but friendly to them. How could you be? You watched in jealous rage as Jonathan pressed kisses to Nancy’s cheek and rubbed her back soothingly. 

She lost a friend. You had lost the only person who knew you from the inside and out, and it wasn’t fair. 

Everyone trickled out of the home you shared with Steve. One by one, silently not wanting to be the last to leave, to have to watch your eyes wet as you were left to your own vices, left in this empty house that held all of your memories.

You couldn’t blame them. Hell was here and you were swallowed by its warmth, the flames licking your neck as you fell deeper into it, succumbing to the heat.

Eddie was the last to go. He was oddly quiet during the last few days, leaving late after everyone had fallen asleep just to return again in the morning. He had asked to use the phone only once, quietly excusing himself to use the bathroom afterwards, coming back to the living room looking even more lost than he had earlier, his eyes wet with fresh tears. 

It was almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be here or not. He didn’t know Steve as long as everyone else did, but over the last year they’d gotten close, as if they were almost family more than they were friends. 

You had come to know and accept Eddie and Chrissy well, over the last year you’d spent a few nights every couple of months double dating at Enzo’s or game nights playing Scrabble at your house. When the world flipped upside down again, all of the fun came to an end, and the last nine months or more had been spent strategizing… trying to find a means to end this real life hell once and for all. 

And it did end, but at what cost?

Eddie’s shadow lingered by the front door as you walked over, one of Steve’s button down shirts hanging loose on your shoulders, the sleeves damp with your tears. 

His dark eyes swam with something you hadn’t recognized at all the past week, it wasn’t fear like it had been when you were miles below in another dimension. But you couldn’t nail down what he was feeling as he asked, “are you gonna be okay?” 

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow with an exhaustive look. 

His fingers worked the rings on his left hand. “I mean, tonight… are you alright, alone? I can stay if you...” He paused for a while, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stared at the blue rug, his boots pinching his aching feet. Raising his eyes to yours once more, “I— I know how it feels when someone you love dies, it’s…hard.” 

Tears welled for what felt like the hundredth time in twenty four hours, and you shook your head. You dreaded this night when things should return to normal, when your friends had to return to school, their jobs. Things had to go back to the way they were— but you couldn’t. Not now, Maybe not ever. 

You remember how Eddie had missed school for weeks years ago back in elementary. But you weren’t friends then so you never knew, and you felt like a bitch for never asking. “I’m sorry, I— I didn’t—.” 

He turned his face away, smiling and finding interest in the wood grain of the front door, “it was a long time ago, I’ve had time to heal, but it takes awhile.” 

All you had was time. Time without Steve. Time to mourn the loss of the only man you’ve ever loved. Silent streaks slid down the apples of your cheeks, and Eddie stepped forward like he might crush you into a hug, but he stopped short. Instead rubbing his hand lightly down your arm, “I left my number on the counter, call anytime. Okay?” 

You blinked back at him and nodded. If you wouldn’t have been crying you could have seen the turmoil stir in the caffeinated browns of his. 

“Thanks, Eddie… I might just take you up on that.” 

He smiled gravely, “I did— I didn’t know Steve for as long as everyone else did… but he was a really good friend to me.” 

You looked up at him, eyes welling with tears at the man all of Hawkins marked to be a Satanic Cult Leader.

“He cared about you and Chrissy a lot, Eddie.” 

He smiled sadly and turned away before you could catch him wiping his eyes, or notice the wobble of his bottom lip. 

“I know, I did too…take care, Nellie.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Steve’s cologne was still on the bathroom sink. Dried toothpaste was stuck between the bristles of his toothbrush left from his rush to leave that morning— the last one he’d ever have. 

His bar of soap in the shower still held dry bubbles from lathered skin the last night you’d spent together. You had shared the warmth of a shower, shampooing his hair and Steve attempting to help shave your legs, giggling between the spray of the water. Later he laid you down making you whimper as he kissed your neck, fucking you slow and deep, whispering in your ear how you were his entire world. 

You hadn’t slept in your shared bed since his death, and now that the chaos had dissipated, and the house was quiet outside of the usual clicks and hums from the refrigerator, you braved the lonely queen sized bed and slipped between the cool sheets. 

The sweet burn of cedar, clove and a tangy bit of citrus surrounded you. Steve’s aroma, his smell held you like a child as you cried into his pillow. Curling your body into his side of the bed, you imagined his large hands splayed across your belly as he held you close to him, pulling you tightly against him so there wasn’t a single inch of him not touching you.

But in the end it was just you alone, trying to find warmth in cold sheets with a wet pillow. 

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The alarm clock had scared the shit out of you.

The ringing turned to chimes in your dream, and when you woke— alone, it was in a puddle of sweat, the bed sheets wrapped around you like those horrible black vines had. 

The kitchen tile was cold on your bare toes as you padded to the coffee maker. Steve considered himself the best barista in Hawkins, and no matter how hard you tried to replicate it your pot of coffee never stood a chance next to his. 

Digging into the Folgers can, you dump two heaping dollops of grounds into the filter, pressing the ‘on’ button, mentally preparing for the worst cup of coffee you’d had since before you had started dating Steve. No hope to be found, optimism long gone. 

It took only a moment, a single sleep riddled half thought for you to slip up, your mind forgetting for just a second as you accidentally wondered what you and Steve would do for the weekend. 

Your nerves went into shock, you gasped in guilted embarrassment at the audacity to forget that. How? How how how how how! Pulling at your hair you scanned the kitchen table, eyeing Eddie’s number written on a pad of paper, but grabbing the phone you dialed a different one instead. 

She answered on the second ring, her voice sleepy and haggard as you whispered through choked tears, “h—he’s gone.” 

“Yeah,” Robin answered, sheets shuffling around, “he’s gone.” 

Tears fell in large drops down your face, as you nodded at the answer you already knew, silently needing the confirmation. 

How would you be able to walk the streets alone without Steve’s big hand crimped tight around yours? How could you live without ever hearing his voice, his laugh ever again?

When you hung up, Robin didn’t call back, and even if she had you wouldn’t have picked up. The day brought visitors trying to cheer you up. Rubbing your back as you stared blankly at the wall. Promising you things would get better, would be easier as time went on. Bullshit. All of it. 

As sweet as they were, how the hell would they know? How could they possibly hurt as bad as you did?

They had lost a friend, an older brother figure, but they didn’t know Steve on the intimate levels you did. They had no idea that he woke with terrors almost every night. Or that he had failed his driver’s test twice, or that he had a patch of light freckles on his nether region. 

Steve had been everything to you and now that he was gone you didn’t know how to cope in a world without him. If whatever higher power could grant Chrissy new life, and Eddie was spared from the bats, why wasn’t Steve? 

Your questions went unanswered as your mind reeled with pictures of him, flicking like a movie, your eyes stinging with anger. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Every night since he had died, you had slept in a pair of Steve’s boxers and a Hawkins High Prom 1984 shirt. 

From what you could tell, Robin was in the same shape you were in, unable to go back to work, barely sleeping. The only difference was she had Vickie at home to comfort her, hold her and wipe away her cries. 

You couldn’t help but feel nothing but jealous and sick to your stomach at the thought of how you were having to go through this alone. No matter how selfish that made you, you simply couldn’t care. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Nancy woke you the morning before the funeral with a sharp knock on the front door, and an armful of baked goods. She made coffee as you stared a hole into the kitchen floor, she vacuumed as you thumbed through Steve’s wallet, silently tearing up over his driver’s license picture. 

She folded laundry while you sobbed and screamed at a very surprised Keith when he called to ask why Steve hadn’t shown up for his shift. Nancy didn’t blink when the phone was pulled from the wall and sent flying across the living room as you pulled your hair in a fit because Steve is gone. Dead. Not coming back.

Nancy simply rubbed your back, pushing away hair from your wet cheeks after you fell asleep with your head in her lap. And when you woke, feeling worse than hungover with swollen eyes and a sore throat— she wouldn’t let you apologize. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Surprisingly, Steve’s parents found it in themselves to pretend they gave a shit long enough to plan his funeral. 

Everything was gaudy. Overdone and full of rich smells of roses so strong you wanted to vomit. 

Pearls clung to your ears and neck. The velvet of your black dress was warm on your body despite the cold gusts of wind that chapped your stocking clad legs. The sun wouldn’t shine today, or in your mind ever again. 

Robin showed up first, clinging to Vickie’s arm, a sad smile on her freckled face. She wore a dress, a sort of last laugh for Steve’s sake to see her dressed up. She throws herself at you, all legs and tear stained cheeks, squeezing your face into her shoulder.

“He would have hated this,” she sniffled after glancing around at The Harrington’s entourage, “look at her wiping her eyes as if she’d even talked to Steve within the last year.”

Steve’s mother stood in all of her Chanel No 9 glory, delicately dabbing a silk hanky to her dry eyes, as funeral goers grasped her manicured hand and spilled condolences. 

The sight alone made you sick. Mary could win an Oscar for her performance. Nobody but you and Robin would have any idea that Steve hadn’t spoken to his parents in over a year. Christmas to be exact. The first and last one you two had spent at their enormous home. 

What should have been a nice evening ended in harsh words and Steve’s father saying he was disowning him. Steve held his head high on the way home, apologizing for his parents and promising that he would never have anything to do with them again. 

And from there up until they were told of their only son’s death— The Harrington’s never once tried to make amends. 

“Always a show with her,” you sighed angrily. 

“How are you doing? Vickie asks shyly, “Is there anything we can do?”

“I’m fine, really. I—I’m okay, slowly but surely.” 

Vickie smiles and squeezes your hand, “He never loved someone as much as he loved you, Nel.” 

The words hit like a bullet. 

You knew.

Of course you had known. Steve told you that himself on more occasions than you could count, you didn’t need to hear it from someone else, didn’t need the reassurance that a man who literally died to protect you really did love you. 

It felt foreign—sounding horribly wrong coming out of a mouth that wasn’t his. Body on fire with something worse than rage, all you wanted to do was scream. Nodding your head once you excuse yourself, pushing out of the side exit and down some cement steps to the outside.

Air. You needed to force air into your lungs before you collapsed. Your chest felt as if it was going to burst into flames, suddenly everything felt so restricting. The air was frozen and bitter, resembling yourself lately and the outcome of the last few days. 

Gasping, choking on wailing cries you pulled at the neck of your dress, kicking your shoes into the dead grass. You yanked barrettes from your hair and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes until you saw spots of gold and green. Anything to try to get some relief try to stop the sensation of being suffocated by something you couldn’t even see. 

“Nellie?” 

Tears poured from your face as you whimpered, struggling with the zipper on the back of your dress. 

It wasn’t fair. Why him? Why Steve? He was so good. Much better than you. He was kind and handsome, he loved big and treated everyone around him like they were the most important person in the room. 

He was the best friend, best boyfriend, best everything.

It should have been you.

A pair of warm hands land on your shoulders pulling you backwards and upright, frightening you before the warm tobacco spiced voice whispers in your ear.

“Breathe, Nel… c’mon sweetheart.” 

“I- c—can’t… Eddie…I—” coughing and clawing at the necklace of pearls, you desperately tried to unhook them, their weight feeling like boulders sitting on your chest, threatening to break you to pieces.

Eddie moved the hair from your neck, and in one little clink the necklace fell into your hands. 

“It’s off, it’s off— c’mon now, you gotta take a deep breath for me.” He spun you around placing his warm hands on your cheeks, sweeping away the icy tears. 

He was dressed in all black, his leather jacket tight on his arms. A frumpy, wrinkled tie loose around his neck looking like it had been tied and re-tied too many times before he just gave up. 

“In and out,” he instructed softly, taking your hand and placing it against his chest, “match it to mine. Feel it?”

It didn’t work, it wasn't helping. Eddie didn’t waste time before the cold leather of his arms wrap around you, delicately rubbing your back as you collapsed into him. 

The wind bit at his face as he held you close, stroking your hair. “It’s alright, ‘s gonna be okay, I’m here— we all are.” 

You let yourself break, let the sadness consume you before the funeral could start and you had to be brave for everyone. You wouldn’t let his parents see you this way, they already thought you were every bit of trash but Steve had always held you higher, placing you on a special little pedestal. And with him, nothing else mattered. 

Wiping your eyes, you pull back enough to see Eddie’s face, the dark sunglasses he wore were fogged up on the inside, shielding away his own turmoil, but his lip quivered slightly. 

“God, Eddie,“ you sniffed, voice wobbly as you murmur, “Sorry.. ‘m such a mess.” 

“Don’t do that,” he almost whispers, voice low and sensual, “don’t apologize.” 

If you could see his eyes you would notice how sad they were, how he was doing his very best to hold it together. How he had bags under his eyes from not sleeping. You’d see the guilt etched into the darks of his irises for being alive, for coming out of there alive.

The door swings open with a loud crack, caught in a gust of blustering wind, Dustin standing on the threshold trying to hold onto the handle for dear life, he winces when he sees the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s—” he looks at his watch, “they’re ready to start.” 

Eddie removes his hands from your arms and shoves them into his pockets, all the warmth leaving you as the wind creeps through the fabric of your dress.

“Be right there man,” Eddie answers tight lipped, trying to convey to Dustin that you needed a minute to collect yourself, “save me a seat.” 

When the door shuts with great force on Dustin’s end, he bends down to scoop up your discarded heels, holding them by the backs. He sets them on the ground between the two of you, gathering your arm in his hand as you steadied yourself with his body to balance while you slipped your feet in. 

Taking one last ragged breath, Eddie moves beside you looking up at the church, then back at you.

“I don’t think I can say goodbye.” 

Eddie swallows hard, reaching out with a cautious hand but deciding at the last minute to shove it into his pocket, “you don’t have to, y'know? My m— well, I heard once that a person’s spirit can live on as long as you need them.” 

“D’ do you believe in that kind of stuff?” you ask solemnly, “The afterlife? Reincarnation?” 

“I believe that Steve would want all of us to keep going, to be the best versions of ourselves…. and he would probably scold us for being late to his funeral.” 

You smile then, wrapping your hands around your arms rubbing warmth into them. “He definitely would, I can almost hear him fussing.”  

“Hands on his hips, no doubt,” Eddie said with a grin, “But he’d pull himself together…be strong for everyone, he was always good at doing that.”

You look at him, completely unaware of his own inner struggles. “That was Steve, always brave, always willing to defend someone.”

The door busts open again, this time it’s Hopper, his bristly mustache matching his thick eyebrows as he stares with annoyance at your tardiness. 

“Shit,” Eddie jokes, “better go before he calls the hounds.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

It was a closed casket per your request, even though his mother argued to have it open. Wanting the sympathy from her friends of being a parent “burying-their-child” and to have people comment on how he looked like her, how beautiful they both were— it was sick. 

Dustin made a speech. His hair pushed back just how Steve had taught him back in high school. He shed a tear at the end when he referred to Steve as his best friend. Climbing down from the podium, he slumped in the pew next to Eddie, sniffling softly as his shoulders shook. 

Robin recited a light hearted poem, promising to keep the store running and to finally get her driver’s license. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted the laughs she and Steve had shared. 

When it was your turn, your heart felt like it was filled with lead, the walk up the ugly church carpet felt as if it drug on forever, and you had to take several deep breaths before adjusting the mic. 

Your poorly written speech talked about how Steve lit up every room, how he was adored by everyone at Hawkins High. But now, under the scathing florescent lights under the wet eyes of your closest friends, the jumbled words looked like nothing but bullshit. 

Tears rimmed your eyes and you felt the same death grip of panic rising on your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, body shaking as you fumbled with the index cards, “I- I can’t.” 

It was Joyce who met you at the podium with a caring smile, and open arms guiding you back to the pew. She didn’t mind that you sobbed into her shoulder making a mess of her cotton dress. And when the service was over and it was time to go to the cemetery, she held your hand and led the way.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You felt numb as you stood next to Robin. Her icy fingers laced with yours as you zoned out completely while standing at his gravesite. Someone was talking but you couldn’t register who it was or what they were saying. 

Your body was present but your mind was floating in a memory. 

“Should we have spaghetti tonight? Or do you wanna order a pizza and I’ll pick it up after I leave work?” 

Steve’s comforting voice filled your ear as you twirled your finger around the cord in the stockroom at Melvald’s. A common occurrence for the two of you, each sneaking off to call each other during the day. Eight hours away from him was too much. 

“Already got the noodles boiling for spaghetti, honey,” he practically purred into the phone, “tell Joyce you’re taking off for the night and come home to me.” 

Your smile squeaked through the receiver, your heart skipped beats at the thought of Steve Harrington wanting you… two years together it still seemed like yesterday that you had gone on your first date.

“Steve,” you giggled, “You didn’t have to.”

“Ah ah ah, I won’t listen to that,” Steve lightly scolded, “I like to cook and take care of my girl, we’re a team, Nellie.” 

You begrudgingly sigh and feel heat rise to your cheeks, you really were one of the luckiest girls. “Okay Captain, what kind of noodles are you making?” 

Steve chuckles through the receiver, cream colored phone balancing on his shoulder as he adds salt to the boiling water. 

“It was a toss up between angel hair or fettuccine… fettuccine won, and I picked up some garlic bread from Enzo’s.” 

“Ohh, you’re spoiling me rotten,” you purr, imagining what you would do to thank him…something involving your favorite part of him and your mouth, “I’ll stop at Bradley’s for some drinks, what are ya thinkin’?”

Steve smiles, putting a dish towel on his shoulder, “surprise me.” 

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The church basement reeked of furniture polish, clashing with heavy floral perfume to mask the smell of mildew from a previous heavy rainfall. 

The Women of Fellowship were serving ham on wheat buns with chips and a veggie tray. Their faces planted with a christian sympathy smile as they cut brownies and refilled the punch bowl.  

A bottle of champagne sat chilled in a bath of ice per Mrs. Harrington’s demands. No reason to be so down all day, might as well make it a special occasion! As if the death of her only son wasn’t enough, was too boring for her. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved your plate away as her obnoxious laugh erupts from behind you. Steve’s father telling his colleagues a dirty joke no doubt, his face red from stifling a laugh and the whiskey he clutched in a monogrammed flask. 

“Nellie?” Nancy chirped, adjusting her slim figure to whisper gently across the table your group of friends were sulking at,  “I have some frozen meals my mom and I put together, I can come over tonight and give you the instructions if you’d like?”

Nodding softly you meet her eyes, “Thanks Nance, that’d be really nice.” 

It went silent again, Max fidgeted with her hair, pulling it back in a loose ponytail. Will’s watch beeped but he clicked it off lazily, running his hands down his face. Nobody knew what to say or what to do. What do you say at a friend's funeral? 

“Are they always like this?” Eddie blurts through the quiet, cocking his head towards the Harrington’s. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm slung over the back of an empty chair beside him, his sunglasses were still on, just as they were through the church service and at the gravesite. 

Everyone at the table looks to you, expecting some sort of an explanation, but you simply shrug, “I- I don’t really know them very well.” 

“Steve’s parents?” Nancy questions, “they’re super sweet, when I—”

She stops then her mouth closing with a pop to remember that it probably wasn’t the time to talk about her long ago relationship with Steve at his funeral in front of his current girlfriend. 

“… they uhhh.. they were always nice.” 

It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know. Mostly because you and Steve had never mentioned it to anyone besides Robin. But her words stung, hit your chest like a thousand mad bees. 

You stand on shaky legs, “I need—yeah…” Without giving anything more you walk away, almost taking the table cloth with you from it tangling in your purse. 

“Nellie,” Robin tries, her own eyes swimming with hurt, but you’re already two tables away, squeezing between padded shoulders and hands holding plastic cups of punch, bleary eyed to find anywhere to be but here.

Turns out a broom closet storing Christmas decorations stuffed right with the plastic light-up yard Bethlehem set, was the right place to have a breakdown. 

You were hiding for a solid ten minutes before you heard a soft knock and a quiet ‘Nell?’ And your unladylike sniffling gave you away as you wiped your nose on the blanket swaddling baby Jesus. 

“Rob,” you exhaled annoyingly, “I’m fine, okay? Tell Nance I’m sorry.” But to your surprise it was Eddie.

“Hey.” he says cautiously, clicking the door behind him and leaning against it. 

You looked from him to your shoes and muttered out a soft, “hi.”

“So… Mr. and Mrs. Harrington seem like real big pieces of shit… wow.”

You snort airily fiddling with the run in your stocking, “Yeah, they’re something alright.” 

Eddie slides down the door, sitting with his legs crossed in front of him, exhaling a deep breath,“It’s been a long day,” he finally said.

“I don’t know what to do next.” 

Eddie looks at you confused, and eyes you when you stand abruptly and start pacing around the cramped closet. 

You’re erratic, talking fast and crazed, “I told myself that all I needed to do was just make it to the funeral. Make it through the funeral and…and then I would figure it all out from there! Now here we are— and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do after, Eddie!

“After it’s over? And– when I leave… he’ll still be here in the ground, and I— ” you start to apologize but refrain, “.. I should go.” 

“Talk to me,” Eddie stands to his full height, reaching towards you, just barely grazing your elbow with his fingertips. His voice nearly breaking, “it helps to get it out.” 

You hiccup, and pull away, stumbling over a slew of strung together sentences that you’re barely breathing through to get out. 

 “..’s… shit, he was all I had. My parents are gone, I don’t have any siblings. It’s been… d’ you know that his parents have never approved of me, but Steve he— he fought for me, for us. Without him…I’m alone.” 

Eddie follows you his hands firm your biceps to try to calm you down. “All your friends are here. Robin, Vickie, the kids…” 

His words have no meaning to you, none of it mattered, your pain was demanding to be felt, and frilly words with no merit wouldn’t sugar coat this. “He’s gone, Eddie! He didn’t get to have a second chance he—died!”

He’s level headed but slowly losing his own battle, trying not to break thinking about his luck and the never ending guilt he carried. 

“We were all there, all of us are hurting, Nellie. You can’t shut people out and clam up.” 

You try to wriggle free from him, but he’s stronger, and all you can do is cry, “I— can’t keep going! Not without him!” 

Feeling the weight of survivor's guilt and the agony of never being able to be consoled by Steve again, you break. Sobbing uncontrollably. Eddie’s arms surround you, holding you tight and engulfing your cries with his own tears, and little shushes from his throat. 

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t cry— it will take time but you.. we will be okay.” 

His voice is wobbly and his chest shakes as he cries silently grieving for his best friend. With tears running down your cheeks you pull away slightly to see his face. 

In the dim light you can make out that his nose is tinged red, and with unsteady hands you reach up and pry his sunglasses from his face.

His eyes were red, a little swollen from rubbing them and fatigued with lack of sleep. You could kick yourself for not recognizing how hurt he was, how self absorbed you had been. Both of you are crying together, clinging onto each other under the yellow light in that makeshift storage closet. 

Throwing yourself at him, your cheek presses into his chest as you both sob into one another. Meshing your suffering with his. 

His chin is resting on your head, hands wrapped in your hair. Your hands are clutching the opening of his shirt, fingers just barely grazing over his bare chest. Minutes passed and you exhale an exhausted sigh. 

Lifting your face up to tell Eddie that maybe you should get back, your nose brushes against his. And when you both should be moving away, straightening yourself up and wiping your eyes, neither of you pull back. 

Eddie’s breath fans against your cheek, a small shudder on your skin, the emotional hold of the day, his arms wrapped around you it was nice… it felt, good. Without thinking, without acknowledging what you’re doing you tilt your head and line your mouth up with his, pressing your lips to his. 

It’s unexpectedly tender, and what should startle him doesn’t, but all of that sweetness is quickly swallowed by a hunger you had never felt before. 

It’s nothing but grabby hands and needy mouths. His hands go from soft and consoling to roughly working his pants down in the same hastiness- that you’re hauling your dress up.

Eddie grabs you from the crook of your knees as if you’re weightless and shoves you up hard against the wall. Your mouth hangs open in a silent plea as your panties get ripped to the side. Tears are still flowing down your face and if you were to look at him, you’d see that his haven't stopped either. 

It’s desperate the way you’re clutching onto his shoulders. As if every ounce of pain was leaving you with every inch of him. You whimper with each pump of his hips and Eddie is doing the same, holding you impossibly tight, grunting into your ear. 

It’s raw and harsh, the shelves shuddering with the pace of him taking you, and you’re all in, moaning when you’re close. Holding the nape of his neck and wringing his curls as you start to unravel, your nails clawing into him as your mind explodes. 

When you finish, he’s close behind, groaning deep and biting his lip as he shakes violently with his release, pumping all he’s got into you. 

What’s left between you is gasping breaths and tear kissed skin, a set of broken Christmas lights under Eddie’s boot. 

His jacket is still in your clutches when you open your eyes, coming down from a high you clung to stay up on. But the weight of your decision comes crashing down when you realize what you had done.

Regret is painted thick on your face as the realization comes full force. You need to get out of here. What kind of grieving girlfriend were you to have fucked your dead boyfriend’s best friend in a church basement at his funeral. 

A whore is what you are. 

Eddie must have realized what kind of slut you were too because he sets you down and immediately turns away from you, shoving himself back into his pants. 

But, before he can say anything, before he can try to talk you off a cliff— you’re already out of the door, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the horrifying expression twisted onto your face. 

You don’t hear Eddie calling after you, or the way his face turned to fear as you threw open the door, practically sprinting away from him. 

Lucky for you, nobody questioned why you were darting up the basement steps, or why you looked absolutely wrecked. Your keys fumbled in your hands as you unlocked your car, terrified to look back, running from your mistake, from Steve from Eddie.

The road was a dangerous blur on your drive home, your eyes flooding over obscuring stop signs and headlights. Your cheeks were still stained with yours and Eddie’s tears. 

Tears that were shed in grief from the death of your boyfriend, the same ones that stayed on your face as you got fucked in a closet by his best friend. And more tears fell as you tried to comprehend why for the first time since Steve’s death, you felt comfort.

—

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I Want Better For You (part 3.5)

part 1 | Masterpost | Part 3

Tim sat on the edge of his bed in Titan’s Tower, his mind going like a hamster on a wheel, a mile a minute and getting nowhere. In his hands he held the note left for him by Red Hood! It was a serious security breach that he had gotten in here at all. Obviously Tim knew he was smart, he had been Robin before Tim after all, you couldn’t do that job without being smart as hell and strong as heck. But he had upgraded the security himself when he joined the team, no one should have been able to get into the tower, let alone into his room to leave the note.

At least it wasn’t a bad note? In fact it was… nice, it was a kind offer. They had to know that if he did this he would spy, he wouldn’t even be able to help it because he’d always had a detective's mind, yet still they offered. 

Of course there was always a possibility that it was a trap of some type but Tim really didn’t think it was. Jason had proved he could get into the Tower, if he wanted Tim dead or kidnapped he could have just done it.

He should talk to his team about this, he should talk to Bruce about this, but for the moment he just held the note. Robin had always been his hero, sure it was Dick he’d first recognized because of the Flying Grayson connection, but Jason had been His Robin. Tim had idolized Jason, and been completely devastated when he died. Ya he had become Robin to help Bruce, but it was to memorialize Jason as well.

He knew that Jason wasn’t the same as he’d been before his death, but… while he was dead Tim had gotten used to thinking of him like a brother. A part of him desperately wanted to take this note at face value, to forget all about the violence, and the crimes, and just take the olive branch and bond with his childhood hero. But he was going to be smart about this.

He was going to go, of course he was, but he needed to put safety measures in place and some sort of plan. Though he probably still wasn’t going to tell B about it, he was overprotective and would grill Tim for any bit of information he managed to gleen, and if he wanted any real info he would have to do a long con. Best he could do right now would be to have Superboy listen in, set up a code word, and have Impulse ready for an extraction if needed then… well he’d tell Batman when he needed to.

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It took about a week to talk Superboy into letting him go but it wasn’t exactly hard to set up as minimal of plans as he had, including wearing a hidden wire to record whatever happened. As long as it worked, Tim had heard tech had a habit of messing up around Hyena if he didn’t want them working. 

He didn’t bother thinking of an excuse, he didn’t think he needed one. Wanting to get to know them would be enough, especially if he was going to rely on them for anything in the future. 

So, feeling tense and keeping to the shadows he entered Crime Alley on a slow night with his friends behind him, figuratively speaking. He moved a bit deeper in, grappling up to the roof of a building, feeling a little lost and listless. He did know vaguely where to find these two, but Crime Alley wasn’t a small place, and now that he was in their territory he didn’t know where to go, it’s not like they knew where Hood and Hyena lived, or their base of operations. 

It seemed like he didn’t need to though, because while he was standing on the roof thinking he saw someone coming, leaping from one building to the other with reckless abandon. They weren’t even using a grapple as they free ran and made jumps Tim was pretty sure should have been impossible. Tim knew who it was before they were close enough to see detail because Hood still used a grapple, the only one who acted like that was Hyena.

Sure enough Hood’s lover skidded to a halt across the roof in front of Tim, grinning to the point he could see it a little past the muzzle he wore. He didn’t have any weapons out, not that that meant anything, half the time Hyena forgot to use the clawed brass knuckles he carried and fought with bare hands. Tim was tense, ready to fight or flee but Hyena was not, he seemed relaxed and didn’t approach, keeping his hands visible. 

“Hey there little birdy, what can I do for ya?” Hyena asked, he didn’t have a Gotham accent but it was a little hard to tell where exactly it was from.

“I got Red Hood’s note. I just wanted to talk, introduce myself properly and meet you before I decide to take you up on any of the offers.” Tim said honestly.

“Of course!” Hyena agreed, pulling his phone out of a hidden pocket on the inside of his cropped jacket. “I’ll text Hood, ask him to pick up some food for us and we can have a little rooftop picnic and chat for a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Tim said, not sure why he was surprised by the offer.

“Any requests? The lifestyle sure builds up an appetite huh? And I certainly hope you’re still growing,” Hyena teased, cackling at Tim’s expression of indignation. Hyena wasn’t that much taller than him!

“Coffee,” He requested, finally relaxing a little.

“Hmm,” Hyena sounded judgmental as he tapped at his phone. “Fine, it’s your bone density that’s at stake not mine.” He pressed send, waited a moment and his phone dinged with a reply. “Great, he’ll be on his way soon, with picking up food he’ll probably be about a half hour,” Hyena said, pocketing his phone again and flopping down, as if the rooftop was a soft bed. “I know it’s probably Hood you really came to see but is there anything I can tell you in the meantime? Let’s stick to small talk though huh? I know how you bats and birds are, but I also know you’re wearing a wire, and I’m not interested in spilling my guts.” 

“Alright, ya that’s fair. Hood mentioned in the note that you know a lot about astronomy?” Tim mentioned, finally sitting down with his legs crossed as well.

“Oh ya, I was totally obsessed with it for most of my life, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid and learned everything I could about space and engineering,” Hyena confirmed casually.

“This is a long way from being an astronaut,” Tim pointed out.

“Ya, well, things don’t always go the way you plan you know? Sometimes you get kidnapped by mad scientists and experimented on to the point you go a little around the bend,” Hyena snickered. Tim wasn’t sure if he was being serious, or self referential, or not.

“Riiight, well, what are your favourite space facts then?” Tim asked, just to pass the time really. Hyena brightened immediately and was happy to start sharing a bunch of random facts. 

It ended up in a back and forth of fun facts, aerospace vs chemistry and both of them could go shot for shot when it came to engineering. Tim realized, a bit belatedly, that Hyena is way smarter than Tim had given him credit for. That was disconcerting but… if they ended up getting alone Tim thought he could have a lot of fun tinkering with him.

“Incoming,” Hood broke into their conversation, warning them before he landed on the roof so he wouldn’t startle them. “Hey there Timmy,” He said as he walked over to crouch next to Danny, handing him a few bags of batburger and a tray of drinks before taking off his helmet. He was wearing a domino underneath it but it wasn’t like Tim didn’t already know his identity. “Got your coffee, I bet if you took off that domino your eye bags would be nearly as dark as the mask. Never enough time to sleep between school, social life, and nightlife.” Jason said, taking the tray of drinks back from Hyena, who promptly started digging through the bag with his now free hands, and handed the coffee cup to Tim.

“If you drop out of school to play hero I will personally kick your ass,” Jason said pointing at Tim warningly. 

“Uhhh,” Tim sounded, shifting a little awkwardly because he couldn’t deny he had already thought about dropping out. He looked down and took a sip of the coffee, which wasn’t great, but hey. “Why do you care?”

“Neither Hyena or I got to finish school because we died before graduation,” Hood said simply, which was a punch in the gut, and new information about Hyena. “I want better for you.” 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that.

Hyena finished rummaging through the bag with a little yip of delight and started distributing the food, handing Hood a bag and taking a box of chicken wings, a burger, and some fries for himself before handing off the rest to Tim. “Looks like Hood didn’t know what you wanted and bought half the store, whatever you don’t eat I’ll finish,” Hyena joked as Tim took the bag. “Shit I forgot my sauces,” Hyena grumbled, staring at his nuggets with a little pinch between his brows. 

“What sauce are you looking for?” Tim asked, looking through the bag.

“Sweet and sour,” Hyena said brightly and Tim found the sauce and tossed it to Hyena, who hummed happily and took off his mask to eat. He was completely barefaced now and Tim couldn’t help but stare a little just because of how casual he was being about this. “What?” Hyena asked, catching Tim staring. 

“Hey I know he’s cute but he’s taken,” Hood joked, slinging an arm around Hyena’s shoulders who cackled and leaned back against Jason.

“No!” Tim said, cursing his fair skin for showing his blush, not because Hood was right of course, he was just embarrassed! “I mean, that’s not what I was thinking, I’m just surprised you took off your mask,” He told Hyena.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before I’m sure. I’m sure you and the bats have already figured out my ‘civilian identity’ or whatever. It’s not like I have anything to protect really, I only have the mask and the outfit because I like the aesthetic.” Hyena said, gesturing down at himself. 

“Fair enough I guess…” Tim said before looking back at Hood. “How did you get into Titan’s Tower?”

“Trade secrets Timmy, I’d rather talk about you. How’s school? You got a girlfriend or boyfriend?” Jason asked with a shit eating grin as Tim sputtered indignantly and then took a big bite of his burger to avoid having to answer such an invasive question! Especially with Superboy definitely listening in.

[azen13]

[Not really sure if this counts as a request but here we go] Who’s your favourite male yandere(s) from genshin? And could you talk about why?

Ah I love this question! Thank you so much for asking. I've been really busy with college lately so I haven't gotten a chance to write recently, but after this week I should be finished with a lot of tests until finals. Just to clear things up, I absolutely accept questions like this! I feel like I haven't really shared a lot about myself as a person so I'm hoping to do more of that in the future.

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CW: Yandere Themes, Spoilers for Wriothesley's Story Quest

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I'd say I have four yanderes who I really like, and then a few who I like but I'm not obsessed with. Those four being Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Zhongli. Beyond the fact that I just like them as characters (and I'm gay asf lol) they're the most interesting yanderes to me, in part because of how much power they have in their societies.

Alhaitham is really interesting to me because there's this personal conflict between his values and beliefs and the idea of falling in an obsessive love. Alhaitham is inherently self-centered, not narcissistically so, but to the point where he prioritizes and values his time alone. In doing so though, he's also extremely lonely. I think a lot on how Alhaitham would react to someone who's able to match his sharpened blade of wit with one of their own, how he might exchange parries and blows with that person and find himself needing to understand the nature of their mind. I also think about how he'd react to someone who struggles with taking care of themself, or overworking: how he'd try to get you to stop doing so much and trying to please everyone. If his lover can keep up with his intelligence, he treats the romance like a game of chess, lining up his pieces to topple over the defenses surrounding your heart. His possession of you is slow and methodical, like vines growing on walls, slowly creeping over every inch. If his lover's wisdom is spent in other areas, then he's quick to snatch them up and take them home. While I think he's quick to get you under his control, it's harder for him to make them fall in love and surrender to his calculating embrace.

Neuvillette brings a really interesting element that I like to think about when I'm writing for him: immortality. He's a dragon who's lived for centuries, and that element of the slow passage of time is really fun to both write and think about. I really like to think of Neuvillette as a really, really soft yandere; he's seen humanity at its worst, and doesn't want you, the beautiful thing you are, to be tainted by all of its ugliness. Besides, he just can't help himself, what with his draconic instincts.

Out of the four, Wriothesley is the character I'd say I have the hardest time writing for because it's harder for me to explain why he feels the way he does. The working justification I have is that being betrayed by his adoptive family and living his whole life in Meropide made him incredibly lonely and developed a lot of abandonment issues that remained unearthed for years, as he didn't really make many close friends in Meropide. Then you come along though, and for once, Wriothesley has something good, something he doesn't want to give up. He's definitely one of the hardest yanderes to escape, what with Meropide being a literal prison. I think he definitely takes extra precautions when it comes to you, though, because he's so scared of losing them. Beneath his gruff exterior, there's a heart of gold, a man who only craves your complete affection and attention.

And then there's Zhongli, who was actually the character who got me into writing Yanderes. The thing about Zhongli is that as a yandere, you're practically powerless, unless you're on a similar or higher level of power/divinity to him. Even if you exceed his power, you're still going to have a very difficult time escaping his control. With how long he's lived and how much he's seen, he knows the only way to guarantee your safety is to isolate you from Teyvat entirely. Zhongli has no qualms about doing this, regardless of how much you might protest. Because when you've lost everything but Zhongli, you'll eventually—and inevitably—crumble into his arms. Only then will Zhongli put you back together, shaping you to be his perfect lover. Zhongli's greatest power as a yandere is his patience.

[https-lvesick]

RUNAWAY BRIDE ★ huang renjun (TEASER)

summary . . ♡ Just weeks before your wedding, doubts begin to creep in, and on the big day, you panic and make a break for it. Desperate and still in your bridal gown, you flag down a passing car driven by a friendly stranger. He offers to take you to safety, but what starts as a temporary stop turns into something much more. As you hide from the life you left behind, feelings grow, and the lovely stranger finds he doesn’t want you to leave.

pairing . . ♡ renjun x rich girl!reader

genre . . ♡ fluff, angst, smut, strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight

content . . ♡ no content warning for the teaser!

word count . . ♡ 0.7k for the teaser (23k for the full fic)

skye's notes . . ♡ superrr excited for this one!! especially because it's my love :( the masterlist will come out in a while 😖 literally shaking in my boots to hit the post button

release date . . ♡ january 31

taglist . . ♡ OPEN!

You stared at yourself in the mirror for the thousandth time. Your eyes traced every detail—the flawless hairstyle, the delicate diamond tiara, the long white dress with intricate lace sleeves, and the impeccable makeup. Pride swelled within you for reaching this milestone, for taking the first step in building your future family. But why? Why did you feel so heavy with dread? Why did every thought of a future with your fiancé fill you with unease instead of joy?

The door creaked open, and one of your bridesmaids—your best friend—entered the room. Her radiant smile was contagious, filled with pride and warmth. It almost made you believe in the illusion of a blissful future. Because this was the right thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

"Here’s your bouquet..." she said, placing the bundle of crimson roses in your hands. Red roses, the ultimate symbol of love, carefully adorned with tiny diamonds nestled between the blooms. Joy beamed with excitement, far more emotional than you felt. Her eyes drifted to your trembling hands, interpreting it as a case of perfectly reasonable wedding jitters.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking your hands in hers. You inhaled deeply, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Nervous," you admitted with a weak, insincere smile. Everything about this moment felt like a facade. "My heart’s racing faster than one of Sung’s monologues."

She chuckled, and for a fleeting second, the tension eased. Was the rapid beat of your heart merely pre-wedding anxiety? Or was it doubt?

"That’s perfectly normal," Joy reassured, her tone as light as if describing a fairytale. "I felt exactly the same on my wedding day. Trust me, the nerves disappear the moment you say ‘I do’ and seal it with a kiss."

Your eyes flutter open. Joy, still twirling around the room with a smile on her face, sings in that melodic voice that always brings you peace. You stare at your reflection again, knowing there’s still a chance—one fleeting chance—to make the right choice.

"Joy?" you call softly. "Could you get me some water? I think these nerves are really getting to me..." Your voice trembles just enough, sounding perfectly fragile—exactly like the version of yourself everyone expects. Joy giggles at your tone, unaware of anything unusual.

"Of course," she says cheerfully, excusing herself before slipping out the door.

Better to regret doing too much than to regret doing nothing at all.

The words echo in your mind as you pull off your heels and set them aside. Then, with your pulse racing, you open the door that leads to the garden where the celebration waits.

The moment your bare feet touch the grass, you run.

You run as fast as you can, ignoring the weight of the dress pulling you down, ignoring the stinging thoughts of what people will think, ignoring the consequences that tomorrow will bring. All that matters is getting out—escaping the cage before it locks you in forever.

When Joy returns to find the door ajar, the tiara and heels abandoned, the crystal glass slips from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Fear flashes across her face, but she doesn’t chase after you. She lets you go.

"I hope you know what you’re doing..." Joy whispers to herself. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head. She waits a moment, giving herself just enough time before putting on the perfect mask of panic for when the news breaks—the bride is gone.

It takes longer than you'd like to escape the mansion grounds, and even longer before anyone realizes the bride is missing. Minhyuk, your fiancé, stands in stunned silence at first, refusing to believe it’s true. Then anger overtakes him, his fury mirrored by your father, whose mind is already racing with ways to punish you for disgracing the family.

When you finally reach the street, your legs burn and your lungs ache. You stop to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest, knowing that by now, everyone is searching for you. The security team must already be mobilized. Finding you will be easy—too easy. After all, a bride running through the streets of Los Angeles isn’t exactly inconspicuous.

You take off again, pushing your legs to move faster, weaving through traffic, not waiting for the light to turn. The inevitable happens—a car screeches to a halt, clipping your side just enough to send you stumbling. The driver’s face is as terrified as yours.

“Help me,” you murmur, voice trembling as your eyes lock with his.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist 𖹭 series masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip

[cepheustarot]

What does fate have in store for you in the near future?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: Here fate will arrange for you to meet a person. It will be an unexpected meeting for you, since a person will literally appear suddenly out of nowhere but from the first days you will feel a strong connection with them, you will get very close to this person, you will open your soul to them, as they will open theirs to you, in general, emotional and personal conversations will be involved here. By themself the person is calm, perhaps they are not very emotional and in some places can behave as if they do not care but in fact it is not so! Person is very sensitive, prone to empathy, they are a good listener and you can say they generally like to listen more than talk. They may also be well versed in psychology or something similar, may have a lot of experience in terms of relationships between people. And although a person is very sensitive, still relies on logic and common sense, not allowing emotions to take over. In general fate organized this meeting for you to help you succeed in some area (mostly in terms of studies, finances, work) or if you had problems then they will help you solve them. It is also necessary for you to find support in it since now you may be in limbo and feel unstable or you constantly have situations that unsettle you.

Pile 2: As I see it this option could be chosen by those who do not feel very well morally, you feel exhausted or you have been depressed lately, you may feel very tired, burnout, stress and all that sort of thing. You may also miss a lot of privacy, being alone and you may feel a lot of pressure from your family or people around you. Here you might not find the opportunity to relax or generally forget to rest because you were immersed in some kind of activity. So here fate, roughly speaking, will "force you" to take a break, perhaps your plans will be interrupted and you will be forced to spend time with yourself. Perhaps your loved ones will leave for other cities, places or will be too busy to meet you or vice versa you will have to leave for some reason.

Pile 3: Here fate will give you a choice that cannot be abandoned, where there will be no third option and you will have to choose from what you have. In particular this choice is associated with some person dear to you, with whom you have known for a long time, communicate closely and in general you can have a very strong connection. It can be your close friend, your lover, your colleague, your partner with whom you work, etc. In particular here you will have to make a choice to continue communicating with this person or not, since your relationship has reached some kind of dead end and is not developing in any way, you may not feel the same warmth on his part, the same interest and it may seem to you that this person has changed. This choice is a turning point in your life or on your life path but in any case, thanks to this situation, you will be able to gain wisdom, become stronger, more experienced — in any case, all this will only be a plus for you even if it is hard or painful at the beginning, then everything will bear fruit in the end.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - Too Much Green

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Chapter 4 doing what it always does in my writing. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 12.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky has a talk with Sam, and you adapt. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Read on A03!

Bucky didn’t know who decided Sam should be allowed to have an office, but he needed to have very firm, loud words with them.

Steve had never gotten an office, and he’d been perfectly fine. Sam barely even used the office. He kept it because he liked saying my office with a smug expression, and making Bucky sit in the waiting room like this was a doctor’s appointment and not a serious, time sensitive meeting. 

Because the sun was going to rise soon, and Bucky wouldn’t be following Her to work. He’d go back to his apartment, and do flat, mundane things to fill his time. Sam would find someone else to trail Her around, and She’d probably make their lives living hell, and they’d stick around because they knew how to do that.

Bucky had warned Sam he wasn’t made for this. That he’d literally been designed to hunt and kill, not shield and protect and care for. This was how it would’ve ended anyway, but he’d hoped—just for the sake of his own, fragile anger and resolve—that it would’ve crumbled because She caved. Because Bucky would’ve been right. But he hadn’t even lasted three weeks before everything had fallen apart, and She’d shot him in the gut like a sick dog. 

He’d shot himself in the gut. He’d been the paranoid asshole, and She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Bucky didn’t have enough will to push it, and he didn’t have the strength to push Her. She was… stronger than he’d expected. And he could still see Her shaking slightly, still hear the fury in Her voice echoing off the vacant, blank walls of his apartment. 

It wasn’t guilt or shame, burning and crawling over his skin. It couldn’t be. He had nothing to be guilty of, because he’d been doing his job. Checking all the vulnerabilities. Making sure everything was in its proper place, including Her. It didn’t get to matter than She was beautiful and smart and bursting with a wrath that seemed bigger than the world. It mattered that She’d been lying, and hiding things. 

Things that didn’t seem that important now, when he’d been so goddamn wrong, and the image of Her in the office—in the dark, burning up from within in a way Bucky could see—seemed to be branding itself onto his brain.

Things that really didn’t have to matter to him at all anymore, because Bucky was done. He’d gotten out of it. He wouldn’t be breaking his word to Sam—She’d kicked him out, he hadn’t just abandoned his post—and he could just keep going through the motions until things, slowly, became better again.

And this would be fast. He’d tell Sam that the little arrangement had been a disaster—he’d throw in a I told you so, just to really sell it and bury down how he still felt Her teeth marks over his lungs—and go home. Maybe go to the grocery store. He’d never have to step foot in that godawful Subway again, or pretend he couldn’t see all those old, skin-sagging assholes scanning over Her body as she moved, because that wouldn’t be his business. He’d hear Her name in passing in the future and think nothing of it. Sam might mention one day that they’d worked out the Hydra thing, and Bucky would shrug because it wouldn’t be his fucking problem. 

He definitely wouldn’t check, because he’d have other, more important things to do.

He couldn’t think of any right now, but he would. He’d find some. 

That was how this whole getting better thing was supposed to work, and Sam was always on his ass about it anyway, so really this was an improvement for everyone. Sam got to find someone who would actually be good at watching Her. She’d probably have a lot of free time on Her hands, now that She wasn’t putting an impossible amount of effort into making Bucky go insane. Bucky would… Maybe he’d take another online college course. He’d heard Her say a lot of big, weird words and phrases that couldn’t possibly be real while he’d stood guard at Her door. There was probably an English class or something, and he could learn a bigger word that She didn’t know, just so he could throw it in Her pretty, annoying face-

He wasn’t going to see Her again. He didn’t know why his brain kept acting like he’d walk behind Her to the subway in the morning—he’d almost walked to Sam’s office instead of using his motorcycle, as if he’d been ready to go to Her apartment after—because he wouldn’t. He was free.

He kept seeing Her eyes, staring at him in an imprinted, faded picture in his head—full of that thing, narrowed in anger and unblinking, like She could shred him apart with a thought—but he’d never have to hold Her glare again. 

Everything would go back to normal.

The clock in Sam’s waiting room kept ticking. On and on, taunting Bucky and making his hands fist in his lap. He hated that sound. It pushed itself deeper and deeper and deeper into his brain, and it was like the click of a safety on a gun, or the tap of a doctor’s pen against their paper as they watched him. Observed him. Looked into him and saw the Solider and nothing more, figured out how to grab his anger by the throat and pull it to the surface, until angry was all Bucky could manage to be-

Something snapped through the air, and when Bucky looked down, he’d broken his water bottle. 

Sam had given him that water bottle. Something about hydration being important for robots too. 

Now Bucky was going to have to tell Sam two bad things. And they only had two damn hours until someone had to walk Her to work, because Bucky wasn’t going to but if the Hydra threat was real, She shouldn’t be allowed to just wander the Subway alone. She could be scary—unreasonably so, a little like a bird morphing into a dragon without warning—but Hydra wouldn’t care.

If they knew who She was, the dumb little disguises of sunglasses and baseball caps wouldn’t work, and Bucky didn’t trust Her not to do something stupid like put in earbuds so She couldn’t hear anyone coming. 

She listened to Her music too loud, all the time. It was another thing in his log, that Sam should tell Her to stop doing that, because it was a health hazard, and if She got kidnapped because of it, that would be really fucking annoying. Sam would get all angry, and they’d have to deal with all the assholes at Stark Industries for capturing their princess, and Bucky would probably have to save Her, and she wouldn’t even say thank you because She hated him-

His pants were wet. Cold and sticking to his skin, because he hadn’t stopped squeezing the broken water bottle, and the clock was still ticking, and Sam still wasn’t opening the goddamn door-

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was 3am on a Monday, and Sam’s office has very ugly, gray carpets. He liked that he’d been able to ride his motorcycle here. He disliked the little cactus Sam had put in the corner of the room, because it felt like it was taunting him. He needed Sam to open the door now, before he broke the clock and the crushed the cactus. He wanted this to all be done with, so he could go back to a routine that didn’t make him want to jump off a building and drag Her down with him.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s head turned to see Sam frowning at him from in front of the elevator, a soft ding ringing through the air as the doors closed behind them.

Sam hadn’t even been here. Bucky could’ve just broken into his apartment.

That was annoying. 

“Man, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“Three in the morning.” Bucky grunted, pushing to his feet, and Sam just rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and that’s such a big difference-“

“Sam.” Bucky crossed his arms, keeping his voice as flat as possible. “We need to talk.”

Sam only raised his brows. “Do we?”

“Yes.”

“If this is about what I think it is,” Sam moved past Bucky, opening his office door with a shrug. “I don’t think we do need to talk. I think you should be headin’ home, Buck, before-“

Sam said Her name, Bucky felt a muscle in his jaw tick, and he cut Sam off before this dragged on longer than it needed to. This should be quick. Bucky should be home—alone and bored and back to routine—before the sun was up.

“I’m not doing that anymore.”

Sam stopped in his steps, running a hand over his face as he turned to Bucky with a glare.

“Bucky, you promised me you wouldn’t fuckin’ quit on this-“

“I didn’t quit.” He snapped. “I got fired.”

“Fired? Nobody can fire you, man, that’s not how this-“

Bucky said Her name, and it sounded a little smoother off his tongue this time. But now it was bitter, laced with a memory of Her spitting at him with cold hatred that he’d really, truly earned. “She fired me.” Bucky muttered, forcing himself to hold Sam’s gaze. “Said she’d do the lockdown, but I don’t believe her, so I’d send someone to make sure she’s-“

“Bucky.” Sam’s voice wad low. Firm. Serious. That couldn’t be good. “What’d you do.”

“Why do you always assume I did something-“

“Cause you usually do something! What did you do-“

She’d told Bucky he could lie. Tell Sam She was impossible to work with, or had thrown a stapler at him. 

It was an incredibly specific example. It would probably work just fine. 

Bucky couldn’t manage to say it. He’d been the asshole. He’d crossed a line, and part of recovery was supposed to be telling the truth. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also tried to let a poorly crafted story fall out of his mouth, only to stare at Sam as the words lodged in the throat.

Lying had always made his gut twist just a little. A little voice that sounded like Steve would always whisper that good men didn’t lie.

Bucky wasn’t a good man.

And that just made this so much fucking harder.

“Bucky.” Sam grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t start talking now, and I’m gonna call her in so we can all have a chat together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “So she’s allowed to be up at three-“

“She’s up at three anyway. And she’s not waiting for me in my office like a stalker-“

“I am not a stalker-“

“You’re lookin’ at me like one. Just-“ Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Spit out whatever you did, man, I’m sure it ain’t that bad-“

“I broke into her office.” Bucky grunted, the challenge of not that bad somehow spurring the truth out of him in a second. “She caught me. I got fired.”

Sam blinked at him. “You- is breaking into offices a full time job for you now or somethin’?”

Bucky scowled. “No. And I didn’t break into your office, Sam, I was in the waiting room-“

“You were the only asshole in the damn building, I’m counting it. And that’s not the point, Bucky, what the fuck were you doin’-“

“Thought she might be Hydra.” He muttered, his words pushed through his teeth. “Was looking for evidence.”

“Evidence.” Sam repeated, his voice low and taut, and Bucky nodded.

“Desk seemed like a good place to find it.”

“And did you?”

Bucky blinked at that. He’d expected the yelling to a start here. “Uh-“

“You find the evidence that she’s Hydra, Bucky?” Sam’s voice was too flat. Bucky was pretty sure this wasn’t a real question. “Find her red ledger, the big file readin’ I’m Hydra?”

He actually had looked for that. 

Sam didn’t seem genuinely interesting in hearing about it, though.

“No.” Bucky muttered. “Like I said, she caught me and tossed me out-“

“You tell her you thought she was Hydra?”

Bucky managed to hold Sam’s firm, unwavering gaze, to shrug like this was nothing, and ignore the turn of his stomach as the vision of Her—almost feral in the dark—flared in his mind.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” Sam ran a hand over his face, and he wasn’t angry. Bucky had seen Sam angry before. 

This felt more like disappointed. And that was louder in Bucky’s brain. Heavier. A weight on his chest that he had fucked this up, that Sam obviously did care about Her, that She’d probably—somehow—earned it more than Bucky had, and people liked Her when nobody liked Bucky, so of course Sam was disappointed. Bucky had been tasked with watching some sort of fucked up, insufferable, living goddess and he’d let his goddamn emotions and paranoia and how something about her just seemed impossible—too something, too beautiful, or loud, or angry, or smart, or likable—get in the way.

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her.” Sam snapped, moving to stand behind his desk. “Get her some flowers. Pick them, don’t buy them. She’ll know the difference.“

Bucky gaped at him. “Why the hell would I get her flowers, Sam, I-“

“Because it’s part of the apology, dumbass. You fucked up, you say I’m sorry, and we all move on.”

“Did you not hear me?“ Bucky braced his arms on the desk, narrowing his eyes. “She fired me. You’re gonna have to find someone else-“

“You promised.” Sam shrugged, and Bucky scoffed.

“I don’t think she cares about my promises.”

“And I don’t care if she fired you, Buck. I’m rehiring you, and you’ve got work in,” Sam glanced at his watch with a small frown. “An hour ‘till your girl is gonna be up. Get the flowers. Tell her you’re a paranoid old asshole, and you’re sorry, but she’s not dyin’ to Hydra so she’s stuck with you.”

“Sam.” Bucky hissed through his teeth. “She fired me. There are- You’re Captain America, you have other options that aren’t me-“

“Maybe I do,” Sam raised his chin, giving Bucky a firm, pointed glare. “And maybe I don’t give a shit about those other options, because I’m trustin’ you with this.”

“I told you-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a fit, you don’t wanna do this, she fired you, I don’t care.” Sam let out a long breath, dropping down in his chair and glancing over Bucky’s shoulder. “Lock the door.”

Bucky frowned. “I locked it when I came in-“

“Good.” Sam muttered, glancing around the room like he was checking for ghosts or bodies pushing out of the walls, listening to their conversation. “Look, Buck- It’s gotta be you. I don’t trust anyone else, and you’re a paranoid dickbag-“

“That’s fucking rude-“

“It’s true, Sargent Snooping in a Girl’s Desk.” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s frown deepened. She wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t even a woman. She was something a step above, that was made of the longer shadows of his bedroom and the worst fire that pushed up his throat. 

“I was being careful.” Bucky grunted, holding his ground. “We’ve been burned before, Sam, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t a threat. I told you that, and-“ Sam cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That’s not the point of what I’m sayin’ Buck. This is- This might be big, man. Hydra- I got something.”

Bucky felt his whole body go rigid. 

He’d known Hydra never really died. They’d crumbled with SHEILD, when he’d been freed, but they’d been international. Huge. Even Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure just how deep they ran, but he’d known that they were out there. Weakened, but out there. 

Sam had said that like they were growing. 

Like this was more than just a threat.

“Sam,” Bucky muttered, keeping his words low and careful. “Say what the hell are you’re talking about.”

“When you were with them, you ever hear about somethin’ called Project Ouroboros?”

The Soldat scratched at the base of his skull. It would’ve been one of those memories, if Bucky did remember. The ones that were washed over and fogged with electricity, the Soldat programming buzzing and in control as Bucky just folded, fading into a ghost in his own mind. Not himself, and not seeing and hearing anything Hydra didn’t want him too, the whole world lined with a white-hot frost that kept most thoughts in a shattered stasis.

The fact the Soldat was stirring at all meant that Sam’s words meant something. But they all were in that fractured haze.

So Bucky shook his head. “No, not that I remember. But you know memory isn’t my strong suit, Sam-“

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up, man. Just thought I’d ask, cause it’s seemin’ like something Hydra woulda had Mr. Murder on.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, or am I just supposed to wait until it’s a problem-“

“It’s a problem now,” Sam sighed, and Bucky felt his fists clench. “The working theory is that, when Hydra was workin’ in SHIELD, they had some, uh, extra projects.” Sam said slowly, watching Bucky with a weary expression. He wasn’t afraid of Bucky—if Sam got credit for anything, it was that he’d never been afraid of Bucky—but he was cautious of his reaction. His words were too carefully chosen to not be.

Another really bad sign.

“Of course they had projects.” Bucky muttered, the knit of his brow starting to form a small headache. “They were 90% crazy mad scientists, Sam. Just say was Ouroboros is-“

“We’re not sure.” Sam said, rubbing at his jaw and effectively ignoring Bucky’s glare. “All the shit is redacted, and I’ve only found it buried under a million other projects, but it’s seemin’ like, maybe, they were makin’ something called the Leviathan. You-“

“Don’t ask me if I heard about it.”

“I wasn’t gonna-“

“Yeah, you goddamn were.”

Sam paused, and raised his brows. “Well, have you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.“

Sam chuckled raising his arms in surrender. “Sometimes it’s too easy, man. Like candy from a baby-“

“Don’t give candy to babies.” Bucky snapped. “They don’t have teeth.”

Sam snorted. “You’re always just a bundle of fun, Buck-“

“The Leviathan.” Bucky grunted, because if he kept entraining this, they’d be here until noon. “You brought it up, Sam. Say what the hell it is.”

There was a long pause, and Sam let out a heavy breath as he glanced back to the door, dropped his voice, and gave Bucky an almost apologetic look.

“No smashin’ anything.”

“Sam-“

“All signs are, currently, pointing to Hydra making a doomsday device, and puttin’ it on standby ‘till they need it.”

Bucky felt like there was a plate of iron, crushing down on his chest. “A fucking doomsday device.”

Sam grimaced, his nod tight. “Yeah.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. The iron was going to weigh down on his spine, bury him too deep in his own body. “If Hydra’s had a doomsday weapon, where the hell have they been hiding it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sam muttered. “That’s part of the workin’ theory. All of this is- Right now, it’s hypothetical. Hydra may have finished the Leviathan, but there are almost no records that project Ouroboros was ever completed. It could just be scraps in a warehouse-“

“Or it could be a doomsday device.” Bucky hissed. “In fucking Hydra’s hands-“

“Not in their hands yet.” Sam shrugged. “That’s what we need to work out. Over two dozen previously dead Hydra projects have been uncovered in the past six years, Buck. If there is a Hydra doomsday weapon, they might not have had the manpower to use it during the blip, but they sure as shit have it now, and we need to find it before they do.”

“Then why are you still making me stick with babysitting.” Bucky raised his brows, drawing to his full height as he held Sam’s gaze. “If Hydra’s gaining ground, you need me in the field, Sam-“

“I’ve got guys in the field.” Sam didn’t balk, his words set. Firm. Unmovable. “I need you watching the civilian who’s gotten tangled up in this cause-“

“Cause?” Bucky jaw clenched, and an impossible amount of further strain entered his body. “You think she’s tangled in this, Sam? You think-“

“I don’t think you’re right, Bucky.” Sam said, voice flat. “You know you ain’t right. There are some- It’s complicated. Even she don’t know why they want her, but they want her, and that’s all we got to go on right now. Hydra’s wakin’ up, she’s the only thing we know they want, and I am not losing her just because you two can’t play nice.“

Bucky rolled his eyes, lowing his voice to under his breath. “She started it-“

“I know she did, that’s why I said you two.” Sam let out another long sigh. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Bucky, I’ve told you, man. You’re the only one I trust here. If it helps you can think of it as protecting a package, I just need to not lose someone I care about to a bunch of fuckin’ nazi assholes. Okay?”

Bucky grunted, and it wouldn’t help to think of it as a package. He’d been trying to think of it as even less—just a mission or case to crack—but it kept just moving back to being Her. She was too loud, too attention demanding, too entirely consuming of Bucky’s brain for him to just pretend She was nothing. 

That might the most annoying thing about Her. How She might only be crude and taunting to Bucky, and he still may not believe that Her whole human goddess thing wasn’t an act, but he had yet to see a part of Her that didn’t draw the entire world in like She was made of something heavier than gravity. And Bucky was—tragically—still a part of that world. He wasn’t machine enough to be exempt from how She’d laugh, and it would be an almost musical, siren-like sound.

And She laughed a lot. That was another annoying thing about Her.

Pretending She was a package wasn’t an option, and if not because of the laugh, because he could still hear the venom in Her voice when she’d spat doll right back in his face like the word was a bullet. Package and doll seemed to fall into a similar category Bucky didn’t have a name for yet.

He didn’t want to think of Her as normal and human—it would make him picture Her curled up and pallid on that bathroom floor, force him to think about the bags under Her eyes that were somehow heavier than his—but package felt cruel.

It was almost 4am. She’d be up soon, and he needed to make a game plan to tell Her they were stuck together—Bucky had a feeling if he kept arguing, Sam would pull the part of your pardon card and mean it—in a way that didn’t get him hit with a stapler. 

“Bucky, I’m gonna need to hear an okay-“

“Okay.” He grunted. This was important to Sam, and would help fuck with Hydra. He just had to keep repeating that this was important to Sam and would fuck with Hydra, and he’d be able to handle it. “Sam?”

Sam raised his brows, and Bucky chose his words very carefully, starting with Her name. He needed to practice that one. It still sounded like a code.

“How long you known her?”

“Long.” Sam shrugged. “Met the kid when she was-“ He cut himself off with a frown. “In a weird place is the best way to put it, I think.”

Bucky kept his face neutral, adding weird place to his log. “Weird place?”

“Yeah. Complicated place. For a while.” Sam sighed. “Good she got in with Stark when she did. Even if it was Stark, better than...” 

Sam trailed off, shook his head again, and Bucky frowned. 

“Better than what?”

“Not my shit to say. I ain’t a snitch, Bucky-“

“I’m not asking to you to snitch-“

“Yeah, you are, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you. She’ll kill me, you’ll just bitch and whine.” Sam gave him a pointed look. “You gotta stop fishing for information and do your damn job.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stupid job.” He muttered under his breath, moving to the door. “Glad I crushed that damn water bottle-“

“You crushed what-“

“Get over it, Sam. You can have me guarding that fucking wolf of a girl, or I can keep that water bottle in one piece. You don’t get both.”

Bucky opened the door, and when he looked back Sam was watching him with a frown. 

“So you’re gonna watch her?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky muttered, glancing at that goddamn clock on the wall.

The sun was almost up.

She’d be up with it. Probably—if Bucky had been reading the slump of Her shoulders and unreasonable amount of coffee and energy drink She consumed right—before it.

“See you later, Sam.”

“Try not to kill each other!” Sam called as Bucky closed the door. “Get the flowers!”

——————

The Boy is purring on your lap. It’s low and smooth and grounding.

You need it right now. You need the reminder that for at least the Boy, he can be alive and have it not hurt. That you’re not burning and destroying everything you touch, because the Boy is happy and content here. With you. 

It’s going to break your heart to move him, but you can see the frosted shapes of sunlight starting to break through the windows and dance over the floor. You’re going to need to be up soon, make a pot of coffee, and go to work. Because that’s what you do. You sit on the floor in a self-imposed exile from your bed, and then you light up for the Show and pretend the world isn’t eating you alive. 

But you can feel it. You can feel the pain of the long, long night—longer shadows and heavier air that no amount of coffee is going to be able to cure—and you can watch the light on the floor and know that it’s not shining on you.

If you moved your foot an inch to the side, it would. 

But that feels blasphemous. 

So you’ll stay here a little longer until you need to animate yourself, and pretend you feel nothing painful or impossible or irrational at all. 

Sam hasn’t called you to check in on the lockdown, so you’re going to go to the office. Maybe he’s assuming you’ll just go into lockdown, but Sam’s not that stupid—and he knows you too well to think you’d just roll over like a bitch—so he’s either put a new detail on you, of he’s had a moment of clarity and realized that you’re really not worth the resources to protect.

Maybe Barnes didn’t tell him at all, but you don’t really care. That sounds like a Barnes problem, not a you problem. 

You hope he didn’t tell Sam. 

You hope Sam finds out of his own, and Barnes gets his ass thrown off a building. You hope Sam waits until the last second to rescue him. 

Fucking Barnes.

You hadn’t intended on going to the office, but you’d forgotten some papers, and Happy never had to know. And there he’d been. Snooping and calling you Hydra, acting like you’d crawled out of the depths of hell instead of just faked your way into whatever type of cruel heaven this was.

You aren’t Hydra. You’re not keeping any Stark Industry secrets, because you’re just the sweet charity girl. The pretty face that offsets all the previous war crimes, that Pepper throws money at so you can turn it into something good.

And you do, and nobody looks at you any further because you’re not Hydra. You’re not important. 

Hydra will learn that, if they come for you. Barnes should’ve already known it from the start, but it seems you’d played your part too well, and he started to see shadows in you that weren’t there.

Because you do have secrets. Big, loud and haunting secrets that end you on the bathroom floor, watching the light leak into the room and swallowing down the bile on your tongue from another night that’s too lonely and dark. 

But they’re not the secrets Barnes thinks.

You’d lain in bed with the lamp on, before you ended up curled on the tile with your head tipped back against the wall. You repeated, over and over and over, that you didn’t need to call him. You’d be fine without him. You’ve been fine without him, and you can feel the bond start to fray once more, but it’s only a few more weeks. And they’ll hurt, and the time will be long and feel infinite, but you’ll just keep fucking going until you crash, or he comes home.

You’d been alone, and that was fine. You couldn’t open your eyes without little black spots dancing over your vision, but that was okay. Not normal, but okay, and there was an invisible, burning poker being driven into your skull but that didn’t matter, and you couldn’t breathe but no one can breathe when there’s molten iron being poured into their lungs.

You’d called him. You’d been alone, and there’s really never anything to prove—you could try and prove it to yourself, but doing things for yourself has never been effective—so you’d called him.

It had taken a few tries. He’d picked up of the seventh ring of the fourth call, and when you’d barely whispered that he needed to be home, and snapped that you should just stop whining. 

“I’m busy,” he’d drawled your name, and you’d swallowed. He was busy, he didn’t need you bothering him, and this wasn’t his pain. It was yours, and you should be able to handle and push through it yourself-

Something had felt like it was tearing and bubbling up your spine. You can’t keep going. You’re weak and inconvenient, but you need him. It makes you pathetic, but this is the one thing you can’t do alone. 

“I just- Please.” You’d whispered, hating your own voice. “I’ll do anything, please-“

“God, you’re-” He’d cut himself off a groan, and He’s refused before. Made you wait a little longer for some sort of lesson you never seem to learn. You might be doing that lockdown anyway, because you can’t fucking move-

“Plea-“

“Shut up. There’s a douchebag here, keeps telling people I’m a dick, and ‘impossible to work with’, and you know I’m not, honey, so I need you to make him stop.”

You’d swallowed, pressing your brow to the cool porcelain of the toilet. Your voice was a little softer when you spoke again. You could—kind of—think. “I can’t do that when I’m in New York. You know that-“

“Then you’re fucking useless!” He’d shouted your name, and you flinched, but barely. It was hard to move at all. “Just- Jesus, fine. Do the future thing.”

You hated the future thing. It was harder than he seemed to think it was. More complicated and clouded over your vision, because there was so much of it, but he only ever wanted to hear one future. The one you’d made the mistake of telling him about the first time, because you’d been a naïve little idiot who thought she could be safe.

And in a way, you were safe. You’d found that future—dull in the corner of the web—and told him about it, so the pain was alleviated. Washed back into nothing, your whole body settling as the bond forged itself back together. 

Now you had no excuse not to move. Not to stay here—on the cold floor with the Boy in your lap—for the rest of your useless life.

You need to make that coffee. Get on the subway and watch the graffiti blur past as you sit, and revel in sitting because fucking Barnes had always made you stand. 

Only two protestors today. One yelling about aliens, one claiming Iron Man never really died, and he’s being held captive by the government. Other than that, it’s an easy ride. You can listen to you music until you’re deaf and cross your legs under your body, spacing out because Barnes isn’t here the be annoying to, and whole day can be like this, if you’re lucky. 

You’re not. 

You step out of the elevator, into your office, and-

“Fucking-“ You let out a long breath, and the Show has to flip on. You need to be bored and amused and annoying, and nothing more or less. Barnes can’t see you, no more than he did when you shattered and cracked and showed him a little too deep. 

You’ve spent the weekend trying not to think about it. How you’d screamed at him like a child, and said too much. How he’d seen you—a little too much of the full, raw, bitter and angry and delicate you—and now there might not be going back. He’ll be able to see all the flaws in you, because he’ll know exactly where to look. What parts of the Show shine too bright to draw attention, and what parts shine too bright make people blinded. To force them to look away because there’s something real beneath it, and they’re not supposed to see it.

It hadn’t been something to worry about, when you’d thought you’d never see him again. 

It’s going to be a problem now. 

“I thought I fired you.” You raise your brows, your voice as dry and indifferent as you can manage, and Barnes shrugs.

“Looks like you don’t have the authority to fire me.”

You narrow your eyes. “I can ban you from my building.”

Barnes snorts. “Give it a shot. See how it goes. I’ll be right here ‘till you work that one out, and-“

“What about fired,” you drawl, angling your chin to hold his gaze. “Don’t you understand, James?If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling security and making sure they send the old war drones-“

Grace clears her throat from her desk, and her apologetic expression looks a little too close to pity. “I- Um- Mr. Wilson called. He said to tell you that, if you try to kick Sargent Barnes out, he’ll tell Mr. Hogan you came in over the weekend again, then lock you in a room with Barnes until you both- ah-“ Grace swallows. “Grow the fucking hell up.”

You scowl, shooting Barnes a glare. “Did you tell Sam what you did?”

“Yep.” Barnes holds your gaze, a look on his face that you can’t read, but still want to punch off. “I’m not exactly allowed to leave you to fend for yourself, d- Kid. Deal with it.”

You feel your face twist into a sneer, your voice dropping to a hiss. “Deal with it?”

“That’s what I said.” He crosses his arms, jerking his head back to your office door. “You gonna go do your job? Or are we standing here all day like fucking idiots? Cause I can do either, sweetheart-“

You don’t let him finish before you’re storming past him, making the gamble that—if you’re fast enough and he’s still too absorbed in his taunting—you can slam the door in his face.

It doesn’t work. Barnes catches the door with his metal arm, and now there’s a fucking indent on the wood. 

You’re going to start crying. He can’t be allowed to see you cry. 

“Get out-“

“I’ll fix that,” he mutters, closing the door behind him with what seems like a slight amount of care. Likely a trick, or a measure to make sure nobody pays him any attention. “We need to talk.”

“We just talked.” You snap, dropping behind your desk without sparing him a glance. “I tried to fire you. It didn’t work. But if you’re going to be here, you’re not allowed in my office anymore-“

“That’s-“ Barnes lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “Fair. But it’s not happening.”

“You-“

“Listen. That,” he nods to your desk, something brimming on the edge of his expression that almost seems like an emotion. “Won’t happen again. You’re not Hydra.”

You snort, wrinkling your nose at him. “Oh, really, I wasn’t aware-“

“And I,” he lets out another breath, as if the words are an act of physical labor. “Should not have done that. I was being careful, but it was over the line.”

He pauses, like there’s supposed to be more but he can’t work out what it is, then closes his mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re suppressed to say something. 

You’re not even sure what the fuck is happening.

“Was that…” You trail off, scanning over Barnes’ braced stance with a frown. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

“It was an apology.” He grunts, and you snort.

“Are you- Jesus Christ, dude, you are shit at this-“

He rolls his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“The traditional thing is say sorry, you old fuck-“

“Sorry.” He snaps, tone hot and mocking as he holds your glare. “Is that better?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s worse-“

“You can say whatever the hell you want, kid.” Barnes leans against the wall with another shrug. Sam couldn’t be that annoyed if you through your mug at his stupid face. He’s handsome enough that a scar really wouldn’t do that much harm- “What are we doing today?”

You scowl at your mug, turning it between your hands. You can’t throw it at his face. “Nothing.”

“Look, we’re stuck together, so if you want to be a fucking brat the whole time-“

“I’m being literal, dumbass.” You snap, watching the screen of your computer slowly blink on. “No meetings or field trips. It’s grant day, I’m doing a lot of reading.” You shoot him a too-sweet smile. “I’d ask you to help me, but I’m not sure you know how to read.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow. “You know I can read-“

“I don’t know anything.” You hum, looking back to the computer. “I was born twenty minutes ago. This is my first day on earth, ever.”

“Then how the fuck can you read-“

“Shut up.”

Barnes, shockingly, listens. He sits silently in the corner for the majority of the day, so unmoving that there are long moments where you forget he’s there. Sometimes he’s clear his throat, and you’ll glance up to find him staring right over your head.

He’s a strange man. It would be more amusing if you still didn’t want to cause him physically harm.

Because he won. The asshole didn’t even really try, and he won. You’d played better, and you’d been so far ahead, and you may have slipped a little when everything was dark and it was just you and Barnes in the whole world—his every word still hitting so deep in your body, grabbing and flaying a hot nerve nobody else has ever managed to find—but you still should’ve won. 

But you didn’t.

And now you’re stuck with him. Your alleged safety is more important than Barnes breaking into your office and calling you Hydra. You’re the same as you’ve always been, trapped. Contained. Too much to be trusted to watch and control yourself, and nobody—yourself included—sure how to handle you beside a leash and muzzle. 

Even when you stand and try to go to the bathroom, Barnes follows you. Like Hydra will be waiting to grab you from inside the toilet. 

“What are you doing.”

“My job.” He grunts. “Pretend I’m not here. Cry on the floor, vomit, I don’t give a shit, long as-“

You raise your hand, and he cuts himself off. You stare at each other for a second, and if this becomes a pattern—you tell Barnes to do something, and he listens with wide eyes and a confused expression—you’re going to need to figure it out and take advantage of it.

“I’m taking a shit.” You keep your voice flat, and get two blinks in return. “Wait outside, buddy.”

He stops the door with a hand, frowning down at you. “If you’re worried about having a panic attack in front of me, I’ve seen far, far fucking worse-“

You roll your eyes, and duck right under his arm. “If you need proof of my shit, I’ll hand you all my toilet paper when I’m done.”

Barnes grunts behind you. “That’s fucking disgusting-“

“I know. Wait.”

He listens, again. And when you get out of the bathroom, he’s looking at you. Right into you with an almost searing gaze, as if he’s trying to pry something like the truth from your body. To make you turn and fall to your knees and whine that he was right, that you’d spent all your time in the bathroom without him sobbing and taking ragged breaths.

And you need to gain something like a hold over that. He can’t just be allowed to keep seeing you. He has to taste something bitter in the back of his throat, to have his skin feel too tight just as yours always does. And you’re tired, and Barnes needs to stop looking at you, stop seeing you, and to fucking hurt like you do, if he insists on clawing his way into your head.

“They’re not panic attacks.” You mutter as you return to your desk, and Barnes frowns at you.

“I never said they were-“

“You were thinking it.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know you were a mind-reader, sweetheart.”

“I’m not.” Something pulls and wraps around your spine. You’re good at ignoring it. “But you were.”

Barnes doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and when you look back up from your computer, he’s fucking staring at you again.

“What?” You snap, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, face still painfully unreadable. “Not panic attacks, huh?”

You pull your lower lip between your teeth—biting back a sneer that Sam would say doesn’t help the situation—and look back to the computer. “No.”

“You just cryin’ in the bathroom for fun?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard, and you shoot him a glare. “What was my first rule, Sargent?”

“I’m not asking as your friend.” He gives you a pointed look. “I’m asking as your bodyguard.”

“How is that bodyguard information-“

“Just is.” He shrugs, giving you another expectant look, and you take a deep breath. 

Barnes is stuck here. He won. Sam would tell you not to push things for no reason. That being angry is valid, but it’s good practice to know when you’ve lost, and adapt.

You can adapt just fine.

You can be a compliant little animal from Barnes, and still piss all over his shoes.

“I have a…” Another long breath. This is so fucking stupid. “Chronic condition. It’s… idiopathic. Incurable. And if I don’t treat it, I get sick.”

You can see Barnes frown from the corner of your eye. “Idiopathic-“

“It means nobody knows what caused it-“

“I know what it means.” He snaps, something slightly edged in his voice. “What is it.”

“Chronic.”

“Yeah, I got that, what’s the condition-“

“Incurable.”

Barnes snaps your name, and you bite your cheek to stop a smirk. “You having fun?”

��I am.” You give him another sweet smile, and you think his glare might be branding over your ribs. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. “You’re not going to tell me the condition.”

“Nope.” You shrug. “You need to tell me a secret too, by the way.”

He frowns. “I- You didn’t tell me a secret-“

“Only five people know my condition even exists.” You give him a pointed look. “You just made it six. That’s the definition of a secret. Your turn.”

“I didn’t agree to those terms-“

“Well, I didn’t agree to this.” You gesture between yourself and Barnes on the couch, keeping your features bored. “We’re all making sacrifices, James. Tell me a secret.”

He doesn’t have to. You think he knows that, with how he’s watching you. Like you’ve fallen from space, and have started to spew pure fucking nonsense in his face. You’re out all your advantages. He’s already won, and you can’t make him say anything, so there’s literally no reason for Barnes to even acknowledge you-=

“I don’t like roller coasters.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling slightly open as he holds your gaze, and you try to put together what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“Roller coasters.” He repeats, as if it will suddenly make more sense. “I hate ‘em. Always have. They’re loud, and rickety, usually pretty shit engineering, least in my day-“

“Everything was shit engineering in the forties, Barnes-“

“Yeah, Stark’s flyin’ car was kinda horrible-“

“And,” you push on, watching him carefully. “That isn’t a secret.”

“I’m getting to the secret,” he grumbles your name, leaning further back on the couch. As if he’s settling in. “You need to work on your damn patience.”

You start to sneer something at him—you’re not sure when you open your mouth, but you’re sure you’ll find it on the way—but Barnes cuts you off before you get the chance. 

“I hate rollercoasters, but Sam thinks I like them.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why-“

“Patience.” He drawls, and you could swear that was a smug, amused glint that flashed over his eyes. “Stevie needed to do somethin’ that fed his adrenaline and didn’t get him beat up, so I made him do all the roller coasters. He thought I liked ‘em, and he told Sam I liked them, and I’ve been living a lie for the past hundred years about likin’ rollercoasters.”

“Just…” You don’t know what’s happening, or why Barnes looks so comfortable, but your words are slow and careful as you hold his gaze. “Tell Sam you don’t like rollercoasters.”

“Nah. Not worth it.”

“It’s-“

“It’s not that important, sweetheart. I can deal with one or two, when Sam makes me. That an acceptable secret?”

He raises his brows, that’s definitely a look of amusement, and you don’t feel like you won this conversation. This seems, somehow, like Barnes got the upper hand again. 

He looks to human and talking, sprawled on your couch in more than grunts. No part of him is mechanical in a way that makes you tense. Even metal of his hand, glinting in the light, looks more alive than half the people you’ve seen on the subway.

He’s looking at you again. It sparks something in your bones that’s not good or bad, but foreign. And all you can do is shrug and turn back to your computer, mumbling out an agreement and trying to pretend he hasn’t successfully thrown you. 

People never throw you. You always adapt, and rationalize, and keep moving in a steady dance nobody else can ever keep up with.

But Barnes has been matching your steps. Every single thing he says and does pushes itself deep into your body, flying into the cavity of your chest and hitting a wired, soft thing that you can’t name, because it’s never been hit before.

But all week, Barnes keeps fucking hitting it. Matching  your dance in perfect pace, and the Show isn’t breaking, but it’s like he’s not even seeing it.

At every meeting, he sits with carefully slumped shoulders in the corner, looking between you and whatever suit you’re talking to, his expression back to the unreadable, stoic mask. 

“Is he- ah-“ One of the men—on the younger side, leaning at little too far across your desk as you discuss financing—glances over his shoulder at Barnes, tone and expression weary. “I don’t think we need him in here for this-“

You shrug, ripping at the corner of the paper under your hands. “If you can move him, he’s your to take home.”

The suit looks back to you with a frown. “I just want him out while we’re talking, sweetheart, I don’t want to take him home-“

“Good thing, then.” Barnes grunts, and the suit starts in his seat. “Cause there’s no way in hell you’re moving me.”

It takes an active effort to cover your gape before the suit looks back to you. He’s never spoken to the suits before. You’ve been certain he just spends the whole time trying to disappear into the wall or something. You don’t think you’ve heard him say more than a sentence to anyone but you, and that was because you pretty much made him.

“If he had moved you,” you ask after the suit leaves, testing exactly how far you can push it. “Would you have gone home with him?

“No.”

You give him a taunting smile. “And here I was, ready to charge people fifty dollars for the chance to win James Barnes and take him home-“

“Uh huh.” Barnes cuts you off with a flat expression, and he’s looking at you again. “You wouldn’t charge them. You’d let someone take me for free, kid, don’t lie.”

You wouldn’t have charged them. You wouldn’t have done that at all, not even as a joke. Partially because you don’t think anyone could move him, but mostly because if they did, taking him is a little too close to home for pressed down and suffocated memories in the corners of your brain. 

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to your computer. “Do you think if I put you out on the curb, someone will just pick you up? Or should I list you on eBay first? I’ll pay for shipping if you take my first-edition, reformed Winter Solider. Comes with a brand-new metal arm and he’ll watch you take a shit.”

There’s a long second of silence, and when you glance up, Barnes is frowning at you again, his brow drawn together and that same, odd emotion brimming over his expression.

“eBay is…” He pauses, never breaking your gaze. “Online marketplace.”

“Good job.” You hum, trying to make your smiling almost sickening. Full-lipped and mocking and saccharine, maybe enough to erode a little of his seemingly concrete will to not even blink at you anymore. “You want a sticker?”

His frown deepens. “What would I possibly use a sticker for.”

“Fun, James. Sorry- That’s this thing people do to experience joy-“

Barnes rolls his eyes. “I experience joy.”

“Sure. Is that setting just...” you raise your brows at him. “Off, right now?”

His jaw twitches, you fall back into your slowly well-tread pattern of silence, and you don’t like that it’s comfortable now. You keep really, truly forgetting that he’s there. You shouldn’t be forgetting that he’s there, not when he’s supposed to be a disruption. Something to avoid, not grow used to. 

But Barnes is stuck here. You’re stuck here. You keep trying to text Sam—to get him to look you in the eyes and tell you that he doesn’t care what Barnes does, you need his protection and that’s that—but the asshole won’t pick up, and you’re stuck with Barnes.

You can’t get used to him. One of the largest rules you have for yourself—Barnes or no Barnes—is the rule that you can never get used to something. The only things you know will be the same—all the time, no matter how everything changes around—are that you will be alone, and you will be you.

And you’ve been you with Barnes too much this past week. Sitting with him in your office. Having him follow you around like a shadow. Trading sharp words with him that are always a little too close to the truth, always trying to stay that pace ahead and faltering when he catches up to you with seemingly no effort, fucking looking at you and matching your every step with infuriating ease.

“Do you even eat?” You ask him on the Subway—a more empty morning than most—spinning off the pole as you give him a wide, teasing grin. “Or is it like, jet fuel? Gasoline? If I give you batteries, and you going to tell me you like triple A better than double?”

Barnes doesn’t even flinch, only glaring right over your head at the blurring Subway walls. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t use batteries. I run on natural fuel.”

You pause, watching him with wide eyes, and there’s a small tick of his lips. Up. Like a smile. 

“Was that a joke?” 

“Not my best bit.” He says, still not looking down to meet your gaze. “But yes.” His brow draws slightly, and then—as if he can’t help it—he adds, “I eat at home.”

You hum, continuing to swing off the pole. “You have a home?”

“Where do you think I go at night?”

“I think you stand outside my apartment like a weirdo. You always wear the same five things.”

He finally looks down at you, the small furrow in his brow deepening.

“I can’t do my laundry.” He grunts. “My washer needs coins, and I don’t fuckin’ have any.”

“Go to the bank, genius-“

“The bank doesn’t like me. Apparently being an international terrorist lowers your credit score.”

You tilt your head at him. “Weren’t you pardoned?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter.” He grumbles, still staring at you, and you shrug.

“Should matter. Being pardoned for any crime is supposed to revert your credit score back to what it was before your conviction.”

Barnes blinks at you. “Really?”

“No.” You spin around again “I made that up.”

“Why the fuck would you-“

“But you can get coins from like, arcades.” You ignore his glare and sharp words, fixing your eyes back on a dent in the subway car as you continue to spin. If you get dizzy and slam into Barnes, you’ll kill him and then yourself. “Or, if you give me fifty bucks, I’ll get you a hundred quarters.”

You can see Barnes in your periphery as you spin, and he’s looking at you like you’re a specimen again. “Your math is… disgustingly wrong.”

“That makes sense. I’m bad at it.”

He just grunts, still staring at you, so you push on.

“And I think you’re lying about having an apartment, by the way. I think you spend all night staring at my windows.”

Barnes snorts, and you keep spinning. “How the hell would I even know which ones are yours-“

“Some super-spy you are.” You throw him a wide smile as you turn, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m at the top.”

You point up—just in case he doesn’t know what top is, and because it’s funny to watch his eyes flick up on instinct as you spin past—and continue.

“I like to imagine you glaring up at me all night, thinking about different ways you’d like to kill me.”

He shrugs. There’s the weird fucking smile again. 

It’s the most off-putting thing you’ve seen yet. 

“I can do that from home, sweetheart.”

Your grin widens. You keep trying to look at him while you spin, and it’s a little dizzying. “So you do think about me-“

“You said you think about me first.” He drawls, his brow furrowing once again as he watches you. “Was that a joke?”

“What, that I think you want to kill me-“

“That you didn’t know I go home. You should’ve known I wasn’t out there, kid.”

You give him a flat look when you spin again. “I know I seem like I know everything, James, but usually I’m just making stuff up and I end up being right-“

“I got that.” He grunts, and you don’t love how he says it so quickly. “But you said you already have good security at your apartment. If you have good security, you should know who’s outside your building at all times.”

“I don’t own the building. Happy can see it, that’s all I need-“

“Happy has a job.” Barnes snaps. “And his security wasn’t strong enough to work out who the hell put that letter in your mailbox. If you don’t have real cameras and security, do-“ He cuts himself off, and before you can slow enough to get proper look at him, he’s grunting your name and moving on. “We need to talk about me adding some. Now.”

You hum, smiling at him again as you come around. “No.”

Barnes snaps your name again. “I’m being serious-“

“So am I. My apartment doesn’t need an upgrade.”

You don’t need Barnes snooping around your apartment. Your office was enough, and you have no interest in him looking around your living room and somehow putting together that you sit on your couch once every month, and spend time on your bathroom floor at home as well.

He doesn’t seem to be giving up that easy.

“It’s for your safety-“

“And I’m fine-“

“You won’t be if Hydra breaks into your apartment,” he hisses, and you don’t stop spinning. Your head feels a little light, and your heart moves to your throat at the thought. 

You can’t let him see that.

“I think I could reason with them.” You say, keeping your voice dry. “I think we could bond over our shared love of octopi. Did you know that their mouths are also their asses-“

Barnes grunts your name. You think he might be practicing it, because it sounds better every time. “That’s not funny. They’d kill you.”

You open your mouth to say something that probably would’ve been smart, but your fingers slip on the pole, and you slam into something warm and firm.

Barnes.

Barnes caught you.

He’s staring at you as he puts you on your feet, and you can’t stop grabbing his arm because the world is still moving in waves and circles, and this is so fucking annoying-

“Think about it.” He grunts, and you shoot him a glare.

“I said n-“

You squeak as Barnes loosens his grip ever so slightly, and lets you fucking fall a foot down before hauling you back up, a stupid, smug look on his face.

“What was that?” He raises his brows, your nails dig into his arm, and you’re certain it’s the one with skin, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh. You gonna answer me?” His smirk returns, and your glare deepens.

“I’m going to push you onto the train tracks-“

“I’m sure you are, Sweetheart. Answer.”

He’s not wavering. You’re still a little dazed from slipping and falling, and you haven’t really touched anyone that didn’t feel like they were a danger in… a frightening amount of time. 

That’s what you blame, when you mutter, “I’ll think about it.”

Barnes grins again. 

You feel like you’re losing your mind.

And when he picks you up the next day, he has a backpack. You’ve never seen him have anything but his jacket and gloves.

It’s weird. You spend most of the crowded subway ride—Barnes rigid with a clenched jaw at your side—staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell is inside. When you walk through security you even fall a pace back to stand at his side, hoping to see when they open it, but your dumb, frightened guards mutter Sargent Barnes and let him past without question, only wincing when the metal detector blares at his arm. 

“When did you get friendly with my security guards?” You ask in the elevator, and Barnes shrugs.

“They know Sam. Respect him, enough to trust me.” He glares at the elevator doors. “And they’re smart enough to be afraid of me.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Alright, you old fucking Emo, I’ve seen scarier pigeons than you, so let’s calm down.”

“Emo, like the bird?“

“No, it’s like-“ You sigh. “It’s a subculture, you can google it. I’m saying it to mean you’re being dramatic.”

He shoots you an odd look. “I am not being dramatic-“

“Yeah, you are. What’s in the bag?”

Barnes doesn’t answer, only moving forward to hold the elevator doors as they ding open, and staring at you until you roll your eyes and step ahead of him.

You don’t get to know what’s in the bag until lunch. It sits at his side on the couch, and whenever you glance up to see if he’s opened it and you somehow hadn’t noticed, he’s staring at you.

And when it’s finally unzipped, he pulls out a thermos. A little, hot pink thermos and single plastic spoon that he holds between his teeth as he twists the thermos open.

“Stop staring.” He mutters your name, muffled through the spoon, and shoots you a glare. “I’ve heard it’s rude.”

You just raise your brows, looking between him and the thermos with a pointed expression. “What’s happening here?”

“Lunch.” He grunts, scooping what seems to be brown mush onto the spoon. “That a problem?”

“No, I just-“ There are too many questions. Too many possible things to say, too many angles to attack this from, and Barnes isn’t helping. He’s looking at you with a slight smirk, as if he’d somehow known this would fuck with you more than it should. 

Because it really shouldn’t be fucking with you. It’s just a thermos. A hot pink thermos. Barnes’ hot pink thermos, that he’s keeping brown mush in. Brown mush he’s eat with a plastic spoon, because it’s his lunch, a day after you made fun of him for not eating-

“You all good, kid?”

“Uh, yeah.” You meet his gaze once more, your words careful and slow. “Is there… anything else in the backpack?”

“No.”

“And what is lunch, exactly?”

“Oatmeal.”

You gape at him. “With like, sugar and honey? Marshmallows? ”

Barnes makes a tight face of what’s likely disgust. “Why the hell would I put that shit in oatmeal.”

“I-“ You let out a long breath, and force your gaze back to your computer. Too many things. Not enough time. 

You have a job. Your priority cannot be Barnes, and his borderline depressing eating habits. 

The weekend comes and goes—you hole up in your apartment, make no progress on your own Hydra research, and the pain begins to ebb and wax once more the longer you’re alone, every night somehow longer and the sun never leaking into the bathroom soon enough—and Barnes is still using his dumb little thermos as the next week begins to pass.

It’s almost like a ritual. He opens the backpack at the same time every day—you don’t even think he has a clock—and frowns with a plastic spoon between his teeth, twisting off the thermos top in half a second before eating his oatmeal. 

It’s driving you insane. It’s feels like another game that he’s winning, another part of the Show that he’s somehow cracking past without effort, and you don’t even know why. It’s oatmeal. Sad, pathetic oatmeal that he eats like it’s a chore. He’s built like a truck and he’s eating oatmeal. He’s been alive a hundred years, and somehow the only thing he can think to eat is oatmeal. 

Even on days that you go out for meetings—walking around a Stark funded museum, pretending you’re listening to the finance reports when really you just like looking at the art—Barnes still eats his oatmeal, at the exact same time as, apparently, always.

“I can do the apartment security this weekend,” he grunts in your ear a little while after, walking one pace behind you through the gallery, and you shrug.

“I never agreed to that. And maybe I’m busy-“

“You’re not.”

This time, you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “You don’t know that-“

“I do. Sam told me you’re not exactly social, and unless you’ve been lying to me about staying home for the past three weeks-“

“Shut up.” You mutter, and you could swear you hear Barnes make a sound that’s dangerously close to a chuckle. “Sam’s a fucking snitch-“

“Was he wrong?”

“I said shut up.” You run a hand through your hair, keeping your gaze focused on the floor as you walk. “You never apologized, you know.”

You can hear the frown in Barnes’ voice. You’re back on steady footing. “For-“

“Breaking into my office. Maybe I don’t want you in my apartment because you broke into my fucking office, and then never apologized.”

“I said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“That’s not an apology-“

“Do you want an apology that I wouldn’t mean?” 

That makes your steps pause slightly, and you glance back to see Barnes looking right over your head. “What?”

“I’m not sorry. I could’ve…” He pauses, frowning at the air. “Handled it better, but I was taking precautions.”

“Precautions-“

“You’re too smart to want a fake apology, sweetheart.”

Barnes finally looks down, a challenge buried in his gaze, and you scowl. Your heart is moving in your chest, and there’s something warm over your skin made of smart. 

You are smart. You fucking know that, and you don’t need Barnes to tell you, but people never- 

He doesn’t get to do that. Just because those words are close to a compliment, and you don’t ever really get those and believe them, but you believe Barnes—he doesn’t seem like a liar, just an asshole—doesn’t mean he gets to move you at all on how he’s not apologizing for fucking breaking into your office.

“Well,” you whip around, making sure Barnes can’t see how he managed to ram himself too deep past your defenses again. “You’re not forgiven.”

Barnes snorts behind you. “Didn’t think I would be-“

“Shut up.”

“Sam said to get you flowers.” He continues as if he never even heard you. “Seemed like overkill, but if it’ll get you to stop being so damn stubborn, trying to get yourself fucking kidnapped-“

“I don’t want flowers from you, James.” You shoot him another glare over your shoulder, and this time, he’s still looking at you. “But I’d forgive you with gummy sharks.”

Barnes blinks. “What the fuck are gummy sharks.”

You don’t answer—that’s another step forward in your favor, even if you aren’t even sure what your favor is any more—continuing on through the gallery, and the next day, Barnes is still eating his fucking oatmeal, and you’re going to lose your mind.

You snap at the end of the week. It’s the same bag. He always puts it in the same place. And there’s a reason scratching at the back of your head for why Barnes is eating like that, and it’s getting too raw and heavy, impossible to ignore. 

You want to throttle him. He’s eating his sad oatmeal, and now you have to message Grace to—when she goes out to get lunch—buy some sugar and honey. Brown sugar, and good honey. Maybe a honeycomb, because you’re paying.

If you can’t do the Show with Barnes—can’t annoy him into quitting—you can at least stop making him take up so much of your attention. You’re busy. You have things to do, you need to focus on what matters, and his habit of making the you you rear her head is a fucking problem.

You’re small and rabid, that’s not supposed to be visible like this��in full, clean daylight—and keep aching whenever the dumb thermos pops open. You know it’s because you can piece together why. Because you could be whipped and flayed and shredded to bit and you’d never be the most important thing in the room, so Barnes needs to stop doing this—stop making himself another thing you can pull a part of yourself out to help—so you can go back to ignores the pangs of your spine starting to burn once more. 

When Grace gets back from the deli, she passes the sugar and honey to you along with your lunch, a small frown on her face. You only grimace in return, and march over to Barnes the moment the door is closed.

“Put these,” you toss the sugar and honey into his face, and jerk your head to the oatmeal. “In there.”

He stares at you. “What-“

“Stop eating like you’re a solider and use some fucking sugar, dumbass.”

One blink. Nostril flare. “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Shut up.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly as you hold his gaze. “Do it.”

“What the hell is it to you what I put in my oatmeal-“

“If you do it.” You cut him off, because he doesn’t get to see more. Hit you further and deeper after he made you do something dumb like this. “I’ll fully forgive you for breaking into my office.”

He scans over you, his brow fully drawn, and you feel like a specimen again. 

That's fine. 

Anything to let you all just move on, and the annoyance of caring about Barnes end. 

It’s not caring about him. It’s about him, being a person eating sad oatmeal. 

But it’s still Barnes.

And that’s so fucking annoying.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” he mutters, and you shrug.

“Well then, I don’t trust you in my apartment.”

He scowls. “How can I even know you’ve really forgiven me.” “I will. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” You snap, and Barnes gives you a flat look.

“You’ve lied twelve times today, for fun-“

“That doesn’t count, I owned up to it immediately. You want me to have security?”

Barnes’ jaw ticks, but he nods.

“Then use the fucking sugar, James. Deal?”

He doesn’t respond, and you let out a long breath. You tried. You failed, and that’s going linger under your skin, but you really fucking tried.

You go to move, but he catches your arm.

“You’ll forgive me.”

“That’s what I said, yeah-“

“Fine. Shake.” He holds out his hand. “If it’s a deal, we shake.”

“Are you fucking serious-“

“Deadly. Shake.”

You lose the staring contest. You shake Barnes’ hand, and you only realize after you return to your desk that it was the metal one. 

That feels important, but you can’t work out why.

Why doesn’t feel like it matters, though. You watch Barnes put his sugar and honey in the oatmeal, eat it, and then fail to disguise the fact that it tastes so much better the second the spoon is in his mouth.

You won. And the next morning, there are four things in the backpack. The thermos and spoon—molded into one thing in your mind—come out as always, before being joined by sugar, honey, and-

Barnes stands without warning, marches over your desk, and slams a small box of gummy sharks in front of you.

“We’re square.” He grunts, and you sigh.

“Are you asking me if we’re square, or telling me?”

He scowls, and lets out a long breath before grunting, “Askin’.”

He’s started to slur more words, his accent slipping out in small, odd ways. You don’t know what it means, but it’s been making your brain hum in a strange way, because it sounds nice. Objectively, he has a nice voice. And you did say you’d forgive him if he got you gummy sharks. 

You’ve backed yourself into a corner. 

And when you nod and pull the gummy sharks across your desk, Barnes stands a little taller. As if he’s proud.

It’s kind of adorable. And the lighting I n your office makes his jawline look sharper.

“You got to good kind,” you mumble, and he shurgs.

“Didn’t know there was a bad kind of gummy-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Obviously there’s a bad kind of gummy. We really need to start broadening your food horizons, James.“

He hums, and the small smirk pulls back at his lips. It looks too real.

It’s kind of dangerous.

“We?” he drawls your name, and you flush.

You haven’t flushed in years.

All you can think of is to flip him off, and stuff your mouth full of gummy sharks so you don’t have to respond. But when Barnes goes back to his couch, and eats his oatmeal, the only thing you can think of is how he said your name.

He said it like it was a name. Like it was you.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You blink at him, your words muffled by the sharks. “What?"

“If we’re square, you can call me Bucky.” He raises his brows, almost in a challenge you don’t understand. “Okay?”

You can’t tell if he’s asking again. You don’t know what he’s testing you on, but it seems important, and when you nod and swallow so fast it hurts your throat, he sits a little taller.

“Okay, Bucky.” It’s odd to say. Too easy. Snapping on the right syllabuses, and round in the right place, and knowable.

It’s too knowable.

And somehow, you fucking lost again. This is becoming a problem.

Bucky hums when your say his name, and you have forgiven him because why wouldn’t you. He said it wouldn’t happen again, and you believe him. He’s seeing you, but he’s not folding away, and he’s even been listening to you now.

And you’re not above a grudge, but you’re also not above anything at all.

Bucky doesn’t seem to be either. Nobody is. You forgive him because nobody is above anything, and Bucky might not have apologized, but he won’t pretend to either.

There’s no Show with him. It’s an odd, clear type of relief. Bucky just knows that whatever you are, he can see it, and then match it.

And that, as he settles back into the couch and grins at you again, is the most dangerous thing of all.

End Note: Old Man Bucky with his oatmeal I love him.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[eternalmoonlight18]

...Love Won't End (pt. 2 of Maybe this Time)

Akagami no Shanks x afab!Reader

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

synopsis: reunited with him once more, Shanks offers an agreement with you; to stay with him and his crew for a month and once the month was done and you still didn't want to stay, he agreed let go of you forever. but of course, you couldn't help but stay by his side.

cw: sfw, childhood friends to lovers trope! fear of abandonment, fluff and a bit of angst. BASICALLY TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE

a/n: i went on a crazy writer's high and whipped this up in two hours. enjoy! again, this isn't proofread lol

wc: 5.3k

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It’s been a week since you boarded the Red Force against your will.

Technically, the one man you swore you’d never see again kidnapped (saved) you from impending doom. You were not happy about it at all.

Every day you would try to escape by whatever means. From jumping overboard, sneaking away in a getaway boat, to even calling the Marines on the Red-Haired’s crew, all attempts were futile in the end because somehow, the man or one of his crew members managed to find out your plans.

You swear that Shanks could see into the future by the way he managed to intervene with every attempt you made.

And now, he once again thwarted your plans to escape as you found yourself pinned up against the door of Shanks’ room. His one good hand was gripping over your two hands above your head as he cheekily grinned down at you as you helplessly struggled to get out of the compromising position he put you in. The knife that was in your right hand clattered to the floor in front of you as the red-haired man gripped onto your wrist tighter as he realized you were trying to escape from him again.

“Come on (Y/n), really? Trying to stab me while I’m takin’ nap?” he chided.

"Let me off of your fucking ship Red Haired." you scowled. You shot a deadly glare up him but the man simply chuckled at your attempt to threaten him.

"I told you, you're not going anywhere sweets." he teased.

Unhappy with the nickname he used, you sneered and used your right leg to kick him in his crotch. But of course, he shifted his body to his left and avoided your assault on his family jewels.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, ignoring the fact that you just tried to kick his manhood.

"I don't want to hear it," you growled.

"Stay with me for at least a month." he pleaded.

The tension in your body deflated in surprise. "Last time I checked, you left me alone in the rain and told me to get away from you." you lowly said.

"And I'm here now to make up for that stupid mistake I made that day," he whispered as he let go of your wrists.

The scowl that once adorned your face softened to a vulnerable expression. "I don't have time for the past, I have somewhere to be," you lied.

Shanks gently smiled at you. "And somehow I don't believe that. You were being chased by those pirates for three days."

"Wait a minute, how did you know- Hey! Were you following me for three days before you decided to be my knight in shining armour?!" you yelled at him, pointing a finger to his face.

"You caught me." he laughed while holding his hand up in defeat.

Having enough of the conversation you were having with him, you proceeded to walk away. However, you ran into the sturdy chest of your childhood friend as he somehow made his way in front of you.

"Just hear me out (Y/n). Just stay with me for a month. You have nowhere else to be, so why not stay at my ship and my crew? If you decide that you officially want to be a part of my crew after one month, I'd be happy to welcome you. But if not, I'll drop you off wherever you want." he proposed.

You looked up at him with skepticism. "And why do you want me a part of your crew? All of you have monstrous strength compared to me, if anything I'd just be an anchor." you reasoned out.

Shanks places his hand on your shoulder. "You doubt yourself too much. We were both in Captain Roger's crew remember? You're a great fighter." he reassured you.

The redhead observed your face. It had an unreadable expression, but your eyes told him that you were unsure and a bit fearful of his sudden reappearance in your life.

"Tell me Red-Haired, why did you suddenly decide to reappear in my life fifteen years later?" you asked him.

The atmosphere of the ship suddenly became thick with tension. A pregnant silence overtook as Shanks tried to find the answer to your questions. Then, his eyes softened as he bore his eyes at you once more.

"Remember that promise we made that night when we watched the shooting stars together? I decided it was time that I kept that promise," he admitted.

As much as you wanted to hate Shanks and to hold onto that grudge you had when he left you, you couldn't help but give in to his words. You genuinely missed him after fifteen years of no contact. He sounded so sincere, vulnerable and honest, which is a rare sight to behold, especially since he was one of the most feared pirates on the seas.

You sighed. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to be under a powerful and infamous crew like yours. It would give me some sort of immunity. You got yourself a deal, I'll stay with you for a month, but after that month is over, drop me off at Loguetown." you declared.

A large smile broke out on Shanks' face. "You mean it?" he asked with excitement.

"Don't make me regret my decision Red-Haired." you joked.

Unable to contain his happiness, he engulfed you in a hug.

"I'm so glad that you're back in my life." he sighed. As he pulled away from the hug, he noticed a light blush appeared on your cheeks.

"Whatever," you muttered as you scratched your cheek.

"Also, you haven't said my name at all this entire time." he pointed out.

"It's because you don't deserve to hear your name come out of my mouth." you scoffed as you folded your arms.

The grown man in front of you pouted. "Awww, come on! I thought we were friends again!" he whined.

You snickered as you started to walk past him. "You just might earn that right if you make it up to me before I leave Red-Haired." you teased as you started to walk away.

Shanks chuckled. As he turned around to watch your form walk up to the deck, he sighed dreamily.

"I won't let you go this time (Y/n), I'll make sure of it." he confided as he started to follow you.

--------------------

The first week since you made your agreement with Shanks, you managed to make your place within the Red Hair Pirates. Everybody knew that you and Shanks were childhood friends, and with that knowledge, they constantly bombarded you with questions about what their captain was like in his youth.

This night, it was no different. The crew docked at a remote island and partied well into the night. As most of the crew were passed out drunk or asleep at the sandy beaches of the island, Benn Beckham, Yassop, Lucky Roux, Limejuice and Hongo were sitting around the campfire with you. You were telling them the story of when you and Shanks pranked Silvers Rayleigh as kids.

"I'm telling you! Captain Roger had to hold back Rayleigh from throwing Red-Haired and me overboard once he found we stuffed his gun with paper!" you giggled as you took a swig of beer from the bottle. The men hollered in laughter.

"Cap't was sure a mischievous one as a young'n!" Lucky Roux laughed as he proceeded to take another bite from his stick of meat.

"He never changed, he is still the same immature man." Benn sighed as he also took another swig of beer.

The laughter died down as the fire crackled its flames into the clear night.

"Say (Y/n)," Hongo began, "You were so hostile towards the captain last week. I'm pretty sure that childhood friends don't try to kill each other."

"More like she tried to kill him," Yasopp muttered.

"Did captain do something to offend you?" Limejuice asked you.

The men were met with silence as you stared at the bottle in your hand. For a minute the only things that could be heard were the quiet crackling of the campfire and the crickets singing through the night air.

"It was the day Captain Roger was executed. Emotions were high, the crew was separated and-" You paused to take a big gulp of beer then continued, "He just left me. We promised that we wouldn't abandon each other, but that day, for the first time in my life, I was all alone." you confessed to the senior officers of the crew.

Another uncomfortable silence filled the air as the heaviness of your confession weighed upon the men who were listening. Quiet shuffling could be heard as the silence continued to prolong.

"He can be an asshole at times," Benn sighed, finally breaking the silence. "But I'm sure he had his reasons for doing that."

"But that's unacceptable! Leaving her like that!" Yassop exclaimed.

Lucky Roux let out a laugh, "What the fuck do you know about that?! You literally left your wife and kid!"

"Do NOT go there ya big jug of lard!" the sharpshooter snapped back.

The bizarre argument made you laugh. "Guys it's okay! I'm okay now. I guess you're right Benn. Maybe he did have his reasons. But it doesn't excuse his behaviour towards me. However, I will give him a chance to make it up to me." you smiled as you swished the golden liquid in the bottle.

"I feel that Captain isn't just going to make it up to you (Y/n), isn't that right Limejuice?" Hongo nudged his crewmate.

"Yeah, I think Captain has some sort of feelings towards ya!" Limejuice piqued up.

The men started to hoot and whistle. You scoffed, taking a deep gulp of the liquor. "Y'all are idiots, Red-Hair and I are just friends that's all."

"Sure, but I ain't never seen the Captain stalk a woman for three days." Yasopp teased.

"And he stares at you all the time." Lucky Roux added on.

"Alright ya meatheads, stop pressin' the lass' buttons." Benn chided the men. "I'm sure Shanks was just glad to have you back."

"Yeah,"  you said, giving a soft smile to the second mate.

Somehow, the idea of Shanks harbouring feelings towards you didn't bother you at all. You recalled the time when the two of you were ten years old and he gave you a daisy during the Day of Love. The two of you were young, not knowing what romantic love was, but somehow the red-haired boy made your heart flutter for the first time that day. Now that you were all grown up, that feeling never went away, even after all that happened between you and him.

Your train of thought was suddenly disrupted as you felt a hand on your back. Jumping up in surprise, you swung the empty bottle in your hand as it connected to a bed of red hair.

"Woah! I thought we agreed that you weren't going to kill me?" A deep voice shouted in surprise. You turn your head to see that you smashed the beer bottle on top of Shanks' head.

"You idiot! Don't sneak up behind me like that!" you exclaimed as you shoved him away.

Everyone started to laugh while the captain made his way into the campfire circle and sat between you and Benn. "I heard that you were all talking about me!" Shanks spoke.

"(Y/n) was just telling us stories about when you were a young'n on Roger's crew!" Yasopp said back.

"I hope you didn't tell any embarrassing stories about me sweets, I have a reputation to uphold here," Shanks said to you with a light grin.

"Well, I did tell them about the time when you stuffed Rayleigh's gun with paper." you whistled.

"Dahahaha!" he laughed as he put his right arm around you.

The men watched in amusement as you and Shanks continued to tease one another. They started speaking amongst themselves, placing bets on whether their captain was going to confess before the one-month agreement ended. The laughter started to fill the air once more as you gradually warmed up to the red-haired captain once more.

----------------

As the second week with Shanks' crew rolled in, you found yourself working alongside with Hongo, assisting him in the infirmary. Your skills as a former apprentice of Crocus, the doctor of the Roger Pirates, shone through as you helped the sick and injured crew members. While you expected the less powerful members to visit the infirmary often, you were puzzled about why Shanks was making his way to you for the third day in a row.

"Hi doc, I'm injured again." he greeted you as he sat himself down on the infirmary bed.

"Red-Haired. What's your excuse again?" you said as you stood in front of him, with hands on your hips.

The man pointed at the scar on his eye. "It's throbbing again," he complained. A small grin appeared on his lips as he watched you roll your eyes.

"You said that yesterday, and the day before you dolt. At this point, I'm convinced you're just making up excuses to see me." you sighed as you proceeded to put some healing cream on his scar.

"Mmmm, you got me there sweets," Shanks confessed to you. He continued to hum as he watched your fingers smear medicinal cream around his eyes.

His warm brown eyes followed your face and hand as you worked. As your hands lightly touched his face once more, he felt his heart pick up in speed. You moved your face closer to his, not noticing that the man in front of you was intently looking into your eyes. Shanks' breath started to hitch as he observed your face, wanting to grab it and kiss you senselessly, but he held himself back, not wanting to scare you away from him.

After a few seconds, you noticed that you were close to Shanks' face, and suddenly drew away from him. You felt your cheeks heat up while you turned away to place the medicinal cream back in the drawers. The red-haired man chuckled, seeing that you were flustered.

"Can't handle a handsome face?" he teased you in a sing-songlike voice.

Not turning around, you stuck your middle finger up with your left hand. Shanks simply chuckled.

"Don't try your luck Red-Haired. Your flirty attitude might work with other men and ladies, but not me." you shot at him as you finally turned around to face your friend once more.

"And what makes you think that I flirt a lot?" he questioned.

"I know you very well and your attitude never changed since you were a youth smartass," you replied, patting his right cheek with playfulness. But as you were drawing your hand away, Shanks held your left hand against his cheek.

"Mmmm, I guess you're right (Y/n). Nothing about me changed, especially how I feel." he drawled as he leaned against your hand.

The infirmary suddenly felt unbearingly hot. You felt yourself heat up even more. Your feet were frozen in place, and as much as you wanted to move, you found yourself stuck in place as Shanks affectionately held your hand in place. You desperately wanted to speak out, but no voice came out of your mouth. The room became so hot that you felt you were going to pass out from shock until you heard the infirmary door slam open.

You and Shanks turn your heads to see Hongo at the door, blankly staring at the two of you. You rapidly pulled your hand away as soon as you felt the grip on your hand loosening, rushed past Hongo and quickly left the room. You leaned up against the wall next to the infirmary door and took a deep breath.

"Hongo! What brings you here?" the red-haired captain exclaimed, completely brushing off the scenario he was caught in.

The ship's doctor warily squinted at Shanks. "What the hell were you and (Y/n) doing in my infirmary?" he groaned as he went to grab some supplies from the drawer.

"Well, you saw us having a moment until you rudely interrupted us," he spoke as he hopped off the bed.

"Ugh, don't bring that yucky romance shit into my infirmary captain." Hongo moaned in disgust. The captain let out a cackle as he made his way out of the infirmary. The doctor followed suit and nodded his head at you to follow him.

As you meekly followed Hongo out, you looked back and saw Shanks smirking at you. You quickly whipped your head away and bowed down in embarrassment as you continued to walk away.

Gripping onto your chest, you felt your heart pound. You wished the next three weeks would go by faster so you could leave the wretched ship.

----------------

On the third week of the agreement, you found yourself drunk and laying back first on Red Force's deck. Shanks decided to throw another party because Dracule Mihawk decided to come on board for the night. Of course, you had too much to drink and now you were drifting off to sleep on the floor next to Lucky Roux until you felt heavy boots make their way toward you. Slightly lifting your head, you look up to see Hawkeyes gazing down at you.

"Heyyyyyy Mihawk." you slurred as you dropped your head down back to the floor.

"(Y/n). I reckon you need a hand up?" he coolly responded. You nodded in response.

A right hand stuck up to your face and you grabbed it with your left hand as you hoisted yourself up. Once you were on your feet, you lost your balance and stumbled forward until you felt someone catch you. Raising your head, you bore your eyes on golden yellow ones. You soundlessly stabilized your footing and smiled at your saviour.

"Thank youuuu for catching me Hawkeyes. You're always a gentleman to the ladiesss." you giggled.

The swordsman sighed. "You are anything but ladylike right now (Y/n).

You wagged your index finger up to his face. "Alas, you caught me before I fell." you tutted. "Now, follow me!" Grabbing onto his sleeve, you dragged the helpless swordsman to the railing of the ship and threw yourself over. You almost fell towards the sea but Mihawk grabbed onto your shoulder and pulled you back.

"Are you always this careless when you're drunk?" he questioned as he glanced down at your drunken form hanging on the ledge.

"Only sometimes." you faintly responded with your head still hanging down the ledge. The gravity forced you to wretch and you threw up into the sea. Once you let the contents out of your system, you hoisted yourself back up and leaned against the railing. Turning your head to your left, your eyes bore into Mihawk's once more. You knew of the swordsman, but you never held a full conversation with him, until now.

"So why are you staying with Shanks and his crew?" he asked, breaking the silence. "You haven't seen him in fifteen years and now suddenly I hear that you've been staying with him for almost a month."

"Well," you started, "We're friends again!" you announced loudly. Your voice was loud, but not loud enough as the passed-out crew continued to snore away.

"Is that so? Interesting. So your grudge against him is gone I assume?" he smoothly asked as his eyes looked out to the sea in front of him.

"How did you know about my grudge?" you jabbered.

"Your red-haired friend told me everything a while ago. He's awfully chattery when he's drunk." the swordsman responded.

Your hands slapped against the railing of the ship with annoyance. "That stupid man can't keep his mouth shut at all," you whined.

Mihawk turned his head back to you. "I'm curious about your relationship with Shanks, what is he to you?" he inquired.

"Well aren't you a nosey bird," you remarked. "But if you must know, Red-Haired is my childhood friend. He's trying to suck up to me so that I don't leave him anymore and to be honest, it's working too well."

"Interesting. What else?" Mihawk asked as he placed his hand on his chin.

You sat down with your back against the rail as you continued to speak. "I missed him a lot, so I was really happy when he proposed for me to stay aboard for a month. He said I could stay forever if I wanted to, but I don't know if I can," you explained. The swordsman remained silent and you took it as a sign to continue.

"He doesn't know this, but I always harboured a place for him in my heart. He broke it the day he abandoned me and now that he showed up out of nowhere fifteen years later kind of scares me. I want to stay, but what if he leaves again? I can't handle going through that pain anymore." you choked.

Mihawk simply hummed. "Well, that is quite the dilemma."

"Indeed it is." you agreed. Your mouth opened to continue, but you slumped over, falling asleep from the liquor. But before your head could hit the ground, Shanks suddenly appeared next to you and lightly held the side of your head. The red-haired captain proceeded to carry you up bridal style as he faced the guest of his ship.

"I was wondering where you went. I see you've been getting friendly with her." Shanks quipped, his tone slightly laced with contempt.

Mihawk glanced at Shanks with amusement dancing in his golden eyes. "I was simply making conversation. You piqued my interest in her since our last conversation. No need to get hostile over her. I am simply interested in how this interesting woman has such an influence on you." he coolly said.

Shanks chuckled and held your sleeping body closer to him. He looked down at your sleeping form with affectionate eyes. "I heard everything she said, and I gotta thank you. My resolve is now solid with knowing how she feels about me." he sighed.

Hawkeyes raised his eyebrows at his friend. "She's still afraid you know. After all, abandonment is not an easy thing to get over with."

Shanks deeply sighed. "I know. I realized that I was foolish to leave her like that. I guess the realization that the pirate's life is dangerous hit me when Captain Roger was executed, and I was afraid of (Y/n) going through the same fate. Now I know that I should've just kept my promise to her."

Mihawk started to walk down the ship and hopped onto his small coffin boat. "Well, you better make the right choice now. I look forward to hearing how this ends," he said.

The redhead glanced down at his friend sailing away from the Red Force. After watching the boat sail away for a few minutes, he proceeded to make his way into the ship, with you in his arms. He had made up his mind; he would finally let you know how he felt before you left.

--------------------

It was the day before you were going to be dropped off at Loguetown, and Shanks has been avoiding you all week. You were annoyed and a little sad since you thought you rekindled your relationship with him. He brought himself closer to you the day after the party with Mihawk, and you let him as your heart slowly opened up to him once more. Your fear of losing Shanks again started to fade away, but the anxiety started to come back. You told yourself that it was just like you wanted in the first place, and by tomorrow, you would be off on your own once again, just like Shanks promised. But the small voice in the back of your head kept nudging you to stay.

It was now nighttime at the Grand Line, and it was a windy, but calm night. The sky was clear and littered with stars, and the sea gently swayed with the breeze. You were perched up at the crow's nest as sleep hadn't hit you yet. With your back leaning up against the post of the nest, you gazed into the sky, reminiscing the times you would stargaze on the Oro Jackson as a child. As you closed your eyes, you heard creaking and footsteps made their way up to you. Turning your head to the sound, you found Shanks standing and looking at you with an unreadable expression. Flashing a small smile his way, you nodded in acknowledgement as the red-haired captain made his way and sat beside you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, looking up at the sky until a single shooting star made its streak across the dark sky.

You gasped as you suddenly stood up and made your way to the railing of the nest. Shanks slowly got up and made his way beside you. A small smile adorned his lips as he began to speak. "I feel like I'm living through a moment of Deja vu right now." he chuckled.

The sky started to light up as more shooting stars started to fall.

"Yeah, how can I forget that day?" you quietly said with your eyes still trained forward to the sea and sky. You hadn't noticed that Shanks was looking at you the whole time.

You moved closer to Shanks, now standing side to side as you continued to watch the scene in front of you. A deep sigh escaped your chest as you subconsciously leaned your head into his right arm.

"I wish I could stay like this forever." you sighed. Glancing up, you bore your eyes into Shanks' brown ones as he looked down at you.

"You don't need to wish for that anymore you know," he whispered to you. He leaned his head down to yours but you drew your head away from his arms as you faced the man you desperately wanted to love.

"Shanks, why were you avoiding me all week?" you asked him.

A smile briefly appeared on his lips as he realized that you said his name in the four weeks that you stayed with him, but it fell as he also realized that he was avoiding you all week. The hurt in your eyes squeezed his heart.

"I'm sorry (Y/n). I hadn't realized that I was avoiding you. Truthfully, I guess I was just diverting my attention away from the fact you're going soon." he confessed.

"Ah, so he accepted the fact I was going to go for good." you thought as a sad smile adorned your lips.

"I guess it's for the better right? I mean, what good is it for me to stay here? Don't get me wrong I truly enjoyed my time here with you and the crew but..." you paused with a sigh.

Shanks brought his right hand up to your cheek and gently caressed it. "Please don't hide around the bush anymore. I know you want to stay (Y/n)," he murmured, with his deep brown eyes looking right into your soul.

The intensity of his stare made you blush and look away. "As much as I want to, a part of me is still afraid that you're just going to leave me again. I'd rather have you drop me off like we agreed to rather than you leaving me again in the unforeseeable future." you choked up as tears were threatening to leave your glossy eyes.

The red-haired man leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. "But I came back, didn't I? I'm here now to fulfil that promise now and forever, so please don't go, not now that I have you back in my life. I know I shouldn't have left you, I was just scared that I was going to lose you just like how I lost the crew and the captain." he whimpered.

To see Shanks left in such a vulnerable state for your sake made your heart yearn and ache for him even more.

You recalled that day when you asked Shanks to stay by your side forever.

“You’ll stay by my side forever right?” you shyly and quietly asked him.

“You’re so silly (Y/n)! Of course, I’ll stay by your side. We’re best friends right?” he joyfully replied.

"Don't ever leave my side, please." he pleaded with you once more.

You drew back from him and took a good look at the man in front of you. As the stars continued to fall, the light that came and went danced upon his rugged features. The once playful glimmer in his eyes was replaced with a mix of mellow sadness and adoration, with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. A sad smile was drawn on his lips, slightly quivering as if he was going to cry at any given moment. His strands of red hair gently brushed against the wind. Reaching out to touch his hair, you gently stroked it before changing his life with a simple sentence that you told him when you were kids on that fateful night;

"You’d have to pry my dead body off of you if you want to get rid of me.” you quietly professed as tears started to fall freely down your face.

A second or two passed by before you were enveloped in a tight hug. However, that hug soon transitioned into a kiss as Shanks wrapped his strong arm around your waist and dipped down to brush his calloused lips against yours. At that same moment, the last stream of shooting stars fell through the sky in the background, lighting up the sky like it was day.

His red streams of hair bristled against your cheek as he carefully tilted his head to the left to deepen the angle of this kiss. You grabbed onto his white shirt and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss as well. You felt him breathe out into your face as he moved his lips to gently kiss you again.

After a minute, the two of you pulled away from the heated kiss and gave each other an earsplitting grin. The both of you started to laugh, and you wrapped your arms around Shanks' waist and buried your head on his chest.

"I can't believe it took us that long huh?" you giggled as you looked up at him. Your eyes twinkled as Shanks patted your head.

"I bet you won't believe what I wished for that night." he cooed.

"But you said that wishing was for kids!" you spouted.

Your lover hummed in amusement. "Well, I ended up making a wish okay?"

Pulling away from the hug, you brought both of your hands to his face and dragged him down to your eye level. "Well, what was it?" you pressed, the smile not leaving your face.

"Eighteen years ago, I fell in love with you that day we were stargazing together, and I wished for you to be my partner in this lifetime." he finally admitted, as he grabbed your left wrist towards him to kiss you once more under the starlight night sky.

[brandileigh2003]

Wolfstar fic recs featuring disability, chronic illness, chronic pain, or characters who are deaf or blind

**please feel free to drop your own fic or recs in comments and I'll add.

~~~please give these authors love, comments and interaction means more than you know. ~~

orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond @fortunatelyfuzzywombat divorced wolfstar get back together, flashbacks to remus getting diagnosis, breakup, and Sirius dealing with alcoholism. Raising teddy. Hea.

-love finds a way by littleoldrachel: Jurassic Park exes to lovers

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe: @lavenderhaze get back together, raising teddy, the second has mcd but if you just read first you can pretend he's ok? (I know I have friends who don't touch mcd with 10ft pole)

-(really you can't go wrong with any of peachyybabe, disability, chronic illness and/or mental health/illness in all.

-Forget the World by @amberlink mcd. Sirius is a surgeon, saves remus' life and they marry for insurance. But ofc fall in love along the way as Remus' heart gets worse. this was so good and explored brief as well

-my jokes are my armour, my kindness is my sword by @littleoldrachel remus owns flower shop and meets the gang (seizures and chronic pain

-Like Real People Do by third_crow coffee shop au, also sirius raising harry. So good.

-Tender is the touch (of someone that you love too much) by @purplefiction-ao3 remus has heart condition, written by person with chronic illness themselves

-Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations by TheQueerTailor Sixth year has just started and Remus is barely keeping up. He's just sixteen but it feels like his body is falling apart.

-heat and balance by @eyra also interesting look into Sirius dual role of partner and caregiver

-We’ll Make It Out Alive by wolfstar_addict417 texting fic, raising teddy

-the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual get back together, remus is blind, raising teddy

-Found Heaven by fierrochase fluffy text fic, so cute together

-Black's Anatomy by @grasslesss greys anatomy fic, remus has lupus

-The Sickness Unto Death by oliverdalstonbrowning university au, remus has cystic fibrosis

-Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot bookshop au, sirius raising harry

-My Only Sunshine by Loua29xx: remus had cancer. Mcd

- Young Blood by viwrites @just--vi road trip au, jegulus main, remus has heart condition (I've been told the 2nd focus more on wolfstar, haven't gotten there yet)

-I Don't Care if My Heart Breaks by orphan_account: bookshop au, remus has cerebral palsy

-Be silent like deep water by @her-smile-forges-galaxies remus is deaf

-Give Me A Sign by@theresthesnitch soulmate fic, remus is deaf. Wip

-Kill Your Darlings by MesserMoon: @sophsicle jegulus main but remus is deaf. Hockey and University au

-Signs of Affection by KittyCargo: remus is deaf, teacher asl

-For the Love of Ducks by viwrites Remus has heart condition

-a lot of Lucigoo89 feature in some way. @lucigoo this is a great example- Finding my fate in the sensory room

-Sweets and Books by Writer_INFJ_2w1: bookshop au, chronic pain

- feel what its like to be new by peachyybabe: boarding school au, sirius is blind

-Rarer Than One in a Million by Sp00nhater wolfstar is so soft and sweet, meet in hospital

-one shot: Another New Potion? by depressed_and_nauseous

-wip: bite the hand by raggedypond: zombie apocalypse

-The Language of Flowers by B1ackCatChatsBack Remus has ra, flower shop

-Good Old Fashioned Lover Boys by Hell_Again: bakery au

-Casimir Pulaski Day by breadpoetssociety: cancer, mcd

-Forever Is a State of Mind by orphan_account (deaf remus)

-Living Like We're Renegades by orphan_account (hoh remus, university)

-Mile High by quidditery chronic pain

-this is not a temporary love (now my heart is in your hands) by littleoldrachel (pining, abandoned as far as I know, but worth it!!!)

-I Didn't Come Here to Party, I Only Came for the Cake by attheendoftheday gbbo Remus with fibromyalgia

-Six Feet Apart by Belle_Lestrange101 pandemic fic, Remus has hiv

-Beyond the Heartbeat by bizarrestars: ultimately a story about grief of regulus, with the middle soft wolfstar falling in love. Remus and illness is featured.

-Small Bones of Courage by Anonymous mcd, please read tags, sensitive topics. Later in life lycanthropy is terminal for remus.

-Fractured Skies by orphan_account coffee shop fic, Sirius is deaf, Remus has epilepsy

-as it was by peachyybabe A story about falling in love with a stranger in a bookstore and learning how to live again.

-An Infinte Ocean orphan_account: teddy has cf, Sirius is amputer

-Blind Werewolf McWolf by orphan_account Remus is blind

-Message from Seat 25A by PleaseDonateBlood 1 shot lupus

-if you were a waiting room. by beaniesandblackcoffee

-Time May Change Me by Kaymardsa lupus

-Underneath It All by Kaymardsa: seizures, texting fic

-i don't want to be your muse by yellowmarshmallow muggle asexual remus with chronic fatigue syndrome

-waiting room by haey1

-Remus lupins guide on how to (not) become a quidditch seeker by Girl_rotting

-Physiotherapy by @missmoonfrost Sirius helping remus see his body and therapy in another light

***all of my fics have disability or chronic illness rep two of my faves: silence between us (deaf remus + disability) and inevitable (cancer, mcd)**

These are prb widely known but...

-Highland Fling [+podfic] by @picascribitremus has lupus. They meet when Sirius is backpacking

-Text Talk by merlywhirls: Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

-Blends by rvltn909 coffee shop (sequel names goes into it a lot more)

-A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP: both harry and remus disabled

-Discards by picascribit read tags , sensitive subjects: remus has hiv

-A Wolf's Heart by mizdiz : meet in bookshop, remus has heart problems, mcd

-Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement by @xinasvoice : get together fic, remus is an author has fibromyalgia

@just--vi did a tiktok video with these mentioned too that I forgot (give her some love)

-A Wolf, A Bear, A Dungeon Master, and Boy Wonder by ratmom819

-Forever is Definitely Punk Rock by orphan_account (lupus)

-Put Your Head on My Shoulder by jennandblit

-Sunshine on Leith by eyra

Spoons and Stars by Chlobliviate (Rec from glittery-grandma) chronic fatigue and pain, wolfstar in uni

•amicus curiae by femme_de_lettres: wip au law students

•Becoming Remus this Christmas by mybelovedmoon (chronic pain ft trans remus

•Petit pas by Curiosities: ballet au, Remus injured in accident

•maybe time running out is a gift by messrsrarchives (wip, mcd) cancer

•new additions

•Don’t Delete the Kisses by @madefortherain (53k) fluffy. Pining and oblivious remus. (Background jegulus)

•too busy being yours by peachyybabe ft fluff, older wolfstar and deaf remus

•Happy Birthday! Happy Life Moony! By lucigoo89 (Remus uses a walker, disability rep, divergent, raising Harry and teddy)

•an ode to eden by minipoets (10k) muggle au leg/pain issues, and vision loss

--Others who sent me recs--

•Finding Warmth by Moony (adashofinspiration): deaf remus and blind Sirius

•As I Held My Breath by moodymoony103, niffler934 (82k) modern get together, teacher remus, Sirius raising regulus' daughter

•With different eyes by Shadowmun: blind Sirius is a seer. (haven't read this but def it's on my list) Also check out ao3 or tumblr there are some others that aren't wolfstar @mundrakan

I shall also direct you to some lists by the @wolfstarlibrarian I'm sure there is some in common but they also have more one shots that I unfortunately usually don't track for the most part (this is amazing account, and not mine, but give them lots of love)

Wolfstar + Chronic Pain, Wolfstar w/Disabilities, Deafness, & Blindness, Wolfstar Hospital AUs, Sick Fic Oneshots, Terminally/Chronically Ill Remus Fics

---feel free to check it my main rec list

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Dec 5th

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1. Hello do you know any fics where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan travel to the past and meet their past selves? @lianetteeee

💖 vinegar jug by dandelion_san (G, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, Awkward Crushes, Jealousy) Only Lan Wangji time travels and it's been incomplete since 2020 however it's really funny 😭

How did I end up with this Frozen Heart? by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (T, 53k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, YP!WWX, twin prides of yunmeng are horrified at the relationship between their future selves, YP!WWX has short hair, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, wangxian get together early, Songfic, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing)

How to get anxiety from time trave and not mess up (by fall out boy) by SerlinaBlack (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Fluff, Family Fluff, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Slightly, Canon JC, he isn't there much, like two lines mentioned at tops, but JC fans might jot like it)

🔒 ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX, JC & WWX, WWX & WQ, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt, Crack and Angst, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism)

花无百日红; the flower that withers by yiqie (M, 29k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It of Sorts, Case Fic, Spells & Enchantments, Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness)

Wei Wuxian’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good First Meeting With His Future by Enigmatree (T, 3k, wangxian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses, YLLZ WWX, POV Outsider)

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions) link in #11 LWJ/WWX and LZ/WY meeting

Though I'm Gone (Still Think Of Me) by sami (M, 7k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LWJ & Madam Lan, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, WWX/WWX (kinda), honestly what did you expect, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Asexual JC, yunmeng bros reconciliation) Also, for 1, you can try Sami’s contribution to the fabulous fix-it time travel series The Same Moon Shines, a later episode “Though I’m Still Gone (Think of Me) even if you must (oh, the ‘torture’ to have to read a great work to get to this point!) to have it all make sense

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2. Hi, this is for itmf. Do you guys have any recs that’s based on this scene. Anything angsty or with miscommunication. Thanks in advance !

You are not enough by deliciousblizzardshark (M, 2k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, POV LWJ, Episode 21, drama queen LWJ, bitchy LWJ, resting murder face LWJ, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Constipation, LWJ thinking with his sword) my fic is a retelling of that episode from LWJ’s point of view.

Futile Devices by beautiful_crimes (G, 3k, WangXian, Fix-It, Episode Fix-it, Making Up, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Swearing, Friends to Lovers, kind of?, Mutual Pining, spoilers for later epsiodes)

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3. Hello. Thank You for all your recommendations. This blog has been Godsend.

This is an ITMF request: I was wondering if there were any WangXian versions of the Taiwanese BL drama We Best Love? @shenmiao98

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4. Itmf wwx finding/adopting a baby (or kid) during the sunshot campaign & how that my effect things (his actions, people's perception of him) was the kid orphaned or abandoned? Lost parents due to elements/resources/bandits/animals/monsters? Were parents refugees? Part of razed village or sect? Etc.

🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together, And Time is But a Paper Moon [PODFIC] by sami, Winterstar1412, [Podfic] Cold read of And Time Is But A Paper Moon by kisahawklin) (many translations and 2 podfics available) this has WWX and LWJ adopting A-Yuan during the war, but they aren't able to spend much time with him during the war so the way he changes people's perceptions of WWX mostly comes up after the war

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5. Hi, thank you all for your great help! ❤️ I'm here again with a long ask lol

ITMF for fics where Wei Wuxian is a bit (or a lot) more angry at the cultivation world. At their bigotry and cruelty, corruption and ignorance to the suffering of innocents. Where he really reacts to everything that happened to him and his, admits to himself how hurt he really was and still is, how he does not deserve it. Speaks or screams about it cleanly, exposes their flaws with words and actions.

Maybe he says "go to hell" and leaves to live heal on a faraway island with lemurs and bunnies, leaving the cultivation world to rip itself apart with political conflicts or just rot like a swamp.

Maybe he takes revenge, either with calm head or in saint anger-induced agression, though i would prefer him as still the Wei Ying we know and love (like, more bitter, and on the same level of violence as the MDZS itself is, but no sudden OOC with him becoming a tyrant, or commiting genocide just for it's sake, etc.)

I don't mind there being or not being any good people among the sects, but if he gets someone nice and kind to snuggle at the end or stand by his side, it would be awesome.

Can also be an ending where Wei Ying remains bitter, angry and depressed and does not let these feelings go, though please mention that there is an open/unhappy ending. Thank you!! ✨️🥰 @shellennium

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

If only you knew by 10thNoNamePerson (E, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC & WWX Reconciliation, dive into wwx mental health, And LWJ being there for him since the beginning, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry WWX, Supportive LWJ)

even wildflowers wilt. by cop_ulate (Not Rated, 1k, Angry WWX, Guanyin Temple Scene, Canon Universe, Canon Compliant, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Golden Core Transfer) Please note that the last one does not have a happy ending.

Cradle by Dragonesque (T, 196k, WIP, Canon Divergenc, Adopted children, Yiling Wei Sect, BAMF WWX) has one of the greatest diss scenes I've ever seen. Yiling!wei sect, he dolls himself up all badass and crashes a conference to yell at the cultivation clans

~*~

6. Hello! I am in the mood for a fic that goes differently from the cave scene

the cave scene being after LWJ took WWX and WWX is out of his mind, LWJ confesses and then fights the elders

Are there any that start here and change up the rest? Like for example maybe WWX actually heard the confession, or LWJ realizes WWX is not in his right mind, and then maybe takes him away / protects him / etc

A Measure Of Time by NebulusCharlie (Not Rated, 309k, WangXian, Revenge, Darkji, jiang bashing Protective LWJ, protective wwx, happy ending but things are gonna get bad first, Time Travel Fix It, good uncle qiren, Murder Babies, Heavy on the angst in the middle but i swear it gets better, Canon Typical Violence, Rewrite of the story, Kidfic, Hugs, Good Parental Figures, Found Family, bad Qingheng-Jun, Heavenly Trials, destroying the Yin Iron pieces)

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7. I'm in the mood for ...

so i finally read 'Life without regrets' and now have the urge to read a fic where Lan Xichen gets told off for his part in everything that went wrong - like how he completely blindly trusts JGY, even over his own brother - that he was definitely told by Wangji what the burial mounds are really like but just ignored it / didn't brlieve it / believes JGY when he says it's war criminals - and so on

probably too much to ask but i would love if the setting was somewhere after WWX rescues the Wens - but this is not a must!

(disclaimer: i love Xichen and equally enjoy reading fics where he is tge kindes, most trustworthy human being ever - but not this time 😅)

Mourning Dove by jaemyun (Not Rated, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dead at first, dark LWJ, rogue cultivator LWJ)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, POV LXC, Post-Canon, Yunmeng brothers)

🔒💖 When has silence saved anyone? by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC  critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded)

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8. hi do you have any fics where wwx compliments lwj's physical attractiveness a lot? his body and muscles, his face, etc. @ashxi-wx

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

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9. Hey! So I've come to realize that I have quite the masochistic streak when it comes to reading WangXian, so the angst is chef's kiss these days.

This goes for the ITMF fics, so I re-read "Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole)" by piecrust, and oh, the burn was so good!!! I mean, I did want to bang Lan Wangji's head on a wall a couple dozen times throughout the fic, but I liked it. No, I loved it rather.

So please do me the biggest favour and give me fic recs where Lan Wangji is a complete asshole to Wei Wuxian but also like he has to realize that he's being really really mean for no damn reason and over-compensate because please let the man grovel. I liked how piecrust portrayed the characters, so yeah. I don't mind if it is Canon or AU, I just need some fics to relinquish the sudden thirst for these types of fics.

Thank you in advance. @poetic-writes

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX confesses early on, But canon still happens, LWJ starts confessing after, but the tables have turned, Angst with a Happy Ending, LWJ rejects WWX, Then gets rejected by WWX after, “Get Lost”, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

~*~

10. heyy so I've been looking for some friends with benefits fics! I'd prefer modern but canon is all right too

Threadfic by SpearmintMimi If you don't mind threadfics this one is really good and one of my favs

Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

be still, my foolish heart by mirrorofprinces (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Misunderstandings, One innocent rabbit who did nothing wrong, based on a reddit post, Getting Together)

got your way with me by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 51k, wangxian, modern, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, in which brain cells are barely used, WWX is always the last to know, wangxian/others very briefly, otherwise it’s OTP all the way, LWJ FUCKS)

the moon lives in the lining of your skin by sarahyyy (M, 9k, wangxian, Modern, College/University, Friends With Benefits, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Pining, Love Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Roommates)

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11. I'm in the Mood for fanfics where WWX is someone special. Like he has special ability/powers or he's just someone really unique. Thanks!

🔒care by everbrighter (T, 35k, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, modern w/ magic, resurrection, family bonding, getting to know each other, past character death, pining)

Pure Imagination by Witch_Nova221 (T, 119k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, LSZ LWJ & WWX, WIP, modern w magic, Romance, Toys, Toy maker, Magic, Found Family, Family Feels, Family Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s))

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Devotion of Love by SaiaiSaiko (M, 47k, WangXian, 3Zun, WWX Lives, NMJ Lives, MXY Lives, Servant WWX, WWX in MXY's Body, Sentient Burial Mounds, Healer WWX, BAMF WWX, LWJ and WWX Adopt LSZ, POV Alternating, Canon-Typical Violence, Petty LWJ, Petty WWX, Canonical Self-Harm, LWJ Plays Inquiry, WWX answers Inquiry, Golden Core Reveal, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Good Sibling JC, Franken-canon, in the sense it's canon from donghua manhua drama and novel mixed and matched as I like, Good Person JGY, Domestic Fluff) maybe? Wei Wuxian has all the skills of making spiritual tools and this deep Connection to the Burial Mounds.

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12. Is there wangxian fics where they were using double end dildos? Trans4trans wangxian or cis4cis wangxian are welcomed.

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13. ITMF! Given how yzy resents wwx because of his mother I wonder how she'd be if jfm actually had an affair only yzy was the other woman. Recommendation for such fics please (canon or modern au anythings fine) @aristocraticteacup

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14. Hi!! This is for the itmf!!

I recently read Watch Me Ignite It by Tawaen and I was wondering if you knew of anything similar? Or in the same vein as YLLZ!WWX being sect leader/WWX taking over the Wen sect. Thanks!! @namjoonsc-cuptits

Heliocentric by Coolio101 (T, 8k, WangXian, in which WWX is born as part of the Wen Sect, Mutual Pining, LWJ and JC are friends….kind of, Wen Sect WWX, Fix-It, LWJ has zero chill and is always 2 sec away from throwing hands, but that’s basically canon, also WRH is still an asshole, so if you were expecting redemption fic this might not be for you, Canon Divergence) features Wen Ying who was Wen Ruohan's son. Wen Ying becomes sect leader after killing his father, so hopefully, this is close to what they're looking for.

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15. Hi, thank you so much for all the work you do! I'm in the mood for fics where any or all the Jiang family pay for what they did to WY. Not just with political consequences, but also corporal punishments or even execution, if possible. Thank you so much! @boxedbutterfly

Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 508k, WangXian, NHS/WX, JC/NMJ, JYL/LXC, A/B/O, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming,bFluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Feelings,bAbusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Modern, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC) It's a bit of a beast but ooo the pay off is worth it imo

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

Reclamation by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 6k, Major Character Death, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence, Angst, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WQ is understandably angry, WQ gets some revengeas a treat)

Symmetryby Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, One-Sided JC/WWX, One-Sided JC/LSZ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by WWX, WWX still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 34k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn’t a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 260k, HuaLIan, WangXian, WIP, TGCF Crossover, Jiang Family Bashing, Madam Lan Lives, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Overprotective Hualian as parents, WWX is good at feelings, WWX knows self preservation and self love, WWX NHS and JZX are friends, JC Bashing, No Golden Core Transfer, Canon Divergence, Ghosts and Gods are wrapped around WWX's fingers, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, WWX is kinda sickly, WWX is not named Wuxian, HuaLian Adopt WWX, WWX has selective mutism, PM is the uncle that teaches you how to flirt, Grandfather JW, MNQ is the grandmother then?, SQX is the aunt/uncle that spoils WWX, all of them spoils him actually, Creepy JFM, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, HUA YING DOES NOT GET RAPED!, Can't say the same for some unwanted...people, DLDR, This starts of mild and fluffy though) If the requester doesn't mind a crossover with TGCF, then Hua Xianle also works.

~*~

16. Itmf canon era wedding fics. Wedding fics with proper wedding with traditions and wedding rituals and the 100s of relatives. I ask the relatives because my country's tradition is fairly similar to Chinese traditions and well, different relatives with different roles for the wedding rituals is kind of a given thing. So hope for a wedding fic like that please!

I'm not sure if these are quite what the requester was looking for but maybe: With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

A Lifetime of It (Please, and Thank You) by misscam (M, 5k, WangXian, Wedding, a mix of series and novel, Humor, Fluff, Angst, some naughtiness, Switching)

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17. In that same vein, I would love stories recs similar to Aftermath by KouriArashi. Where Jiang Yanli kills to protect her family, quietly and unassuming, in the background, if possible. @marietsy40-blog

A Bell That Tells Us to Rise and Fight by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 120k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Needs A Hug, Women Being Awesome, BAMF Women, Minor Character Death)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[doveentrails]

Soulmate AU with Jason (NSFW)

as requested by @stygianoir, here's a Jason Vorhees soulmate AU that gets a little smutty, enjoy! word count: 3500 (afab! reader)

The room smells of incense and you stifle a cough. Your friends flank you on either side, the three of you anxiously awaiting your fortunes being told. The fortune teller beckons one of you back, and your friend who's idea this was excitedly jumps up. She breezes thought the purple beaded curtain into the next room, but not before looking back to waggle her eyebrows at you both.

Your friend Rebecca has convinced you to get your fortunes told to discover your romantic futures. Rebecca was just getting over a break up so you both decided to humor her to lift her spirits. After about ten minutes with the fortune teller, Rebecca reemerges with a wide grin.

"That woman told me that my soulmate is gonna be rich," she brags. "You better go find out what kind of man you're going to get, Chloe," she tells your friend with a sly smile.

"No, fuck that," says Chloe, "I wanna know about my future. I can be my own rich man." She gets up heads to the fortune teller back room.

"Suit yourself," says Rebecca. She turns to you and continues to gush about the positive reading she got until it's your turn to go back. You aren't expecting much, you're just glad Becca's happy. You've never believed much in the supernatural, still you try to keep an open mind as you enter the cozy, dimly lit room of the fortune teller.

She wears and intricately beaded black garment, a stack of tarot cards poised at her right hand. She welcomed you in warmly.

"You're friends are very kind. Very good people," she says. "They truly care about you. I can see it."

"Yeah, they're great," you agree.

"So what would you like to know about?" she asks, "love, money, power?"

"I'll do a love reading," you tell her.

"Splendid," she says, "give me your hand." You extend your hand to the fortune teller and she takes it in her grasp. Her hands a frail but steady as they trace the lines of your palm. She furrows her brow in concentration and takes a moment before regarding you.

"Well," she begins, "you're destined to have a lover, a soulmate. However you should be warned that he has a dark heart, but your love will be able to save the two of you from being consumed by its vengeful hunger." She pauses, and looks into your eyes. "You will meet him under the light of the full moon, and you will know it's him because it could be no one else."

You aren't sure what to make of such a strange reading, so you just sit there speechless.

"I don't normally get readings like this," she continues, sensing your unrest. "You're fated to someone who carries a heavy burden on his soul, but rest assured you can bear it together." She clutches your hand tightly and her deep set eyes glisten at you.

Suddenly, a candle sitting on the table gutters out, leaving a wisp of smoke. You stare at it, stunned. This was not the palm reading you expected to have. The fortune teller seems nonplussed by the borderline paranormal activity that just occured.

"That could be his presence with us now," she says with a wry smile. "Don't worry dear, the universe is protecting you."

When you leave the fortune tellers shop you aren't sure what to tell your friends of the ominous reading that you received. You decide to dance around the subject, remaining vague when it comes to questions if your soulmate.

"Let's get drunk," says Rebecca as the three of you walk down the sidewalk together. "It's not even late yet. Let's buy a couple six packs of something and go out to the lake."

"Go out to the lake?" asks Chloe.

"Yeah, that old abandoned summer camp," Rebecca replies, "I've hung out there plenty of times. It's fun. Come on," she assuages.

"Sure," says Chloe, "If you're up for it," she adds, looking to you.

"Yeah, I'll go," you say, your mind mostly on the alcohol. You could use a drink after the foreboding news you just received.

***

Rebecca was able to start a fire out in the woods for you all, and you now sit comfortably around it knocking back drinks and sharing stories. The conversation lulls and you decide to bring up your reading.

"So," you say, "my reading today was a little weird," you pause, making sure you have their attention. "I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't know what to make of it, but the fortune teller told me that my soulmate is like, cursed with a dark heart or something."

"What," says Chloe.

"Wow, that's hot," Rebecca laughs.

"No, it's creepy," says Chloe, slapping her arm. "I can't believe the fortune tell said that. Do you think she was serious?"

"I don't know," you answer, "I'm not going to take it too seriously. I mean what could she really know? She said I'll meet him under the full moon or something."

"Bitch," says Rebecca, jaw dropped. "Tonight's a full moon."

You look up to see the pale, perfectly round yellow moon above you.

"What if your soulmate is the killer who haunts this place," she continues.

"That's a legend," you say, "You're being ridiculous."

"I dunno, he might be pretty cute under that mask," Rebecca teases you. You regret having brought up your reading at all. The fact that tonight's a full moon and you're hanging out at the abandoned summer camp people were murdered at is making you uneasy.

The subject shifts and you continue to laugh and joke with your friends, forgetting your worries for the moment. It is a really gorgeous night after all. The air is dry and warm, fireflies twinkle around you, and bullfrogs chirp in the distance. You feel giddy from the alcohol. The three of you lose track of time, talking until your fire begins to die.

You get up to put another log on the fire and realize you have to pee. Bad.

"I'll be right back, guys," you tell your friends as you head off into the woods to relieve yourself. Your thankful for the light of the full moon making it easier to see where you're going. Once you're several paces away from your friends, you drop your shorts and take a much needed piss. Peeing in the woods is certainly not ideal, but you truly had no other option.

As you're pulling your shorts back up, you hear a rustling in the leaves. You're sure it must be an animal, but it still causes you to freeze where you are. You locate the area the sound came from and peer into the darkness. A shadow seems to be looming towards you. Your blood runs cold.

Out of the darkness emerges a large man in a hockey mask. His clothes are torn and bloody and you see plainly that he's carrying a machete. You try to scream, but no sound emerges. He raises his weapon above his head and closes in on you.

However, once he reaches you he stops. He's close enough to kill you with the blade in his hand, but instead he holds his free hand out to you. You flinch at first, but reach out to allow him to take your hand in his. His hand is huge, thick calloused fingers and a square palm, cold to the touch. You feel a familiar pull in your chest as your skin makes contact with his.

"I-" you being. "Who are you?" You step closer to close the gap between you, as you do this the masked man drops your hand. You look up at him, trying to make out a face underneath the mask.

"Are you the one who killed those people here?" you ask. He says nothing, but he stares you down and you know in your heart that it is him. He's the murder, not a legend, but a man standing right before you. Solid. Real.

You pull yourself from the trance his touch seems to have captured you in and come to your senses. "I - I have to go," you stammer, and turn to run back to your friends. He makes no move to follow you.

"What the hell took you so long?" asks Rebecca. Chloe must notice how pale you are.

"Are you okay," she asks.

"There's a guy out there in the woods," you say, "I saw him."

"What?" your friends speak in unison, leaning forward with concern.

"He, he was wearing a hockey mask, or something, and, and he had a big knife. Like. A big. Knife," you continue.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" asks Chloe, standing up now.

"Yeah, I uh-"

"Wait a minute," Rebecca cuts you off, "you're telling me you just saw a hockey-masked killer in the woods and he didn't cut you to pieces?"

"No, it was crazy," you say, "When I looked at him I felt, like, calm."

"Do you think he's your soulmate?" Rebecca asks with an excited grin.

"Don't be stupid," says Chloe. You think about Rebecca's words, and have to admit you felt something when the masked man touched you. Something that stirred deep within your chest and awakened a peace you'd never felt before. Why didn't you run screaming?

"I don't know," you say. "I felt something, like really felt something. There was this like, calm energy coming off of him. I almost didn't want to leave..."

"See!" Rebecca exclaims, "Soulmate! This is exactly what that fortune teller was saying! I mean, talk about a dark heart if he's really the guy that killed all those people."

"What do I do?" you ask.

"Go get him!" cries Rebecca, "Are you kidding? Soulmate!"

Chloe seems a little more skeptical, but she does agree that it's rather uncanny than the fortune tellers prediction is unfolding tonight under the full moon.

"I don't know," she says, "If you want to go back out there, okay, but I'm gonna be right here with 911 dialed and ready to go." You take a moment to think. Undeniably, something is telling you to go back into the woods and look for him. You'll know that it's him because it could be no one else...

You decide to go for it and your friends agree to stay vigilant for you while you go try to find the mysterious man in the hockey mask against your rational judgement.

***

Upon returning to the woods, you find your large, looming stranger pretty much right where you left him. He stands, still as the trees, grasping his blood stained machete. 

“Hey” you say, and you think you see a flicker of acknowledgement  beneath his mask. “I think that I was supposed to meet you.”

He steps towards you again at your admission. Up close you can see that he’s easily a foot or more taller than you. He has an odd, earthy scent that fills your nostrils. You fight back the thought that you’re making a huge mistake. You’ve already come this far. 

“What’s your name?” you ask him. He reaches out and takes your hand. You shiver at the chill of his touch. On your palm he slowly traces out the letters J-A-S-O-N. His touch feels electric on your skin, and you get the unmistakable feeling that this is who you were supposed to meet.

“Jason,” you whisper, and reach up to touch the side of his face. You’re not sure if you’re emboldened by the alcohol, or something else entirely. He flinches away from your advance at first, clearly not used to someone making such a gesture towards him. 

You take another step closer, closing the gap he created between you, and extend your arms, wrapping him in an embrace. You can barely wrap your arms around him. He stands so still, so quiet, you don’t even feel his breath. Then he lifts his arms, dropping his weapon, and returns your embrace. You’re instantly enveloped in warmth that bubbles up from within you, even though his skin is cold.

“I knew it,” you say, looking up at him, “I knew you were who I was supposed to meet.” You reach up to lift his mask, but again he stops you. With his chin just visible, you lean up to place a kiss there. Jason looks down and tightens his grip on you, but not enough to be uncomfortable. You get the sense that he’s trying to stop you from seeing his face.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “You can kiss me. I won’t look.” At that he lifts his mask just enough to bring his lips to yours. As promised, you keep your eyes closed. He tastes like salt and earth and cold, clear water. His kiss is so tentative, and you’re eager to push him for more. You pull away first and wrap your arms around his shoulders, standing on your toes to kiss along his neck.

This is it, you think, this is your soulmate. You can sense the darkness within him, but just as the fortune teller said, you also feel a sense of protectedness.

Jason's arms tighten around you as you kiss your way down his neck. You feel a sigh leave his body. At this, you lean back up to fit your mouths together again, and this time he kisses you back with more force, walking you up against a nearby tree. The rough bark presses into you back and you smile against his mouth.

"Kiss me more," you tell him breathlessly. He leans down to place kisses along you neck just as you did for him. His mouth feels cool against your skin, but heat rises within you, warming you from the inside out. You place a hand on the back of his head, pressing him into you, and he bites down gently where your neck and shoulder meet, testing your reaction.

You nod when he pulls away. "It's okay," you say. "I like it."

He presses his body against yours, kissing and biting your neck and shoulder more enthusiastically now. He grabs your hips roughly, pinning you to the tree. You let out a small whimper of enjoyment.

"Touch me," you encourage him. "I want you to touch me." He seems to need permission for each new advance he makes. You're surprised by the gentle care he shows you. You can tell there's something much more foreful underneath, and you're tempted to coax it out of him.

Feeling playful, you pull yourself from the reach of his kisses and look up at his face. You put your hands on top of his where they rest on your hips and gyrate them slowly, giggling and biting your bottom lip. Jason runs his hands up and down along the curves of your body while you sway suggestively beneath his large, rough hands. He palms your breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of your shirt.

"You wanna see?" He nods, almost imperceptibly. you pull down your shirt and bra, exposing your chest to him. Instantly, his hands are on you again. He rolls your hard nipples between his thumb and forefingers. As you smile at this, he pinches them harder and you let out a moan. The friction of his hands is so sweet and you only want more. You lean up to kiss him again hungrily. He meets your advance with equal enthusiasm, pressing you hard into the bark of the tree.

Now we're getting somewhere, you think. Feeling bold you press your thigh against his body and you can feel the stiffness growing underneath his clothes. He tenses at the pressure of your leg against him, pausing for a moment, before leaning into you and kissing you harder.

You pull away from the kiss and take his hand to guide it towards the top of your jean shorts. He follows without hesitation and feels you through the rough denim, it's not nearly enough. Sighing at his touch, you hastily work at unbuttoning and stepping out of your shorts for him. Immediately his hand is back on you. The feeling of his large calloused hand working over your tiny, lace panties is absolutely thrilling. You're already so wet at just the thought of him touching you.

Again, he hesitates, his fingers dancing along the waistband of your underwear. You look up and nod readily.

"Please," you tell him.

Carefully, he slides his hand underneath the fabric and feels your warm folds. You gasp at the feeling of his bare skin against yours. He begins working his hand back and forth, spreading you with his fingers, and you quickly step out of your panties to make it easier for him. His fingers slide easily over the slick warmth of you, back and forth, brushing against your clit. Each time he hits the sensitive nub you shiver and whimper. He's barely giving you enough stimulation, and you wonder if he's teasing you.

"Please," you whine again.

At your insistence, he pushes a finger into your opening and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. The slight stretch is absolutely delicious. He works his hand back and forth inside you, and encouraging by your satisfied moans, soon adds a second finger. Already you're feeling so stretched out by just his fingers. You can't help but wonder nervously what the rest of him will feel like.

He slides his fingers in and out of your wet pussy, and begins curling them inside you. You can't help but react to this, letting out a deep moan, and relaxing your back against the tree, spreading your legs further for him. He keeps working his curled fingers inside you, and presses his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing small circles. You cry out at the added stimulation.

"You know what you're doing, huh," you pant out. "I could tell you did," your voice comes out raspy and thick with arousal.

Egged on by your comment, Jason begins working his hand faster inside you. You feel heat and pressure building with every movement.

"Yeah... like that," you tell him, grabbing hard onto his shoulder. With his free hand, he grabs a handful of your tits. He cups your breast in his hand and works in a circular motion to match his thrusting in and out of you. You ride the waves of pleasure swelling through you from the rhythm he's established and begin rolling your hips to meet each thrust of his thick fingers. He pinches your nipple between his fingers and the added friction brings heat to your face.

"Don't stop," you gasp. Your orgasm is building steadily, and you don't want to lose the delicious feeling of his hands on you. You can't stop yourself from chasing your high now.

His fingers fit inside you just right, curling and sliding in and out of your dripping cunt perfectly. His thumb against your clit gives you a heady sensation of pleasure as you roll your hips with needy force against his hand. You brace yourself against his shoulders and he pushes back against you, the bark of the tree cutting into your skin, adding to the wealth of stimulation. You can tell you won't be able to hold on much longer.

"Fuck," you breathe desperately as you come undone around his hand. Your wet, needy pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to fuck you through your high. He pulls out of you as you ride out the last reverberating waves of pleasure. Your body feels like molten hot liquid and you lean into Jason's solid form, breathing deeply.

"Wow," is all you can manage as you lean against his shoulder. Then you smile up at him mischievously and palm the still hard bulge in his pants. "Is it your turn now?" you ask playfully.

To your surprise, he backs away from you.

"What's wrong?" You reach for him, and he holds you back at arms length. "Don't you want me to touch you? You don't have to be nervous."

You can't believe how much you want this, you're practically begging him to let you pleasure him. Still, he doesn't move any closer. You realize you might not be able to convince him. You lean up to kiss the side of his face.

"It's okay," you tell him, "There's no rush."

Jason helps you dress yourself, and he holds you close once you've stepped back into your clothes. You still feel the unbelievable high of lingering pleasure within your body. You look up at him and he traces the side of your face gently with his hand.

"I'll come back soon," you tell him, before giving him a kiss goodbye and returning to your friends.

"Well, you were gone a while," Becca smirks once you emerge from the trees. You tell your friends about the silacious encounter you had with your supposed soulmate, and they listen with intent fascination and excitement.

"Well," says Rebecca, "guess you'll have to visit again soon."

"Oh, you don't know how right you are," you tell her. As you put out the fire and gather your things to return home, you're already planning the next time you'll come out here to see Jason again.

[lemonswoop]

Stray is one of my top 10 games of all time, so I decided to do a little replay to remind myself why I love it so much.

Full journal entry under the cut

Stray

Start date:8/18

End date: 8/27

Platform: Steam Deck

Hours played: 14

Rating: 5/5

On the day I finished Stray I sat back and said "I can feel this game is going to be very special to me." It's an odd game to be in my top 10 games of all time. I knew the simple concept of playing as a little cat (with me being a huge cat lover) would be an instant favorite, but I didn't expect that the message of the game would hit a particular soft spot in my heart.

What I thought would be a silly little cat sim set in a cyberpunk city turned out to be a twist on the classic dystopian future filled with hope, love and the beauty of the human spirit.

The game starts off with a cat falling into a walled slums of a domed society where humans have been dead for thousands of years. Our tiny cat protagonist meets the very last known human in existence, B12, a scientist whose consciousness gets uploaded into a tiny drone. Disease and plague ravaged the futuristic city, leaving nothing but memories and the robot companions programed to serve its lost inhabitants. But something special happened;

In the forsaken slums, gritty and filled with despair, hope thrived before the humans passed. When energy was capped, rebellion lit up the city with neon lights. When things seemed bleak, humans created art, tended to thriving plants, and hugged their loved ones tight. They went to bars to get sloppy drunk and laugh off the dark times with friends.

They Lived.

"Humans often said that making art is important in desperate situations. There are certainly desperate times."

Humans may have passed, but humanity lived on in the companion robots who gained sentience. The only models they had was what humanity had left behind for them. In the lowest levels of society is where the beautiful parts of humanity survived. The robot citizens didn't need to eat, wear clothes, love one another, but they did so because of the examples that were left for them. They fostered a community to protect one another all while dreaming of it all being better somehow.

The main goal of a small group was to open up the domed city, see the blue sky and go back to the long abandoned outside. It's what the humans would have wanted, and a place the robots have only ever heard about in stories.

One of my favorite aspects of the game is that while it reaches far beyond the scope of a little cat plot-wise, the cat represented a larger theme of hope for better still existing and it was time to start trying to reach it again. The cat inspired brave and bold actions in the robots, all resulting in finally reaching the top of the walled city. A sterile place where the rich and powerful operation controllers all lived; now gone. And in that city no culture, no art, no humanity survived. The robots were just robots, forever following the last directive they were given before humanity perished.; A pristine wasteland.

B12, the last human, sacrifices himself to take down the system and open the walled city to the bright blue sky. No longer did B12 feel the need to carry the weight of humanities past because they never left. They just belonged to a new society lovingly passed down. A future existed where our best qualities as a collective are what survived.

Sometimes I feel as if the beautiful message of this game gets overlooked, which is a shame when its a message I feel we all can use when the world at large feels bleak.

Nothing is ever wasted or in vain. The beauty of humanity is in what we leave behind. Even the small and whimsical things that only exist to bring us joy; they all matter.

Making music, art, reading, tending to a garden, hugging a loved one, holding onto hope... and yes, loving and finding companionship in a little cat.

"But I see a future in the companions, and in you."

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter Eight

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Eight: Revelations

(Daemon’s POV)

Word Count: 3,513

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daemon navigates the growing complexities of fatherhood and his place in the ever-changing Red Keep. The delicate balance between duty and personal desire becomes clear as old alliances and hidden truths come to light. Daella, now embraced as a Targaryen, faces a new chapter in her life, while Daemon finds himself torn between his past and the responsibilities that come with his newfound role.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

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Daemon Targaryen

“Is it not bedtime for you too?" Daella asked, her head tilted in confusion as she gazed up at Daemon, her violet eyes reflecting the dim light of the chamber.

Daemon smiled faintly, catching the quizzical look on her young face. There was something about the innocence of a child’s question that had the power to pierce through the world’s weight. “Not for me,” he replied, his voice firm yet laced with the warmth that had grown in him since Daella entered his life. “I have business outside the Keep. You’ll be fine, little one. A guard will be stationed right outside the door if you need anything. Now, get some rest.”

She continued to stare up at him with wide eyes, still unsure, as if sensing there was more to his late-night departure. Daemon hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the tug of something unfamiliar: the urge to stay. It gnawed at him, but duty—an old, familiar companion—called louder.

He leaned over and tucked a strand of dark silver hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her warm skin. She didn’t flinch away, her trust in him already unspoken and complete. He stood back up, his towering figure momentarily casting a shadow over the oversized bed before he turned toward the door. The heavy wooden frame creaked as he closed it, but his hand lingered on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. His mind was awash in thoughts of her—no longer just a bastard girl from Flea Bottom, but his daughter. His blood.

They had been sharing his childhood chambers ever since Daella’s arrival at the Red Keep. It had been his idea to keep her close—he told himself it was simply for convenience, but the truth ran deeper. He found comfort in her presence, watching over her as she slept, the rise and fall of her little form under thick blankets a reminder of how fragile and important she had become to him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this quiet protectiveness, but it had rooted itself firmly in him.

Fatherhood had a way of creeping up on even the most untamed of men. Daemon, known for his reckless abandon and disregard for attachments, now found himself caring for this little girl more than he had ever anticipated. She had become the single tether in a life that had long been untethered.

These chambers had always been his refuge from the swirling politics of the Red Keep, a place he had once found solace. Now, they served as a barrier from the growing Hightower influence. Every day, the Keep felt less like the seat of Targaryen power and more like a fortress of the Faith. Alicent’s grip on Viserys—and the Keep itself—was tightening, and despite Otto’s removal, her presence had only grown stronger. The Faith of the Seven had crept into every corner, displacing the symbols of Old Valyria. The walls, once adorned with dragons, were slowly being overtaken by depictions of the Seven’s icons. It was as if the very soul of the Red Keep was being eroded.

Daemon clenched his fists as he made his way through the corridors. His boots struck the cold stone floor with sharp, measured steps, each echo a reminder of the battle that was being fought within the Keep’s walls—a battle without swords or blood, but one that was just as dangerous. The few servants still awake lowered their heads as he passed, avoiding eye contact with the Rogue Prince, their wariness a reflection of his simmering temper.

Once outside, the cool night air hit his face, offering a momentary reprieve from the tension knotted in his chest. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp breeze fill his lungs. For a moment, he stood still, gazing up at the moon as it hung high over King’s Landing, casting long shadows across the sleeping city. The streets below, though quieter at this hour, still thrummed with life—merchants peddling their last wares of the day, shadowy figures slinking through alleys, the distant clang of the harbour.

He tightened his cloak around him as he moved through the streets, his silver hair hidden beneath the black hood. To most, he was just another shadow slipping through the night, but to those who recognized him, his presence was unmistakable. His reputation preceded him—the Rogue Prince, the Lord of Flea Bottom. Names earned through years of rebellion, of pushing against the chains of authority that tried to bind him.

But there was something different about him now. His steps were no less purposeful, but the fire that had always driven him was tempered by something new. He was no longer just a man acting on his own whims; he had a daughter, a child who was both his responsibility and his legacy.

Daella.

Her name repeated itself in his mind, a steady rhythm that beat in time with his footsteps. The thought of her stirred emotions he had long buried. Fatherhood was not something he had ever sought out. He had lived his life without attachments, without ties to anyone or anything. But now, everything had shifted. She was his, and that simple fact had rearranged the very fabric of his life.

The familiar streets of Silk soon came into view, the tension in his body winding tighter as he neared his destination. He had not felt this particular brand of tension in some time. Mysaria awaited him—the White Worm. She had been many things to him over the years: lover, confidant, spy. Her network of whispers had proven invaluable more times than he cared to count, but lately, something had changed. There was a distance between them now, a suspicion that had begun to fester ever since Daella’s presence had been made known to him. Had Mysaria known? Had she kept the secret from him all these years?

Daemon’s thoughts burned with the question as he neared her compound. The White Worm had always known more than she revealed, her words laced with riddles and half-truths. But now, with Daella in his life, the stakes were higher. If Mysaria had known about Daella—had hidden it from him—there would be a reckoning.

As he approached the dimly lit entrance to her chambers, the guards at the door said nothing as he passed, their silence expected. They had seen him come and go too many times to question his presence.

Inside, the familiar scent of incense and spice greeted him, a mixture that clung to the air, heavy and intoxicating. Mysaria’s chambers were draped in silk, the flickering light of candles casting long shadows across the room. She was there, waiting for him, draped in her customary white, her pale face framed by the soft glow of the candles.

"Daemon," she purred, her Lysene accent curling seductively around his name. She reclined on a low couch, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "You’ve come late tonight. What is it you seek from me?"

Daemon’s gaze was sharp, his patience worn thin. "You know why I’m here."

Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes. "There are many things I know, Prince. You’ll need to be more specific."

Daemon moved faster than she anticipated, his hand shooting out to grip her throat, pulling her close with a force that left no room for games. "Don’t play games with me, Mysaria," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you know about Daella? Did you know I had a daughter?"

The tension in the room thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Mysaria didn’t flinch, her dark eyes holding his without fear, though his grip tightened around her throat. "I knew there was a girl," she rasped, her voice just above a whisper. "But I did not know she was yours. Not at first."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his fingers pressing harder against her neck. "You’re lying."

"I’m not," she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. "I didn’t know her parentage until recently."

With a sharp shove, Daemon released her, sending her sprawling back onto the cushions. He paced the room, his mind racing with the implications of her words. How many people had known the truth before him? How had it been hidden for so long?

Mysaria rubbed her throat, her eyes flickering with irritation, though her voice remained calm. "Daella was hidden well. Elyse kept her secret, and I only pieced it together when she was dead."

"Elyse," Daemon muttered, the name cutting through the air like a blade. "What did you know about her?"

Mysaria’s expression flickered, a brief moment of hesitation crossing her face before it vanished. "Elyse… was more than she appeared," she said slowly, her words carefully measured. "‘Elyse’ wasn’t even her real name. That was just the name she adopted when she came to King’s Landing."

Daemon’s brow furrowed, confusion tightening his features. "Then who was she?"

Mysaria sighed, leaning back into the cushions with a faraway look in her eyes. "I don’t know. She was secretive about her past. Our bond wasn’t built on trust, Daemon—it was born out of survival." Her fingers smoothed the silk of her dress absently before she turned her gaze back to him. "Did she ever tell you where she was from?"

"She said she was born in Dorne," Daemon answered, his voice tight, controlled. "A bastard. That’s all she told me."

A faint, knowing smile touched Mysaria’s lips, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken. "Dorne? No, but close. She was born in Volantis. And she wasn’t just any Volantene bastard, Daemon."

Daemon’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of Dark Sister, his pulse quickening. "What are you implying?"

Mysaria’s tone softened, her voice more thoughtful now. "Did you never wonder why her hair and eyes were so… familiar? Did her manner never strike you as peculiar? The way she always had silver coins for the City Watch?" Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to read his every reaction. "Both you and your brother saw something in her."

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. Elyse had always been a mystery, a puzzle he never bothered to solve. She had been beautiful, and he had enjoyed their time together, but she hadn’t mattered to him beyond that. Until now. Now, she was the mother of his child—his legacy.

"What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice low, though the question was more for himself than Mysaria.

"She was more than a simple woman from Volantis," Mysaria continued, her gaze never leaving his. "I don’t know the full story, but there were whispers that she had connections to families of influence"

"Enough, Mysaria!" Daemon barked, his voice filled with frustration as he resumed pacing, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The flickering candlelight cast jagged shadows on the walls, mirroring the chaos in his mind. "I don’t have time for your riddles. Speak plainly!"

Mysaria’s eyes followed him, her expression calm but unyielding. "Elyse wasn’t a common whore, Daemon," she said, her voice steady as she leaned back, watching his every move. "There were whispers before she started dying her hair—whispers that she was of Valyrian blood."

Daemon froze, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. How had he not seen it? The dark silver hair, the striking purple eyes—traits Daella now bore. He should have known. Perhaps, on some level, he did. Perhaps he just didn’t care. After all, one silver-haired whore was as good as another in King’s Landing.

His fists clenched at his sides, his anger surging through him like wildfire. "Why didn’t she tell me any of this?" he muttered, more to himself than to Mysaria. "Why keep Daella from me?"

Mysaria tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening just a touch. "I can’t answer that for certain, but perhaps she feared what it would mean for Daella—for you. Perhaps Elyse thought it best to keep Daella hidden, to raise her as a child should be raised, away from the prying eyes of the court. She didn’t want Daella used as a pawn."

Daemon let out a bitter laugh, though the sound was devoid of humour. "And look where that got her. Dead. And Daella? A scared, lonely child living in the squalor of a brothel, so terrified that when the maid washed the dye out of her hair she nearly ripped her own hair out." His voice grew harsher, the bitterness seeping into every word. "You could have told me this sooner. You could have done something! You could have let me help her."

Mysaria’s eyes hardened at his accusation. "And what would you have done, Daemon? Elyse feared what your involvement would bring. She didn’t want Daella to live in the shadow of your name. She didn’t want her past or yours to devour the child."

Daemon spun toward her, his eyes blazing with anger. "I could’ve saved her!" His voice broke, just for a moment. "I could’ve kept Elyse alive."

Mysaria held his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the weight of the secrets she had kept. "Would it have changed anything, Daemon?" she asked quietly, her tone almost regretful. "Elyse made her choices."

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his fury simmering beneath the surface. Elyse’s secrets—the ones Mysaria had revealed and the ones that had died with her—no longer mattered. What mattered now was Daella. His daughter.

"Daella is my daughter," Daemon muttered fiercely, his voice low but resolute. "Whatever blood runs through her veins doesn’t change that."

Mysaria’s expression softened once more, her familiar tone slipping back into place. "Be careful, Daemon. The past has a way of catching up to all of us."

Daemon stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "If you’ve kept anything else from me, anything at all, you won’t live long enough to regret it."

Mysaria met his gaze, the tension between them taut as a drawn bowstring. "I’ve told you what I know," she said evenly, her tone calm yet unyielding.

For a long moment, Daemon’s eyes lingered on hers, the weight of unspoken threats thick in the air. But he said nothing more. With one final, cold glance, he turned and stormed out of her chambers, the door slamming shut behind him. As he passed through the familiar streets, Mysaria’s compound fading into the distance, Daemon felt the weight of his life shifting. He had been the Rogue Prince for so long—untethered, wild, a force unto himself. But now, he was something more.

He was a father. A protector. A force to be reckoned with, not just for himself but for Daella. His daughter. His future.

By the time Daemon reached the Red Keep, the sun had already begun its slow rise over the city. The early morning light cast long shadows across the courtyard, and servants bustled about, preparing for the day. But Daemon moved through them with a newfound sense of purpose. Nothing—not the past, not the whispers, not even the enemies lurking in the shadows—would take Daella from him.

He could picture her now, awake and preparing for her first lesson. He had arranged for the Maester to begin teaching her High Valyrian, as every true Targaryen should learn. Soon, she would know how to read, how to write, how to stitch and play music. She would learn the history of their house, the names of the great lords, and the powers they wielded. And one day, when the time came, he would teach her to ride a dragon and hold a sword, just as he did.

As Daemon walked through the gardens, heading toward his chambers, he spotted Rhaenyra in her usual spot beneath the weirwood tree. She sat with a heavy tome in her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration.

His footsteps were almost silent as he approached, though Rhaenyra, sharp as ever, glanced up from her book. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp as it landed on him.

"Back so soon, uncle?" Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the quiet of the Godswood, her tone laced with sarcasm, though beneath it was a softer edge, almost teasing.

Daemon smirked, but didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on her, taking in the way the morning light caught in her hair, making it gleam like molten silver. Even in the simplicity of the Godswood, she looked regal, carrying herself with a natural majesty that both captivated and irritated him. She reminded him too much of himself.

"I had business to attend to," he finally replied, his voice neutral, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. A subtle tension simmered beneath his words, one she hadn’t heard before. "Not that it’s any concern of yours."

Rhaenyra closed the book resting on her lap, setting it aside gently as she met his gaze, her eyes sharp, searching. She could read him too well, sensing the storm beneath his calm exterior. "And what business was so pressing that it kept you out all night?" Her voice was light, but her eyes—hard, inquisitive—demanded answers.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sly grin. "You know me, Rhaenyra. I don’t answer to anyone."

"Not even my father?" she shot back, her tone sharpening like a blade. "Or is it just me you feel the need to play games with?"

The tension between them, simmering for so long, flared like fire meeting oil. Daemon’s smirk faded, his expression darkening as he stepped closer, looming over her. She remained seated under the weirwood, regal and unmoved, but his presence was undeniable.

"Viserys has always been weak," Daemon said, his voice low, heated. "And you—"

"What about me?" Rhaenyra interrupted, rising to her feet, her book forgotten as she faced him. "Do you think me weak, uncle?"

For a moment, the Godswood fell silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Daemon’s eyes flashed with something unspoken—longing, regret, or perhaps both. He had always been drawn to her, admiring her fire, her defiance. Yet the distance between them had grown wider, especially since that night in the city.

"You’re far from weak," Daemon said at last, his voice softer now, though the roughness remained. "But you’re playing a dangerous game, Rhaenyra. One you’re not ready for."

Rhaenyra scoffed, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And you think you know everything, don't you? You think you can decide what I'm ready for?" She stepped closer, her chin tilted upward, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—hurt, frustration. "Do you think I didn’t know what I was doing that night?"

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his gaze locking with hers. "You were a girl playing at being a woman, Rhaenyra. You didn’t understand what you were stepping into."

Rhaenyra’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I understood more than you give me credit for," she shot back, her voice trembling slightly, though she stood firm. "You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to see your world. I wanted to be free."

"Free?" Daemon echoed, his voice a low growl, almost a sneer. "You’ll never be free, Rhaenyra. Not as long as you’re tied to the Iron Throne."

"And neither will you," she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "You may pretend you don't care—that you're some rogue prince who doesn’t need the throne—but I see you, Daemon. You're just as trapped as the rest of us."

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something dark, something dangerous, as he stepped closer. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Perhaps," he admitted, "but I know how to bend the rules when it suits me."

Rhaenyra held her ground, her breath quickening as he loomed over her. She could feel the heat of his body, the scent of smoke and leather clinging to him. For a brief, reckless moment, Rhaenyra reached out, brushing her fingers against his chest, her touch light, almost daring. Daemon’s hand shot up, catching her wrist in a firm yet controlled grip. His eyes bore into hers, a smirk tugging at his lips once again.

"You shouldn’t provoke me, niece," he whispered, his voice rough, filled with a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, her defiance wavering as the fire between them burned hotter. "And what will you do if I do?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

Daemon’s grip on her wrist tightened, just enough to remind her of his strength. He leaned in ever so slightly, their faces mere inches apart. His breath was warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming, and the tension between them reached its breaking point.

"Father?"

The voice was small, hesitant, cutting through the charged moment like a splash of cold water. Daemon turned sharply, releasing Rhaenyra’s wrist as he looked toward the source.

Daella stood a few feet away, her violet eyes wide with confusion as they flicked between Daemon and Rhaenyra. Her dark silver hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she seemed so small, so innocent, standing there in the soft light of the Godswood.

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[levemetal]

Why Junmei is just 3 Qijius in a trenchcoat, a disorganized essay

As an avid lover of both of these ships, I've been wondering what about them makes me so sick to my bones and causes the same heart pain to flare up every time I think about them too hard. Over the time I noticed their similarities and how very very alike both pairs are and- regardless of shipping lenses - have a very similar base structure to them.

So at the risk of sounding more insane than Jun Wu, join me down below the cut.

The Core

At their core, both pairs' structure is the same:

A strong relationship/friendship/whatever-the-fuck-you-can-call-this-ship that is tested by a bad situation, and an utter failure to communicate after a failed promise and a betrayal. (And a divorce they proceeded to make everyone else's problem.)

For Qijiu, they were both slaves, fighting to see another day - torn apart by the horse incident, which lead to SJ being dragged off to the Qius. Yqy made a promise to him and left. The two reunite later, however can never reconcile as YQY is never able to utter the words SJ needs to hear, believing them to be excuses and beating himself up over his failure to keep the promise. Meanwhile SJ never cared about the fulfillment of the promise, just about the fact that he was not left behind, that he is not a monster or mudstain the other no longer wishes to associate with. He fails to communicate this, and YQY fails to communicate his side as well.

For Junmei this means they were prince and vassal respectively, growing up in a country with all but bright futures ahead. And then the mountain erupts, starting the long road spiraling downwards. Despite this getting Jun Wu banished, MNQ promises to stay, to not leave. Yet after JW sacrifices their 3 friends to Mt. Tonglu, once MNQ finds out, it tears them apart. JW tells him to get out and MNQ runs away, breaking his promise.

While you cannot project MNQ and JW on YQY and SJ 1:1, you can find similarities that were merely remixed.

Miscommunication leads to Divorce

Title is pretty self-explanatory. But both pairs are plagued by incredible communication issues and most importantly lack of communication. Qijiu cannot communicate their issues about the promise, and Junmei cannot communicate about the past. It leads them apart and to their frankly earth shattering divorce.

The Monsters

Both SJ and JW have one core desire in common - unconditional love. The desire to be seen and accepted in spite of the sins they accumulated. But neither is good at being able to read what they actually want particularly well.

For JW, he reads it as a desire to be understood, to have someone experience the same suffering and still choose the same path as him - to feel justified in his past actions, to be able to not feel like the monster the people painted him to be. It's this what leads him in part to torment Xie Lian so. (On this topic, I want to link this wonderful little comic. It captures this aspect of JW's story and character quite perfectly imo. Here is a translated version: part 1 part 2)

SJ meanwhile just spirals harder at YQY's perceived abandonment. He already hates himself deeply, and YQY's only serves as re-affirmation of his belief to be a monster. His paranoia feeds on the constant survival mode he runs on, he pushes everyone away. JW was able to secure himself a spot that is hard to rob; SJ never finds such comfort with his ruined cultivation. As such, feeling assured of how undesirable and unlovable he is, he drowns in his own loneliness.

Ironically they both project their issues on children. Just a funny side note really.

Soul-Crushing Guilt

One strong undercurrent of both relationships is guilt. YQY and MNQ both are the ones who carry this most obviously - YQY never recovers from not having fulfilled his promise to Xiao-Jiu, and MNQ regrets running when JW told him to disappear.

Meanwhile SJ and JW carry less guilt on their sides, although JW probably carries more. Junmei is guilt balanced like that :D

Loyalty

Neither SJ nor MNQ abandon the other despite the other's actions, and nor do the other two. They cannot forgive (themselves) but they also cannot separate themselves entirely from what was once a dearly loved person, or perhaps the only close person they had (SJ especially). In a way all of them are stuck in the past, a past they unconsciously may seek to return to. Easier times if you will.

Loyalty may not be the entirely fitting word (I'm not a native english speaker nor was I ever good with expressing myself correctly) but every party still clings onto the other in some shape.

SJ keeps saving YQY although he thinks he was abandoned.

YQY comes back to save SJ even though SJ kept pushing him away, telling him to stay away.

Jun Wu despite choking MNQ multiple times does never actually kill him, nor seems to be able to get himself to.

Mei Nianqing decides to stay in the end. He stops running for once to help take JW down if only for JW's own good. He still worships JW even though the crown prince of Wuyong is long since dead.

In a similar vein, YQY and JW are incredibly soft in their treatment of the other.

YQY all but showers SJ in gifts and keeps giving him lee-way and being more than a little indulgent towards him. This goes to the point that their martial siblings see this as a negative thing, and despite YQY's inherently good intentions, it hurts SJ's reputation and standing in the sect.

JW... honestly just look at the wild goose chase through locked down Heaven chapter. All his prisoners are treated with The Horrors, just look at what he did to Yin Yu. And then look at how he treated MNQ. MNQ was fucking sitting in his cell, comfortably and playing cards with his paper dolls. He let MNQ reveal him earlier, with little consequence too (a yank on the cursed shackle). He most likely also left MNQ alone to do his thing on the run. He kills others for far less infractions and yet here is MNQ, basically treated like a wife on house-arrest. I cannot make this shit up. Even XL and HC are rather baffled when they find him about this.

Devotion

Despite all their messy history, they are somehow still devoted to the other.

Despite all his words and rejections, SJ goes out of his way to repeatedly save YQY, even if it costs him everything.

YQY did not hesitate to rush to SJ, knowing full well it was a trap. It cost him him everything.

MNQ ran, ran and ran. Yet in the end he was the one to reveal JW, helped to take him down. It might not seem like devotion at the first look, but inherently the desire behind it was for the other to stop self-destructing, to get him back on solid ground.

In the end all it took for JW to stop, to finally rest it was MNQ telling him to. And in the end, MNQ decided to no longer, to stay behind with JW.

Their Fates

Now where they significantly differ is in how their respective situations end. Junmei are both alive by the end of the story, living together under the mountain JW was sealed under after his defeat. MNQ stated his intentions to stay, to not abandon JW again. But most importantly, they now have the time and opportunity to fix their relationship and untangle the mess that is their very long and traumatized lives.

Qijiu does not get this opportunity. As the events unfold, they are never capable of resolving their issues. In PIDW, SJ tries to warn YQY, push him away so he would save himself, only for YQY to end up dead anyway to Lou Bingge's trap, ultimately also being SJ's undoing and the only reason he broke despite all of LBG's futile attempts to do so. They pass each other by.

In SVSSS, SJ is dead from the start. He never gets to hear the confession about why he never came back from YQY at Maigu Ridge, long since replaced by SY. He is merely a specter that haunts the narrative at every step, a ghost never given a chance to be anything but what the narrative of PIDW demanded him to be. Whether YQY is aware of SJ being entirely gone is unknown, but in the end he is still left standing, on his own, with no proper closure either.

Where Qijiu is inherently doomed by the narrative, Junmei is given another chance, their fates changed by a kindness extended by Xie Lian when he chose not to kill Jun Wu.

And Now For the Silly

If you're still here, wow thanks and I am so sorry. Have a gold star: ⭐️

Now let's get away from the serious stuff and talk about the absolute silly but equally essential parts of both Qijiu and Junmei.

- Divorced without ever having been married. This does not require an explanation if you know their stories.

- Make their divorce everyone's problem: Junmei divorcing might as well be the one core reason all of tgcf even happens in the first place. Qijiu divorcing is also a core reason for Pidw ending as it did. Namely JW and SJ made their divorces everyone else's problem.

- Give it up for Abandonment issues!!! Post canon JW probably can barely survive through MNQ going out for groceries without a breakdown, and SJ yearns for someone to come back for him and never ever abandon him.

- Freak4Freak. None of these people are fucking normal. Can they express their love in normal ways? Fuck no. Sadomasochism, atticwifing, unhealthy possessiveness, "my dear highness" while actively getting choked, YQY very obvious desire to be used by SJ like a doormat and be stepped on by SJ, you name it it probably fits.

- One party that is entirely too forgiving about the other. I'm looking at you Yue "Xiao Jiu did nothing wrong ever" Qingyuan and Mei "he's just a soft puppy" Nianqing.

- Atticwifing would have fixed them. That's all I'm gonna say.

- A party that has a thin face at least in public. SJ and MNQ respectively here.

- A party that looks all fragile and harmless but can and will absolutely wreck your shit if they wanted to. SJ had to have some skill in him for LQG to keep sparring him, and MNQ acts fragile but he's mostly just fucking lazy. Bro kicked a martial god and lifted two grown ass martial gods without big effort. And the other party is

- Eternal fucking Yearning. Oh my god.

- This is not exclusive to them but where are the Xianxia therapists when you need them.

- Both pairs are plagued by traumas that actively hinder and stop them from having conversations they desperately need.

- Weirdest way to say I love you.

- Junmei would actually thrive too in a weird codependency situation like Qijiu in my dual calamity AU. Just saying...

- Having had other lovers would be an insult. Possessive bitches.

There is most likely more, feel free to add on naturally. But anyway to conclude this:

FUCKING COME JOIN JUNMEI SHIPPING IF YOU LIKE QIJIU. How are there so little people into this ship oh my god.

[jeonsweetpea]

Moonstruck (15) - Final Chapter

Werewolf & Vampire Hybrid!AU, Supernatural!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader | Werewolf!Taehyung x Hybrid!Reader (ft. BTS)

genre: angst, e2l, supernatural, thriller, slow burn

rating: mature

description: Heavy decisions fall on you when Taehyung throws you one last curveball. Do you say goodbye or do you stay?

word count: 10.2k

warnings: contains SPOILERS!!! Multiple POV changes, compulsion, mention of blood, mention of death, it’s very angsty, the ending is bittersweet – pls understand i poured my heart into this and it’s okay not to like it or comment about it, i tried to cover all plot holes :)

a/n: This is the final chapter of my series Moonstruck. I’ve been writing this story on and off for YEARS, so if you’ve stuck around this long, thank you! I’m aware people might be upset at the ending and that’s okay! My OC isn’t perfect and the point is she chose her own happiness for once. Please be kind, as I plan to write an epilogue in the future that can also be read as a stand-alone (with all the werewolf smut a reader could dream of lol).

Moonstruck Series Masterlist

“Let me go to Jimin. Please.”

Her voice was frail, broken, desperate. You caved into her pleas, seeing as she was in no condition to fight. Whatever happened between her, Jimin, and Jungkook must’ve been brutal. It’s amazing she was still standing, but as she limped towards her lover, her legs gave way from exhaustion.

Still, she persisted and crawled the remaining distance to hold her dying boyfriend in her arms. You walked over to them, finding the moment tender and beautiful despite the circumstances. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix everything,” she said, smiling through her tears. Jimin could barely utter her name, but she shushed him. “Save your strength.”

She pulled out an artifact from her pocket that you recalled from your studies and gasped. 

“Is that…?” you started to say. She didn’t answer you and looked up towards the sky. You followed her gaze to see streaks of shooting stars across the velvet night sky. 

“Tonight’s a meteor shower,” Ari said, as if she was anticipating it. “A celestial event will fix everything.”

You tore your gaze away from the sky to see blood dripping from her nose onto the circular artifact. From what you remembered, it was called an Ascendant. Combined with the blood from a Choi witch and the cosmic power of a celestial event, a portal to a prison world was possible. 

“No. You’re not serious!” you exclaimed. 

“It’s the only way to save him,” she said, running a hand through his hair with a fond expression. “To save us.”

“So what? You’re going to live out the rest of your days with someone who doesn’t even love you?! He’s going to die over and over. That’s not a way to live.”

Prison worlds were just that — a hell with no escape. Death was a pleasure one wasn’t able to experience there. It was a place for banishment, home for the worst of the worst. 

Ari looked you dead in the eye. “He’s my first love. I intend to be his last.”

In this moment, you knew this was your best friend talking and not some demented evil version of her. She was dying because Jimin was dying and if she wanted to be tethered to a prison world the rest of her days, who were you to stop her?

Almost as if she could hear your thoughts, she added, “I’ve done too much to be forgiven for. Let me go.”

She deserved it. She deserved to rot there with him. So you weren’t going to deny her wishes, only prolong them. You bent down and swiped the Ascendant from her hand, holding it hostage. 

“No.” Your voice was unwavering. She stared at you aghast, like you committed the most terrible sin.

“[Y/N]!”

“You want to abandon all the problems you exacerbated? No. I’m tired of this bullshit. If anyone gets to run away from this mess, it’s me. Now you better give me a solution…” You held the artifact high, threatening to smash it into smithereens. “Or else.”

“Stop, stop!” she begged.

“I’m waiting. The meteor shower will be over soon. Tick. Tock.”

She glanced down at Jimin, reaching her hand up to his neck to grab the amulet. With a forceful tug, she yanked it off him and handed it to you.

“Here! This will solve everything. I promise!”

You took the amulet from her, your eyes watching her every movement in case she tried to pull something. “How?”

“I sense someone trapped within it. Someone who has an energy signature similar to you… I’m not sure, but I think it’s your father.”

Your entire body froze. “How is that possible? How do I release him?”

A faint click sound captured your attention. You lowered your hand and stared at the Ascendant, watching the gears rotate into place, the cosmic energy from the meteor shower beaming straight into it. A relieved smile graced Ari’s features as she closed her eyes. 

“No, wait!” You were too late. A bright flash temporarily blinded you and once you opened your eyes again, Ari and Jimin had vanished, leaving behind only a burned Ascendant. 

Mora Miserium…

Ari’s words rang loud in your ears, though you had no idea what they meant.

However, the amulet was still in your hand. You dangled it in front of you, paying attention to its alluring glow. It seemed to shine brighter the closer it was to your face, like it was attracted to something. You realized your moonstone was reacting to it, so you placed them near each other, igniting a burst of energy that knocked you backwards. Groaning, you sat up to see a figure manifest before your very eyes—a ghost you never thought you’d see again as your eyes flooded with tears.

“Dad…?”

“My little miracle… come here.”

You stumbled while getting up and rushed into his warm embrace, crying your heart out. 

“Where have you been all this time? I missed you so much. I lost my best friend and—and—” You hiccuped from talking so fast. He held you by the shoulders. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I was in your necklace. Trapped, actually.”

“But how?”

“Nevermind that. I’ll take Jungkook to the infirmary. You go release the professors, Hoseok, and Jiwoo. I’ll explain everything.”

You obeyed your father’s instructions, releasing everyone from their cages in the underground cellar. Everyone was quick to ask you what was going on, the noise unbearable. There were too many questions, apologies, concerns — the chaos finally stopped when your father appeared after dropping Jungkook off. 

“[F/N]...” Jin and Yoongi embraced your father tight, afraid it was a dream. Once they released him, Hoseok and his sister gave an awkward introduction but were friendly nevertheless. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi asked, giving him a punch in the arm. Your father, quick with his reflexes, caught his fist. 

With a soft smile, he replied, “In [Y/N]’s moonstone,” Jin dropped his jaw so wide that it almost made you laugh. “I know, I know. It’s a lot. But let’s heal the injured first. I took Jungkook to the infirmary and patched him up. [Y/N]?”

“Yes, Dad?”

“Heal Namjoon. I know he’s treated you awfully and you don’t have to forgive him—”

“But he was compelled,” you said, finishing his statement. “So everything that’s happened… isn’t his fault. I’ll heal him.”

You bit your wrist, devoid of the pain it usually brought and lowered yourself to Namjoon’s limp body on the ground. You lifted his head gently, placing your wrist on his mouth and making sure he was ingesting it. 

“He’ll be fine after some rest,” you said, standing up. 

“Thank you, [Y/N],” Yoongi said, though you didn’t bother sparing him a glance. “I know I should’ve told you about releasing Hoseok but—”

���I don’t want to hear it.” He nodded in understanding and you turned to your father. “Dad, what are we going to do? Jungkook and Taehyung’s lives are linked.”

“What?!” Everyone aside from you and your father was stunned. God, you needed a newsletter or something to keep them all up to date.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a dismissive hand gesture. “I’ll explain that later but for right now, I need to unlink them because if one more bad thing happens, I will turn off my humanity again. What can you tell me about Mora Muserium?”

He seemed astonished by the mention of it. “That’s an ancient artifact witches use to remove dark magic and have it contained. I was traveling the world to find it for you, hoping it’d remove the dark magic and help you regain fertility.”

You glared at him and he cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he said, scratching the nape of his neck. “Father of the year right here. I should’ve told you the truth.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t find it.”

“No. I had to find an alternative. There was a witch who gave me the moonstone but said its powers only activate if a werewolf sacrifices his soul.”

“Oh my god,” Hoseok said, placing a hand on his heart. “You were willing to stay inside the stone for the rest of your life if it meant [Y/N] could have children?”

He nodded while giving you a fond smile. “Anything for my little girl. She deserves a life with her needs fulfilled.” Your dad suddenly snapped his head in Hoseok’s direction. “But then you killed her.”

Hoseok held his hands up in surrender while Jiwoo stood in front of him, her protective nature taking over. “Hey. He was manipulated into doing so to save me.”

“Still. The moonstone is useless now for fertility,” your father huffed. 

“Can we please get back to the Mora Muserium?” you said, wanting to pull your hair out from frustration. “We don’t have much time. Taehyung died with my blood in his system and will need to drink it again to complete his transformation. If not, he’ll die and take Jungkook with him!”

“How did their lives become linked?” Jin questioned. 

“The night of the banquet we drank some alcohol that Ari gave us.”

“It must have been dark magic. If we can get the Mora Muserium, we can use it to absorb the dark magic out of Jungkook and sever the connection.”

“Great. But where can we find it? What does it look like?”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Yoongi chimed in. “It looks like a sand clock of sorts. Like an hourglass.”

“Yes. But the one I was looking for was sold to a private collector,” your father informed.

“I’ve seen it…” The groggy voice came from the floor. Jin rushed to Namjoon’s side, helping him sit up. Aside from the dried blood from his nose, his wounds had lightened and were in the process of healing. “Jimin’s parents. They own an armory full of artifacts. I saw one that looked like an hourglass the day I helped him get the White Oak stake.”

“I’ll go. Tell me the address,” your father stated. “I’m taking Jungkook with me.”

“What? He’s knocked out and needs time to recover.” Your protest fell on deaf ears.

“It’s the least he can do for you. Besides, it gives me time to get to know him. A little heart-to-heart.” He patted your head. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for him to wake up. You go take care of that bite wound and rest. All of us should rest.”

Jungkook’s Point of View - 12 Hours Later

I woke up in the infirmary sore as hell. Sitting up only exacerbated things, the pain surging through me like fire. My torso was wrapped in bandages and my arm was in a sling. The battle with the bitch witch would’ve gone sideways if Jimin didn't intervene. I barely made it out with my life.

“You’re awake, boy.”

The voice was gruff, unfamiliar. I saw a silhouette from behind the privacy curtain, but I didn’t feel threatened. I could tell he was a werewolf from his scent. 

“Who are you?”

He pulled back the curtain, revealing his face to me. He was far older than me, with streaks of gray in his hair. His stern expression intimidated the shit out of me, but after giving me a once over, his eyes softened and his forehead creased with wrinkles of concern.

“I’m [F/N]. [Y/N]’s dad.”

“Oh,” Shit. This was not how I envisioned meeting him. “She has your eyes.”

A soft chuckle came out of him. “I get that a lot.” He pulled up a chair to sit by my side, the smell of cedarwood filling my nose. “Look, I know a lot has happened around here. I’ve been trapped in that damn moonstone for months.”

I looked at him in horror. “You mean the necklace [Y/N] has? That means you’ve seen…”

I trailed off, but he seemed to understand what I was getting at. He waved his hand in a dismissive manner, his face twisted in disgust. “Yes, yes, there’s a lot I did not wish to see but anyway… not the point. Honestly, part of me wants to strangle you for hurting her.”

I knew my time had to come sometime. Better him than someone else. I closed my eyes and braced myself. 

“But…” He continued, “You and my daughter have been through hell and back. You protected her. Thank you.”

I opened my eyes, trying not to exhale in relief too loudly. “I always will.”

“Do you love her?”

“I do.” My response was so fast; it sounded automated. I noticed [F/N]’s eyes narrowing at me, like he was searching for doubt. 

“Why?”

If I took too long coming up with an answer, that would only make me look ingenuine. I spoke from my heart, keeping my voice steady even though he looked like he could tear me in half at any moment’s notice.

“For the first time in a while, I feel like I can think clearly. The sire bond was like a crutch that made it impossible for me to distinguish my own feelings from [Y/N]’s,” I said, watching for his reaction. He nodded for me to continue. “Now that it’s severed, I feared I would stop loving her. That it was all an illusion. But that’s not the case. I know I love her. So much that it scares me…”

“Even if she’s infertile?”

“I already knew about that. It does not affect how I feel.”

“What about Jimin?”

I’d be damned if I saw that wretched vampire ever again. He manipulated everyone, especially me. Like an idiot. “What about him?”

“You chose to believe his words over my daughter’s. I want to know why.”

He might as well have broken my other arm. I fought the urge to throw up. What did he want me to say? That I was an idiot, that I was manipulated, that I was doubting her because I was a coward?  “I don’t know.”

“Answer me.” He was telling, not asking. But I was stubborn. 

“I said I don’t know.” I did know, of course. However, I didn’t want to shoot myself in the foot. Anything I said would sound like a pathetic excuse.

“Gonna take it to the grave? You don’t have much time left.”

He laughed at my stunned face, as if mocking me. “What do you mean?”

“Your life is linked to that other wolf’s. [Y/N] mentioned something about the night of the banquet where you drank liquor.”

Taehyung. Fuck, fuck, fuck! No wonder that bastard was so elated when I returned. That must have been why I blacked out after clawing him. Though my body was already on the verge of collapsing from the constant battling. 

“Anyway, I’ll get straight to the point,” [F/N]’s said as he stood up. “Taehyung died with my daughter’s blood in his system thanks to you. That means he’s in the middle of transitioning to becoming a hybrid.”

“But it’s incomplete…” I whispered. He nodded, crossing one arm over the other.

“He needs to drink her blood one more time after coming back to life to become a hybrid. If not, he will die. Which in turn means you will die.”

“I gotta see [Y/N].” I practically ripped the covers off me with my good arm, swinging my legs off the cot. However, he placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You’re in no condition to leave.”

“She’s going to do whatever it takes to save me, including saving that son of a bitch. He’ll be sired by her, which is what he wants!”

“Yes, but would you rather be dead than see him sired by her? Think straight for a second. We have a mission.”

“What mission?”

“We’re going to go artifact hunting and I need that compulsion ability of yours to succeed. Then I’ll consider letting you see my daughter.”

Of course there was something else. There always was.

Your Point Of View - 12 Hours Later

You slept like a log. Your body was worn down, weathered by the stress and trauma the universe kept sending your way. The only reason you woke up was because your sharp ears picked up the sound of digging. At first, you tried to ignore it. But it was consistent and your curiosity got the best of you.

“Put your back into it,” Yoongi said, sitting on the snow criss-crossed. Jin huffed and set the shovel aside. 

“This would go a lot faster if you helped!” He turned around to see you appear out of nowhere. “Ah fuck! Oh my god, [Y/N]! You scared me.”

“Sorry. You woke me from my sleep.” You stared down at the wide chasm he dug, the body inside instantly recognizable. “Is that…?”

“Yes. It’s Sunghyun,” Yoongi said. “We wanted to give him a proper burial.”

“I’ll help,” you offered. Jin and Yoongi gave each other a look but said nothing. Jin handed you the other shovel, giving you a gentle smile. 

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Hoseok and his sister?” you asked.

“Still sleeping,” Yoongi answered.

“And my dad?”

“He went to find the Mora Miserium with Jungkook.”

“Namjoon? Taehyung?”

“Infirmary. Taehyung’s chained up in the caves. Jungkook really fucked him up; he’s still knocked out,” Jin said, releasing a grunt as he dug. 

There wasn’t any more conversation after that. Once Sunghyun’s grave was filled, Yoongi used a piece of wood as a makeshift headstone until he could get a proper one. He had etched Sunghyun’s name into it with a pocket knife and you all said your prayers. 

“He saved my life,” you said, taking out the amulet from your pocket. “Especially with this. I wanted this buried with him but the risks…”

“He’d understand,” Jin said, reassuring you. “He wouldn’t want the wrong person to get their hands on it. We can frame it or you can keep it.”

You stared at the amulet in your hands, contemplating what to do with it. Then your eyes lit up as you took your moonstone necklace off. Last time the two pendants touched, there was an explosion. But what if this time…

“Can you fuse the two necklaces together? I think they’re connected.”

Jin cracked his knuckles. “Easy peasy.”

He chanted some words in Latin, moving his hands in the air around the two pendants as you held them. Then with one final snap, the stones fused together to create a double moon necklace. Jin grinned at his work and then proceeded to help you put the necklace back on.

“It suits you,” Yoongi remarked. The three of you headed back towards campus, the snow crunching beneath your feet. “I’m sorry.”

You stared at the professor, shaking your head. “Please don’t.”

He stopped walking, so Jin followed his example. You sighed, halting your footsteps as well. 

“I’m sorry too,” Jin said.

“I don’t want to hear apologies. I just want this to end. Okay?” You interrupted them before they had a chance to say more. “I know. You released Hoseok because you love him. And you recorded my sessions because I don’t know, documentation? It’s fine.”

The two men couldn’t bear to look at you, so they opted for looking at the ground instead.

“How do you intend for this to end?” Yoongi said, his voice soft, as if you could be set off at a moment’s notice. “Do you… have a plan?”

You dropped your shoulders, not realizing how tense they were. “I don’t know. Dad gets the artifact, we sever the link, Jungkook gets to live.”

“And Taehyung?” Jin said, trying not to sound nervous. “What about him? Will you give him your blood or…”

He trailed off, but you filled in the blanks pretty easily. “Let him die? That’s what you want to know. You’re my professors… Why should the decision fall on me? Haven’t I been through enough?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in frustration. 

“I can’t do this right now,” you said. Yoongi and Jin let you walk away, not having the heart to stop you. 

Namjoon’s Point of View

Vampire blood was one thing, but hybrid blood? It accelerated my healing three times as fast. I was pretty much back to normal after a good long rest. Hoseok and his sister woke up fifteen minutes ago, keeping me company in the infirmary. We played a game of cards while catching up.

And boy, did I have a shit ton to catch up on. Truth be told, my memory was fuzzy ever since the night Jimin and I went out in search of [Y/N]. I remember him being so eager to help; I thought it was sweet. But I lowered my guard too easily and paid the price. He whacked me in the head with something hard and next thing I knew, I was tied up.

Hoseok was able to piece things together from there and I quickly changed the subject, asking about him and his sister. It was admirable how everything he’s done was for her. For [Y/N] too. He was simply trying to protect everyone, and though his execution was poor, he had good intentions. 

“So… Yoongi, huh?” I asked. Hoseok dropped the cards on my cot, retracting himself into a shy ball. His sister giggled when his cheeks reddened.

“He’s all my brother talks about,” She lowered her voice to a funny octave, mimicking Hoseok as best as she could. “I miss Yoongi. I wanna be with Yoongi. I’m Yoongi’s vitamin.”

I let out a hearty laugh, feeling a weight off my chest for the first time in a while. Hoseok whined at Jiwoo’s teasing, and she patted his head while smiling. 

“Do you think [Y/N] will ever forgive me?” I asked. Hoseok stared at me like I had insulted him.

“Forgive you? Dude, I killed her and caused her to never be able to have children again. She’ll forgive you.”

“She’ll forgive you too,” Jiwoo assured. “You were being coerced. You didn’t want to kill her.”

Two knocks came from the door. We all glanced up to see [Y/N] step in, her head hung low. 

“Am I interrupting?”

I could barely hear her, but Hoseok answered with a quick, “No, you’re not interrupting. Do you need us?”

“I… I want to talk to Namjoon.”

I was gobsmacked to the point where Hoseok and Jiwoo gave me a look, as if they were telepathically asking me if it was okay. 

“Yeah, yeah, come over. Would you two mind giving us some privacy?” Jiwoo was quick to leave, but Hoseok gave me a gentle squeeze on my shoulder first. Once the siblings closed the door behind them, [Y/N] stood in front of me without moving. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her eyes pointed to the ground. 

“Sit down,” I said, trying to sound like a gentle giant and not an authoritative douche. She finally made eye contact with me and then in the blink of an eye, her arms were around me. My body stilled. “[Y/N]?”

“I… I want my friend back,” she said, voice slightly shaky. My muscles relaxed and I hugged her back tightly, wanting her to know I was there for her.

“I’m here, I promise,” Poor girl was trembling. “You can cry. Let it all out.”

She did. First it was small sniffles, which gradually became much louder sobbing. I held her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back. I wanted to tell her so much, apologize for everything, but only after she was ready to hear it. I didn’t care how long she needed to cry; I just wanted to be there for her.

“I think I’m ready to talk now… I have a lot to ask. A lot to say.”

She was sitting at the foot of my bed now. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“You’re you?” I couldn’t blame her for being cautious. I taught her as much. “You have to be you… Jimin is no longer a part of this world, so the compulsion must’ve worn off.”

“Did you…” I trailed off, but she shook her head.

“Ari took him to the prison world with her.”

“Whoa…” I didn’t know what to say other than I shouldn’t be surprised. Those two deserve each other for eternity. 

“You really thought I’d kill him?” Her words were sharp, laced with offense. 

I sat up straight. “No, I just didn’t know what happened to him. Once he was gone, it was like my mind felt clear. Like I had control again. I know you wouldn’t kill him unless it was out of self-defense. Actually, even if it wasn’t out of self-defense, I wouldn’t have blamed you. No one would have.”

She bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers when lost in deep thought. “The only person I’ve ever killed was my childhood abuser. It still haunts me. That weight of taking someone’s life is soul-crushing, Joon. Even if he deserved it.”

Her shoulders drooped as she said the next part. “What do I do about Taehyung?”

Ah. That was a very good question indeed. He’s done unforgivable things, his intentions stemming from obsession. Obsession over her. His past record with his last love interest wasn’t any better either. That wolf was dangerous.

“What do you want to do about him?”

She scoffed, as if she knew I would say that. “I don’t know. That’s why I came to you. You’ve killed countless supernatural beings, humans too. Why do I have to decide?”

Valid point. I was a hunter first, headmaster second. But she was only a student, my apprentice, still a kid in my eyes. Always a fighter, never a killer. “Once the link between him and Jungkook is severed, you don’t have to give him your blood. He’ll die of natural consequences. It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“But he’d suffer.”

“Isn’t that what he deserves?”

“You thought Jimin deserved a second chance. Are some people not redeemable?”

“It sounds like you want him to be.”

She covered her face with both hands. “No. I just—he’s a student. And it’s because of his love for me that this got so out of hand. It’s my fault…”

“Stop. None of this is your fault,” She dropped her hands, a sad pout on her lips. “I’ll do it. I’ll put Taehyung out of his misery, so you don’t have to. It’ll be on me.”

“You’re the headmaster. You took him in. You think… he deserves to die?”

“I think he deserves what you think is fitting. Because he’s the one who wronged you. But I’m more than willing to make the hard choice for you if you choose to do nothing.” She hopped off the cot, pacing back and forth in the room. I removed the covers off me and swung my legs off the edge of the bed. “Hey… you don’t have to save everyone.”

That got her to stop. “But I do… my blood is cursed to do so.”

“Listen, I’ve tried to save everyone. Every student. I see so much potential, it’s overwhelming. But some people can't be saved no matter what you do and that’s okay.”

I stood up, but my legs stumbled clumsily. [Y/N] caught me and swung my arm over her shoulder. 

“See? I’m a natural at saving others.”

It was good to hear her make a joke, even a small one. I smiled. “Ultimately it’s up to you. I’ll support whatever you do.”

Your Point of View

You set Namjoon back on the cot, joining him as you two dangled your legs off the edge. Well, yours dangled while his feet stayed planted on the ground. 

“There’s only one thing I know for sure…” you said. Namjoon placed his hands in his lap, awaiting your answer. “When this is all over, I have to do what’s best for me. And that means—”

“You have to leave.”

It felt like deja vu of your previous conversation where he said he was letting you go. Except this time, you were choosing it yourself. 

“Yeah… you actually gave me the idea first. I realized you were right.”

His tone shifted to a more grave one. “I’ll be honest. I probably said many things to you while I was under Jimin’s influence. I don’t remember much after he knocked me out while we went out searching for you. Bastard tied me up and waited until the vervain was out of my system to compel me. Stole my ring too.”

“But…?”

“But…” He sighed. “I made a promise to you and your parents that I’d always look out for you except it’s not healthy for you to be here anymore.” He placed his hand on your own, squeezing it gently. “You were always the right person, but this is the wrong place. I have to let you go because you deserve peace.”

“Namjoon…” You already cried your heart out once, so you refrained from tearing up again. His gaze on you was affectionate, protective, but also solemn. 

“I’ll get all the stuff ready for you to graduate early. Anything you need, I’ll do it. Just know you are always welcome here.”

Shit. It looked like he was about to cry. You’ve never seen him like this, so you did the only thing that might bring him some comfort.

“I love you, Namjoon. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.”

He let out a small wheeze from trying to reply to you while keeping his emotions in check. “I love you too. And I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know. But I have a way you can make it up to me.”

Taehyung’s Point of View

I woke up to find myself chained. Not only were my wrists and ankles bound, but there was a collar around my neck too. The chains clinked when I charged forward, but I didn’t get very far since they were attached to the wall. A hole in the ceiling allowed some sunlight in, but it did little to stop the cold winter air. At least someone put me in sweatpants before confining me here.

I wracked my brain to remember my last memory. Ah. Right. I was clawed to death, which was extremely gruesome and sucked ass. However, it would be worth it. She was worth it. 

Were my methods unorthodox? Yes. A bit insane? Absolutely. But when you’re in love, you do stupid things. We should have never broken up, but I was overly jealous and she was a stunner. She could have any guy, so I had to do whatever it took to make her choose me.

I wanted her to keep choosing me. Hell, she could use me for all I cared. For sex, for comfort, I would always be down. At first I gave her space, but that was my biggest mistake. A new wolf enrolled into our campus and became my roommate. Little did I know he would soon become my biggest threat.

The human hunters I paid did a splendid job attacking Jungkook. However, it seemed Mother Nature wanted me to work harder because that damn sire bond saved his life. While he was being an ungrateful sired jackass, I was longing to switch places with him. It was my ultimate goal, my desire, to be sired to [Y/N].

So when I caught Park Jimin masturbating to Jungkook’s pictures, the alliance was formed. He’d get Jungkook, I’d get [Y/N]. Little did I know, that vampire bastard was going to double-cross me. A lot of things went south, but it didn’t matter. The end result was what was most important. 

I had finally got a taste of her blood. Sweet, delicious, rich liquid crimson. I closed my eyes, licking my lips at the memory. My plan was finally coming to fruition. 

And the best part? It was fail-proof. Dying with her blood in my system was step one. Step two was drinking it once more after resurrecting to complete the transition into becoming a hybrid. If she didn’t give it to me, I’d have to force her hand.

Honest to god, I didn’t plan for my life to be linked to Jungkook’s. That night at the banquet, I originally wanted to be linked to [Y/N] as a means to be closer to her. Who knew things would work out in my favor?

If she didn’t give me her blood, I’d die and that means Jungkook would die. This was great. Victory was within my reach; I could smell it.

Well, actually I smelled something else. A saccharine scent I knew all too well. Opening my eyes, I saw a figure approaching in the distance past the iron gate bars. 

“[Y/N]...”

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. The large gauze on her neck was a beautiful sight to see. I hoped she remembered my bite for the rest of her life. The memory of pinning her down, the way she wiggled beneath me trying to escape — it made me hard. If I wasn’t chained, I’d claim her as my own and abduct her for my own twisted needs. 

When she opened the gate, I writhed against the chains like a feral beast. She hesitated at first but then entered, leaving enough space between us so she’d still be out of reach.

“You’re such a fucking tease, I’m tired of being the nice guy. Get over here and release me,” I snarled. She didn't respond, so I kept going. “What? Are you mad I drank your blood? That I’ll be sired to you?”

I knew I had won at this point. I couldn’t help but be smug, wearing a proud smile at my soon-to-be victory. She simply shook her head at me. 

“I’m not mad. I pity you. Things didn’t have to be like this, Tae.”

“I agree. You should’ve chosen me. I wish…” My voice was losing its venom. I almost winced in pain as I said the next part. “I wish you could love me again.”

Her eyes softened a bit, like I chipped away a piece of the strong front she always put on. “Maybe in another life, we could’ve been happy together. But you had to go and orchestrate a murder. Work with hunters, a psychotic vampire, and a corrupted witch.” She ran a hand over her face, sighing loudly. “You’re in the middle of transitioning into a hybrid.”

“I know, I’m over the moon,” I said, enlarging my eyes to show her my excitement. I probably looked insane. “Even if you didn’t choose me, I chose you. And I’ll be yours even if you’re not truly mine. I still won.”

“That’s what you think. You need to drink my blood once more or you’ll die.”

“I know,” I said quickly, anticipating that tidbit. “You’ll give it to me soon enough.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because…” This was it. This was my moment! “I linked my life with Jungkook's. So if you don’t give me your blood, he’ll die.”

I let out a hearty laugh, but it quickly faded upon seeing her stoic expression. Why was she so calm? 

“Okay, I’m confused,” I said. “You’re supposed to be devastated.”

She took another step forward and I almost tried to kiss her, desperate for her to be closer. 

“There’s no easy way to say this,” she said. “So I’ll just tell you. I already knew about your life being linked to Jungkook’s.”

I’m sure confusion was etched into my features. What the hell was she talking about? 

“Ari told me. Before she and Jimin were sent to a prison world.” Okay, not even I could predict that. Was I next? I wrestled against my restraints at the fear of being banished. I didn’t want to be away from her. “Calm down. I’m not sending you to one; it’s impossible without Ari’s blood anyway.”

I relaxed and stopped moving, so she continued, “It’s true that I would’ve cried at the thought of losing Jungkook and letting you win. But Ari left me with one last gift before she left.”

That bitch was lucky she went to a prison world because I had half a mind to burn her at the stake. 

“And what was that?”

“She found my father. You see, he was trapped in my moonstone necklace after making a deal with a witch. In exchange for his freedom, the moonstone would be imbued with magic strong enough to grant me fertility. Of course, it would only work if I hadn’t died.”

She lowered her face closer to my level. 

“I managed to release my father from the stone and ask him about some strange words Ari told me. Have you heard of the Mora Muserium?” 

I shook my head. “You know I don’t know what that is.”

“Well, the Mora Muserium is an hourglass that can remove dark magic from people and store it. The spell Ari used to link your lives used dark magic.”

I processed what she was saying, my mind racing a mile a minute. She wasn’t possibly insinuating…

“The dark magic tethering him to you has been removed, Tae. He and you are no longer linked,” she revealed. 

My face stiffened, the smile on my face I once had disappearing altogether. This couldn’t be true. My plan was fail-proof! “No! You’re lying! You’re fucking lying! He and I are connected forever! If you kill me, he dies! Do you really want to risk that?!”

“Tae…” she said, her tone full of pity. It angered me more. “It’s true. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not!” I was shouting at the top of my lungs. “You are sadly mistaken if you think I’m going to fall for your scare tactics! I don’t believe it one bit! Prove it!”

“After they removed the dark magic from the linking spell, my dad snapped his neck. Jungkook’s out cold while you’re… not.”

I dropped my jaw as I fell to my knees. “No…”

She got down on one knee, matching my level once more. “Jungkook will come back to life soon. But you won’t be here to see it.”

“So what? You’re going to kill me?” I spat. 

“No. First your eyes will bleed. Then your body will be consumed in the most unimaginable pain you’ve ever felt. Like pure acid running through your veins, eating you alive inside out. It’ll be as painful to watch as it is to experience and lasts a long time before death finally consumes you.”

“You’re kidding me…”

“I’m not. I can’t bear to watch you suffer for that long so… someone else will put you out of your misery.”

She stood up and turned towards the gate. I narrowed my eyes to see a male figure approaching. He had a shotgun in his hand and a tool belt around his waist. The stench of vervain and wolfsbane from it was gag-inducing, and it made me sweat nervously too. 

“Namjoon…” I muttered. He looked at me like I was trash. When I tried to reach [Y/N]’s hand, she had already stood up and walked over to the headmaster. 

“Are you sure about this?” Namjoon asked. [Y/N] bit her lip but nodded slowly. My heart sank to the ground. “Leave it to me. Go. You don’t want to see this.”

She marched forward towards the exit, determined not to look back. Namjoon stood in front of me, pointing the shotgun straight at my chest. I looked him dead in the eye, slowly rising to my feet.

“Sorry it had to end this way. But you did this to yourself, Taehyung.”

“Some headmaster you are. Killing your own student.”

“[Y/N] was the one who asked me to do this.”

“No! Stop lying! She would never!”

I tried to run towards the gate, her back still in view as she walked away rather slowly. I knew deep down, she didn’t want this. 

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], please! You’re going to just walk away? Even though you know you can save me?! Are you that heartless?!”

*BOOM!*

Fuck! My shoulder was stinging with pain from the poisoned bullet. I groaned in agony but remained standing, reaching out for her.

“[Y/N], please! I don’t want to die! All I ever wanted was—”

*BOOM!*

My left leg was fucked. I fell down to the cold ground, desperation being the only thing helping me stay conscious. She had covered her ears this time, but I knew my voice would reach her.

“[Y/N], I love you…” I breathed. “Even in my twisted, messed up, obsessive way. I love you and I just wanted you to choose me for once. For once…”

I heard Namjoon’s footsteps and him cocking the gun in preparation for the next shot. I tried to crawl away.

*BOOM!*

Now both my legs were done for. I cried. Wailed. Screamed as I laid on my back. I didn’t want to die, not unless it was for her. Not because of her. 

“[Y/N], I’m sorry! Please… please don’t let me die. You’re better than that… you’re better than me… you’re different!”

The cock of Namjoon’s gun let me know my time was up. I closed my eyes and waited. I guess I finally lost.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

Your Point of View

The words left your mouth without you realizing. Namjoon froze and Taehyung opened his eyes, seeing you run towards him. In a matter of seconds, you placed yourself in between him and the professor with your arms spread in a protective stance.

“Don’t kill him,” you begged.

“[Y/N], are you sure?” Namjoon asked. You looked over your shoulder to see Taehyung try to sit up.

“Stay down!” you shouted at him. Taehyung obeyed and laid as still as a wooden plank. “Don’t fucking move or try anything. I already regret this.” 

You bit your wrist and bent down to the ground, forcing it into Taehyung’s mouth. His eyes widened in alarm, but he drank your blood nevertheless. Once he had his fill, you felt his emotions skyrocket — particularly joy.

“Stay still and stay seated until I tell you to move,” you commanded.

He sat in a criss-cross position, his smile beaming with pure bliss. “You love me. I can tell. I can feel it.”

“Shut up!”

You stood up and Namjoon slung his gun over his shoulder. “You want him alive?”

“I… I don’t know.” You were shaking and pretty soon close to hyperventilation until Namjoon centered you, reminding you that you were in a safe space. 

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you,” He put his hands on your shoulders. “Talk to me.” 

“I… I thought I was doing the right thing. He’s fucking insane, but at the same time… I thought about my childhood abuser. How I shoved him off, how he fell, how he was begging for me to call for help — but nothing was done. I let him die. He deserved it, but that was such an easy way out. He should’ve been rotting in jail or at least atoning for his sins. I didn’t want to do the same thing to Tae.”

“Breathe… breathe…”

You took a deep inhale and then let out a slow exhale. “This time I know about my blood and its healing properties. I couldn’t let him die… I thought I could, but it felt wrong. God, what’s wrong with me?”

Namjoon placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. No more talking down to yourself. You want to save him, then save him. It’s your blood. Now… you mentioned atoning for sins. Do you have something in mind for him?”

You turned your head to the side, seeing him stare at you with such an intensity that it made you self-conscious. 

“Yeah… what are you going to do with me, oh great sire?” He was taunting you, but you didn’t let it deter you. 

“I’m going to compel you to forget me.”

“What?! No. I refuse. Don’t do that, please. My love for you is the only thing that keeps me going. I can’t—”

“Taehyung? Stop talking.”

He had to oblige. Namjoon let go of you, crossing his arms over another. 

“You’re absolutely sure this is what you want to do?”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes. Because maybe if he didn’t love me, didn’t know me, then he’d be different. He’d be able to focus on himself, finding himself.”

You then tilted your body at a 90 degree angle, startling the man in front of you.

“What are you doing? Why are you bowing?”

“I need your help. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, waving his arms around and forcing you to stand up straight. “Anything for you. You don’t have to beg.”

“After I compel Taehyung, I need you to help him start a new life. He’s going to be a newborn hybrid. Please take care of him in my stead.”

“I will, I promise. Look… I’ll wait outside the cave while you say your goodbyes.”

You gave him your thanks and he left, the last sound being the creaky iron gate closing behind him. Then you walked over to Taehyung, who was crying softly. 

“Taehyung… stand up. Let me look at you.” He got to his feet right away and you shoved your fingers in his bullet wounds, extracting each bullet out with skill and precision. Taehyung couldn’t even scream until you told him it was okay, so he stood still and endured. Once you were done, you held his face with both hands, wiping his tears away with your thumb. “What do you want to say? Tell me.”

“That I love you s-so much.” He closed his eyes, embracing the warmth of your hands. “Don’t make me forget you.”

“I have to.”

“But you love me too. I know it, don’t lie to me.”

“The sire bond is complicated. It heightens every emotion. You’re confused.”

His eyes fluttered open, a fire burning in his gaze. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. You align my soul, [Y/N]. I’m incomplete without you. Please…”

You stood on your tiptoes to press a tender kiss on his forehead. He shuddered beneath you, wishing this moment could last forever. 

“I need you to live your life and find yourself. As much as you say you want to be sired, I’d be withholding your freedom and that isn’t love. It’s abuse.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t mind it. Not if it’s you.”

“Shh…” You put a finger to his lips, staring deep into his eyes. 

“No. I don’t want to say goodbye. Please.”

Your pupils dilated as your compulsion ability kicked into gear. 

“You will forget about me and your love for me completely. You’re going to live your life and do better, work on yourself, love yourself, understand that this is a second chance at life. Don’t waste it. After I uncuff you, you’re going to walk out of the caves and listen to Namjoon, who will help you learn how to be a hybrid.”

You worked quickly and removed his restraints. He walked out of the cave like a zombie, and you almost wanted to pass out from the stress. It shouldn’t have been that painful, but it was like you ripped off the biggest band aid. Taehyung had burrowed himself into your heart and despite your best efforts to extract all remains of him, he’d left a permanent scar. 

The sire bond with Taehyung, although short-lived, had set your emotions in flux. The intensity of his love for you was very real, the ache in his heart when he was begging you to not erase his memories cut you deep like glass. After you compelled him, it felt like someone sawed your heart in half.

Letting someone go was never going to get easier, but you had one more person to talk to. Another bandaid. Another heartbreak. 

Jungkook’s Point of View

I wished [Y/N]’s father had given me a warning. After placing my hand on the hourglass thingy, black smoke (which I assumed was the dark magic) formed inside. Professor Min had to ask, “How do we know if it worked?” before her dad snapped my neck so fast, almost as if he had waited his entire life to do so. 

Even though I was going to come back to life, it didn’t make it hurt any less. All I could see was darkness. No sound, no sight, just unbearable loneliness. But then I saw a light in the distance and ran towards it. 

The first thing I saw once I opened my eyes was her. She was caressing my head, running her hand through my hair. Her smile was kind, but her eyes were empty. Almost as if she was forcing herself to be present when she didn’t want to be. Still, she was goddamn beautiful. 

I noticed the gauze on her neck and sat up immediately. “Are you okay? Your neck…”

She waved her hand in a dismissive manner, forcing me to lay back down. “I’m fine. It’s mostly healed anyway, take it easy. You just came back to life.”

I realized I was in my dorm room. Taehyung’s things had been cleared out already, so my side was the only one that had personality to it. I cringed seeing the mess of clothes, posters, and towels on the floor. I would’ve cleaned up had I known she would be here with me. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I died,” I gave her a soft smile as I reminisced about the memory. “Do you remember it?”

“How could I forget? That’s how everything started. The hunters killing you, me giving you my blood, you being sired… you hated it.”

There was a playfulness in her speech that made me chuckle. “I did. Oh, it was humiliating.”

“Yeah, so awful,” she said, playing along. “You hated me.”

“Well… I don’t. I haven’t for a while… and don’t think I ever truly did.”

Her eyes widened a bit and she rubbed her palms on her thighs anxiously. “It’s okay if you did. We were put in an uncomfortable situation.”

“No… it wasn’t.” I sat up with my pillow propped against the headboard and rested my back on top. I leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “I shouldn’t have been so mean back then. I let my pride get in the way. I’m sorry.”

She turned her head to the side, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Why are you apologizing now? We’re past this. Silly.”

“Because you deserve it. You deserve to hear that you were right. About everything. About… him.”

She finally looked at me, slowly retracting her hand, but I held it tightly. I feared if I let go, she’d disappear for good. Something about her hollow gaze earlier left a sinking feeling in my chest. 

“If you’re going to apologize, then be specific.” She sounded exasperated and I wondered if I should’ve said nothing.

“I can sit here and blame Jimin for it all. Like how he kissed me, manipulated me into believing I enjoyed it. I can lie and say he’s the reason I didn’t believe you when I should’ve. But I won’t.”

“What’s your point?”

My voice started to crack as tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m a coward. I was scared. The sire bond ending terrified me. I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore, so maybe I pushed you away. Wanted to find an excuse to hate you, paint you like the villain you never were. I blamed you for things you didn’t do and I was wrong for it.”

No response. She only stared at our hands, so I intertwined my fingers with hers.  

“Please say something,” I begged.

“While I waited for you to wake up, I read Sunghyun’s notebook. He was in love…”

“With you?”

“No. With us. He always rooted for us to be together. In his notes, he put down how much we belong together.” I saw how she was taking in quick breaths to calm down as tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry to disappoint him.”

“What are you talking about?” 

She stared deep into my eyes, a grave expression on her face. “I’m leaving. Namjoon’s going to help me graduate early.”

“Well, where are you going? I’ll join you.” She shook her head before I finished my response. 

“No. Jungkook, I’m leaving everything. Everyone.”

I held our intertwined hands against my chest. “No. Take me with you. Please.” I kissed the back of her hand, trembling so much that I thought I’d throw up. 

“I can’t. I need to heal, I need space.”

“Then do it. I’ll give you all the space you need. Just don’t make this a goodbye.”

She pulled her hand away from me, using enough force so that I couldn’t stop her. She got up from her seat and turned her back towards me. Her fists tightened as her foot tapped the floor anxiously.

“I’m letting you go, so you can live your life. Just like I did for Taehyung.”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I scrambled to get out of bed, forcing her to turn around by gripping her shoulders.

“What is that supposed to mean? Isn’t Taehyung dead? Huh?” I shook her once to get her attention when she remained silent. “Answer me!”

“I gave him my blood.” 

Her words sent my emotions into overdrive. Anger, jealousy, confusion were all fighting for dominance. “What?! Why on earth would you do that? That bastard deserves to be six feet under for everything he’s done!”

She pried my hands off her shoulders like she was repulsed to be touched by me. “Because I could! I have the ability to heal him so how could I just let him die?! I didn’t want his death to be on my conscience!”

“It wouldn’t have been! He would’ve died anyway!” I placed my hands on my hips. “So what, he’s sired to you now? You know damn well he isn’t going to turn 100 times to break it.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a whole damn lot, [Y/N]. He’s won. He wanted you and now he’s got you. And what’s worse is that you don’t seem to mind,” I ran a hand down my face, forcing a laugh at the ridiculous situation, but I was truly dying inside. “He’s tried to kill me, he’s lied, he’s backstabbed you, he was obsessed over you. He—”

“Chose me,” she said, interrupting me. “Despite all of it, he’s chosen me time and time again. I let him live because I wanted him to know I chose him at least once.”

“Do you love him?” I sounded so pathetic, but I had to know. Her silence was eating me alive. “Answer me.”

“If Taehyung had died… I would’ve been destroyed. I couldn’t carry that burden of knowing I could’ve saved him. If anyone were to die by my hands, it should’ve been Jimin.” Her eyes darkened, but I could sense the fury within her. She appeared calm on the surface, which made her even scarier in my eyes as she told me the next part. “I’m not sure if you know this, but Ari took her and Jimin to a prison world.”

“No… I didn’t know,” I breathed. 

“So let me ask you this. If Jimin was here right now and I was about to kill him, would you let it happen?”

My arms slowly fell back down to my sides. My mouth was dry as I tried to form a response, but nothing came out. I felt heavy, anchored to the ground and immobilized by her question. Jimin deserved to die just like Taehyung did. I knew that. Why couldn’t I say anything?

“Do you love him?” she asked. 

“No.” I didn’t sound convincing, but I meant it. 

“See Jungkook? You say you don’t love Jimin, but you would save him too. Despite all he’s done. I can say I don’t love Taehyung, but I saved him anyway. Whether we want to admit it or not, we loved them in some capacity. Maybe not in the way they craved, but we did care for them.”

“Fine. You made your point. But what now, huh? Taehyung’s sired to you.”

She held her hand out in a stop motion. “I’m not finished talking. Taehyung’s… not sired to me. Not anymore.”

The relief that washed over me was overwhelming. “How?”

“I compelled him to forget about me.”

I didn’t need a sire bond to know what she was planning to do next. Fortunately, I was quicker than her and pinned her to the bed with my hand covering her eyes. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Please… please don’t do it,” My vision was blurry again with tears. “I know what you’re planning to do and I’m begging you to change your mind.”

She could easily overthrow me, but instead she reached her hand up to caress my face, smiling even though she couldn’t see me. “You know me so well…”

“Of course I do. After everything how could I not?” 

“Then you understand why I want to do it.”

“No. I don’t. Is this my punishment? Do you wish for me to suffer?”

“Not at all.”

“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. Please let me love you, please… I’m sorry.”

I was crying so much that a tear fell onto her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away and I leaned into her touch, kissing her palm once. 

“I want you to be able to live your life without being weighed down by me. The burden of everything, the trauma bonding—it’s not normal.”

“We’re not normal. Nothing about our lives is ever going to be normal. Maybe it’s not supposed to be.”

“You deserve a clean slate. To start over.”

“What’s the point if you’re not by my side?”

She sat up on the bed, but I didn’t remove my hand from her eyes. “I won’t erase everything. You’ll still remember me, but only as that girl that had a crush on you. How we sparred together sometimes. You won’t remember loving me.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting so badly to shout, but I knew I had to remain calm. It’s hard when you’re a blubbering mess though. “Erasing even a single memory of you is a crime. Each moment was a stepping stone that led me to you. There’s no point in compelling me to forget because my heart will yearn for you and only you.”

“Baby…”

“Without your love, I’m nothing. So please… stay with me. Hold on for a while longer. Let’s heal together.”

She slowly took my hand off her eyes and I let it happen. Next thing I knew, she grabbed me by my shirt, kissing me fervently, so desperate like she was afraid I’d disappear. It was ironic because all I could think about was keeping her close in case she’d vanish first.

I never broke our kiss as I pushed her down onto the bed, my body on top of hers. The way we melded together was perfect. I was made to hold her, to love her, and I wanted to show it. We were both crying because I tasted the saltiness of her tears as I kissed her. 

There was no changing her mind. She knew it, I knew it. This was our goodbye kiss. So I prolonged it as best I could, caressing her face and kissing her deeper than before. 

Then it happened. She caught me by surprise and flipped us around, her body now on top. My eyes opened like a stupid fool and she put her face right in front of me. Another tear cascaded down as her pupils dilated. 

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

I blinked once, then twice, and my room was now empty. Sitting up, I wiped my tears away and reached my hand into my pocket. I pulled out a small, dried vervain flower and it burned when it came into contact with my skin. Compared to what I’ve been through, this pain was nothing. My moonlight had left me, fading away for good.

Until our next encounter.

a/n: Again, thank you for reading Moonstruck!!! I cried while writing the ending, I hope I made you feel something too. I do have an AO3 if you'd rather show support over there. Much love! 🌙💗

[fel-09]

When I get you out of my mind

Chapte 1

Warning: Yandere, ambiguous protagonist

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader

Special note: if there are any mistakes, sorry, English is not my native language

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Spring 1745 , France

there was a heavy smell of flowers in the air, which had already bloomed, and their petals fluttered in the wind like snow, the atmosphere was ramontic, sickly sweet, this time of year was the best time if you had to admit to your other half about the feelings, the big bell on top of the church rang non-stop, your heart was pounding painfully with it in rythm swallowing a lump in grief, and clenching your gloved hands while looking at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, it was not only difficult to breathe because of the unbearable smell of flowers, which you could even taste if you closed your mouth, but also the sight of your lover who cordially handed flowers to another woman, It hurts and is not pleasant so much that you wanted to rot on the ground with these flower petals , taking your last breath away , But to spite you, this world unfolded a monstrous picture before you , closing your mouth so as not to make an unnecessary sound.

You and Carlisle met at one of the balls of the aristocracy , the man kindly extended a helping hand to you when you are in you desperately needed it , namely when your father died , at that moment you were so overwhelmed with grief that you could no longer get up and leave his coffin , but he helped you by grabbing your arms and calmed you down , forcing you to find a new meaning in life in the form of him, the way he touched you so tenderly and carefully remained in your creation, entrenched, you wanted to be in his arms again, desperately in need, he became your breath, Every time you came to the ball first, what you did was looking for him with your eyes, and when you noticed you went straight to him, hoping to dance with him to feel his touch on your body once more, but as much as you would like to dance with Carlisle forever, you had to move away after the first dance.

Little by little, you began to get closer because of your brother, who decided to finance the doctor, Carlisle often came to your House, for dinner or just on business , attempts to talk at these moments were successful , you were drawn to listen to his voice the way he gesticulated, your eyes caught his every wave of his hand , and God, oh not your thoughts at that moment were not the purest, you wanted to punish yourself for this, which is why regular church attendance began to become a habit

when you stood and saw Carlisle give the flowers to Esme, in this place you prayed that the Lord would forgive you, probably this is your punishment for unholy thoughts in front of the Lord God himself.After Carlisle got closer to you, he confessed...that to love someone, it gave you hope and there was also a feeling of fear, because maybe it wasn't you but someone else, the doubts were true, it turned out to be a girl from family of merchants who bought the title with money, One day she was invited to one of the parties, where he meet her and Esme fell into his soul, it hurt the most to hear these words from the first mouth (Carlisle), Now, when he gave these flowers to Esme, which she refused with the words that she already has a future husband, it still hurt you... After all, Carlisle was the kind of man who could be said to be Monogamous..And even though you were friends, it wasn't enough for you...

Your legs were shaking at that moment, and your heart was squeezed in despair, the disgusting smell of flowers was carried into your skin , and those blue flowers that were abandoned became your non-genuine flowers , locked up after this in house, you did not go out, you did not eat anything, it was always more difficult to get out of bed After this day , there were many rumors in your circles about you , and the reasons for your fatherhood, your brother who took care of you tried to feed you at least porridge was in despair, Carlisle, in turn, tried to talk to you, but every time he was rejected by your brother, your brother was afraid that if you found out that he came, he would bring you even more pain.

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There won't be a second part because I didn't really like the fanfic.