#AND DID ANYTHING SHE COULD TO TRY AND GET THEM HELP

[angrenwen]

"

About two weeks ago, a third mannequin showed up – a cute curly-haired brunette in a maid’s uniform. I’d see her posed with a vacuum cleaner, or a duster, or ‘talking’ to the Mom mannequin. I was starting to wonder if this guy was having a nervous breakdown or something, but I was invested in the plotline at this point, so I kept looking.

Then three days ago, when I was walking past on my way home from work, I looked in the windows as usual. It was late afternoon, the sun shining right in those front windows, so I got a good view. Maid mannequin was dusting in an upstairs room that I think was a bedroom. Kid mannequin was sitting on the sofa holding a book. And Mom mannequin was standing in the window of the dining room, one hand on the curtain, and for once her head wasn’t turned away. She was looking out into the street.

Just for a moment, I could have sworn we made eye contact. You can’t make eye contact with a mannequin or a mask, not really. You can tell there’s nothing looking back. But for a second, I got that feeling of looking someone in the eye. It creeped me out in a way I couldn’t explain.

On my way to work the next morning, I looked in the windows. I wasn’t expecting anything that early – bakers go to work before dawn – but Mom mannequin was standing in an upstairs window. And she was holding up a sign. “Help me” it said, in strange, awkward letters that looked exactly like a mannequin hand might have written them.

What the fuck? That’s what I was thinking, when I stood up and stared at her, when I realized I was about to miss my bus and had to run, when I got to the bakery and started work..

Miriam is my partner, both in the bakery and romantically, and the third time she caught me staring into space instead of kneading dough she grabbed my ear and tugged gently. “Hey. Ellie. What’s going on? Someone throw holy water on you again?”

“Huh?” It took me a second, then I grinned. “Oh, come on, it’s been ages since anyone around here even gave a crap. No, it’s the guy with the mannequins at Number 56. Shit’s getting weird, Miri.”

“Weirder than staging fifties family dioramas with mannequins? What, did you see him making out with Mombot?”

“Weirder than that, even.” I put down the roll I’d been shaping. “I swear Mom mannequin made eye contact with me yesterday. And this morning she was in the window upstairs, which she never is this early, and she was holding up a sign saying ‘help me’. I nearly had a heart attack. I mean, metaphorically.”

Miri thought about that, frowning. “… yeah, that’s a long way past weird. I’ll check the windows when I go home and text you if I see anything else creepy.” She starts at the bakery at about three, and goes home to rest at about nine. She’s never liked being awake during the day, which was why we started the bakery. She’s good at artisanal breads, and this way she can work the hours she likes.

When she got home, I got a text saying ‘Mom and the maid are “talking” in the dining room. The kid is in the bedroom. Swear the little creeper was watching me. No signs.’

But when I went home in the late afternoon, Mom was in the dining room, holding up a sign. It said ‘PLEASE’.

I stood there a while, wondering whether to just kick the door down or sneak over later, but it was still daylight. I didn’t want to get seen. And while I was still thinking, the guy’s car pulled into the driveway. And when I looked back at the window, all three mannequins were gone. Just gone. Like they’d never been there.

I got moving fast enough that, I hoped, he didn’t notice me. When I got home, I woke Miri up. “There was another sign. And she’s trying to get my attention, specifically. I guess because I always look at them. And the guy came home and when I looked at the windows, they were all gone.”

Miri sat up, rubbing her eyes. “That is SO creepy. Should we go over tonight?”

“I don’t think we should go while he’s there.” I shook my head slowly. “I say we go over when he goes to work. I put up a sign at the bakery that we’d be closed tomorrow. I don’t feel good about this.”

“Neither do I.” Miri yawned, and lay back down. “If I have to be awake in daytime tomorrow, I’m going to sleep now. Can you pick up dinner?”

“Sure thing. We’ll go in ready.”

We waited until the car had been gone for ten minutes before we sneaked in the back way, cutting through from the apartment-block next door. The door was locked, but Miri’s always had a knack with locks. It wasn’t hard to get in.

The house smelled bad. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but I know the smell of something decaying, however well it’s buried under layers of air-deodorizers and disinfectant. “There’s something dead in this house,” I whispered.

“I know.” Miri whispered back. “Come on.”

All three mannequins were standing in the hall, when we left the kitchen. Standing in a row near the front door, as if they’d… ugh… been doing the fifties-TV style Have A Good Day At Work Dear farewell.

I didn’t yelp when all three heads turned to look at us, but Miri did, and I admit I took a step back. “Please,” Mom said in a dry, scraping voice. “Help us.”

They didn’t know how the man had done what he’d done, but they knew where he’d done it. Miri went around closing all the curtains, and I pulled back the rug in the living room. It was cleverly done. The carpet was pristine, and the upper side of the rug was too, but between the carpet and the rug there was a layer of clear plastic, with a full necromantic circle with signs and sigils painted onto it. At least half of them had to be in human blood to work, but sandwiched between the plastic and the rug, he wouldn’t leave a trace behind him when he moved. “This is so fucked up,” I whispered, looking at it, then up at the mannequins. I’d been hoping for transformation. Transformation is so much easier to handle. But they weren’t people who’d been turned into mannequins. “He killed you, didn’t he?” I said quietly. “All three of you. And he put your souls into the mannequins.”

Mom nodded jerkily. The kid had to struggle to move while being seen, and the maid couldn’t seem to do it at all, but Mom had had this body for a while and she’d been working on getting more and more control of it. “He can make us… seem more real. When he wants to,” she got out. When I made a disgusted face, because I had no doubt why he was doing that, she nodded again. Ugh.

“I can’t undo this,” I told her, honestly. “I’m not a sorcerer, and necromancy is… it’s major. I know some people who probably know some people, but it’s going to take some time for me to track down – “

Miri came through the door, backwards, writhing in the grip of what looked like a rope of purple light. I’m fast, but not so fast that he didn’t get me the same way in the next moment, even as I jumped to my feet. I went down again hard, grunting as the impact pushed the air out of me. “Wards, huh?”

“I was prepared for intruders.” He grinned down at me, with the intense, smug arrogance of all necromancers. The ones who just try to bring back a dead loved one and stop there, maybe not, but anyone who kills for it is a special kind of bad guy. Everyone hates those guys, even the dead. Maybe especially the dead. “So unfortunate for you. What you thought you were doing, I don’t know, but you won’t be leaving this house.”

Miri had gotten some air back into her. “These are Synsele’s Restraints, right?” she gritted out. “Well-done, too.”

“Ah, you recognise them! Yes, it’s a very useful spell. Not everyone can cast it.” He looked smugger than ever.

“All the best… wizards use them,” I managed. The tight bonds were making getting enough air to speak pretty difficult. “Effective on… magic-users as well as ordinary people. Even lycanthropes. Didn’t realize you… were this powerful.”

“Most people don’t, until it’s too late. And really, why did you have to come and intrude? My little family and I aren’t bothering anyone. We just want to be happy, don’t we?”

“Yes,” all three mannequins said in unison, but the looks on their faces made me want to vomit, if I was still capable of it. Even if I hadn’t had a certain fellow-feeling for them, I’d have wanted to help.

“There’s a major problem with Synsele’s Restraints, though,” Miri said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He was fast. We’d have to move together on this one, which was why we were talking to him first. We’d been together a long time, we knew how to signal each other without the mark knowing about it.

“Indeed? And what might that be?” he said, clearly sceptical as he looked down at us, at his feet and at his mercy.

We looked at each other, and grinned with all our teeth. Showtime.

“They only work on the living,” I spat, and Miri and I leaped on him, fangs out.

We’d fed well last night. But a vampire can always eat.

Miri got a little too into it, though, and I pulled her off. “Don’t kill him.”

“Why not? If anyone ever deserved – “

“Yeah, but… them. Killing him might trap them.” I gestured the mannequins. “You know how chancy it is killing the spellcaster.”

“Fuck. Yeah, you’re right.” She wiped her mouth, putting away the fangs and the glowing eyes and other accoutrements of the feeding vampire. “So what’ll we do with him?”

I looked around, pulled my sleeve down to cover my hand, picked up a sturdy-looking lamp, and hit him over the head with it. He’d already been unconscious, but this was a good excuse for it. “You get those three back out of here. I’m going to be a good neighbour and call the cops.”

Miri looked at the mannequins, then back at me, and grinned. “And they’re gonna look around?”

“I’ll make sure.”

“Our bodies,” Mom managed. “He kept them.”

“Yeah, we smelled it as soon as we got here. That’ll be you, right?” I made eye-contact with Maid Mannequin, who nodded very slightly. Mom said she couldn’t talk yet, or move much without orders. Mom had been the one posing her, and the kid before her, trying to draw someone’s attention. Maid was… fresh. “I’m guessing basement. I’ll make sure the door’s open.”

We’ve done this before, too. I opened the front door, when I was sure there was no-one watching, then made the call. A neighbour goes past, sees the front door open, comes in and finds a head injury, immediately calls ambulance and police. It was a plausible story, and no-one would have seen anything. They probably wouldn’t have even if I’d kicked the door down. And when I pointed out the bad smell, and one of them went down into the basement, they lost all interest in me. I just gave my statement, left my number and address, and went home to tell my poor, worried girlfriend that I was okay. One of the cops even walked me back, all friendly, like she really was making sure I got home okay and not checking my address.

Vampires don’t do magic, as a rule. But we know people who do. We’ll get the mannequins to the right people. They’re sisters, of a sort – murdered by a disgusting man who wanted to keep them like pets, just like we were. If they can be freed, we’ll make sure it happens. If they can’t… well, we’ll figure something out. There’s a transmutationist a couple of blocks over who owes us for all the free bread we give him, and some lycanthropes who might know the kind of person who’s so shitty that removing their soul from their body and replacing it with the soul of a wronged innocent is practically justice.

See, it’s like I said.

Around here, weird doesn’t get noticed much.

When the necromancer settled here, he should have given more thought to whether he was the only freak who’d thought of that."

Everyday walking home you see a mannequin staring down at you from a house window. One day it’s holding a sign that says ‘help me’ and the next day PLEASE. The owner of the home drives up and you look up to see the mannequin gone. You decide to investigate.

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 9)

Two days. Two days straight of you crying your eyes out and begging for your dad and your aunts and uncles. All efforts to get through to you were angrily refuted.

"Y/N, you can't keep pining over Penguin," Bruce said. "He had you kidnapped and was prepared to ask for a ransom."

"Oh, grow up! You didn't even notice I was gone! Hell, you avoided me when you did see me! So stop trying to take the moral high ground with me! Treat me the same way you all did when I was seven and leave me alone!"

"You don't have to be so defensive, baby bird!" Dick pleaded. "We're just trying to make up for lost time! We want to get to know you!"

"Don't call me baby bird! Only Penguin calls me bird things! You're copying him to make me like you, and I won't!" you snapped. "Leaving my room was a mistake, clearly. Goodbye." You rushed up the stairs, sobbing.

"I should have known that they wouldn't want my contact immediately," Bruce said. "I just didn't know how volatile they would be."

Alfred, now back from visiting his daughter, sighed. "Sir, I watched the . . . debacle unfold over in England. Please allow me to talk to Y/N," he pleaded. "We had a positive relationship."

"Of course. You'll get further than we did," Dick said.

Alfred knocked on your door and sighed. "Mx Y/N, your family is doing their best to express their remorse for their previous mistreatment. Please try to hear them out."

"They're going to forget, Alfred. They always do! They'll forget and I'll get left behind! Papa never forgot about me, and neither did my aunties and uncles. They were always so kind."

"Y/N, your aunties and uncles are criminals. Here, you are safe."

"No, I'm not! Damian's here and he's sicced Titus onto me for fun!" you pointed out. "How am I safe with him around?"

Tim appeared out of nowhere. "Well, if you really want to get away from the little hellion, then I'm your ticket out! You'll go on a walk with me to clear your head. It must be so claustrophobic in your bedroom. Put on some clothes and come outside with me. We could both do with the exercise."

You weighed up your options. Sure, you need a break from these obsessed nutcases, but it wasn't like Tim was going to be any different. This was most likely a ploy to get you to open up.

"Hey! Don't call me a hellion, Drake, especially in front of my only blood relative!" Damian was there in a heartbeat, katana in hand. The same katana that had cut you before. You slammed your door immediately.

"Nice going, prick! I almost had them!" Tim scolded.

"They're my blood relative. You have a family. Go and find it, if you even can."

"Go and find yours, brat." Tim and Damian began fist-fighting in front of your door, and you closed your door with a quickness.

(PAUSE)

The next day, Stephanie stole their idea and went for a walk with you. "You know, I know what it's like to be disappointed in my father," she said. "You do know who my father is, don't you, Y/N?"

"No." You shook your head. "You never told me."

"Ah." Stephanie chuckled, embarrassed. "Well, my father's name is Arthur Brown, better known as Cluemaster. He's one of the villains Batman faces."

"So, your dad's a bad guy, too?" you asked. "Was he nice to you like Penguin is to me?"

"No, honey," Stephanie said, heart breaking. "Villains aren't nice to anybody, including their daughters. Nobody's safe from them."

"That's not true! Penguin was nice to me! He helped me make a penguin-themed ice cream place! And then Scarecrow watched cartoons with me, and Bane did workout sessions with me, and-"

"Y/N, don't you get it? Penguin lied to you!" Stephanie grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you. "You're not going back there, mark my words!"

"But I want to!"

"Leave them alone!" a passerby yelled. "We all know what you're like, you know! All Waynes are heartless! Screw you!"

"You don't know anything about me or Y/N!" Stephanie shouted back.

"We know none of you gave a damn when they got kidnapped! How terrible do you have to be for a kidnapper to be kinder than you guys?"

People started to gather at the commotion as Stephanie verbally battled the mob. She put herself between you and them, holding your hand tightly in the hopes that it reassured you.

It didn't.

"Deadbeats!"

"Abusers!"

"You guys are literally worse than the Joker! Here, have a Joker shake!" A purple shake flew through the air towards Stephanie's face from the hand of an angry protester. Stephanie stepped back just in time.

You, however, got hit in the face by a blast of blueberries and blackberries, everything going silent. You could have heard a pin drop as you wiped the shake off your face. They were waiting for you to do something, anything.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask the crowd, eyes watering. "Why does everyone in Gotham hate me?"

Everyone broke out into fights. Some attacked the pitcher of the drink, others stayed focused on Stephanie.

"How about I call the police to take us home, Y/N?" Stephanie suggested. "It's scary out here."

"OK," you agreed. "I don't like being outside any more."

(PAUSE)

"Are you kidding me, Steph? You let Y/N get hit in the face by a random citizen's drink?" Barbara shoved that day's edition of Gotham Times into Stephanie's face. The picture was of you drenched in drink while Stephanie was behind you (not a good look), while a headline screamed at them.

Wayne Kid Uses Neglected Sibling As Human Shield

"So much progress . . . gone," Dick sighed.

"How are they supposed to trust us when we can't protect them?" Damian growled. "You're ruining my chances of bonding time with my only biological sibling!"

"You do that all on your own," Dick muttered.

The Wayne family wasn't the only one with flaring tempers. Over at the Iceberg Lounge, Penguin crumpled up an identical copy of the Gotham Times in anger.

"It hasn't even been a full week, and they're already allowing my little bird to be in harm's way," he growled. "Nobody hurts my little dove."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9 <- You are here

Part 10

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @heather-hutchcroft, @wannaflyaway, @jaybunsblog, @sugarrush-blush, @redkarmakai

[bonsubear]

Reader loves invincible but hates Mark | #1

Hi, I haven’t written fanfiction for a hot minute so I’m terribly rusty. So, if this isn’t coherent oops. Also, if Mark is OOC just close one eye and keep reading hehe.

Inspired by @/tiramissyoucake and the anonymous asker who requested a short story of Reader hating Mark but loving Invincible!!! I like that idea very much so I’m stealing it for a moment >:)

Fangirl! Reader who loves Invincible but hates Mark

#1, #2

WC: 1.6k

He should probably feel annoyed about the fact that this girl in his biology class seems to hate him with each fiber of her being for no reason—her eyes always hard with disdain and her mouth quick to shoot an insult whenever he did an action or said something she didn't like (which was basically anything, even breathing) but oddly enough, he didn’t.

She had transferred to his school before his powers kicked in and before his superhero alter ego, Invincible, was born. She was in a couple of his classes besides biology. On some occasion his eyes couldn’t help drifting to her, noting one or two things about her.

From what Mark could tell, she was quiet and kept to herself. You’d think that she was a hard-working student who was diligently taking notes with how she would pretend to type something important on her laptop, but he always quietly chuckled at the sight of her on some shady website reading an obscure comic.

He would quite literally watch her browse through comics with long titles and choose the most outrageous plot then shift her laptop away from the direction of other students as if people (aka him) behind her couldn’t clearly see what she was doing.

Oh, and in English class she would tuck her air pods in her ears and try to cover them with her hair—playing some sort of audio book or a YouTube video. Even though she would try and hide her reactions, Mark could tell whenever something amusing happened. The small quirk of her lips, how fast she would twirl her hair, and the slight sway of her body as she stared blanky at empty air while listening intently.

Also, you were a fan of shopping for clothes and accessories. Nearly every day he would notice a brand-new item or piece of clothing on her. It could be a new, shiny necklace that fits perfectly on her chest or a new jacket that was too neat to be old. She also shopped for cosmetics like perfume that smelled differently from the last and a new subtle shade of lipstick that was applied perfectly on her lips.

Though her spending habits didn’t go well with her checking account. Mark caught the girl pouting multiple times looking at her bank account that was a little bit too low for anyone’s liking, refreshing the screen as if the number would change.

...

Okay, maybe he took note of a little bit more than one or two things. Whatever, sue him.  

But for some unexplained reason, this girl had serious hatred toward him. The type of hatred you’d think Mark did something absolutely horrible. Like, shooting her childhood pet or punching her elderly grandmother.

He never did any of those things or anything else. However, he must've done something to piss her off at some point to declare him public enemy #1.

“I’m going to throw acid at your face and make you blind if you don’t stop staring at me.”

“Nerds are usually smart, thanks for going against the stereotype.”

“I went to Loserville and the residents told me you were the mayor.”  

“Wow, you killed that, Mark! … Next time make it yourself.”

It was insult after insult every time he interacted with her.

“Dude, why do you keep trying to talk to her? It ends the same way every time.” William deadpanned after he witnessed yet another verbal attack on Mark, you walking away without sparing a single glance back. “Don’t tell me your one of those guys who get off on that sort of thing.”

“No! No! Why would you suggest that?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” He flatly replied, raising his brow. “That girl clearly hates your guts! Yet everyday you try to talk to her as if she didn’t tell you to kill yourself the other day.”

“Eh, more like every day.”

“See! Hates you!”

“Your right, William. I’ll stop trying to be friends with her…”

“Atta boy!”

“… soon.”

“Come on, man!”

Then, when Mark’s powers kicked in and he became Invincible—he got busy and stopped trying to talk to you. Not that he lost interest didn't want to get to know you, but so much things were happening.

His eyes still wandered to you in class, noticing that your hair looked different so that must mean you went to another shopping spree and got a new shampoo or conditioner and other things—but Mark was busy trying to be the best he could be so interactions with you stopped.

That was until he saved your life during an attack as Invincible.

Holding the civilian in his arms tightly as he landed down, small bits of debris on his shoulders as he let out a small huff, he shifted his gaze around to see if any other civilians needed his attention. “It was a good thing I caught you in time.” Mark smiled, his eyes blinking behind his goggles as he looked down at the person he was holding in his arms.

His eyes widened in shock (though you couldn’t tell because of the goggles) when he realized who he had just saved.

Holy shit, it’s you.

And fuck, why were you staring at him so cute? Your eyes that would stare at him with hatred were instead filled with adoration and admiration as your hands were basically trembling holding your phone to your chest.

“I—uh—wow—um,” His voice was caught in his throat, his breath hitching as he wasn’t used to this type of look on you. You stared at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the whole world, and Mark could feel his stomach flip flop as he averted his gaze. “Are, are you hurt?” He squeezed the words out his throat, looking back at your wide eyes that were still filled with that adoration.

“Yes! Yes! I’m perfectly fine now, Invincible! Thank you so much!” You happily yelped, suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck. You squeezed tight, practically burying your face as if he was oxygen and you were trying to fill your lungs.

The scent of your shampoo filled his nose, and he recognized that it was the same one you used on Tuesday. It smelled good.

Play it cool, play it cool.

“N-No problem, citizen!”

“You’re the best Invincible, thank you so much! Thank you!’ You pulled away from the grip you had on his neck, “I’m going to follow you home!”

“What?”

“I-I mean, I’m so indebted to you!” You squealed like a fangirl. Your cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, your whole body shaking from not the adrenaline of almost being killed but instead because of the excitement of Invincible holding you. “Ever since you made your debut as a hero, I’ve been such a huge fan of yours! And now you’re here and y-you saved me!”

… You’re a fan?

He carefully let you down on the floor, your legs catching yourself as he turned around to hide the fact that his cheeks were burning a deep shade of red. “Please, uh, evacuate! It’s not safe in this area—I have to go, s-sorry."

“Anything for you! Stay safe Invincible!”

And anything for him indeed because after that day, you were always decked out in school with some sort of Invincible merchandise attached to you. Keychains, stickers, shirts, nails themed after his suit, and more. Jesus, you even changed the wallpaper on your phone and laptop to pictures of him!

“Wow, you really like that Invincible guy.” Will whistled, pointing out the chibi Invincible phone charm that was attached to your phone case.

“Of course I do! He’s the best hero ever. The coolest guy and the most handsomest!” You whipped around, bursting in happiness at the mention of Invincible. “You would be an idiot not to like him.” You eyed Mark at the ‘idiot’ part, before turning back to Will. “I always liked him when he first appeared on the news, but oh my fucking God after he saved my life, I had to make my love for him public!”

“W-What does that mean?” Mark asked, intrigued.

“What it fucking means, dipshit. It’s obvious.” You hissed, turning to him, “What fan doesn’t have a shrine to their idol? Their one and only? Are you stupid?”

That was not obvious—wait shrine?

“I have photographs of him, official and fan made merch, posters—everything! He’s basically my husband at this point.” You swayed in your seat, your cheeks turning pink with how you were shamelessly gushing about him. You continued to ramble as Mark Grayson stared in disbelief, the girl who hates him loves him at the same time.

You love Invincible but hate Mark.

That made Mark feel… weird. There were butterflies in his stomach as he continued to stare at you and his chest felt a little heavy. He was upset, but not at you—which is odd because it should be towards you—but instead toward himself? Towards Invincible that you were so excited at the thought of his superhero alter ego instead of him.

Was he jealous... of himself?

"How much do you like him?" Mark asked quietly, tilting his head.

"I'll let him crack me open." You sighed dreamily without a second of hesitation, and Mark choked on his spit as soon as he heard that. "Also, correct yourself—I don't just like him, I love him. Now, go away and stop bothering me, loser." You turned around in your seat before he could say that Will was the one to bother you first, not him.

He continued to stare at the back of your head, dumbfounded at how you were a big Invincible fan. A big fan of him.

The urge to turn you around and tell you that he was Invincible was strong. Not because he wanted to rub it in your face that the guy you actively hate on was actually your favorite superhero but because he wanted you to stare at him with those big eyes of adoration toward Mark Grayson, not Invincible.

...

Jesus, what was wrong with him?

This is kinda bad but uh, I tried :P Goodnight I have to wake up at 6 am dfjndfnsj

[futbolfatale]

Origin Story: Morning After

Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader, Omega Ona Battle/Omega Reader

Summary: You run into Maddie after class luckily Alexia is there to save you.

Okay, maybe going to the after-party was a stupid idea you stumble your way to your 7 am lecture with a pounding headache and an ache in your cunt. You left Mapi’s apartment at 5 and caught a cab to get to your apartment so you could change and get to class on time.

There is no doubt that you reek like them but you didn't have time to shower and get to class on time. Leaving early had the added benefit of avoiding any awkward conversations since they didn’t know where you went to school and you hadn’t exchanged numbers with any of them. Surely they wouldn’t want to see you again after last night. You can’t help but wonder what life would be like if you were with them as unbelievable as that is. How happy you would be if you had always had a special connection to the omegas in your life and this pack has two it's like heaven for you.

Your lectures wrap up about four hours later and you trail out into the hall trying to avoid Maddie like the plague. But her lily and patulio scent hits you like a brick wall making you stop in your tracks. it seems your efforts are for nothing as Maddie rounds the corner walking directly toward you. So of course you like any normal person turn and start speed walking away from her. “Are you seriously running away from me right now?” She growls snatching your wrist. “Oh sorry Maddie I didn’t see you.” you smile fakely at her. “You owe me I can’t believe you just abandoned me at the game you could have at least helped me out” She glances down at her sweats and your eyes naturally follow. “I don’t believe I owe you anything” You try to pull away but her grip stays strong. She pulls your hand to palm her cock through her sweat and you bite back bile.

“Bebita there you are” a voice down the hall calls at you the strong scent of old spice filling the hall. “Oh, so you're a slut just not for me” Maddie spits. “Get your hands off my omega,” Alexia growls she grabs Maddie’s wrist holding it so hard you fear it might snap. “And who do you think you are” Maddie tries to pull away but can’t and a look of fear crosses her face. Alexia just pushes her away and pulls you behind her and out of the school quickly. “How did you know I was here,” You ask as Alexia helps you into her car. 

“I made some call Mapi and Ona were so das when They woke up so I promised to come find you and let them tell you how much of a bad girl you are.” She leans across you to buckle your seatbelt and her scent overwhelms you. “Im the bad girl’ you ask slightly annoyed with her. “You left without saying anything. It won’t be safe for you by yourself anymore.” Alexia warns as she pulls out of the parking lot. It hits you that you are in a car with this woman you barely know this is the beginning of every kidnapping. “Maybe I should go” You try to pull on the door but it’s childlocked.

“Wherever you want to go I’ll take you but you can’t go alone.” her eyes never once leave the road as she speaks. “And why can’t I go alone” You say with some bite your scent no doubt turning sour. “The paparazzi will be all over you pictures from the party are all over. Plus I wouldn’t be surprised if my pups were already in you.”She smirks and it makes you want to bite her and not in a sexy way. “I can’t have your pup. I can't have anyone pup im in school full time” You try to open the door again to no avail. “Mapi and Ona can’t have pups till they retire. We need you” Alexia’s voice has turned to a needy whine. “So you want me to be a baby maker”

“No, I want you to be our omega, and pups would be an added bonus. Just see if you like it one week. If you hate it, you can go back to school, and we will leave you alone,” Alexia promises. “ I can’t not go to school; I’ll lose my scholarship.” You are over this whole conversation, but she doesn’t seem to be letting it go. “ I will sponsor your school, please. Just try that's all im asking you.” Alexia looks like a kicked puppy and you can’t kick her again. “Fine one week”.

[di-loves-coffee]

I cannot stop thinking about this, sooo here’s something that’s in assumption that Danny’s still going to school… a bit more of a father-son aspect here

I’m using some language that’s a bit on the coarser side in this, trying to get into Waylon’s mindset. Also because this mentions racism and racial slurs that I was… not too happy to research. [Don’t worry, neither Waylon nor Danny are saying them, but they’re still mentioned]

•—•~•Called To The Office•~•—•

Damn this kid, making trouble in the second week of school?

They called Waylon to come pick him up for fuck’s sake! What did this twig do!?

Waylon had managed to squeeze himself into a nice pair of pants and shoes to help make a good impression despite his face. Gotham Prep was a ‘prestigious’ school after all. Don’t need his record ruining his kid’s.

Squeezing through the doorframe and awkwardly explaining to the secretary (who looked scared enough to piss herself) that he was there for his son Danny.

Thankfully, she managed to shakily point down a hall— assumedly where the dean’s office was… they called the pretentious pricks ‘Deans’ here, yeah? Rich people probably did stupid shit like that.

Waylon padded down the hall, trying to be mindful of his larger size.

This place felt stuffy and small, like pretentiousness and entitlement… smelt like it too.

He made it to a too-fancy door— probably hard-wood if you asked someone— with a plaque adorning it at what would be an average adult’s eyesight.

It read the words Dean Wilcox in bold lettering, colored bronze as if it was meant to make it feel more important.

Waylon took a moment to steel himself before lifting his clawed hand— clutched in a loose fist— and rapped on the door twice.

“Come in Mr. Fenton,” A masculine voice called from within, sounding older— late forties at just a guess.

Waylon froze for a moment as he fully processed the words. Fenton?

Did they think he was Biologically Danny’s father?

Oh boy, this’ll be a meeting.

Waylon opened the door with a careful grip and squeezed inside, speaking before anyone else could process the shock of him being there.

“I’m- ah—here for Danny? I’m caring for the boy”

“O-oh, well Killer Cro-” “Jones.”

Everyone in the room glanced at the skinny boy— holy shit was Danny bruised?— in confusion after he piped up. Gazes silently questioning the boy’s words.

“He’s Mr. Jones” Danny— the little shit— just doubled down on his previous statement. Not leaving a single millimeter of room for argument.

“W- well, Mr. Jones,” The man— sat behind a large desk— sounded nervous. Which… was probably a good thing depending on the situation, even if Waylon didn’t want to have to play the ‘bad guy’ role, “Daniel… got into an altercation with another student.”

At that news, Waylon glanced down at Danny. Silently asking the boy what happened.

“He was being a dick to my classmate Damian, said some really racist shit.” The little squirt— like always— told it like it was and left no room for argument.

“W- while it may seem that way from the boy’s perspective,” Waylon’s gaze moved back to the Dean, causing him to swallow and look like he just ate too many hot peppers, “young mister Markham didn’t say anything of the sort”

“He called Damian a ‘Dune Coon’.” Danny’s words were said with a flatness that revealed an underlying rage that Waylon himself was beginning to feel himself. “And said he was ‘Unpure’ and a ‘Half-Breed’”

Waylon found his gaze hardening with the newfound information, a harsh fire building under his skin.

“That’s not the matter at hand.” The Dean foolishly tried to salvage the situation. “Your- your ward punched Mister Markham”

“From what I understand here.” Waylon started, eyes carefully watching the Dean as he shifted like a scared hare under his sharp amber gaze, “The Markham boy chose his actions and was made to suffer the real-world consequences of them.”

That had the older man blubbering, trying to save his version of the story.

“It seems to me that your school tolerates racism and discrimination among your student body.” Waylon fixed the man with a dangerous glare, “Now, you can punish Danny however you like, but I won’t be punishing this behavior. And I warn you, if this happens again, I will not be so flippant.”

With that, Waylon deemed it a good time to leave, fixing Danny with a short ‘C’mon squirt’ and squeezing out of the door. The small teen cheerfully following behind him.

So, Waylon adopts Danny.

•—•~•—•Crocodile Dad•—•~•—•

Waylon wasn’t quite sure how he acquired a kid.

In fact, Waylon doesn’t even think he had actually chose himself to keep him. Instead he thinks that this kid chose him.

Right now, the small and skinny black-haired boy who’d inserted himself into his life was sat at the table his weapon’s engineer used to work. Tinkering at the bits and pieces scattered over the messy surface while Waylon himself hovered nearby.

“Are you sure that’s safe for you to be messing with kiddo?” The large, scaled man called to the boy, a hint of concern peeking through the southern twang in his accent. Elongating is ‘O’s and ‘E’s and ‘A’s.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I used to work on my parents experiments in their lab all the time,” The boy called back, and— unironically— it didn’t soothe his anxiety.

“That don’t make me feel any better squirt.”

“Well? Too bad.” This twig was going to be the cause of all Waylon’s fictitious gray hairs, he was calling it now.

Instead of lecturing the kid on safety, Waylon simply ruffled his hair with his large, clawed hands and left him to his devices.

[scorpioriesling]

heyyyy gurlllll....how about the reader walks in to xaden and violet doing *it* and well you know she joins in🤪(if you don't want it ...it's totally alright)

No Time For Games

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Xaden x Violet x reader

Warnings: 18+, mdni, nsfw, mentions of myrthroot (weed) & alcohol, unprotected sex

Summary: Who knew a dare at a party would lead to such a wild ride?

SR’s Note: I continue to be challenged each day by you all... LOL but you KNOW I'll try my best to deliver! My first fic involving another girl in the mix... first time for everything, right? (OKAY — POST FINISHING THIS, NOTE: holy shit i didn’t think i could write anything filthier. this may be the nyastiest one yet, damn.)

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend @mellowmusings @lreadsstuff (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Where did Xaden and Violet run off to?" Garrick's lilting voice sounded in the small living room space, the effects of the myrthroot clearly taking effect. Rhiannon giggled as she took another drag.

"They left like, 10 minutes ago? I think they went back to his room," she said, rolling her eyes and laughing harder. The party raged on around you, but a few of you had decided to kick things up a notch.

"Ewwwww," Ridoc groaned, taking the roll from between Rhiannon's fingers and indulging in an inhale of it himself. Garrick sat straighter, making room for Sawyer as he joined the small circle.

"Anyways," Garrick interrupted, glancing to Bodhi at once. "I think it was your turn."

He nodded quietly, tipping back his solo cup and making a face as he swallowed.

"Right," he coughed, his eyes scanning the circle once more. "I'll go with... Y/N; truth or dare?"

You rolled your eyes. "You know me -- dare."

Garrick and Ridoc both ooohed at your choice.

"You realize this is the alternative version," Ridoc reminded. "You don't do the dare, you must take the alternate instead."

You laughed. "I do, and I'm not scared."

Bodhi shrugged, huffing a drunken laugh.

"Okay -- run 3 laps around the courtyard in just your underwear, then."

Your jaw fell open and Garrick howled a laugh. Staring at Bodhi as though he had three heads did nothing, as he kept his devilish smirk trained on you.

"No! Hell no," you shook your head. "I'm already in trouble with Duvera, you really think I wanna risk getting caught butt naked at midnight in the courtyard?"

Bodhi chuckled, and Garrick clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think this means she wants the alternative, Bodhi," Garrick wiggles his eyebrows, and the Riorson cousin gave him a knowing look.

"Alright then -- you're taking the alternative, then?" He looks pointedly at you. All eyes in the circle are trained lazily on you, waiting to hear your response.

You shrug. "I guess, damn -- don't make it anything that can get me into more trouble."

Bodhi smirked, leaning into Garrick's side to whisper. Garrick's eyes went wide before he grinned.

"Sharing is caring -- c'mon, we wanna know!" Rhiannon complained. Garrick said something quietly back to Bodhi, shrugging his shoulders like the punishment may not be so bad.

Bodhi looked to you once more, his eyes darkening.

"You gotta go into Xaden's room, and join them in whatever they may be doing."

You paled. Like, severely, leaching of all the blood in your face, pale.

"Gross, dude! That's your cousin," Rhiannon chastized. Bodhi only shrugged, ignoring the gasps of the other group members.

"He told me last week him and Violet were looking for a third," he said nonchalantly. "Besides, you chose the alternative, and this is it."

You fumbled for words, the myrthroot not doing enough to completely clear your head. Whispers and giggles around your group didn't help your case either.

"Get on up," Garrick encouraged. "We'll see ya in 45... or, maybe 4-5," he smirked, and Bodhi laughed. You turned to Rhiannon, who only offered you a pitying look.

"Maybe they're... not, doing what we think they're doing?" She says, trying to lighten the mood. "Perhaps they're doing a puzzle."

Sawyer snorts. "Yeah, I doubt they're doing a puzzle, Rhi."

She shoots him an irritated look as Ridoc passes you the blunt, pursing his lips as you take it.

"Take a few," he says, sighing and scratching his head. "You're gonna need it."

It was the last thing you remember before stumbling down the long hallway, not sure if you'd see your friends in 45 minutes or... well, like Garrick suggested, 4-5 hours.

:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You stood at the doorway, slowly reaching for the doorknob. Glancing down the hallway, you could make out the shapes of your friends heads, watching you to make sure you really did it -- you were a rider, not a chicken. No matter how many nerves clawed at your insides, you knew you weren't going to back down.

Instead of turning the doorknob, you leaned in and pressed your ear to the crack, straining to hear. Most of you prayed you'd only hear them talking, or perhaps putting together a puzzle?

You giggled at the silly thought.

Straining, you tried to make out what was happening behind the wood slab. Your cheeks heated when you heard it clearly, loud and clear over the bumpin' music.

"Oh fuck... yes Xaden, yes-"

You reared your head back, nearly stumbling into the other side of the hallway before you caught yourself. Your heart raced, knowing you were intruding on their private moment. Nonetheless, you inched forward and reached for the doorknob once more.

It turned before you even laid a hand on it.

The door creaked open, revealing a pair of furious brown eyes and an expanse of tanned skin, half-hidden behind the wood.

You gulped, keeping eye contact with your wingleader.

"Xaden, I-"

"Get. The fuck. In here." He growled, and your cheeks flushed involuntarily.

"It was Bodhi, he dared me to-"

"Now." He left no room for question, opening the door a few inches wider to allow you to slip inside. At first, all you saw were the dimmed faelights and red candles illuminating the space; that was, until your foggy mind cleared enough to process the scene before you.

Violet laid on the bed, her feet planted on the edge of the mattress as her bent knees aimed skyward. Her vagina was bared, and she laid with her hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit in rough circles.

This felt wrong.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You did a bad thing, Y/N," Xaden rasped, following behind you to the bed. Your mouth dried as he stepped around you, baring himself completely to you. Long, tanned limbs led away from his perfectly sculpted torso, not to mention...

Your eyes widened at the sight of his massive, long cock.

Violet finally lifted her head, her minstrations only slowing slightly as she gazed at you with glossy eyes. Her feline grin had you blushing again, and you could only look between the two as Xaden sat down next to her.

"Bad behavior means punishment," he continued, his large hand wrapping around his cock before slowly stroking it. "Strip."

You only faltered for a moment, weighing your options. However, you were already in the situation now -- best not to also disobey your wingleader after interrupting him, right?

Kicking off your shoes, you shrugged off your jacket next. Shimmying out of your leather pants took more effort, and when you stood again your head swam with the effects of the myrthroot. Xaden and Violet continues rubbing themselves at the sight of you stripping before them, and for a moment you were seeing double before your vision cleared again.

"Go on, you heard him," Violet encouraged, her tone dripping with sweetness. "Take it all off."

You sucked in a breath as your fingers curled beneath the hem of your black tank, tugging it up ever so slowly and off of your head to discard on the floor.

"Mmm, a tease," Xaden mutters, his gaze only drifting to Violet for an instant. "She'll be fun for us to play with."

Violet's giggle made you shiver as you unclasped your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. The last and final item were your panties, and Xaden groaned when they finally hit the floor.

"Good girl," he said, his voice coming out breathless. "Now, get over here and be a good little playmate for my girlfriend."

Your feet moved without you thinking. You strode over to Violet, and as you got closer, you couldn't help but clench at the sight of her. She gazed up at you with her big, green eyes, her fingers still toying with her pussy as she took you in. You gulped, and she laughed once more.

"Let me taste you," she said quietly, her free hand reaching for yours to pull you closer. You hopped onto the matress, slowly crawling toward her head when a sharp slap sounded behind you.

You yelped, and Xaden chuckled low.

"Heyyyy," Violet whined, scooting to lay beneath you. "Be patient -- you'll have your fun soon."

Xaden's bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he watched you sink lower and lower on your knees, and as his girlfriend halted her toying in favor of grabbing your ass with both hands. She pulled your aching core straight onto her lips in one go, her tongue immediately licking through your folds.

"O-Oh my God," you said breathily. She giggled beneath you, the sound vibrating against your throbbing clit as she continued licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. You leaned forward, changing the angle a bit so she could continue to eat you deeper.

"Well go on," Xaden pried. "You can return the favor."

Your gaze fell to her parted knees before you realized what he meant. You wouldn't dare challenge him now -- Gods knew what type of "punishment" they had in store for you.

Bending further, you hovered your lips just above her clit. You took one breath before going in, allowing your tongue to graze over all of her sensitivity and then some.

She moaned beneath you, her mouth finding your clit and lightly sucking. You didn't hold back your own whimper; instead, you explored her sweet sex with your entire mouth.

"Fuck," Xaden muttered, his hand moving faster along his cock. "So fucking hot."

The corners of your mouth tilted up as you watched him, pumping his leaking cock at the sight of you eating out his girlfriend. It encouraged you to keep going, to continue playing with and sucking on her needy core while she writhed below you.

"Mmh... mmh!" She squealed, her lips sucking on your clit hard. You gasped at the feeling, the orgasm welling within you quicker than usual. You'd blame the myrthroot, but the way her mouth felt on you...

Her legs quaked as her quivering hole clenched, releasing a moment later only to clench again. A small bead of clear cum dripped from her, and you made sure to not leave her unsatisfied.

She pulled her mouth from you before you allowed the tidal wave to wash over you, reeling in how your tongue lapped up her release.

"Oh fuck..." Xaden stopped his minstrations, instead leaning forward to pull you onto his lap. Your breath hitched at the sudden change, and the realization that you were quite literally straddling your wingleader.

"Mhm, you wanna cum?" He asked teasingly. You nodded wordlessly, and yelped when your hair was yanked back. His teeth grazed your neck as he growled in your ear.

"Use your words, first year."

"Yes! Yes please," you begged, tears pricking your eyes from the light pain and lack of release. He chuckled, and the bed dipped behind you as Violet inched closer.

"Good -- now, sit on my cock," he demanded, his hands gruffly lifting you as he prodded his tip against your hole. Your mouth fell open as he shoved himself inside; at halfway, you spoke up again.

"You're so fucking big, I don't know if I-"

"You'll take all of it," he growled, pressing your lips lower on his length. "You are a rider, aren't you?"

The tease in his voice had your nipples hardening, especially when he licked his lips at the sight. In a rush of adrenaline, you sank completely down, your ass pressing against his thighs as his huge dick sttretched you out.

"Good girl," Violet rasped in your ear. She sat behind you, her hands snaking around your waist and up your ribcage. "Start bouncing."

You did just that.

Lifting yourself up all the way, his cock didn't clear your entrance before sliding all the way down again. The closest you got was the base of his tip, and even then he continued expanding your walls to accomodate his size.

He chewed on his bottom hip, his hands helping to guide your hips as you set a rhythm on his lap. Violet's hands had reached your breasts, her fingers gripping and squeezing your hardened nipples while she whispered sinful nothings in your ear.

"That's it, so pretty taking his big cock."

Her words, his gaze, the way you bounced upon him -- your orgasm was a competitor, racing for the finish line.

"Oh... oh fuck, I..." you groaned, and Violet's hand splayed across your jaw. She tilted your head to the side, leaning in for a wet, sloppy kiss. Her mouth tasted like sweet tea on a hot summer day, all sugary and delightful. What tasted better was her tongue, unashamedly dipping between your lips and exploring your own.

"Shit... ohhhhh shit-"

Xaden thrusted his hips once, his dick reaching the furthest it could go before shooting his cum inside of you. He panted, his eyes squeezed shut as he filled you up. His cock twitched inside of you, but his fingers never left your hips.

Violet pulled her mouth off of you, opting to hop off the bed in search of something. Your eyes focused on the handsome male before you, the way he'd just absolutely fucked your brains out -- and didn't let you finish.

His half-lidded grin confirmed his mental state, and your sure your red-rimmed eyes confirmed yours.

"Wondering why I didn't let you cum?" He taunted, and you furrowed a brow at him. The rustling behind you stopped, and when you turned around...

Holy shit.

Violet pushed the hot pink toy deep inside her pussy, a hazy smile taking over her mouth when she handed Xaden the matching remote. In addition, you watched as she shimmied on the harness, hooking it around her hips before licking a fat stripe across her palm. She fisted the dildo attached to it, raising a cocky eyebrow at you.

"I would make you take this down your throat first to get it wet, but it seems you're already soaked." She grinned, tugging at you to reposition onto all fours. "And... well, we have Xaden for that."

Your breaths came quicker as she kneeled behind you, one foot up for support as she tapped the fake-dick against your buttcheek. Xaden slid off the bed, making to stand near the edge of the matress in front of you, instead. He fisted his already hardening cock, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"You gonna take my cock all the way down that pretty throat?" He said, pressing the tip against your lips. You nodded slowly, opening your mouth and allowing your dripping tongue to lay out flat for him.

"Good girl," he praised, rubbing the end of it against your tongue. "If you keep it up, maybe we'll let you cum."

You didn't have time to get another word in before he pushed his dick into your mouth, only a few inches at first while you lathered him up. He sucked in a long breath, every thrust inching his length deeper and deeper down your throat.

A gag came out when he pushed in fully, your nose flush with his pelvis. He chuckled, and gave Violet a look before pressing the on button on the remote.

Withdrawing to the tip, you sucked in a gulp of air before he slid back in again. Behind you, Violet gripped your hips as she too pushed in, the dildo not as large as Xaden, but damn it was anyone?

Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth while you continued to suck Xaden off, one of his hands increasing the speed of Violet’s vibrator while the other fisted your hair and craned your neck upward. The way she moved her hips behind you, pushing the entire dildo in each time felt delicious in conjunction with the way Xaden filled your throat.

“Oh… oh fuck, Xaden,” She whimpered behind you. He increased the speed on the mini machine, and her thrusts moved in tandem. She rammed into you harder, and you began to see stars with the way she fucked into you.

“Gods… damn, I’m close again,” Xaden growled, clicking the highest speed on the remote and tossing it aside. Violet cried out behind you, her hand coming down hard and spanking your ass as she continued fucking the strap on into your quaking pussy. Tears lined your eyes as Xaden drove his cock into your mouth, one hand in your hair and one wrapping around your throat to feel himself stretching you.

“Yeah, you’re a good little toy,” he panted, and your pussy clenched at his words. “You wanna cum, huh? You wanna fucking cum?”

The response was drowned out by his dick shoving in and out of you, but Violet continued to whimper behind you.

“Yes, please please,” she begged, her thrusts becoming ragged. “Please let us cum.”

Xaden pushed in one last time with a groan.

“Gods, YES — cum for me.”

With that, you allowed the most forceful orgasm of your life to run through you. Your thighs shook as you released, the clear slick squelching and dripping around the dildo.

“FUCK-“

Violet came with a shout, yanking the plastic from you instantaneously as she collapsed on the bed. She yanked the toy from her pussy, her own release dripping from her with the effort. Xaden was quick to snatch up the remote and turn it off, using his free hand to jerk his messy cock between your lips.

And boy… was it messy.

Cum slid over your bottom lip and trickled down your chin, but you looked up at your wingleader with big rounded eyes nonetheless. He smirked down at you, surely the picture of hot mess at this point. Violet finally collected herself, scooting near the headboard and sliding her quivering legs beneath the blankets.

“You’re more than welcome to stay, if you’d like,” Xaden offered politely. Your cheeks warmed at the offer, but you made to stand nonetheless. In minutes you’d tugged your clothes on again once more, running your fingers through your hair and attempting to wipe off your smeared makeup.

“I appreciate it, but…” you glanced toward the door. “Honestly, I’d really like to stick it to whoever is still sitting out there.”

Xaden shrugged, casually climbing beneath the blankets next to his girlfriend. Violet chuckled, snatching her panties off the end of the bed and tossing them to you.

“You may want these,” she gave you a wink. “You know, proof?”

You laughed, striding for the door, lacy underthings in hand.

When you’d made it to the end of the hallway, however, you were met with varying expressions of shock, disbelief, and wide-eyed gazes.

“So,” you said hoarsely, twirling the undies around your pointer finger. “I believe it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

ﾟ:* ✧

[writinginatree]

All the Blood that You Still Owe

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader

Summary: An unpleasant surprise awaits on Hedotis, and you react with far less composure than your brother.

Warnings: Spoilers for Onyx Storm (set during chapters 33/34), canon divergence, mommy issues, implied daddy issues, anger issues, self-worth issues, we got all the issues baby!, unresolved childhood trauma, meltdowns, self-harm tendencies if you squint, graphic description of blood and violence, violence against children, murder, dissociation, self-hatred, vaguely suicidal thoughts

Title from MCR's song "I Don't Love You", go listen for some extra angst!

Landing on the rocky shore near the capital of Hedotis, you immediately dislike the place. You can't pinpoint why — on the surface, it seems like a beautiful, peaceful place. Nonetheless there's something about it that makes you uneasy in a way none of the other isles did. It's not just the lack of magic, either; uncomfortable as that is, you're starting to get used to it.

Observing the city — Vidirys, Violet had said it's called — it seems wrong somehow, with all those identical houses. It feels like looking at the background of a painting someone didn't want to put much effort into, just copying the same view over and over to create the illusion of a real place. Creepy, somehow, despite the superficial serenity.

The rest of the squad are all gathered a little farther up the beach, but you hang back, reluctant to part from your dragon.

The contrast of Dioghal's blood-red scales against the pale landscape only amplifies the lack of color around her, and you can't help but think what easy targets you make like this. Not that it should matter — according to Vi's handy guidebook, the people of Hedotis are supposedly peaceful. That doesn't make them trustworthy in your eyes, though. You're naturally suspicious of people who remain neutral in any and all conflicts happening around them, and you'd be willing to bet they do have weapons, possibly aimed at you this very moment from some hidden spot.

With these things in mind, you tense when you notice the group of locals stepping onto the wooden walkway that connects this piece of beach with what looks to be a market just outside the city.

Though you can't see any weapons on them, and they're all dressed in light tunics and gowns entirely unfit for combat, you double-check that all of your own weapons are where they belong before you give Dioghal's leg another pat and hurry after your squad, who are already going toward the locals.

Xaden raises a brow at you when you fall into step beside him, a wordless scolding for falling behind. Guess he doesn't quite trust the purported peace, either.

You're glad you aren't the only one who finds the place a little unsettling, because it really shouldn't be. But try as you might, you cannot shake the unease. Even the welcoming committee — if that's what it is — doesn't sit right with you. They should be wary of armed strangers on dragons showing up on their shore, but the way they're strolling toward you looks perfectly relaxed and casual. Almost like your visit doesn't surprise them.

No, you definitely do not like this. But these people could have the answers you're looking for, so if this is a trap, you're just going to have to deal with it. To calm your nerves, you remind yourself that Dioghal will be watching over you from afar. She won't let anything happen to you.

As you draw near, you notice a tall woman in the group of Hedotians — or is it Hedotics? — You should ask Violet later, she'll know what they're called — who seems strangely familiar.

Your discomfort intensifies, but you force yourself to keep walking, staring at the pale wooden boards beneath your feet as your group reaches theirs and greetings are exchanged. When the man from the triumvirate — he introduced himself, but you were only half listening — beckons his wife forward you glance up, and your heart stops, only to double it's speed.

It's the familiar-looking woman, and up close, you know why she's so familiar.

"Xaden," she says. Then her gaze jumps to you, frozen in place half a step behind your brother and a little to the side.

You barely hear her saying your name over the rushing in your ears, only vaguely register Xaden acknowledging her as he pulls Violet closer to his side. On the inside you're seven again, abandoned, confused, and fucking furious.

But unlike back then, you're armed now.

The metallic sound of your sword coming out of its sheath draws everyone's attention, and Garrick grabs you around the waist before you can take more than a single step toward your so-called mother.

"Let me go," you demand in a low growl barely loud enough for those nearest to hear. You can't seem to get enough air to speak any louder.

Instead of letting you go, Garrick forces your sword-arm down and pins it to your side. Despite the endless hours of training you've put in, you're no match for his strength — you might as well still be that seven-year-old you were when your mother left, so effortlessly does he restrain you.

"Calm down," he has the audacity to whisper into your ear. "We have a mission, remember? Don't fuck this up because of her."

He's right, you know that. It's just hard to care when so suddenly being faced with the woman you've missed and hated for the last thirteen — no, almost fourteen — years. Years you've spent imagining seeing her again — at first, it had been a happy, tearful reunion you'd pictured, back when you couldn't fully believe she had left for good. You'd thought you would apologize for whatever you had done to drive her away and all would be well. Then, as you'd grown older and understood she really had abandoned you, you imagined her looking at you full of regret and apologies, begging for forgiveness you would deny her. Later still, after your father had died and you were left alone under the care of some Navarrian loyalist, soaking up the world's cruelty like a fine handkerchief dropped into a pool of blood, you started dreaming of revenge. Your mother, Navarrian leadership, everyone. In your dreams you made them all pay for the hurt they'd inflicted on you and your brother, knowing you'd never be able to do so in reality.

But now you're here, and so is Talia. It would be so easy. So gratifying to make her see what pain she caused you and give it back to her tenfold.

Garrick's words echo in your ears as you notice the rest of the squad watching you with varying degrees of confusion and disapproval. Don't fuck this up. No, you can't afford to ruin this mission the way you do everything else. You've got to keep your shit together. For Xaden's sake, if not for that of everyone else on the Continent.

With that thought, you force your muscles to relax, and let Garrick guide your sword back into its sheath. His hold on you eases, but he hovers right behind you, ready to grab you again should you make it necessary.

You won't. Won't disappoint your brother and friends, won't ruin the mission, won't make things more difficult for them. You just have to hold in this burning rage. You can do that, have been doing it all your life. Calm. You have to be calm. If Xaden manages not to throw a fit at the sight of your mother, surely you'll manage not to do so either. Be calm.

Forcing yourself to take slow, measured breaths (nice and calm, nice and calm, nice and calm) you look anywhere except at Talia.

Someone starts making excuses for you, claiming that in your exhausted state you had merely gotten startled by Talia's suddenly stepping forward and overreacted. You meant no harm, they say. You're perfectly safe to be around, they say. It won't happen again, they say. Lies, all of it.

But no. It mustn't happen again. You can't ruin the mission. Keep it together. You have to keep it together somehow.

The man from the triumvirate — your mother's new husband — who observed your outburst with cold disapproval looks like he doesn't believe a word, but doesn't withdraw his invitation, either.

You really, really don't want to go to his house, though.

"Garrick," you mumble, since he's still standing closest to you, "I want to leave."

This is how it always went when you got overwhelmed while stuck at some stupid event as kids; you'd tug on the sleeve of whichever of the boys was closest to you and he'd sneak you out while the other two distracted the adults that wanted to keep you there before eventually joining you. But this is not a boring ball or dinner party, and you are no longer a child. You are here on a mission, and there's too much at stake to just blow it off, you know that even as you ask to leave.

"We can't, not before we find out if they have some answers for us," Garrick whispers back. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, trying to soothe you. "I know it's hard, but just remember that we're doing this for Xaden."

He's right. Gods, you know he's right, but every second in your mother's presence feeds the hatred burning inside you. Soon it will consume you whole. You don't know how you're supposed to keep it in much longer, if you can keep it in.

But you have to try. For Xaden. For your brother's sake, you might manage. If he can look at Talia without bursting into tears or punching something, then so can you. But of course Xaden has always had much better self control than you, a different kind of anger. Where your own anger burns like a raging fire, demanding to be let out, Xaden's turns his veins to ice, freezing his voice and eyes, a mask of deadly quiet.

You're not even sure if he is angry at your mother, or just disappointed, sad, whatever. Your rage is more than enough for both of you, anyway.

Talia's husband clears his throat. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Aaric says, stepping forward to take control of the situation, since neither Xaden nor Violet make any move to reply. The sideways glance he gives you in doing so says to get your godsdamned shit together. "Thank you for the invitation."

"You don't have to come," Xaden mutters to you, hanging back while the group slowly starts toward the city. You can tell he's upset too, but unlike you, he keeps it all on the inside. If only you were capable of the same. "Stay with the dragons if you want."

As much as you want to do so, it feels wrong, like you're failing both Xaden and the whole squad. What's the point of being part of this quest if all you do is lag behind?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You can always still join us later, if you feel up to it."

Us. That means Xaden intends to go with them. Of course. He's more important to the mission, and if both of you stayed behind, the man from the triumvirate might take offense. You should care about that. He's important here, and that means his opinion could decide whether or not these people will help you. But all you can think about is that all this time, your mother has been here, with that man. Had she left specifically to be with him, or did they meet later? Does it even make a difference? No, you decide. You hate both of them either way. And no matter how much you tell yourself you should, you just can't go with them to their house, where you'd probably have to sit in a stiff reception room and make pleasant conversation while the anger continues to eat you alive. You can't.

"Go. It's fine," Xaden encourages again. Nothing is fine. Not to you, and certainly not to him, either, but he's good at pretending things are fine when they're not. "You can do a sweep of the area if Dioghal isn't too tired, see if you spot the irids."

"I doubt they're here."

They aren't; you feel that in your bones. Hedotis is not a place dragons would like. Or are you just biased because you don't like the place?

"Yeah, me too. But we have to make sure, and it'll give you something else to focus on."

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

Xaden nods and follows the others, catching up with Violet, who walkes at the back, waiting for him, in a few long strides.

For a moment you look after them, feeling like a failure. They're almost out of earshot already, so you could break down now, scream and cry like the turmoil inside you demands.

You don't. Instead you turn, walking back down the beach to where Dioghal waits.

You wish your brother could have remained behind with you. Or better yet, that you could all leave this whole fucking place already. Selfish reasons aside, you also don't like the thought of leaving Xaden to deal with your mother alone. Her absence was just as hard for him as for you. Harder, maybe. But he won't really be alone, he has Violet and Garrick to take care of him, so you suppose it's alright. It makes no matter, anyway. Wishes won't get you anywhere; that's a lesson you learned the hard way. Xaden will bury his feelings and fulfill his duty the way he always does, while you will fight the urge to cry and scream for as long as you can and eventually break down, the way you always do.

Dioghal lowers her head when you reach her, chuffing in a way that sounds vaguely worried.

You curse the lack of magic in this place, desperately missing the mental connection to your dragon. She watched the interaction, but you don't know if she was close enough to hear, to understand what exactly made you so upset.

"That— That woman," you explain out loud, almost choking on the words, "that was my mother."

Dioghal croons, a blast of steam parting your hair. Her head swivels around to look after the group with narrowed eyes, like she's contemplating to follow them and show Talia exactly what happens to people who upset Dioghal's rider — death, usually.

"Can we just fly, please? Xay asked that we look around for the irids while the others talk to the triumvirate."

Dioghal lets out a low growl, and for a moment, you think she'll ignore you and go after your mother. Unlike you, she doesn't have anyone to grab her and talk some sense into her. You almost want her to do it. That way, you'd get the revenge you've dreamed of for so long without being directly responsible for ruining the mission. But then Dioghal straightens, averting her piercing gaze, and you know she's decided to let Talia live for now.

That should be a good thing, but it doesn't feel like one.

As you scale Dioghal's leg and get seated, you picture her claws sinking into your mother's flesh, her strong jaws closing around her, the resulting spray of blood as red as her scales. There's so many ways she could go about killing her. Biting her head clean off or slowly ripping her limb from limb, snapping her in half or clawing her guts out. Burning her, like the traitor she is. She could stab her with the poisonous bulb of her tail, make it slow and painful.

Gods, what the fuck is wrong with you? It can't be normal to wish these things upon your own mother, no matter what she did to deserve it. She may have abandoned you, but the fact remains that she's your mother. You're pretty sure that's supposed to mean something to you, even now, so why doesn't it?

If Dioghal could talk to you here, she would tell you it doesn't matter, that this hatred doesn't mean you're broken somehow. She understands your overwhelming anger better than anyone else ever has. You're one and the same in that way, quick to lash out for the smallest reasons, unable to let go of the big reasons, no matter how much time passes. Sometimes you wonder if that's why she chose you, because you're as unforgiving as she is, with a temper to match her own. And other times, you wonder if this similarity might be a bad thing, if maybe you would have been better off with a more reasonable dragon — say, a green, like your cousin's — that would teach you control over your emotions, instead of encouraging you to act on your rage like Dioghal tends to do. She forgets that you're human, that unlike dragons, you're supposed to have morals, a conscience.

If Dioghal ever caught those thoughts, she would probably eat you alive for doubting her.

She leaps into the air, and you wish you could leave the feelings plaguing you behind just like the ground, quickly shrinking with distance, but it's never that simple.

You can blame the stinging in your eyes on the wind, having foregone your goggles in your hurry to get off the beach, but there's no denying the sob that works it's way up your throat. Another follows, and another, and now your cheeks are stained wet, and with your eyes closed, you can pretend you've flown into a cloud and that's where the wetness comes from, but you know that if you open them, you won't be in the clouds. It would make no sense to fly that high, not when you're supposed to survey the isle for signs of the irids.

Bending at the waist, you press your face against Dioghal's warm scales and try to pretend your distress away. When that doesn't work, you allow yourself another sob, two. You have to stop. Dioghal may understand your anger, but she doesn't have much patience for tears. You squeeze your eyes shut, gnawing at your lip until blood floods your mouth. It's a reassuring taste. The pain in your lip isn't enough to distract you from your emotional hurt, but it gives you the strength to push past it and straighten in the seat.

Far below you, Hedotis's capital sprawles into the distance in it's orderly rows of identical pale houses. You can't deny there's a sort of beauty to it, but the city does not look alive the way Aretia or even Basgiath's small village of Chantara do. This kind of orderliness isn't natural.

It's hard to wrap your head around the fact that this is where your mother must have come from, that your ancestors lived here — maybe not in this very city, but in one like it somewhere on this isle. These are your roots. Talia's home, that she abandoned you to return to.

You hate it.

For hours, you fly along the coast, steering clear of any human dwellings and searching for signs of dragons in the less populated spots. As expected, you find nothing.

Despite how hungry Dioghal must be, she shows no intention to land and find something to eat. You know it's your obvious distress that keeps her in the air; she's protective of you to a fault, like— You flinch at the thought. Like a doting mother. Your eyes burn. Your mother abandoned you, but at least you now have a dragon to play the role she didn't want. Not that you'd ever say that to Dioghal's face. She has a habit of waving that poison-dripping scorpiontail of hers in your face when you call her out on her overprotective behavior, and she would take even more offense to being called a mother hen, no matter how true it is.

Guilt nags at you for keeping her from her well-deserved meal. She has to be tired, too. The flight to Hedotis had taken all night, and thanks to your meltdown, Dioghal has been circling overhead for another four hours or so while the others rested and fed themselves. Without magic to give them strength, the dragons tire faster than they're used to.

"Maybe we should land," you yell over the wind. It's not just lonely being unable to talk through your mental link, but also terribly inconvenient. "I've calmed down now. Honest."

Her head swings around, golden eyes scrutinizing you in that way that makes you feel like she can see through you, straight to your soul. Apparently Dioghal is satisfied with what she sees, because she makes a turn for the northeastern shore, where you can make out Tairn and Sgaeyl's looming forms once you get closer, and slowly descends to land on a colorless beach near a colorless house.

Talia's colorless house, you realize, spotting Xaden and Violet on it's veranda. The distance is too big for you to hear them, but from the look of it, your brother is arguing with Sgaeyl. Amazing how he manages that even without being able to talk to her.

She roars something in his face, maybe Don't tell me what to do or Behave until I'm back, and turns, making a slightly friendlier sounding noise at Dioghal before flying off, Tairn and Andarna close behind her. Dioghal nudges you toward the house and turns to follow the small riot. You assume the sound must have been an invitation to eat together. Dragon relations are a mystery to you, but as far as you can tell, Dioghal is something like Sgaeyl's cool aunt.

Not wanting to go into or even near the house, you're contemplating whether you should just make yourself comfortable in the sand or maybe go for a swim, when you notice two dark-haired boys watching you. They hadn't been there when you'd scanned the area from the air, which means they must have come from inside the house, probably attracted by Sgaeyl's roar. That in turn raises the question of whose children these are. You don't want to think about it, but... It's your mother's house. Of course it's possible someone else lives there with her and her husband, maybe a widowed sister or something. Or maybe the kids belong to someone who works for them; you just have to look at the place to know they have a whole army of staff. And yet the most painful conclusion also is the most obvious, the most likely — if Talia has a new life with a new husband, why shouldn't she have new children, too?

The thought makes you feel like crying again, so you turn to stare out over the water and do your best to ignore the boys. You don't want to know who they are.

And yet, when you hear voices a moment later, you turn to look again. You blame it on the self-preservation instincts Basgiath has instilled in you, edging on paranoia. Even before that, you never liked having something happening behind your back, but now it positively makes your skin crawl to be facing away from potential danger. What you see doesn't seem very dangerous, though. The boys are still there, and a woman fusses over the pair of them — some kind of maid, judging from the look of her.

Maybe that is their mother. Or maybe it's her job to look after them. What do you care?

But you do. You trail them with your eyes as they start back toward the house. Just as you're about to lose interest and turn away, Talia rushes from the house, straight toward the boys.

Your throat constricts. No. You don't want them to be hers.

But as you watch on, it's obvious they are. You don't understand what they're saying, since it's all in Hedotic and you're almost out of earshot, anyway, but you don't have to. It's all over Talia's face, in her tone, in every gesture and touch she makes. So loving, so tender.

Your heart aches as you watch her run her hands over their hair like she'd done yours when you were little. When she'd still loved you. Or pretended like she did, anyway. You're not sure which it was, and it doesn't really make a difference. Those times are long gone.

Your shaking hands curl into fists as the hatred inside you grows, demanding an outlet.

Not enough that she abandoned you. No, she fucking replaced you. With these boys, who no doubt are nicer, better behaved, less prone to meltdowns. You'd always known you weren't good enough, too difficult to be considered worthy of her love.

Xaden spent years trying to convince you it hadn't been your fault she left. He and Dad loved you despite your faults, wasn't that proof enough that you weren't unlovable like you thought? Sometimes, you almost believed him. After all, your mother had abandoned not only you, but Xaden, too — flawless Xaden, who you'd always been aware was your parents' favorite, who always had to serve as your good example when you acted out. Not even he had been enough to make her stay, so you'd let him convince you that maybe the problem really wasn't you. Maybe there was something wrong with her. It was easy enough to pretend so; she was gone, and memories blurred with time.

But now here she is, playing the loving mother for these boys, so it must have been your fault after all.

You stalk closer, unsure what you'll do when you reach them. It won't be pretty, that's all you know. You feel like a predator advancing on its unsuspecting prey.

Just a handful of steps and you'll be right behind them, and they still haven't noticed you.

Mom. The word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't get it out. It feels too wrong. She will always be your mother, there's nothing you can do about that, but she stopped being your mom the moment she disappeared into the night without so much as a goodbye.

You still remember how you'd woken up that morning, happy and unsuspecting. You remember Xaden, who'd been awake earlier than you, sitting over his untouched breakfast — chocolate cake, left over from his birthday the day before. You knew something was wrong then, and that it had to be serious. There wasn't much that could kill Xaden's appetite, especially when it came to cake. You remember how you hesitated, slowly walking to the table and sitting down, not sure you wanted to know. Finally, you gathered your courage and asked what had happened.

"Mom is gone," Xaden had responded glumly, shoving his untouched plate of cake to you and rising from the table.

"Gone?" you'd asked, briefly wondering if he meant gone as in dead. Adults sometimes talked that way, but you didn't think Xaden would. "Gone where?"

"Away."

Xaden had stomped off to his room — to cry, presumably — and you dug into the cake he'd spurned, vaguely angry with Talia for making your big brother so sad, but still thinking that surely she would come back after a few days at most.

Her absence hadn't sunken in for you right away the way it did for Xaden. You missed her, sure, and you were upset, yes, but that was mostly because Xaden was upset.

Your mother had always been there, so it made no sense to you that she shouldn't be anymore. That she should have abandoned you seemed as absurd as the idea of water not being wet, or fire being cold. Children and their parents belonged together, that had always been a simple fact to you. Therefore, it wasn't until a few weeks had gone by that you were able to believe that she wasn't coming back.

Then you started to wonder why, and it didn't take long to come to the conclusion that it must have been your fault somehow. It always was. When she was unhappy, or tired, or had a headache, when something broke or there were chocolate smudges on the window; it was always because you had thrown a tantrum or refused to go to bed, because you had been too loud, too clumsy and careless. In your parents' eyes, you could never do anything right. Talia especially had always seen right through all your attempts of being good, of being like Xaden, straight to your rotten core. For as long as you remember, you always felt that something was fundamentally wrong with you, and your mother knew it, too. She never said so, tried not to show it, but she must have felt it, or she wouldn't have left.

And it's true, there has to be something wrong with you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be slinking toward the wholesome little group like a wolf amongst sheep, mind racing with bloody scenarios. You should be happy to see her, not want to throttle her.

You're close now, a step or two more and you'd be close enough to reach out and touch your mother's back, should you want to. You still have no idea what you want to say or do when she notices you, if you'll even be able to get any words out or if the rage will take over like it did this morning.

You hesitate. It might be better to turn away now, before it's too late.

That's when one of the boys notices you, tapping his mother's — your mother's — arm and saying something in Hedotic, wide eyes on you.

You can only imagine what you must look like to these people, who have only ever known peace. The raised scar running along your collar bone that Dioghal gave you at Threshing is on full display with your flight jacket unbuttoned, the array of weapons strapped to your body glinting in the sunlight. You wonder if the boys have ever seen a blade before, kitchen knives aside. You don't think so. Not with the way Talia and the maid were fussing over them, like they're precious little treasures that need to be wrapped in silk and kept safe. So unlike you and Xaden, discarded to be forged into deadly weapons in the fire of war.

Talia turns, gasping in surprise to see it's you standing there, you, who she'd certainly noticed separating from the group that morning.

A tentative smile touches her lips. She takes a step toward you, hand raised as if to cup your cheek, but falters at your hard expression. Still smiling, but less so. She's nervous, probably struggling to see the pathetic child you were in the soldier before her.

"How nice that you could join us after all. Xaden's girlfriend said you wouldn't, that you had to monitor the area. I'm so glad—"

"I didn't," you cut her rambling short. It's only half a lie. Xaden sent you patrolling mainly to distract you, so it wasn't like you'd had to do it. "I just didn't want to see you."

You thank Dunne that the words come out just as coldly as you intended them to, despite the tears wanting break free again.

Your mother flinches, and the smile falls.

Good. How dare she talk like that, after being gone for almost two thirds of your life? Is she really that ignorant of what pain she caused you, or does she simply believe she's entitled to your forgiveness? Whichever it is, she'll know better soon.

"You abandoned me," you say before she can recover from the shock of your words, which should not have shocked her at all — wouldn't have, if she'd ever cared enough to truly know you. You've always held onto your grudges, clung to them, really. "Abandoned us. Does that mean nothing to you?"

You assume the whelps don't understand the common language — it's only common to the Continent, after all. A shame, really. You want them to know their mommy isn't as perfect and loving as they probably think, to know she's already left a pair of her children behind without looking back once and there's nothing stopping her from doing the same to them.

"Of course it does," Talia exclaims, "but you have to understand—"

"I don't have to understand shit!"

Dragons don't listen to sheep, that's what Dioghal would say.

"I didn't want to leave you behind, but I couldn't take you with me," Talia continues to defend herself. "Xaden was the heir, and you..."

You're the spare, that's what she's too cowardly to say. She should have thought about that sooner. Of course she couldn't take either of you from Tyrrendor, that would have defeated the point of your very existence. She knew her children would have to grow up in Aretia when she married your father. Was she planning to abandon you even then, years before you were born?

"I couldn't bring you!" she repeats.

The tear that runs down her cheek only make you angrier. What right does she have to cry?! It's your and Xaden's lives she ruined, while she was here playing house with her oh so lovely new family. It makes you want to turn the whole place to rubble. To climb onto Dioghal and torch it all, force Talia to watch her neat little house burn the way you'd had to watch Aretia burn. To take away the happiness she'd found while you were suffering.

"You could have stayed!" You meet Talia's eyes for the first and last time and repeat yourself more quietly, "You could have stayed."

Then, faster than Talia could ever hope to comprehend, you grab the younger boy by the shoulder, ripping him away from her and setting a dagger at his throat in the span of a second.

"No! Gaius!" she shrieks, color draining from her face. "Don't hurt him!"

Her fear is both gratifying and infuriating. If someone had done the same to you, would she have cared as much? You almost laugh at the thought. No, if it had been you in that boy's stead, she wouldn't have given a damn.

Talia pushes the other boy behind herself, hand clasped so tightly around his arm he winces in pain. She doesn't notice, gaze fixed on her youngest. At least you think he's her youngest. For all you know she could have more children hidden inside the house.

The maid shuffles backwards with tiny steps, as if you won't notice what she's doing that way. She's still well within knife-throwing range when she turns and makes a run for the house, but you let her go. It's not her you care about, and any help she might return with will come too late. The blade is already nicking the boy's skin; one wrong move from anyone and he'll be dead.

"Please," your mother cries, "let him go! We'll do anything you want. My husband is part of the triumvirate, he can give you whatever information you want, just don't hurt our boy!"

She thinks you're doing this for information? Things must've not gone well for the others so far, then, a realization that only adds fuel to the burning rage inside you. Doesn't she care at all what happens to you and Xaden, not even enough to put in a good word with her husband?

You shake your head, lips curling in disgust. Does she have no spine or dignity at all?

"The only thing I want is for you to suffer. And since you seem so attached to these boys, killing them will be a good start. You think I'm just taking this one hostage?" You laugh, the resulting sound harsh and ugly in a way that sounds foreign to your ears, not like you at all. "No. I'll make you watch me slit both their throats just for fun."

"They're children!"

"So were we!" you scream, voice breaking as you finally lose control of the tears you've been wrestling with for hours. "We were just children too when you decided you didn't want us anymore and fucked off without a word! You think that doesn't do anything to a child, being abandoned like that?!"

"You had your father!"

"Until we didn't," you bite out. "But that's not even the point! The point is that you pretended to love us while you had to put up with us, and then as soon as you could, you ran away behind our backs like the coward you are. Would it have killed you to tell us you were leaving, to give us a chance to say goodbye?!"

As you speak, you give the boy in your hands a shake, your dagger scraping his skin ever so slightly. He cries out for your mother, who is staring at the blade against his neck with such intense concentration you doubt she heard a single word you said. You don't know why you even bothered.

She says something to the boy in Hedotic — hopefully to calm him. She would have to be an even bigger fool than you thought to believe he could escape you.

"Please don't hurt him," she sobs again. "Do what you want to me, but let Gaius go!"

As if. Killing your mother is still on the table, but for now, watching her fear for her son's life is much more satisfying than the brief pleasure of putting a knife into her would be.

If only you could stop crying. Talia is not worth your tears, and you hate letting her see you cry, hate giving her that power over you. Crying in front of people has always felt humiliating, like a display of your lacking self-control. And crying in front of your mother now, after all the time that's gone by since she left, really ruins the picture of the cold-blooded soldier you want her to see. You want the thought of what the innocent child she left behind has become to haunt her — a futile hope, probably. If she cared, you wouldn't be in this situation.

Shouts from the direction of the house alert you that others have become aware of what's happening, but your eyes never stray from your mother's panicked form. For better or worse, she has your undivided attention.

You should do it now. Drag it out much longer, and whoever is coming from the house might manage to stop you. Peaceful place or not, they would be fools not to have some sort of security personnel. You could probably take them on, but that would mean letting the boys go, and that is not happening. They're the ticket to Talia's personal hell.

From the corner of your eye, you see Xaden approach. He moves carefully, the way you would around a corned animal, and stops a dragon's length away.

He calls your name, so softly you almost miss it, and cautions, "Don't do something you'll regret, baby."

"What difference does it make? She's always looked at me like I'm some sort of monster, so I might as well prove her right."

It's stupid to be acting like this, you know. It's Xaden who will turn into an actual monster if you don't find a way to cure him. You're not going to get any closer to doing that by throwing pointless tantrums about things no one can change. But you've never been good at regulating your emotions. Even when you were little, your anger always consumed you. You thought you'd gotten better — you'd had to. All the power that comes with being a rider is dangerous in the hands of someone with the emotional stability of a toddler, so you'd worked hard on learning better self-control. Using sparring sessions to work through your feelings, you now usually manage to avoid the violent outbursts you were prone to as a child. But there is no coping mechanism strong enough to save you from the sheer hatred for your mother that has festered inside you for almost fourteen years, the embers of the despaired rage from when she'd left reignited into the burning flames they'd been when the pain of her departure was still fresh. The moment you saw her, the rage overwhelmed you the way it always had.

"It's not about her," Xaden reasons. Can't he see you're beyond reasoning? "It's about how you will feel once you've calmed down."

"Better, that's how I'll feel!"

But even in your frenzy, the tiny part of you still capable of rational thought knows that's not true. Never once have you actually felt better after one of your outbursts. You always think you'll feel better after you let it out, but every time you're left drained and ashamed instead, picking up the pieces.

One time — you must have been about eleven — you'd broken Xaden's snow globe, which had been a gift from your mother, in a rage. You'd felt horrible afterwards, and not just because he refused to speak to you for more than a week. After that, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't lose control of yourself like that ever again. Keeping that promise had been impossible, but the memory almost makes you halt. It's never too late to change, right?

But then your gaze falls back onto your mother — the same mother who'd thrown you away like an old toy she no longer wanted, never looking back, never caring what became of you in the rebellion or the impending war, now so keen on protecting these boys — and the hatred wins out.

"What makes them worthy of the love she denied us?" you demand of Xaden, not really wanting an answer. If she ever loved you at all, she has long stopped doing so. If there is a reason for it, it doesn't matter. "Why does she get to be happy with a new family while we had to suffer and fight for our lives every day for years?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn your dagger so that instead of the edge of the blade being lined up with the boy's throat, it's the tip that presses against his fragile skin.

For a moment you stare at your mother and wonder how it has come to this. Her desperate pleas mix with the boys' crying and the frantic voices of your squad, fading into the background until all you can hear is the racing of your own heart.

Then the dagger pierces skin. You sink it in to the hilt and yank sideways, slitting his throat wide open in a move you've practiced hundreds of times on the mats of Basgiath's gym. Never would you have thought that this would be how you'd come to use it for real.

Talia wails, lurching forward, and you shove the body into her outstretched arms. A fountain of blood sprays over your hands and your mother.

She cradles the boy to her chest, crying and blubbering words you're too far gone too understand. Maybe it's Hedotic. She's focused entirely on the life you already took, and that's her mistake. She doesn't notice you sidestepping her to get to the other boy, who stands frozen in terror, until it's too late.

He screams in fear as you advance on him, lifting his arms in an attempt to fight you off, but of course he doesn't stand a chance. If he'd ran while you were killing his brother he might have made it into the house. As it is, they're about to be reunited.

Talia screams again, even louder than before. "Simeon!"

She gets to her feet just as you stab the boy straight into the heart. Through the haze of your own tears, you watch as she catches his falling body and sinks to the ground with him, wailing all the while.

There's a blur of movement, and then someone's arms are around you, pulling you back against a strong chest. He holds you tightly, like he expects you to resist, squeezing your arms against your ribcage in a way that would be painful if you weren't so detached from your own body. Someone else takes your bloodstained hand into their own, prying your fingers apart to take away your blade.

You let it all happen, numb to the world.

People are shouting, hectically buzzing around. None of it registers. Your vision blurs, not with tears this time, but simply going unfocused. You barely feel the hands turning you to face away from it all. Now that your anger has run it's course and is wearing off, there's nothing left in you but the deep underlying despair you've long gotten used to.

You vaguely realize it was Xaden holding you as he lets go, stepping to your side and wordlessly leading you toward the ocean, where the dragons are waiting. You hadn't even noticed them returning.

As you walk, your head starts to clear, and you slowly become aware of yourself and your surroundings again. The way the sand shifts under your boots with every step. Warm blood dripping from your fingers, the heavy smell of it mixing with that of the sea. Your brother's hand, strong and steady against your back.

You're glad he doesn't take it away, even when you reach the dragons. If he did, you might just crumble under the weight of what you have done.

You keep your eyes trained on the sand beneath your feet, not wanting to see the horrified looks on everyone's faces. There can be no doubt they are horrified, after what they just witnessed. Even you are disturbed by your own actions. The uncontrollable anger might have been an almost constant companion for most of your life, but never before had it driven you to kill someone.

In the heat of the moment, you'd only seen the boys as tools to hurt your mother, but now it sinks in that they'd been people of their own. Children. Innocent. It hadn't been their fault that Talia replaced you with them. Now they're gone, and you can't take it back. You're not sure you want to, and that scares you most of all.

You look back only once. When you do, Talia still kneels in the blood-soaked sand where you left her, sobbing over the bodies of her youngest sons. Part of you thinks you should have finished the job and killed her too, but another, crueler part buried deep inside you whispers it's just right this way. This way, she'll suffer far more, for far longer. Then, viciously, you wonder if that's true. It was so easy for her to replace you and Xaden with these boys, who's to say she won't replace them just as easily? She probably is not yet too old to get pregnant again. Well, let her. No matter what she does, she'll have to live with the memory of their deaths, of her own helplessness in the face of your righteous fury. You hope it haunts her till the end of her days.

When Xaden stops walking, you do, too. Some of the others are rushing back into the house to get their things, but Xaden doesn't leave your side. Taking your rucksack from you, he digs through it until he finds a towel, and leads you to the edge of the water to clean the worst of the blood off you. Neither of you speaks a word while he does so.

You just stand there, staring into space while the past hours replay in your mind over and over again. The bloodshed could have been avoided, you think numbly, if only you had stayed in the air a few minutes longer. If you hadn't landed just when Sgaeyl roared, the boys would have been safely inside the house, and you would've never even known about them.

Finally you drag your gaze up from the ground to look at your brother. You're not sure what you expect to see on his face — disappointment, anger, horror... some sort of negative reaction to the atrocity you just committed, certainly. But you find neither. Instead, he's gazing at you with affection and worry you do not deserve. The look he gives you is almost like he understands, like he might have done the same. But that's absurd. Xaden would never throw a fit like that, would never let his anger out on innocents. He's the sane one of you two, the responsible one. He never would have risked the mission— Oh gods, the mission!

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I ruined everything."

He shrugs, like it's not a big deal. As though you broke a tea cup or maybe a window, not ruined international relations forever by murdering innocent children. "They weren't going to be much help anyway."

"What if they know something that could help us and now we'll never know? It'll be my fault if— if—"

...if Xaden fully succumbs to the dark, is what you mean, but can't say so when you're not sure who might hear. As the isle of wisdom, Hedotis is the most likely to know a cure, isn't it? But thanks to you, there's no way any of you will be welcome here again, no way of being given access to their collected knowledge.

Your brother shakes his head, brushing a tear off your cheek. "They don't have magic here, so it's unlikely they know anything that would help us. Even if they did, they didn't give the impression of wanting to share their knowledge, regardless of your behavior. And they don't have an army they could aid us with, either."

He's just saying that to make you feel better.

They don't need to have magic to have information about magic. And information is something the people of Hedotis surely hoard. Aaric, Violet and Xaden are good at this whole diplomacy thing. They would have managed to make some kind of bargain and learn something useful if you hadn't fucked everything up.

They should have left you at home, never let you near anything or anyone important. Your mother was right, you're nothing but trouble. It would've been better for everyone around you if you'd never been born.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," you whisper. At least you don't think you did. You certainly hadn't wanted to want to hurt anyone, which basically comes down to the same thing... doesn't it? "I just— I was so mad at her, and— They were right there and all defenselessness and—"

"I know," Xaden soothes, running a hand over your hair. "I know, baby. You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not judging you."

"You should, though! I— I'm—"

By now you're crying too hard to continue speaking.

"Shh, it's alright. You're not a monster," he says, somehow guessing what it is you'd meant to say. "You're just upset."

You certainly are, but that doesn't excuse what you've done.

Despite what he might think, Xaden's lack of concern about the matter is far from reassuring. Not that you want him to be mad at you, but his complete disregard for the lives you took makes you wonder if maybe he's already lost more of his humanity than you knew. But no. Surely he's just pretending not to care to your benefit. How could he be a soulless venin when he's looking at you so gently, soothing you just like he had so often when you were children and your parents didn't have the patience to deal with you? Venin or not, he's still a better person than you have ever been.

"Mom was right," you say, and immediately cry harder. Now you've done it, now you've called her that after all. "She always knew something was wrong with me."

"Nonsense," Xaden starts, but you don't let him speak. Now that you've started talking, the words just keep pouring out.

"I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be so mad at her, because it was my own fault she left. She never would have left if it wasn't for me. You were perfect even as a child. All I ever did was throw tantrums and cry." You manage a self-depreciating laugh between sobs. "Still do, apparently. I can't even blame her for wanting to get away from me, I'm just sorry you had to suffer for it, too."

Xaden takes your face between both hands, forcing you to look at him, though it's hard to make out his expression through the tears blurring your vision.

Shaking you for emphasis, he says, "It was not your fault. We've been through that a thousand times after she left, baby. There is nothing wrong with you for being emotional."

Calling you emotional is a severe understatement. For as long as you can remember, you've always been too much. Too clingy, too loud, too easily overwhelmed, too quick to cry and rage. Needy and out of control, a disgrace to your family line. Xaden can say it's not true all he wants; you know it is. And now you're a murderer too, on top of all that.

"And for k-killing those kids? Is there nothing wrong with me for that, either?" you ask angrily.

Xaden sighs. "You made a mistake. It happens. If you didn't feel bad about it I'd worry something's wrong with you, but you clearly do. It's okay. We're all capable of bad things."

You don't know what to say to that, so you don't respond.

For a few minutes, Xaden simply lets you cry. He doesn't try to calm you, doesn't scold you for breaking down. He just holds you, providing an anchor in reality and making the occasional soothing sound.

Then, someone says something. You can't make out the words over the sound of your own sobs, but the voice sounds like Violet's, and there's a note of urgency to it that gets your attention. You feel Xaden nod, and then he takes your hands, gently removing them from the death grip you're clutching the back of his shirt with, and holds you at arms length so he can look you in the face.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I need you to calm down, now. At least enough to get on Diogahl and fly. I know you're upset, and you can cry all you want later, but we really need to go. Okay? Think you can do that for me?"

You nod, even though you're not at all sure you'll be able to mount your dragon, let alone keep your seat once you're in the air. You can barely breathe.

Maybe that's okay. Maybe it would be better for everyone if you lose your seat and plummet into the sea. At least then you wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, wouldn't destroy everything you touch, wouldn't constantly disappoint those you love. Maybe they'd be better off without you. Your mother definitely was — or would have been, if you hadn't come back into her life.

"Hey," your brother's gentle voice pierces through the mess of your thoughts. "Breathe, baby. It's okay. If you can't fly—"

"I can," you croak, wiping your face with your sleeve. More tears are still falling, but you manage to trap the sobs inside, at least.

A glance toward your mother's house shows what brought on the hurry to leave: guards are coming. You knew they had to have some, but there's no triumph in being right. Forcing a deep breath, you swing your rucksack onto your back and tighten the straps with shaking hands. Meltdown or no meltdown, you can fly. You have to. You refuse to be responsible for even more bloodshed.

"That's the spirit," Xaden praises, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Try not to think too much about what happened. Just remember there's more to you than that anger, and that I love you, even if Mom doesn't. You're not evil."

"Okay. I'll try." The guards are getting close; you really have to hurry now if you want to avoid them. "Love you too."

Xaden waits until you've made it up Dioghal's leg; only then does he run to Sgaeyl, taking his seat as the others climb into the air. You get away just in time, and with your brother's words in mind, you hold on tight and don't look back.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, Gore (Horror Movie), Smoking, Use Of Word Slut. Grieving

With your tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration, you press the blue painters tape along the ceiling with as much precision as possible. Your mother had agreed to let Nicky paint his room, but of course, she had to have the final say. She quickly vetoed the colors that she didn't like. Dark blues and black were pushed aside as she gave him the options of Serene Green and Pastel Yellow. Needless to say, Serene Green was the winner. It wasn't awful. Nope. In fact, you actually like the color, but it didn't exactly scream that a teenager lived there. You don't think that he cares, though. It was just nice to see his room start to come to life.

“These brushes are nice,” you dad says from the step ladder as he paints a perfect line just under your tape. His hand was completely steady, and he probably didn't even need you to tape off the room. “Where did you get these?”

“Oh, one of your new potential vendors gave me some,” you say casually, causing your parents to give you a look. “What?”

“He just gave them to you?” Your mom asks. “He should have given them to your father or even Elly for that matter.”

“Well, maybe, I might have flirted a little bit with him,” you admit. “But look, it got us some good brushes.”

“Do you think you could flirt for some rollers?” Your dad asks jokingly, making your mom throw a water bottle at him. “I'm kidding. Unless, she really can. The good ones are expensive.”

“You can't do that, Y/N,” your mom scolds. “You need to keep things professional at work. How do you think that makes you look? How that makes you father look?”

“She gets it from you,” your dad cuts in while still painting his perfect line of Serene Green.

“Absolutely not,” she disagrees.

“Should I recount the story of when we first met?” He asks, smiling over his shoulder at her. “I believe it was when I was working for my own father.”

Your mother gives him a look and walks out of the bedroom. You laugh, throwing down your blue tape roll and watch as it rolls across the room. Climbing down your own ladder, you sit on Nicky's bed that was moved to the center of the bedroom. “Don't let her get to you. She means well.”

“I'm not so sure,” you say, watching him as he climbs down and approaches you.

“How are you doing, kiddo? Do you need any money? Food?” He asks, squatting in front of you. “You two aren't going hungry, right?”

“No, things have been good?” You say, giving him a small smile.

“Just give her some time, kiddo,” he says. “Things are hard for everyone. Emotions are really high, but you know that I won't let anything happen. Nicky isn't going anywhere.”

“I know,” you agree.

“Just try to keep some sort of peace between the two of you.” he tells you. “I know you two haven't really ever gotten along over the years, but she loves you. After what happened to you…”

“When will the room be done?” You ask, changing the subject. “I think Chris and Elly are bringing him back in a couple of hours. I would like to have everything done and the room put back together by then.”

“Yeah,” your dad says quietly as he studies you sadly. “We’ll get it done.”

You walk to the opposite side of the room, grabbing a paint roller to distract you. You don't like to talk about your past. If you don't talk about it, then you can almost pretend like it never happened. You watch as the roller spreads the green paint across the wall. Up and down, you drag it over the smooth surface repeatedly, covering any blotchiness that you created.

Up and down.

Up and down, as if everything was perfectly fine.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Nothing was all right.

Up, down and repeat.

Ignore and pretend.

Repeat.

You pick the stubborn green paint from out underneath your fingernails as you sit on the bleachers waiting for practice to start. Nicky, with as much enthusiasm as a teenage boy could muster, he thanked everyone for painting his room when he saw it. That night, you two sat down, ordering him shelves and an entertainment center that he liked. You told him that the choice was his to unpack his things or you could go shopping to decorate his room with brand new things. He asked to think about it. You hope he chooses his things that were boxed up in his closet. Things that once brought him comfort and held happy memories. You don't want him to be scared of those memories. Memories of his mom and dad. Memories that you don’t want him to forget. That was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up on your nails, you yawn. For once, you were one of the first adults in the gym, and it was boring. You'll have to make sure that it never happens again. Resting your elbow on your knee, you place your chin in your hand. You contemplate closing your eyes when the door opens loudly and both coaches walk in. You watch as Coach Min gives you a double take before looking down at his watch. Raising an eyebrow at you, he nods in satisfaction that you were actually there before him. You roll your eyes in response, making him laugh silently. You're so happy that you amused him. At least one of you was amused. All you were was tired.

“We need to decide where to meet for dinner tonight,” Ara speaks up during the middle of practice. “Any suggestions?”

“LUXE EAST,” a mom that you don't care to learn her name suggests. “They have the best wine choices.”

“That's probably too expensive for….some,” Ara says, and you can feel their stares turn to look at you.

“Ara,” Mark says warningly as he makes eye contact with you.

“What? I'm just trying to be thoughtful,” she says innocently. “Maybe we should stick to McDonald's.”

“You can take your fake concern and shove it,” you say, looking over your shoulder at her trying to act unbothered. “I'm not going anywhere with you anyway.”

“You have to,” she smirks. “It's a part of your responsibility as a parent on our team.”

“It's when we decide who's in charge of getting signs made, t-shirts made. You know, things like that,” Mark explains.

Mark was nice. You didn't want to be a bitch to him. Instead, you completely turn away from him and look at the group of women behind you. You wonder if they ever heard the word no before. You doubt it. Their aura screams spoiled. You are sure that they were the type of woman who always got what they wanted.

“I'd rather pull my eyelashes out one by one than go anywhere with you,” you say, standing up and giving her a fake smile. “Go team!”

Walking down the steps of the bleachers, you step onto the floor and head for the door. Well, you attempted to, that is. Coach Min's arm shot out, almost hitting you with his clipboard, stopping your escape.

“Where are you going?” He asks, eyes never leaving the boys on the court.

“Bathroom. Is that alright with you?” You ask, sarcastically. “Do I need a hall pass?”

He doesn't answer as he drops his arm, letting you pass by. Continuing on, you leave the gym and walk down the hall a little ways until you come to the girls' bathroom. Looking around, you notice frosted windows above a small ledge. You smile, climbing up on the counter, and you hold your breath as you pop the window open. You freeze for a moment, waiting to see if you set an alarm off. Thankfully, there was nothing.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a singular cigarette and lighter. You haven't smoked in years. You had carried the little cancer stick around as a reminder that you were stronger than the bad habit. You were stronger now than your past self, but every now and then, you doubt yourself and your strength. Even though you don't show it, you have your limits, and right now, you are way past them. Maybe Ara and the others that pushed you into caving in. Maybe it was the conversation with your dad. Maybe you were never strong, like you thought.

Fuck it!

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you light it, inhaling the disgusting chemicals that burn your lungs as you breathe it in. Turning your head toward the window, you blow out the smoke, trying not to cough. You're disappointed. You're not sure what you were hoping to feel, but the cigarette did not give it to you. Maybe you were hoping for a rush of dopamine. Maybe you were looking for a sense of calm and peace, but you got nothing. You still feel tense. You still feel weighed down. The nightmares will still be there when you close your eyes at night. Everything is exactly the same. Except now, you probably smell like an ashtray.

You don't bother with another puff. Snuffing the cigarette out, you close the window and hope down off the counter. Flushing the evidence, you walk back into the gym like nothing happened.

Sitting further away from the group, you take your earlier position. Elbow on knee, chin in hand, you wait. You wait, like you have been waiting almost every day since Nicky came into your life full time. You need to learn to have patience because waiting felt like torture. Maybe your mom was right all along. Maybe you weren't equipped to handle this type of life. The mom life. You need to change. Unfortunately, you don't know how to change, but you need to figure it out.

Fast.

“What's the temperature you need to store hot food at?” Coach Min throws at you as you remain unmoving, waiting for your nephew as practice ends and everyone filters out of the gym.

“220 degrees,” you answer automatically, looking up at him as he looms over you, looking down at you.

It was a lie. You didn't know the answer, but you sure answered him with as much confidence as you could muster. He stares at you through narrowed eyes, scrutinizing your answer. You are sure he knows that you have yet to look over the paper he gave you on food safety practices.

“You don't know, do you?” He asks, calling your bluff and confirming what you thought.

“If that's wrong, then what's the answer?” You ask back. He chuckles and looks away from you. This time, you were the one to narrow your eyes as you study him. Standing up from your seat, you stare at him with astonishment. “You don't know either,” you accuse, pointing your finger at him.

“Of course I do,” he scoffs, crossing those arms of his. “I've been doing this for years.”

“Then what is it?” You ask, mimicking his stance.

“It's…..in the paper I gave you so you better learn it,” he answers and walks away from you. You shake your head as you watch him walk away and pat Nicky on the back as he passes him.

That motherfu…..chucker!

A/C is not working. Bring extra water.

Damn. The text that came through the team app did not lie. The gym was hot and stuffy as you entered through the double doors. A wall of heat from inside almost stops you in your tracks as it hits you in the face, wanting to tempt you into running your ass back to your car.

It just felt gross.

Nicky waves at you from where he was stretching on the court. You raise the water bottle in your hand in the air, indicating that you bought him an extra one. He points to his belongings sitting on an empty set of bleachers. You nod, walking over. You find his things easily and place his extra water down before joining the parents.

It's gotten easier the last few practices. Coming here almost every day is still just as awful, but keeping your head down and not paying attention to certain people made the time more bearable. It helps that you have been bringing your earbuds to drown out their yapping mouths, but unfortunately, today, you were in too big of a hurry to change. You forgot to grab them. Instead of an audio book or music, you had to listen to the squeaking shoes, whistles, and the yapping of the mothers mouths. Today, you just try to focus on the boys doing…whatever it was that they were doing, but the yappers wouldn't shut up.

“I need a new formal dress,” one of them says. “Hubby and I have dinner with his idiot boss next weekend.”

“At least you're able to get a new one. My husband says I have too many dresses that I don't need another one,” a new voice chimes in. “How ridiculous is that? He can buy a new boat, but I can't have a new dress.”

Dear god, you think as you roll your eyes. You wish those were the only problems you had.

“There's plenty of shops you can go to. Just don't shop where she does,” your shoulders stiffen as you fight the urge to turn around. You just know that the comment was directed at you. “Hey, you.”

“What?” You question, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at them.

“You should go and change,” Ara tells you.

You look down at yourself. You didn’t think the pair of cut-off shorts and a black and white striped tank top that you were wearing would be considered inappropriate. Your ass wasn't hanging out, and your boobs were where they belonged. If she thought this was bad, then she was faint if she saw what else you had in your closet.

“If your son can't keep his eyes to himself, then maybe you should teach him better,” you snap at her as you finally look at her. She, as always, was wearing too much makeup. You hoped that she would sweat it off and look like a drowned rat by the end of practice. “That's your problem, not mine.”

“Well if you didn't dress like a slut to begin with then we wouldn't have a problem,” Ara tells you with a sharp look. Her scowls have become harsher since you refused to go to the meeting with them, but nothing was ever said to you.

“What did you call me,” you demand ever so calmly, fully turning your body around to look at her.

“You heard me,” she smirks as her glossy lips shine under the gym lights.

“Say it again,” you say, standing up, but it only makes her laugh. “FUCKING SAY IT AGAIN BITCH!.”

“WHOA!” Coach Min says, blowing his whistle as he turns swiftly to see what the commotion was. “Get down here now.”

You don't listen as your eyes continue to zero in on Ara, your number one enemy at the moment. You don't plan on backing down. Ara's glossy little smile drops as she studies you when she realizes that you're not backing down. Good. Very good. You haven't fought anyone since high school, but you're sure you still have what it takes to kick her ass.

“Fucking say it again,” you growl, getting closer into her space, making her back up in her seat.

Yup, you still got it.

“Y/N, get down here now,” Coach Min demands, but again, you don't pay him any mind. Footsteps ascend the wooden stairs, and a hand grabs your arm, trying to pull you away. “Now.” You shake him off and follow him down the bleachers. “Three practice suspension,” he tells you as he points to the doors.

“I thought they needed a guardian here at all times,” you say smartly, testing his patience.

“Do you want to make it 6?” He asks, eyes hard as he studies you.

You look over to Nicky, who, like the rest of the boys, was watching the commotion that you were a part of. You shouldn't make such a scene in front of him. Squinting your eyes in a glare, you turn from him to head for the doors. However, before your feet actually were able to take off, you looked back at the smug woman, whose smirk was right back on her face. Staring directly at her, you flip her off with your hand held high for everyone to see.

“Jesus christ,” you hear Coach Min mutter.

Stomping out of the gym, you walk back to your car, slamming your door loudly after you climb in. Swearing at the top of your lungs, you hit the steering wheel with the heel of your hand. You can feel the burning of tears start to well behind your eyes. Rubbing them harshly, you stop them before they fully form. With a deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart, you lean forward, pressing your forehead against the steering wheel, you exhale. 1….2….3… you slowly count as you focus on the rising of your chest. 4…5…6… Finally, you can feel your heart rate slow.

Your whole life, you were a wild child. Your brothers were steller students, great athletes, and never had detention. You, on the other hand, practically lived there. You never talked back to teachers, but boy, did the other students piss you off. You weren't one to back down when someone was running their mouth about you. Maybe you did it for attention. Your parents were always busy going into your teen years. Supporting you and your siblings plus Nicky and your sister-in-law, it was a lot. They both worked a lot, and their time at home was stretched thin with all the responsibilities in the household.

Unfortunately, you never really grew out of the rebelliousness. You were responsible around Nicky when you were with him, but otherwise, you didn't care. Skipping school, sneaking out, all became routine for you. Your self-esteem wasn't the best and sought attention from the wrong type of men as you grew older. Men, who would frequent the shady little bar you worked at. Who knew all the right things to say to draw in and make you fall in love with them. You fell for it every time, and every time you paid the price.

You were angry. You were angry when they would call you names. They made you feel bad and tore you down. You couldn't fight back. You tried once, and it didn't work out so well. You promised yourself that you would never let anyone make you feel like again. Make you feel insecure, weak. Make you feel like you were always…..wrong. You close your eyes, trying to convince yourself that you did nothing wrong. You shake your head slightly. You didn't do anything. Nope, you didn't do anything wrong. You stood up for yourself like anyone would. You didn't do anything wrong back then, and you didn't do anything wrong now. You hope that if you keep repeating it, you might actually start to believe it.

“I'm sorry,” you tell him softly. “I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.”

The car door opening has you looking over at Nicky from where you lay your head on the headrest of your seat. You let him throw his bag in the back seat and buckle himself in before you speak.

“I know what she called you. All the moms were laughing about it,” he tells you. “It's not fair that you got into trouble, but they don't.”

“I know,” you agree, nodding your head.

“I don't want to come back tomorrow,” he says, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I don't even like playing with half of them. Especially her son, he's a shithead.”

“Watch it! You can't quit,” you say, shaking your head at him. “Isn't like the number one rule for these things? You can’t let your team down. What's that saying? Never give up, never….something.”

“Coach is headed this way,” he tells you, and you follow his line of sight out the windshield. Everything in you hardens once more as you watch the blonde man make his way over to your car.

“The fuck he is,” you mutter under your breath.

You quickly start your car, throwing it in drive, taking off out of the parking lot with squealing tires. Absolutely not. There was no way you were going to talk to that man. If Nicky changes his mind about wanting to play, you'll have to send Chris or Elly to take your place. You know they would do it in a heartbeat, but as of right now…you're done.

《Chapter Four》

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee , @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi , @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 , @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

@redragdoll, @ot72025 , @seoullove96 @our-cool-jenny , @kam9404

@amarawayne , @haileyborig, @mar-lo-pap

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Off Limit - Jack Quinn

Summary: Y/n and Jack are caught together by her brother, his teammate.

Words: 1000

It was never meant to happen.

The first time had been a mistake. A single mistake caused by too many drinks and the unthinkable, impulsive decisions that came with it. She woke up tangled in Jack’s sheets, her head pounding, her memories of the night before coming to her in mismatched pieces.

His hands on her waist. His lips against her neck. His voice, low and teasing in her ear.

And then… regret.

Not because it had been bad. No, if anything, it had been too good but because Jack was one of her brother’s teammates. A guy she’d see in passing at games and random gatherings, always with an easy grin and eyes that maybe lingered a second too long.

She left his apartment that morning with a hurried excuse and the promise she gave herself that it would never happen again.

That promise only lasted for about a week.

It started with stolen moments. His hand brushing against hers when no one was looking. Heated glances from across the room. Late-night texts that led to even later nights tangled in sheets, her fingers gripping his back as he whispered her name against her skin.

It was reckless. Stupid. Dangerous.

But she couldn’t stop. And neither could he.

For weeks, they lived in their secret world—one built on fleeting touches and unspoken rules. Jack never pressed her for more, never asked what they were, and she told herself that made it easier.

Until the night her brother found out.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to stop by.

She had just walked Jack to the door, her fingers still laced with his, reluctant to let him go. He had a game the next night, meaning he’d be busy, and she wouldn’t see him for at least a couple of days.

“Try not to miss me too much,” Jack teased, his usual cocky smirk in place.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You wish.”

His hand came up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he leaned in, kissing her slowly, lazily, like they had all the time in the world.

Except they didn’t.

Because just as Jack pulled back, murmuring a quiet “see you later,” Y/n saw movement over his shoulder someone standing a few feet away, frozen in place.

Her stomach dropped.

Her brother.

For a second, it was like time stood still.

He wasn’t saying anything, just staring at them. Staring at the way Jack’s hand was still on her waist, at the way her lips were still slightly parted from the kiss. His expression flickered between confusion, realization, and then pure, unfiltered anger.

Jack must have noticed her tense because he turned around.

“What the hell is going on?” her brother finally asked, voice eerily calm, the kind of calm that came right before a storm.

Y/n opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Jack, to his credit, didn’t try to make excuses. He just exhaled sharply, glancing at her before turning back to her brother. “Look, man-”

���Don’t,” her brother snapped, stepping closer. His jaw was clenched so tight Y/n thought he might break a tooth. “Are you serious? My teammate? My sister?”

Y/n found her voice then, taking a hesitant step forward. “It’s not like that.”

Her brother let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Really? Because it sure as hell looked like something.” His eyes darted between them, filled with disbelief. “How long?”

She hesitated. “A few weeks.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Unbelievable.”

“Look, I know this is a shock, but-” Jack started, only to be cut off again.

“No,” her brother snapped, his eyes dark with betrayal. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to stand here like this isn’t the biggest slap in the face.” He turned to Y/n. “And you! What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/n swallowed hard, guilt twisting in her chest. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“But it did,” he shot back.

Jack shifted, his voice steady. “I care about her.”

That only seemed to make things worse. Her brother let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “I need to leave before I say something I’ll regret.” He turned on his heel, stalking off down the hall.

Y/n stood there, heart hammering in her chest, watching as her brother walked away.

Jack reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”

She let out a shaky breath. “No.”

Her hands were shaking. Jack noticed. “Come here,” he murmured, stepping closer and pulling her into his arms. She didn’t hesitate, burying her face against his chest as his arms wrapped tightly around her. He smelled like his cologne and a little bit of her shampoo. It was familiar, grounding. “It’s going to be okay,” Jack said, voice steady against the top of her head.

She let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know that.”

Jack pulled back slightly, just enough to tip her chin up so she would look at him. “I do,” he insisted. “He’s mad right now, but he’ll get over it. He’s your brother, and he cares about you. That’s why he’s so pissed.”

Y/n sighed, her eyes watering. “I just… I hate that I hurt him.”

Jack brushed a thumb across her cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

She wanted to believe him.

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair before cupping her face again. “Do you regret this?” he asked, voice quieter now.

Y/n’s heart clenched. She swallowed hard. “No.”

A flicker of relief crossed Jack’s face. “Good.”

She hesitated before speaking again. “But I don’t want this to ruin everything. Your friendship and my relationship with him.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “I’ll talk to him.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “You saw him, Jack. He looked like he wanted to kill you.”

Jack smirked. “I’ll take that risk.”

Despite everything, she let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot.”

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

Rick felt so happy and so relieved to know it was mutual. She really wanted to stay with him...- something like marriage almost- he wondered if marriage still made sense in this ruined world, but it was something he was still a bit romantic about.

When Wren's eyes met his, he knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything from her. She could read his emotions- and Rick was awful at hiding them from her. She started to speak, and the more she did, the more concern left his features, his eyes slowly getting watery- he looked away and slowly started curling closer to her again.

Safe.

She said she would keep him safe. And he believed it. He would do his best to keep her safe as well. Wren said she would love him no matter what...- it felt so deep. He truly believed her. Slowly his eyes got redder and he started to cry, silently. Yes, a lot of pain and trauma. His group, gone. His family- he had failed to protect- and he felt it was his fault. Shane, the prison, everything. Would she still love him if he were a coward? If he lost? According to her words, yes. Yes she would, and that made him feel a lot safer indeed. She wouldn't abandon him, even if he was all broken, he still would have her around.

"Y...yeah, we'll face whatever comes our way." His voice was shaky, of course he was scared, and hiding that was getting harder. He was nude in all senses before Wren- his emotions she could read so well, and his body, under the covers by her side. She would end up knowing everything about him- all of him eventually. It was just a matter of time.

When she mentioned 'those men- though, Rick couldn't help but start shaking a bit, like a scared cat, against his will, tears slowly running down his cheeks, and he was hoping she wouldn't see it or notice it. He still feared to be judged- it was something so common in his previous relationship- but then she kissed him, and he relaxed.

"Mnn...yeah...let's get ready." His eyes were totally passive, she was the strong one at the moment, the leader- and he would follow. Taking a break from leadership was something he really needed. Allow his body to relax and relieve all the tension, forget responsibilities a bit and stop feeling guilty.

"Y...yeah, let's enjoy this moment." He rubbed his eyes a bit, trying to swallow the tears. Rick wondered if she expected anything from him that morning. He had gotten too emotional so he couldn't tell with clarity- so he just decided to ask.

"What do you want me to do now? Do you want...to..." He blushed. To make love? "....or...should I..." his lips tensed a little bit- Should I please you for a while? That's what he meant. "...or...or will you..." he looked away- will you touch me to...relax me...?- it was something he had never asked her yet. He wondered what she was in the mood for. Anything she wanted, he would follow- it was a pleasure for him, bonding always made him happy, and if she didn't want anything that morning, he also would respect that. But honestly, he would love to relax a bit more before going out, even if he wasn't feeling much confident to top her, anxiety and fear would get in the way. He couldn't help but smile though- a legit smile- because she had smiled at him. Wren made him feel so happy, no matter how scarred he was.

@littlewrensx

Rick melted when he heard Wren saying that. She loved him...- and she said it twice. It made him squeeze her a bit more and purr, nuzzling against her, feeling warm, safe, loved- everything was perfect. "I love you too. So so much...I can't even describe it, Wren." Rick muttered, clinging a little, not wanting to get up.

He chuckled when she said it again, his cheeks getting warmer- hearing that never failed to make him happy- "I love you too." He smiled, repeating it, his happy smile so clear on his face, his features so happy- and he looked so healthier. The wounds had healed, he was starting to recover the weight he had lost and even the brown of his hair seemed more lively, and the blue of his eyes and the red of his lips- he was being well fed by Wren. She had so many excuses to give him just one portion of the meals every time, but she never refused him food. All times he still felt hungry after a meal, somehow, she seemed to figure it out and provide him more food.

The fact she hadn't rejected him as he was also shone inside his heart. He got cuddlier and cuddlier, and romantic and sweet...and not even once she had pushed him away or told him to man up- he could be the little spoon when he felt he needed, and he could fill her with kisses and act clingy when he had more love to give. Rick felt safe being himself around her- at least his true, sweet self. He still feared she could fear or dislike him if she saw him killing, if she saw him in his feral worst. He had avoided all sorts of conflict so far, either following Wren around or working by building things or looking after the crops and animals. He was happy to have his farmer life back, but insecurity still resided in his heart. Last time he allowed himself to relax...the Governor took everything from them. Even though he was now dead, Rick knew there still was a dangerous gang around, not too far from their community. The horror he experienced while in their hands...he couldn't, just couldn't let them assault their town or attack people who went outside. He was afraid, he knew he would have to embrace violence again, and that it was just a matter of time. He wondered if Wren had understood all they had done to him since she had been the one cleaning and healing him since she found him half dead. He feared she could think he was weak if those men showed up and told everyone about how Rick had been a toy in their hands- until he violently killed two of the gang and escaped. He really wondered how much Wren had assumed or how deeply she had examined him days before. And he wondered if those men were still around. It was an unfinished business and Rick really hoped they just had decided to vanish from that region to never come back, otherwise, otherwise he wouldn't rest until he killed the remaining ones with his own hands- if they showed up, if there was any sign of them.

"Yeah, I'm ready for the run. It should be easy, but let's stay alert regardless." He kissed her cheek and waited on the bed, letting her decide when to get up. He had so many thoughts in his mind now he didn't even tease Wren- he would leave it up to her, if she wanted the morning to start normally or if she wanted to make it sweeter- "You know...I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Wren."

@littlewrensx

[anniflamma]

have you read (or did you enjoy) madeline miller's song of achilles? your post about the shitty book made me think to ask, cause i've been wanting to get into retelling/modern writing, but don't know where to start lol

So I don’t think I’m the right person to ask whether you should read The Song of Achilles or not. XD

I have read the book… buuut… I kinda didn’t finish it. Thing is, the book is good, no, really! Even though I dropped it, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad book per se, it’s just that I realized it wasn’t really written for me, and I lost interest in continuing.

There are a lot of good things in the book that I makes me genuinely recommend it. Miller has a fantastic way of describing emotions in a poetic, almost abstract manner. She paints scenes and moments beautifully, and I think that’s true the highlight of The Song of Achilles. So my verdict is you should give it a try! If not, then I'll could recommend you The Prince’s Psalm by Eric Shaw Quinn. Simply due to it's one of my favorites.

If you looking for something shorter, then Medusa by Jessie Burton.

Here’s the "nag section" (in case anyone’s curious why I dropped The Song of Achilles):

So the downside? The way Miller writes the queer relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is… very… very… heteronormative. It’s extremely clear that Patroclus is the "woman" and Achilles is the "man" in their dynamic. When they’re intimate, Achilles is the one doing and spurting, while Patroclus experiences "floral feelings" in his nether regions. The book isn’t explicit, but the text often accidentally describes them having straight sex. XD

There were so many moments while reading where I’d pause and think, "Oh, I can tell this is written by a straight woman who really likes the idea of a housewife." That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the vibe I got. For comparison, when I read The Prince’s Psalm by Eric Shaw Quinn, I kept thinking, "This is written by a gay man who really loves tall, broad-shouldered, masculine men who make him feel small." It’s oddly similar to each other, Patroclus and David share the same character traits. Both are small insecure men, it’s just that the authors take different approaches to how they depict it.

The reason I dropped The Song of Achilles was that I just wasn’t interested in Patroclus being portrayed as this sweet, insecure, self-hating boy who sits in the tent all day and gets happy when Achilles comes back after a hard earnd work in the battlefield. I expected something more fluid in their dynamic. Don’t get me wrong, insecure protagonists are fine! For example, in The Prince’s Psalm, David is insecure too, but he also resents being seen as fragile by other men around him. The book explores that tension in David and Jonathan’s relationship. David kills Goliath not out of honor or duty, but because he wants to prove Jonathan wrong, even spite him, he did it out of anger. David is insecure, which also makes him envious. He gets angry easily but also quick to forgive. He is an romantic person, who loves the idea of Jonathan proposing to him and being swept up but he also wants to be seen as a "manly" man. He is faithful but when he have the conversation with Jonathan about their bounderies, they come to the conclution together who they can sleep with, no men and only women if you are married to them. David changes and the irony with it is that his change is also a cause why Jonathan died.

For Patroclus, I think he is very flat. He is incesure and he is a good boy. And sadly I really don't remember if there was anything else than that. Most of his reaction is based on Achilles actions. The reason why he is good with fighting is cuz gods are helping him. The reason why Achilles like Patroclus so much is... I don't know really, the text only describes how pretty Achilles is, it very superficial. Patroclus likes Achilles becasue Achilles isnt Patroclus.

Here’s the funny thing…

After all that, I still recommend The Song of Achilles! There's a reason why there are so many retelling books now. I genuinely believe The Prince's Psalm wouldn't have been published if The Song of Achilles hadn't existed. The book is a romanticization, and it was written around 2008 or so. That explains why Miller wrote them like that. I see the heteronormative dynamic between Achilles and Patroclus as simply a product of its time.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 2, Part 2

Masterpost (Thank you jaythefae for reading over this so that I could post it! This migraine has me writing a lot of swapped words.)

Okay, okay fuck. That wasn’t what Wally was going for at all!

It was a tower! Like Titan’s tower and the lightning bolt was supposed to be him. He was trying to tell them who he was, not spell doom. Who made a tower doom?

Wally put his fingers to his lips and paced. Or paced as much as he could. If he went too far from Danny (and boy had it taken a long time to even learn Danny’s name) he would… disintegrate, for lack of a better word. And wow did Wally want a better word because he did not like disintegrating. People shouldn’t disintegrate!

“Okay, okay, I can work with this! I did go through a major—” Wally leaned in to try and hear the conversation. Danny was clear enough, but anything Mina (or not Danny) said was like listening to the words through wind storm.

“…upheaval and destruction. Change, basically,” Mina said.

He wished she’d shout.

“And… change is doom?” Danny said. He sounded as dubious as Wally felt about that.

Mina shrugged. “People don’t — change. Like — so they get grum— and then— and tada! Change bad.”

“Well, I mean. Of course they went through a change, they’re dead,” Danny said.

Wally winced so hard he bumped into and through Danny’s shoulder. Danny shuddered at the touch.

“Or if not dead, trapped somewhere,” Danny added with a glance towards where Wally was standing.

It was a good sign that Danny was starting consider that Wally wasn’t a ghost. Wally really, really didn’t think that he was dead, after all. But how to get across that he was trapped in the Speed Force? He didn’t think there would be a card for that.

Wally zipped over to Mina’s side, took the cards, and shuffled through them. He really wished that he knew what these damn things meant. A small part of his brain said that messing with the cards like this was messing up the meaning, but fortune telling wasn’t real. (At least not normal human fortune telling.) Once he had finished stacking the spread set with cards he hoped would be useful, he put the cards back and returned to Danny’s side.

The world blurred and crackled around him.

This was using too much energy that he didn’t have. Something had to come from it.

Please.

This had to help.

-

“Well, that wasn’t any help.”

“Don’t say that Danny,” Mina said, but even she was frowning slightly down at her cards as if they were a puppy that had piddled on the floor.

“Do you want to go grab some food? I’m craving one of those avocado, tofu, and facon sandwiches from that place you love.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds excellent,” Mina said, perking up. She stood from the table and started back towards the kitchen. “But before you go, I want to give you some of a special tea. It will help you settle into a sort of zone so that maybe you can have a better chance of connecting with your spirit without you being hurt.”

“Mina Aleshire, are you giving me drugs?” Danny gasped dramatically as he wandered after her, Hubris held limply in his arms.

She paused in opening the cabinet, as if really having to consider the question. “Well, nothing illegal?”

“Mina!”

“It’s an herbal blend!” she argued. “Just, maybe don’t have anywhere to go or anything to do for a few hours after taking it. You know, just in case.”

Danny sighed. “The worst part is that I’m really considering taking this mystery herb blend.”

“It’s better than having seizures,” she pointed out as she handed him a little satchel.

“It’s better than having seizures,” he agreed and took it.

-

The tea smelled like rain and honeysuckle. Danny cradled the mug he was using more carefully than the thick, chipped ceramic warranted. The warmth seeped into his palms and bones. He breathed the pungent smell in and then let out the breath slowly.

He didn’t know if this would work.

It was almost certainly a bad idea, what with him being not entirely human, but it was at least an idea. Danny had never seen one of Mina’s readings go so badly. It went so badly that Danny felt certain that the ‘ghost’ had been interfering. The problem was, is that Danny didn’t know if the sabotage was on purpose or from ignorance.

He wanted to believe that it was ignorance. That the ghost had been trying to tell them something, but in doing so had messed up the reading. But Danny always wanted to believe the best in people.

It had gotten him burned too often.

It might get him burned again if the ghost was really out to hurt him. Mina couldn’t give him the clearest answer on what the tea was going to do, but Danny was pretty sure that it was going to make his spirit less attached to his body for a bit so that he could commune with the things not of this realm. A less attached spirit meant one that was easier to sever.

But he was already half dead, so what did it matter?

Or so he told himself.

Before he could run around the logic again, Danny tipped the mug back and took a long, slow sip. It was spicier than he expected, but in a good way. He drained half the cup steadily as he slowly settled into the mound of pillows that made up his bed. It really wasn’t half bad, for magical drug tea.

“I think I can smell that from here. Which, dude, is saying a lot because I’m stuck in the Speed Force.”

Danny hummed. “What’s the Speed Force?”

“What’s the—can… can you hear me? Can you actually hear me? Did the weird tea do something?!?” the words came in such a rush that they were hard to follow. It didn’t help that they sounded like they were coming from a badly tuned ham radio.

“Slower. You have to be slower. I can barely understand you. You’re static. You’re always static to me,” Danny said.

“Sorry. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I am and that I hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t mean to. But you’re the only one that I can hear and see! I need your help!” The words sped up and up again until they were a blur—a roar—a scream—

The mug hit the mattress and bounced onto the floor with a crack as Danny clutched at his head to try to block the sound out.

The talking stopped.

His head continued to ring.

Danny curled up into the pillows with a whimper.

It was a minute or days later when Danny felt fingers running through his hair. They were wonderfully warm.

“—always hurting you. You keep trying for me though, don’t you?”

“Wanta help,” Danny mumbled.

The fingers stilled then picked back up their path. “I need the help too, which is… I’m supposed to be the hereo here, you know?”

“You’re dead,” Danny said.

“Ugh, no! Come on, you were finally moving away from that idea, Danny! I’m not dead! I’m trapped in the Speed Force.”

Danny finally found the strength to roll himself over. Bright blue eyes set among fiery hair and a beautiful scattering of freckles blinked down at him. Danny reached up an unsteady hand to brush over one of the freckled cheeks.

“Speed Force?”

“What gives me my powers. Something went wrong and I’m trapped. You seem to be the only one that can hear or see me and it’s hurting you.”

“Yeah, seizures suck,” Danny said. The world around them was just a swirl of color. Like when a ride at a carnival was spinning so fast that nothing was real anymore. “I don’t think I’m going to be okay when I wake up.”

They laughed, but it was a bitter, choked off sound. “No, Danny, I don’t think you’re going to be okay either.”

“Oh. How can I help you?”

They shook their head, red hair flew about. “You should focus on yourself.”

“Already hurt,” Danny pointed out. “Make it worth it. How can I help you?”

Their blue eyes searched his and then closed as they gave an almost keening whine. Man, they really were worried about him, weren’t they?

“If you can remember, go to Titan’s Tower,” they said finally. “Ask for Nightwing and… and tell him that I said that he's a real dick, okay?”

Danny blinked.

The world spun and spun and spun.

“What?”

“He’ll know what I mean,” they insisted. “He’ll know it’s from me. Tell the Titans that I’m with you and I’m trapped in the Speed Force and I need them to get me out.”

There was an alarm screaming now. Was it time to get up?

“And take care of yourself a little, okay?”

People were shouting.

“Okay.”

The world went dark.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I think it's interesting that the shows problem of "marinette can and will do everything herself unless we decide to f her over" is clear pretty early, but esp in Reflekdoll back in s3... hell it worsened the problem of "cn is kind of a useless teammate" by making him start the ep interfering w lb and spending the rest of it actively struggling.

From what I understand when most shows do some form of "role swap" where the characters were previously dissing each other's roles, both characters in the swap are shown to struggle.

Reflekdoll, on rewatch, doesn't do that. Except I can't really think of a clear way to make Marinette struggle with the role of CN unless it's in her struggling to step back and let others do the work, which she can't do in the context of that episode since she spends all of it making sure Adrien doesn't F Up.

So if we redid reflekdoll to be a swap with a struggle on both sides, how could it be done?

Trope Overview

The power-swap trope is all about learning to appreciate someone else's point of view. That can include the struggles they face, but that's not a requirement. One of the best power swap episodes out there is the Teen Titans episode Switched in which the characters Starfire and Raven switch bodies. This is a problem because Starfire's powers are all about feeling and embracing emotions while Raven's powers are all about controlling and repressing emotions as you can see from this clip that takes place right after the switch:

There is no failed fight to kick this episode off. The girls already fought well together. They don't need to understand each other's powers to be functional teammates. Understanding each other's powers just lets them be better friends and lets the audience get a deeper understanding of the two characters which is exactly what this trope is supposed to do.

Miraculous

Unlike Teen Titans, Miraculous failed the role-switch trope assignment. Adrien kind of learns a lesson in Reflekdoll, but it doesn't change his behavior in other episodes so it's hard to say that this moment of awareness did anything useful for his character. There's also the problem that Marinette learns nothing as we can see here:

Mister Bug: (looks around, trying to figure out how to use his Lucky Charm) Okay, I admit it. It's not easy being a super Ladybug. Lady Noire: (keeping Reflekdoll occupied) And I admit that I like wearing your costume. It's a lot lighter on the shoulders. (They hide behind a chimney)

And here:

Mister Bug: Honestly, I understand why you never have any time to make jokes, m'lady. Lady Noire: We both have our roles, huh Bugaboy? (They jump into separate alleyways.)

This highlights the exact issue anon brought up in their ask: if Adrien continues to joke around and be dismissive of how rough Ladybug has it, then what was the point of all this? if Marinette has nothing to learn, then does Chat Noir even matter? And is there a way to fix this episode to remove those issues?

To be frank, a true fix requires massive rewrites to the entire show because this episode is highlighting an actual issue with the writing. Chat Noir has not been given a clear or important role and he often doesn't take fights seriously enough as we once again see just five episodes later in Oblivio when Chat Noir's flirting and laidback attitude get them hit by the day's akuma:

Nadja:(from a helicopter) Looks like Ladybug and Cat Noir are struggling today. (Ladybug is rapidly spinning her yo-yo to deflect Oblivio's blasts while Cat Noir sits down casually.) Ladybug: And stop calling us a couple!

This means that there's not great option for what Ladybug needs to learn from Chat Noir. The best small change I can come up with is to have her struggle to fight Reflekdoll solo, helping her apricate her partner's fighting and distraction skills. That's no where near the level of lesson Adrien is learning since Ladybug already apricates those skills, but at least it's something.

You could also go the route of having her learn to have more fun, but that's not a great lesson for a superhero charged with defending the city. The fun lesson that would have actual depth is a body switch one where Marinette learns Chat Noir's identity and sees Adrien's life first hand, helping her understand why Chat Noir is so big on having fun. It wouldn't make his actions okay, but it could lead Marinette to better understand his needs to they take time to have fun out of battle. He becomes more serious in fights and she becomes more fun out of them. But then we have identity reveals and canon won't allow that so, while this is the best fix for canon as-is, it's not really one that canon could actually do.

While were on the topic, I'll note that there actually is a fix-it fic for Reflekdoll over on AO3 that you might enjoy. It stays pretty true to the episode, but does a better job of actually letting Adrien learn his lesson while also letting Marinette acknowledge her faults in the episode because she wasn't exactly perfect here. I don't think it solves the issues we were talking about above, but I do think this is probably the best canon could have done without major rewrites and/or an identity reveal.

In an ideal world where the show is fully rebooted and our leads both feel like vital parts of the team, this episode probably would have been something similar to the Teen Titans episode I discussed above. Ladybug and Chat Noir already canonically respect each other's skills, so it's hard to see the need for a lesson around that topic. It would be far more interesting to have an episode on Creation vs Destruction where we learn why Adrien is the best black cat and why Marinette is the best ladybug. An episode where Adrien can't figure out the lucky charm and where Marinette can't control cataclysms because it requires skills that she doesn't have like strong self control and focus. (No, Adrien doesn't really have those in canon, but they are the traits that should define a Destruction wielder. I will die on that hill.)

This new version of the episode wouldn't be about resolving a conflict so much as it would be about helping these two - and the audience - appreciate how they're the only ones who can do what they do.

[sxhyunstoes]

‘Wolfy Claim’

Triple S Sohyun x Male Reader

Word count: 2.2k

It never once occurred to me in my whole life that the stories and movies about creatures of the forest and the monsters of the night were true. I thought that they were made up to scare the kids to keep their attitudes and behaviors in check.

But here I am, nursing my wife, Sohyun after a night out during the full moon. Why specifically on the full moon? Because my lovely wife is a freaking werewolf who gets to let loose every month on a feeding spree.

“Uchkk! Lamb, could you please hand me some constipation meds. I think my stomach’s about to literally explode.” Sohyun requests.

I went to the drawer near the kitchen sink and took some meds, grabbed some water from the fridge, and went to get back on my wife who was lying on the couch in the fetal position nursing and pressing her stomach.

I put the meds and the glass of water at the table near the couch and continued to nurse Sohyun.

“Pup, the meds and the water you asked for are on the table now, come let me help you take them.”

Sohyun looked at me and tried to help herself sit up straight but failed, so she reached her arms out signifying she needs help on sitting up. I reached around her back while she hooked her arms around my neck.

“You ready?” I asked her.

She nodded and made a cute noise near my ear. I helped her sit up and held on to her as she steadied herself. When she loosened her arms around my neck, I let go of her back and held her shoulder for stabilization.

“Can you sit up straight now?” asking her while my hands are still on her shoulder.

“Mhm” Sohyun muttered.

Confident in her stability, I let go of her shoulder to turn around and prepare the meds she asked for then carefully handed it to her.

She took the medicine on my hands, ate it then took the water on my other hand to help the tablet go down smoothly. She hands me back the glass and I set it back to the table. When I turned back around to check up on her, I noticed that her cheeks suddenly turned red and her hands reached her eyes, tears were pouring out and she was slightly sobbing. So, I did the best thing I could think of doing at the moment and sat next to her and wrapped my arms around her.

When she felt my arms hold her tight, she leaned into my chest and continued to pour her feelings out.

“I’m sorry for putting you up to this every month, my lamby.” Sohyun muttered on my chest.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for my puppy, I’m just glad that you’re back here safe.” I replied while drawing circles on her back, trying to comfort her.

“I know but I can’t help myself to feel that I’m being a burden to you.” Sohyun replied.

“You’re not being a burden to me Sohyun-ah, I love you so much and I would do anything for you.” as I continue to comfort my wife.

“And besides, I knew what I got into and I’m prepared to do anything that I can to help you in your episodes.” I reassure my wife.

She looked up from my chest and met my eyes with her tired, yet lovely pair. When our eyes caught each other, I tried to peck her cheek but she winced and moved away.

“Ah no lamby! I’m still covered in blood, you’re gonna get it on yourself!” Sohyun exclaimed.

As I peered lovingly at my enchanting wife, I grabbed the back of her neck and went ahead and gave her a peck in her blood covered cheeks.

“Do you think I care about stuff like that, puppy? We’ve been at this since before we graduated and I’ve already tasted every type of animal blood on you, even some of yours! So just let me give my lovely wife a kiss she deserves after a hard time.” I say while nuzzling Sohyun’s nose.

Sohyun grinned and finally let me peck her cheeks once more, after I was done, I noticed her pouting and pointing at her lips, basically telling me that her full lips needed attention as well. Me being whipped for this woman in front of me, obliged and gave her lips some attention.

At first, it was a chaste and slow kiss, but after Sohyun grabbed the sides of my head, she also deepened the kiss, with love taking over the disgust she felt before. Like she’s telling me that she is grateful for my undeterred love. She loosened her grasp on my lips and let go but continued to nuzzle my nose.

“What would I ever do without you, my lamby?” Sohyun asked.

“Hmmm, I don’t think we’ll ever know because you will always have me, my puppy!” I replied lovingly to my wife.

“And you will always have me too!” Sohyun muttered.

After sharing a lovely moment, being a werewolf with werewolf strength, she easily pushed me down on the couch and straddled my lap and proceeds to cuddle me more, she hooked her arms and settled her head on the crook of my neck, making me ticklish with her warm breath.

“Are you feeling well now, pup?” I asked her.

She nodded against my neck.

“Hmm, ok.” I then kissed her cheek after she answered my question and we remained in our position.

Silence then enveloped our living room, only Sohyun’s heavy breathing against my neck could be heard around the house. After a while, I felt movement from her and she suddenly put her hands on my chest to help push herself up, she then fixed her hair while we both stared at each other smiling.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” I asked her while I reached my hand on her face.

She leaned towards my hands caressing her cheeks onto it while she nodded.

“Ok let me up first, then I’ll help you clean up” patting her thighs to let her know that I’ll stand.

She finally hopped off my lap and sat in an empty space on the couch and let me stand up. When I finally got the chance to do so, she put up her arms, letting me know that she wanted to be carried towards the bathroom.

I grinned and chuckled at her actions, finding it adorable that a fearsome creature such as her, needs the help of her human husband to move around.

I picked her up bridal style and carried her towards the bathroom, on the way to the bathroom, she whispered something on my ear that caught me off guard.

“You know, maybe I should turn you and maybe we could start talking about cubs?” I stopped in my tracks and looked at Sohyun with surprise in my eyes.

Seeing this, Sohyun laughed uncontrollably at my state but then she reach out on my face and said, “I’m just kidding, I know you’re not ready for a huge change to happen in your life, I know it’s a big ask to you, seeing that you would have to literally changed your body and your lifestyle.”

I smiled towards my wife and thanked her sincerely and continued towards the bathroom.

After getting in the bathroom, I put her down and she lifted her arms up over her head, letting me know that she needed my help taking her clothes off.

While helping her, I started contemplating on what would happen if she would turn me into something like her. ‘Would I also be experiencing everything she is going through every time her transformation occurred? What would happen to her if she did turn me into a werewolf, how will it affect her, would it hurt her?’ Lots of things have wandered in my mind as I helped my wife take her garments off.

After taking everything off of her, I couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful figure. I couldn’t help but to bask in her beauty,even the scars she got by being a werewolf. I adored every part of her. She noticed that I was staring too long and couldn’t help herself but tease me.

“You know my eyes are up here, lamby.” said Sohyun, breaking me out of the spell her body put me on.

Coming back to my senses, I palmed her face, pushed her lightly and told her “Just get in the shower!” while I chuckled at myself for staring at my wife. I then proceeded to take my clothes off as well, to join Sohyun in the shower, being also covered in blood from nursing and cuddling her before.

As the water hit our skins, I helped her scrub the dried blood on her body, every crevice that had dried blood, I ran my hand through it while she put soap on her hands and ran to really clean herself off. She then lathered shampoo in my hair to my surprise, but I sat on the sides of the tub to lower myself to make it easy for her.

While she shampooed my hair, I asked a question,

“Would it hurt you if you ever turned me?”

Sohyun slightly stopped, then continued to clean my hair, she chuckled at my question and answered;

“Yes, but then I would only feel you, your turning will physically hurt the both of us because I’m the only one who has the strength to hold you down.”

Knowing that I will hurt Sohyun in the process of turning me into a werewolf bothered me, I couldn’t hurt my wife, I don’t wanna hurt my Sohyun. She must’ve felt or seen my shoulders tense up, because she carefully reached for my chin to make me look in her eyes and told me,

“You have endured more pain and hurt from dealing with my transformation, my lamb. I think I could handle a little scratch or bite from you!” her eyes full of love and her bright smile reassured me that I could never hurt her.

I reciprocated the smile and she pulled my face to let our lips meet. It was a quick kiss but I felt the love and reassurance she wanted to give.

“I love you Y/n, and I would never pressure you into doing something you don’t want.” Sohyun muttered while her lips were still on my cheek.

“I know, and I love you too, Sohyun.” I replied.

She finally lets go of my hair and lets me stand up. I took her hands and told her,

“How about we get on with this so you can rest more and I can prepare our lunch, huh?”

“I don’t know about lunch, I’m still quite full from last night.” Sohyun answered while she chuckled.

“Then we’ll do anything you want, just include some rest, I know it has been a rough night for you.” I told Sohyun.

She answered with a smile and an ‘ok’ then we got onto cleaning ourselves, with some making out sessions on the side.

After showering and cleaning ourselves up, we got into our room and put on some fresh pajamas and climbed into our bed. While in bed, she positioned herself on my arms, resting her head on my chest, I then held her tight with my arms and placed my hands on her back, tracing circles on it.

While cuddling her, the thought of turning passed by again, I contemplated on everything that could and would happen. But every time, my love for Sohyun greatly encompasses my fears and uncertainties of the future.

In the comfort and silence of our room, I kissed her head and muttered,

“Let’s do it.”

Sohyun, not sure of what she had heard, exclaimed “Huh?”

The look of bewilderment on face made me laugh and repeated what I had said,

“Let’s do it!”

“What do you mean ‘Let’s do it’?” Sohyun clarified.

“Let’s do it, turn me into a werewolf!” I answered.

Sohyun, filled with excitement, stood up quicker than ever and her eyes widened with excitement, came closer to me and exclaimed “Really!”

“Mhm! I wanna do it for you.” I answered, reflecting her excitement.

Sohyun’s eyes suddenly filled with concern, asked again,

“Are you sure? There’s no pressure, lamby. You don’t have to do this for me.”

I smiled widely and held her hand and waist to put her on my lap.

“Sohyun, I asked for your hand in marriage 8 years ago to grow and move our relationship to the next level, and now that we’ve been married for a while, I think a child would make our love grow even further.”

Sohyun started tearing at this point but I continued,

“And if turning me into a werewolf, to be one of your kind, in order for us to have a child is a choice I have to make, then it’s a choice I’m going to choose every time.”

Sohyun is sobbing now while giggling.

“And seeing how excited you are, It gets me excited as well.” I continued.

Sohyun chuckled while crying, tackled me into bed, showering me with wet kisses from the tears or joy. She then moved towards my lips and kissed me passionately, both of us pouring out all the love we have for each other. She then pulled out and giggled in front of my face.

“Thank you, Y/n. I know it’s a hard choice to make, but thank you for everything that you’re willing to do to make me happy.” Sohyun excitedly said.

I giggled and reached my hand out to her face, wiped her tears and said,

“Everything for you, my pup.”

She smiled and leaned towards my hands. Sohyun then suddenly shot up,

“OMG! We have to call my parents and my sisters, let them know so they prep for your ceremony. We also have to tell your parents, and the others–” she rambled as excitement poured out of her.

I smiled and held her arms.

“Sohyun, take it easy. We have tomorrow to do that, what’s important is you could rest today.”

Sohyun sheepishly laughed and then finally calmed down a bit, still full of excitement. She went back to my arms and we continued to cuddle.

“Thank you, Y/n, really. Thank you so much for this. I love you so much.” Sohyun muttered on my chest.

“You’re always welcome, Sohyun-ah. I love you more than you know.” I muttered on her head while I gave it a peck.

For now, we enjoy the silence and comfort of each other’s presence, preparing for the big changes we will face.

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Six

chapter warnings: none?

i decided to make a sandwich half way through editing this chapter and i forgot where i was at so if there's any spelling mistakes or anything pls ignore!! :) also i want to add that i have no knowledge of fishing!! i only know what i know because of what folio was talking about on craig's podcast lmao

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The next morning, you found yourself getting dragged out of the house early to follow the guys down to a spot not too far from Jolly’s house, for a day of fishing. Jolly picked you and Folio up, and you met the others at his house before walking a “quick” 45 minutes down to the lake. 

However, you couldn’t complain once you got there. The lake itself was beautiful, the sun was warm on your skin and the breeze was light. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all?

As the guys got set up, Folio wouldn’t stop rambling about bait, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how passionate he was about this, it warmed your heart to see him so happy.

But then you had a thought. 

“Do people really use worms as bait?” You raised an eyebrow, turning to Folio, who had already whipped his shirt off, and you couldn't help but wonder when he had gotten his chest tattooed.

“Yep!” He nodded.

“So… It isn’t just a cartoon thing?”

“No! It’s live bait, some people use worms, some use maggots, crickets, even smaller fish.” 

“What the fuck? That’s like cannibalism, right?”

“Not really,” Folio hummed, “I don’t use any of those though.” 

“So what do you use?”

“You’ll see soon!” He smiled, turning back to the lake. 

You didn’t think you’d be fishing today, you’d let the guys do that and your plan was to sit and soak up the sun. Even when Jolly offered you a rod, you turned it down, setting your picnic blanket down on the ground instead and stretching out on it.

Ruffilo joined you, asking before sitting down beside you on the blanket. He offered you a beer, but you politely declined, so Bryan took it instead. 

“It feels weird without Noah.” Nicholas said, and you couldn’t help but wince at his name. You thought a day without him was what you needed, but there was never an escape, was there?

“I was just thinking that,” Jolly agreed, sitting on one of the fold up chairs and nudging your leg with his foot, “I bet you’re not complaining though.” 

You just shook your head. 

“I don’t want to think about him.” 

The guys were suddenly quiet, like they were all thinking the same thing but none of them wanted to ask. Ruffilo sighed, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Don’t take anything he says personally, Noah I mean. He’s been off with us all for a while now. I know that man better than he knows himself, and I know he’s stubborn as hell, but he still cares about you.” 

You slowly looked up, almost hesitant before your eyes met his. 

“I just wish he’d actually talk to me.” You sighed. “One minute I feel like he hates my guts and the next it’s like nothing has ever happened! He's constantly messing with my mind.” 

“That’s Noah for you.” Ruff chuckled. By this point, the others had fallen into their own conversation, leaving the two of you to talk in relative privacy

“Amy said something to me yesterday and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it…” You frowned. 

“What did she say?”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling your mouth dry up as you began to speak. 

“She said that if Noah had the chance, if I gave him even the slightest hint to say I wanted him back, he’d drop everything for me…” You could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you kept your gaze fixed on the lake, “Is it true that he’s not happy with her anymore?”

“Is it not obvious?” Ruff smiled softly, “Before you came back around, those two were pretty much inseparable, he couldn't even go to the studio alone. But now... it’s different. It’s like he’s purposely trying to push her away so that she’ll leave first. But I know she loves him too much to do that.”

You frowned, turning back to look at him. 

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer... but as his best friend, has he spoken to you about me?”

Ruff nodded. 

“He never shuts up about you. Never has since the day you met.”

You felt your world stopped for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as a warmth spread in your chest.

You knew Noah had never fully let go of you, but hearing it said out loud, especially from someone who knew him better than anyone, made it feel real in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to ever think about. 

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket as you stared at the water.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ruffilo said softly, watching you with careful eyes. “I know it’s a lot.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh. 

“A lot is an understatement.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of the others laughing in the distance, the gentle rustling of the trees, and the distant chirping of birds filled the silence between you. You wanted to say something, to admit that a part of you already knew, that every time Noah looked at you, you could feel the weight of things left unspoken between you. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He never said anything. Not anything meaningful. 

But neither did you.

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If he really does still care that much, then why is he still with her, why does he refuse to let her go if he isn't happy? Why does he act like I don’t exist half the time, and then the next second, he’s looking at me like-” You stopped yourself before you could finish that thought.

Ruff knew what you were trying to say anyway.

He let out a slow breath, like he’d been asking himself the same questions. 

“Because it’s easier, I guess.”

“What?” You frowned. 

“It’s easier to be with her, can’t you see? It’s easier to pretend he’s over you, to push you away, to hurt you before you can hurt him again. But at the same time, it’s like he can’t help himself, he still gravitates toward you, even when he tries not to. I guess that’s what happens when you really, really mean something to someone.”

That hit you like a punch to the stomach.

"Do you remember the night you met? When we all met you?"

"A little," you nodded, "I couldn't really tell you anything about it though."

Ruffilo nodded.

"I don't remember much either, Jolly does though, he was the only sober one there. All I remember, what everyone remembers, is that from the moment you two laid eyes on each other, something... clicked. It was like you were always meant to be. You didn’t leave each others side once that night, you were practically glued together, like you'd known each other forever. No one could get a word in, and honestly, no one wanted to, we were happy for him. It was like nothing else mattered, just you two. I truly think it was love at first sight, and everyone else could see it. It's why it didn't come as a surprise when the two of you were sneaking about last year."

Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.

You barely remembered a thing from that night, but you knew now that you had totally fucked up.

“So what do I do?” You finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ruff gave you a small, knowing smile. 

“That’s not my call to make.” He glanced toward the others, where Jolly was currently swearing at his fishing rod and Bryan was filming him. Then he looked back at you. “But whatever you decide… don’t wait too long.”

“What do you mean-”

“Holy shit!” Jolly shouted, and as you looked over you saw him with a huge fish in his hands, “I told you I’d catch one first!”

…

You were pretty quiet for the rest of the trip, and it was slowly starting to get dark now. The lake reflected the soft hues of the evening sky, the water rippling gently in the breeze. You sat near the disposable barbeque, watching as Folio flipped the burgers, the smell of charred meat filling the air.

“Alright, who's hungry?” Folio announced, holding up the plate of burgers and hotdogs like he was presenting some five-star meal.

“It’s a miracle you didn’t burn them.” Nicholas chuckled, inspecting them before reaching into the cooler for a drink.

“How dare you doubt my chef skills! I cook almost every night at home and I’ve never heard y/n complain once!” 

Jolly chuckled as he handed out plates, nudging you lightly with his elbow as he noticed how you were far away, in a world of your own. 

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile. 

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Jolly didn’t push, just gave a small nod before sitting back in his chair.

A comfortable silence settled over the group as everyone dug into their food. The only sounds were the crackling of the grill and the occasional murmured conversation. Then, out of nowhere, Jolly cleared his throat.

“So… I’ve been thinking about proposing to Nicole.”

Folio choked on his drink. 

“Dude- what?”

Jolly laughed at his reaction, shaking his head. 

“You heard me.”

“Finally!” Bryan grinned, “What took you so long?”

“What?” Jolly laughed, “What took me so long?”

“You’ve been with her how long? Like… five years?” Nicholas pointed a fry at him. 

“Six.” Jolly corrected.

“Exactly.” Bryan smirked. “About damn time.”

You watched Jolly, the way his expression softened just at the mention of Nicole’s name. It was rare to see him get sentimental, but right now, it was obvious just how much he loved her.

And love was a sore topic for you right now.

“Do you know how you’re gonna do it?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Jolly shrugged. 

“Not yet. I just know I want to. I’ve been carrying the ring around for a while now, just waiting for the right moment. It’s her birthday next weekend, I’m organising a small party for her with our close friends, so basically just you guys, and I was thinking about doing it then?”

“Wait, you already have the ring?” Folio’s eyes widened. 

“Yeah.” Jolly chuckled. 

“Dude, just ask her already!” Bryan exclaimed. 

Jolly sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“I just… want it to be perfect, you know? She deserves that.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words. It was rare to see this side of Jolly, so open and vulnerable, but it made you happy.

“She’s gonna say yes no matter what,” you reassured him, “She really loves you.” 

Jolly smiled. 

“I hope so.”

“Nah,” Bryan grinned. “You better hope she doesn’t realise she could do better before you ask.”

“Bry!” You scoffed, as Jolly threw a fry at him. 

For a moment, the heaviness in your chest lifted, as the guys burst into laughter.

You realised in that moment how grateful you were for your friends. Even if you didn’t know where you stood with Noah, you always had them. 

However, your moment was quickly ruined as you felt something wet land on your arm. 

Oh shit. Rain?

The first few drops were barely noticeable at first, cool against your skin as they landed. You thought maybe it would pass, just a fleeting drizzle, nothing more. But within minutes, the sky darkened, and the rain picked up,getting heavier, until the sound of droplets hitting the lake and the surrounding trees filled the air.

"Oh, come on!" Folio groaned, shielding his eyes as he looked up at the clouds.

Bryan laughed, shaking out his hair as droplets clung to the ends. 

"Suck it up, princess." He said to Folio, before he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it in your direction. "Here, before you start crying about it. I know how you get when your hair is wet."

You caught it, rolling your eyes. Bry had a hoodie beneath his jacket, and all you had was a tank top.

"Wow, thanks. So chivalrous of you."

"I try.” Bryan smirked, pulling his hood up.

“It should pass soon.” Jolly said, sitting back in his chair. 

But after a few minutes passed, it was only getting heavier. 

“I say we head back to Jolly’s.” Nicholas called, and the guys nodded. 

"What about all the gear?" Folio asked, glancing down towards the lake. 

"You and y/n got it, right?" Bryan grinned, backing away as he joined the others who were already heading to the woods. 

"What?!" You exclaimed, "Hell no, you guys help-"

"Bye!" The guys waved. 

Before you could protest, they were gone, disappearing into the trees, their laughter fading as they left you and Folio standing there, abandoned in the pouring rain.

Folio exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as water dripped from his chin. 

"I fucking hate them." He shook his head. 

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. 

"There’s no way we’re carrying all this back in the rain."

"Nope. Not happening," Folio agreed, crossing his arms. "What’s the plan, then? We just… live here now?"

You huffed, pulling Bryan’s jacket tighter around yourself as another gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine.

"I guess we just wait it out?"

Folio sighed, glancing around before pointing to a large tree a few feet away. 

"C’mon, at least let’s get under there so we’re not totally drenched."

You agreed, following him and settling underneath the thick branches. It barely made a differnce.

"Alright, screw this," you grumbled, hugging Bryan’s jacket tighter around yourself. "Call someone. I am not staying here any longer."

Folio pulled out his phone, squinting at the screen through the water droplets sliding down it. 

"Who do you suggest? Because I know Jolly’s not coming back for us, Matt’s visiting Alyson’s parents, and Davis- hell no, he’d never let us live it down."

You hesitated, dread settling in your stomach as you swallowed your pride.

"How about Noah."

Folio let out a low whistle. 

"Oh, boy. You sure about that?"

"Nick. I’d rather die than walk all the way back in this rain carrying all this shit."

He huffed a laugh before nodding. 

But instead of pressing call, he handed you the phone. 

"Your idea, you call him."

You shot him a glare but took the phone anyway. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the call button. The line rang a few times before finally connecting.

"Hello? I told you I’m busy today, what do you want?"

His voice was sharp, impatient. You braced yourself.

"Noah… hi."

A pause. 

"What do you want?"

You exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. 

"Well… Folio and I are kinda stranded at the lake by Jolly’s place. It’s pouring, and the guys are all assholes and ditched us with all the fishing gear... We need a ride."

Silence.

"Yeah, not my problem."

You shot Folio a look, and he snatched the phone out of your hand before you could protest.

"Dude, come on," he said, exasperated. "We’re drenched, and we have all the gear to take back. Just come pick us up real quick."

"You know how far that is? Call someone else."

You rolled your eyes. Typical. Before you could tell Folio to hang up, he smirked slightly.

"Oh, yeah? I get why you’d leave me out here but what about y/n? Noah, she’s completely soaked, shivering… she’s gonna get sick."

The silence on the other end was instant.

Your eyes widened, whipping your head toward him. 

"Are you serious?" You mouthed.

Folio just grinned, raising a finger to his lips to say trust me.

A few more seconds of silence. Then finally, Noah let out an annoyed breath.

"Where are you exactly?"

Folio beamed in victory. 

"I’ll send you the location. Hurry up, alright? We’re freezing."

Noah hung up without another word. Folio immediately turned to you with a smug grin.

"Knew that would work. He can pretend to hate you all he wants but-"

“Folio!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." He smirked.

…

“I was thinking maybe we could redecorate the kitchen?” Amy suggested, “I like the wooden cabinets but I think we should go for a more modern look, why don’t we have a think about it?”

“Hm, yeah, sounds good.” Noah nodded, not fully listening. 

The two of them were out for dinner, Noah had taken Amy out for a day of shopping, and now to eat at her favourite restaurant. He had tried all day to put on the loving boyfriend act, but it had gotten to a point where he was tired of it now. He just wanted her to go home- but she can’t, because now they live together. 

“I was also wondering if-”

Buzz buzz… Buzz buzz

Noah apologised, reaching into his pocket for his phone, thanking some higher being for this interruption. 

When he looked at the name and read Folio, he had some kind of idea what this was going to be about. Noah had checked the weather forecast, and it had said it was due to rain around now. He chuckled to himself before answering. 

"Hello? I told you I’m busy today, what do you want?" He asked, sitting back in his seat with a sigh. 

But the voice that answered back wasn’t Folio. 

"Noah… hi." There was no mistaking that voice.

His heart skipped a beat, but he forced his voice to remain steady. 

"What do you want?"

He heard you shift, your voice crackling just a little. The rain was clearly getting to you. 

"Well… Folio and I are kinda stranded at the lake by Jolly’s place. It’s pouring, and the guys are all assholes and ditched us with all the fishing gear. We need a ride…?"

There was a long pause on Noah’s end, he knew he’d give in eventually, he wanted an escape from the restaurant, he just couldn’t make it seem so obvious to Amy that he wanted to leave. So the sharp edge of his irritation returned. 

"Yeah, not my problem."

He could hear some movement, and then Folio had snatched the phone from you.

"Dude, come on," he said, exasperated. "We’re drenched, and we’ve got all the gear to take back. Just come pick us up real quick."

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration building. 

"You know how far that is? Call someone else."

The line was silent for a beat. And then Folio added something Noah didn’t expect to hear. 

"Oh, yeah? I get why you’d leave me out here, but what about y/n? Noah, she’s completely soaked, shivering… she’s gonna get sick."

The words hit Noah harder than he expected.

He froze, his hand tightening around his phone. He should’ve just hung up. He should’ve ignored this. But the thought of you in the rain, shivering and vulnerable, made his chest tighten.

There was no way around it. He couldn't leave you out there. He didn’t want to care, but he did. And that made everything so much more complicated.

"Where are you exactly?" Noah asked, his voice a little quieter now.

Folio wasted no time.

"I’ll send you the location. Hurry up, alright? We’re freezing."

Noah hung up, the decision already made. He glanced over at Amy, who had raised an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor. But Noah didn’t have time to explain. He grabbed his jacket and stood up.

"I’m sorry, there’s an emergency, Folio’s uh… broken a finger… He needs taking to the hospital, I’ve gotta go." He said quickly, before she could ask any questions.

She didn’t protest, but the confused and disappointed look she gave him was enough to make him feel guilty. 

"Okay… I’ll see you later then."

Without another word, he rushed out, the cold air biting at his skin as he jogged to his car. His mind raced as he drove toward the lake, the rain pounding harder against the windshield. 

What was he doing?

…

It didn’t take long before headlights cut through the rain, the familiar sight of Noah’s car pulling up near the dirt road leading to the lake. The moment the window rolled down, his gaze immediately landed on you.

"Get in."

You didn’t hesitate, yanking open the door and practically diving into the warm interior. Folio took his time loading the car, then finally he gathered the lighter gear and tossed it in before he climbed into the passenger's seat. 

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair before shifting into drive. 

"You guys are a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are." Folio smirked.

Noah shot him a glare before turning his attention back to the road. You sat there, dripping wet and exhausted, but for some reason, you felt just a little bit warmer.

Because if he truly didn't care, he would've left you two out there.

"Couldn’t handle a little rain?" Noah asked, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

"Oh, shut up." You scoffed, your teeth chattering as you shivered.

He smirked slightly, before reaching out to turn up the heating.

“There should be a hoodie in the back somewhere, put it on.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“No, I’m good.”

"No, y/n. Take off whatever is wet and get changed." Noah’s voice was more stern this time, almost commanding.

“Why? So I can look even more pathetic? I'm not some damsel in distress, Noah."

He glanced at you again, his expression softening just a little. 

"No, I know you’re not. But I don’t want you getting sick, and I’m not gonna let you freeze to death in my car either. Put it on."

You blinked, surprised. 

“Okay, as long as neither of you look.” 

Folio immediately covered his eyes, and Noah fought back the urge to say, It’s nothing I haven’t seen before... you could tell by the slight smirk on his lips that he was tempted.

A few seconds passed before you reluctantly leaned over, grabbing it from the seat beside you. You took off your jacket and shirt, leaving you in just your bra as you pulled his hoodie over your head, the fabric surprisingly warm against your skin. It smelled faintly like Noah, and it made you feel oddly at ease, though you’d never ever admit it to him.

Noah kept his eyes on the road, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, like he was trying to focus on driving but couldn’t help noticing the way you looked, all bundled up in his hoodie.

It made your cheeks flush. 

"Better?" He asked, his voice quieter now, more considerate.

You nodded, glancing over at him. 

"Yeah. Thanks." You said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. 

“Can I look now?” Folio asked, his hands still dramatically covering his eyes. 

…

It wasn’t too long before  the car slowed and Noah pulled into the driveway of your place. The rain hadn’t let up, and the evening air had only gotten colder.

"Well, this is it." Noah said.

You glanced over at him, your fingers still clutching the hoodie, and for a second, there was an awkward silence. You weren't sure what to say, or if you even needed to say anything. 

So you decided to just reach for the door handle, until Noah's voice stopped you.

"Keep it."

You blinked at him, not sure you heard him right.

"Keep it," he repeated, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

You hesitated for a second, your heart fluttering.

"Are you sure?" You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, though you had a feeling it was more of a rhetorical question.

Noah gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his lips curling slightly into that familiar half-smirk. 

"Yeah. Just don't lose it."

You smiled softly, more to yourself than anything, before giving him a quick nod. 

"Thanks.” You murmured.

Folio, who had been mostly quiet during the ride, was already bringing the fishing gear inside. You asked if he wanted a hand, but he shook his head, telling you to just get inside, into the warm. 

You stepped out of the car, holding your soaked clothes in your arms. Before you could turn away, Noah’s voice cut through your thoughts again.

"Hey, y/n?"

You stopped and turned back to him. 

"Yeah?"

"Next time," he started, his tone slightly softer than before, "Try not to get yourself stranded in the rain again, okay?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the slight ache in your chest. 

"I’ll try."

With that, you closed the door softly, turning to head inside. As you walked toward the door, you glanced down at the hoodie you were wearing, wondering if it meant anything more to him than just lending you a piece of clothing. But you didn’t dwell on it for long. You had a feeling you’d figure it out eventually.

You had gone straight up to your room, deciding you were going to have a shower and then go to bed. You didn’t know how to deal with all the thoughts in your head right now, so hopefully a nice hot shower would help your mind clear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Ruffilo had said, and then how when Folio had mentioned you were cold Noah changed his mind and picked you up, and how he told you he didn’t want you getting sick-

You were probably overthinking, right? Anyone would’ve done the same, why does it make any difference that it was Noah?

You shook your head, shaking away the thoughts as you got undressed, tugging the wet shorts off. You slipped your hands into the pocket in Noah’s hoodie, making sure you hadn’t put something in there, but instead you pulled a couple things out. 

First, a hair band, your brow furrowed as you set it down on your dresser, thoughts of Noah’s little bun flooding your mind, and secondly a scrunched up piece of paper, which had something written on it. You immediately recognised Noah’s handwriting, and you wondered if this was really something you should be looking at, but still you unfolded and uncreased the paper, revealing what you guessed to be song lyrics.

You shouldn't be reading this, you weren't sure if this was lyrics or just something he wanted to get off his mind, but curiosity won, and you began to read.

You said enough

You never loved the thought of us

You're too good to be true, yeah

I gotta go, gotta run

You don't want me the way I want you, no

You walked too close to the rails

I picked you up when you fell

How can you live with yourself?

You're lost, but I couldn't tell

Fooled me and you did it well

Thought you were somebody else

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

okay so if you read nothing ever after, i want to let you know i'm gonna change the story of how they met just a tiny bit... i've spent weeks writing the chapter where jolly explains it to them and i feel like it'd be a good idea to just say there'll be some inconsistencies until i can edit it lmao

@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone @superpiratecriminalchef @lukeevangelista @lunabuna991 @ami-gami @bluehairpunklol

[jr-acrux101]

Soldat's Kin PT.2

Summary: He's alive but different. PT.1 Warnings: dark fic, kidnapping, no direct smut Word count: 4.6k Глупый - stupid Вверх - up Полоска - strip Симпатичный - pretty h/l - hair length держи ее в безопасности - keep her safe E/C-eye color H/C- hair color Сидеть - sit Кошка - cat Иди сюда - come here Зайчик - bunny

2024 -New York City

Sam scanned the battle field, looking for any survivors. The buildings were destroyed, half crumbled while others completely gone. He pulled up the screen attached to his wrist, he scanned, slowly, making sure to assess every pile of rubble. Before he decided to shut it off, he saw warmth emitting from the grabble. It was small; child-like. He rushed over, throwing the rocks off the small boy. He grabbed the child, not paying attention to his face, just trying to do his best to not hurt the body. 

“Jamie!” A woman appeared, eyes red, face full of sorrow. 

You cleared more of the rocks, as Sam was able to pull the boy fully out. He laid him carefully, the scanner gave full body heat; he checked the pulse, it was strong. He turned to the boy's face, and saw… Bucky Junior. 

He watched you hover over the kid, desperation evident in your tone, “Jamie? Jamie!”

The young boy emitted a groan, showing he could hear you. “Oh thank god,” you bawled, one hand clutching your chest, relief in your veins. You drew a shaky breath as you turned to Sam, grabbing his hands in yours, “Thank you so much. Thank you.” Your voice was shaky, your heart still lost in fear.

“You don’t have to thank me ma’am.” 

You nodded furiously, ready to talk, when a soft voice was heard, “Mom?”

Eyes wide, you turned your attention to your son, “I’m here. I’m here Jamie.” Hugging the boy, as he gained further consciousness. Sam gave a soft pat on the shoulder, along with a nod, before walking away.

‘That kid looks like it could be Buck’s twin.’ His mind went to Zemos, and Bucky’s devoid of emotion, at that moment. He turned to see you with your son, still there helping him slowly get up, ‘She looks too normal… too nice.’ He watched as you dusted the debris of your son, long h/c hair in a braid, eyes full of love - something Hydra agents lacked. 

It ate at the back of his mind for weeks, before he finally asked something, “Hey Buck?” The park was full, as the two grabbed lunch.

Bucky paused, mid-bite, eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“When,” he hesitated, what if he was wrong.

The man with the metal arm seemed to know what the question would be about, “What about Hydra Sam?”

“Did they- like, make you do other things besides killing?” The words were heavy as the atmosphere turned tense.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his right arm fixing his hair, “Why the sudden interest?”

Sam looked away in the distance, taking in the park square, “I saw a boy who looked like you.”

The ex-Winter Soldier paused, “That can mean anything, people have like 10 doppelgangers in their life.”

“I don't know Buck, that kid is like the spitting image of you. The only thing that was different was his eyes, they were e/c.” 

Bucky's mind flashed his with an image of e/c eyes, red from crying. “So what, you think one of the orders I had when I was the winter soldier resulted in a hydra spawn.”

“I don't know about hydra spawn, the women looked sweet. But you know what they say, looks can be deceiving.”

“None of them would want- they were all power hungry women with no compassion for kids. Plus I was a lowly soldat, they probably wouldn't have kept the kid.” Bucky avoided eye contact, only moving his food around, hunger disappeared.

Sam nodded, the solemn mood growing too heavy for each other's comfort. Sometimes, often, the universe liked to prove that it was full of humor. “Jamie! Come back here!” There you were, holding an ice cream cone.

A young boy came cycling towards his mother, lo and behold to Bucky, there was the boy who was the spitting image of him. Sam’s eyes widened, he quietly whispered, “That’s her! That's the kid!” Bucky just stared, the boy was his twin; except, just like Sam had said, his eyes were e/c.

He started to gain a migraine. He stared and stared until they were passing them by. He heard a laugh drop from your lips, “Jamie come one, quit being silly and eat your ice cream. This is the only place that sells pancakes and syrup.” The two men turned to one another, upon hearing the child's name and favorite flavor. Bucky was a sucker for pancakes.

The child nodded to you, putting the training bike next to the bench. He sat finally, politely asking for his ice cream. You smiled at the boy, sitting next to him. Breathing in a deep breath of air, you felt eyes on your figure. Looking up, there were ocean blue eyes of the man with the metal arm. The two of you made eye contact, and suddenly you were back in hydra’s base; being dragged to your daily session with soldat.

Bucky internally flinched, the look of terror was evident on your face, he was no stranger to that look. Whilst it never crossed Sam’s name before, it dawned on him the roles could also be reversed. Before he could stop his friend, Bucky was out of the chair heading towards the mother and son. Sam narrowly missed Bucky. Your breath was caught in your throat, here was the father of your child; The Winter Soldier. “Soldat.” It was a whisper that Bucky caught, it heartbreakingly confirmed his suspicions.

The little boy took his attention away from his ice cream, seeing the man all clad in black and another in simple outing attire; plaid button up and jeans. The boy stared at the dark skin man before recognition set, “You’re the Falcon! That means you’re the Winter Soldier!” The boy jumped up off the bench, forgetting he had ice cream. Splat. It laid on the floor, as the child stared at flatten ice cream, tears welling up. He gasped through his sobs, “Mommy..m-my… ice… cream…”

Before you could react, Bucky lowered his height to match the 4 year old, “Hey it’s okay, I’ll get you a new one. It’s our fault for distracting you.” 

The boy calmed down, his sobbing turned into sniffles, his face turning less blotchy red, “Promise?”

He held out a pinky, which Bucky held out his own, “Promise.” The little pouty lip turned into a toothy white smile. You watched the scene, this man didn’t seem like the Winter Soldier. Sam watched your reaction, you were more calm.

Sam made his way towards you, “If you want I can take your son to the ice cream shop, while you talk to Bucky.”

E/c eyes snapped to brown, “Bucky? I thought his name was James.”

“He likes to use his nickname.” 

Hesitantly nodding, she stared at the man a bit more, “You’re the hero that rescued him?”

He held out his hand, “Sam Wilson, or as your son called me, The Falcon.”

She shakily took his hand, “Y/n L/n. Okay, well um-his flavor was blueberry pancake.”

Sam nodded, giving a little smile: in the back of his mind, that name rang a bell. “Okay so the little man likes that pancake flavor.” Jamie’s eyes snapped to Sam, excitingly nodding his head. Sam gave a laugh, “Alright, come on, I’ll buy you a new one.” The boy jumped for joy, taking Sam's hand and giving his mom a gummy smile.

Bucky sat down in the empty seat next to you. Muscles flinched as he did, your eyes trained on the shoes of people walking by. The man clenched his jaw before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You didn't speak, so he continued, “I… I don’t remember even that happened in the base, with the torture, cryogenesis and… brain wash. I remembered everyone I killed but being in that basement is… fuzzy to me. I’m sorry for what I did and I am sorry for not remembering all of it. Most of the memories I have are only your eyes crying.”

You slowly faced him, as he was already seeking you, “I forgive you,” his mouth dropped as his eyes widened, “You spoke as someone who was under control, always about the ‘mission to procreate,’ I… I got help, therapy; 2 times a week. Even though my therapist said I didn’t have to forgive you, I wanted to. You were trapped there, just like me. Plus, I’ve always been a crier, so most remember me that way.” You gave an awkward laugh, uncomfortable with the past being brought to light. ‘I liked it,’ Bucky clenched his jaw again as the thought from his deep subconscious awoke. He opened and closed his mouth, like a goldfish, searching for the words to continue. You beat him to the punch though, “He’s yours, Jamie. He’s going to turn six soon.”

“Six?” ‘The boy should be older.’

“Yeah, when the blip happened…he uh… he was gone. He should be 10… but I’m just glad he’s back,” there was a sting behind your eyes, you rapidly blinked it away.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Bucky could say at this point.

“He’s named after you.”

“How… did you find out my name? And how did you get out?”

You sniffled, “Vlad, the soldier assigned to me, let me go. His daughter… he said I reminded him of her. He also kept the other men away from me; Soldat’s Property. When he let me go, we passed a grave, it was filled with another person. I thought I was going to be killed. No more Soldat, no more Sodalt’s kin needed,” you inhaled thinking back to the time Vlad dragged you through the forest, “But he let me go, said you were an assassin and you were nowhere to be found. They panicked, not sending another person with Vlad to make sure the job was done, or maybe… the person in the grave was the second person. He told me your name was James, hence Jamie.”

Even though Bucky didn’t care for his name, he was touched. “Thank you,” it was small and almost unheard. 

“You know, you weren’t a monstrous assassin in the room. I’m not sure if maybe you were given an order to be… hmm gentle, but you were. You call me cимпатичный every time...”

He nodded, he here was being comforted by his own victim, “Still, what I did to you, it's unforgivable.” His foot started to bounce, anger at himself was flooding his veins. 

You shrugged, “It’s my choice, and I chose to forgive you.” You were hesitant to ask, but did so anyway, “What does it mean, cимпатичный?” 

‘How could she forgive me! I’m a monster! She shouldn’t even be letting me near her or the kid!’ His thoughts were in a whirlwind, and the target was himself. You could see the internal struggle, this man was easier to read than his counterpart, “Sol-,” you cleared your throat, "Bucky?” 

He looked at you, fully taking you. You were there, sitting with big eyes staring at him. Your h/l sat naturally, you s/t was glowing, as the sun hit your face he could see why he the Winter Soldier said that word. “He called you pretty.”

You sat a little straighter, mind reeling from knowing now that was his nickname and what it meant, “Oh, okay. Thank you.” You didn’t realize what you said, just reminiscing of every time the Soldat would call you that when he would finish inside you.

Bucky stared at her, brows furrowed and oblivious to where your mind was wandering, “Don’t express gratitude, what I- how cou- why? Why forgive me?” His tone was hard, a different remembrance was stirring inside you.

You were snapped back to the moment, head shaking, “I told you already. You were brai-.”

“No! You can’t just forgive so easily,” shock and anger were held in his soul.

“Please.” It was a hushed whisper as you clench the metal bench, stopping yourself from crying. The Soldat would never yell at you, but the tone of anger was similar.

Bucky turned upon hearing you, his anger evaporated as quickly as it came, “I-I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he cut himself off, hands tugging down on his face.

You never wanted to admit it, “I fell in love with you, with the soldat.” You avoided the man's face, embarrassed to have revealed the secret you kept hidden for so long, “Like I said, you weren’t horrible in the cell. We were fucking almost every night,” a hollow chuckle left your lips, “You would hold me, like you needed my contact to breathe. And… you started to smile, you would take off the mask and do this little smirk or smile when we were done. You become less rigid, a little more human when we were together,” a sigh left your lips before you continued, “I don’t know, it was probably some form of Stockholm syndrome, but that doesn’t make what I felt any less real.” 

His jaw hurt from clenching, “Do you miss him?”

Your eyes were the familiar red, holding back tears, “Insanely…yeah I do.”

He softened his demeanor, “I’m sorry.”

“You don't have to keep apologizing, I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop,” he hung his head, so many emotions clouded his person; shame, guilt, self-loathing. ‘Симпатичный.’ It was a whisper in his head, but Bucky was too late.

You glanced at the man, his stare turning blank. You leaned further back, the similarities he was presenting was the Soldat. As his eyes became glossy, he became emotionless. Your eyes widened: whilst you were true in your word about love, the fear of what he was always took up the back of your mind. You glance around the park, no sight of Jamie or Sam, ‘He must be watching him as he eats the ice cream.’ You hoped this was true. The gaze of the hollow man finally turned to you, “Симпатичный.”

You sucked in a breath, “Soldat?”

“Да.” He was here, staring at you.

A pit grew in your stomach, “Can… can I please talk to Bucky again?”

His gaze hardened, with his jaw clenched he spoke, “No,” it was anger filled.

‘It’s okay, just relax.’ You had to make it okay. Drawing in a breath to slowly release it, “Okay soldat. Did you want to keep talking here or did you want to go to yours?” You prayed it was the latter, not wanting to cause whatever the Winter Soldier could release.

The Soldat paused, relishing in being able to make a choice, “Mine.” He looked at you, emotionless eyes have a hint of humanity now.

The direct eye contact made your body flush, “Okay let me drop Jamie off at his play date and then we’ll go to yours.”

He shook his head, “No, kin stays with us.” He wanted the little boy to be with both his parents now.

You drew in another breath, calming your nerves. You leaned in, and he let you, gently touching his lower jaw. Your tone turned softer for him, always softer for the Soldat, “After okay, we can watch movies together or go for a walk, whatever you want but he has to go so we can talk Soldat.”

He glowered, teeth clenching his mouth shut. His nod was curt, barely visible to the untrained eye; but to you, it was evident. You slowly pulled back, when a long forgotten cold touch grabbed your hand, “Jamie?”

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips, “Yeah Jamie.” He gave a nod of approval before letting you go, “Okay, I will be back in 10 minutes okay. Can you wait here?” Another stoic nod was given before you hesitantly turned away from the assassin. 

You saw Sam and Jamie on the bench right outside the shop, the man gave you a smile unaware of the current situation unfolding. He stood up, lowering his voice so the child wouldn’t hear him, “I thought it would be best to let him eat it here, in case y’all weren’t done talking.”

You licked your lips, mind still really in from what was happening. “Sam?”

His smile slowly started to falter, fear was visible on you, “Yeah?”

You turned to Jamie, happily oblivious to the turn of events unfolding, you grabbed your cell phone - 1 inbox notification. 

‘Hey almost there, walking to the ice cream shop :P’ It was sent 3 minutes ago, ‘Okay she should be here right now then.

“What’s going on?” Sam wasn’t liking how the atmosphere was feeling, his shoulders hunched and the smile was replaced by a frown.

Before you could speak, your sister was there, “Y/n!” 

You whipped around the voice, giving a small tight smile, “Jamie come on, your aunt is here.” With the last bite of the cone shoved in his mouth, Jamie hopped off the bench running full speed with his little legs.

Your sister crouched down, meeting the child for a hug, “Jamie, aw I’ve missed you buddy. Are you ready to hang out with your favorite auntie?”

You walked forward, giving your family hugs, and waving them off. You watched them walk away, as you turned back to Sam, the Winter Soldier stood behind him. With your eyes wide and breath hitch, Sam turned around, not noticing the different demeanor yet. “Buck, my man. How did it-,” as Same went forward to talk to his friend, the brainwashed soldier flashed forward gripping his throat.

Sam coughed out, “Shit.” The realization that this man was no longer his friend. People started to stare, and you started to shake; anxiety was clawing at your throat.

“Soldat, please. Let your friend go.” You approached the man, gently holding his right arm. He gripped your hand, it was firm.

“This man is not my friend.” His grip loosened regardless.

“He’s Bucky’s friend, by an extension of yours. Please, let’s go to yours to talk, remember? That’s what you picked?” You prayed he would listen.

He let Sam go, you knew better than to rush and help Sam; it might upset the Soldier. The man was on the floor gasping for breath, the Soldier looked at you nodding his head to the direction, “Come.”

You gave Sam a small sad smile, mouthing ‘Safe,’ to him. With that the Winter Soldat gripped your hand with his metal one, taking you through the sea of people.

Sam hit the floor, “Fuck!” He stood up, running to his car, Joaquin's number already on dial.

The Soldat’s grip was firm but soft, he led you through the city, weaving in and out of alleyways. You were pretty sure that he added extra courses to throw you off. He pushed through a double door, you weren't able to read the name of the complex. You were indeed winded after 4 flights of stairs, the Winter Soldier seemed fine of course. He looked at your hand as he grabbed the keys, “I’m not going anywhere.” It was reassurance he needed, another slight nod before he let you go. The keys turned and a low click, and the door opened. There was another sound, bells jingling. A soft white tuft of fur was seen behind the arch, Soldat waited for you to enter first, which you complied. 

The cat peaked its head out, a little meow hitting your ears. The cat lazily stretched forward, before going to inspect you. You knelt for Alpine so he could sniff, sniff, and sniff again; he patiently sat, waiting for a pet. You giggled at the small animal, the fur was soft and vibrations started to emit from it. A gruff voice was broke through your concentration of pets, “Кошка. Alpine.”

“You’re a very cute kitty,” you gave a last pet before the cat made its way to the Soldat. It purred as it rubbed itself against him. You saw the hesitation in the man’s eyes, “Give him a soft pet if you want.” He tentatively reached out, favoring his right arm this time, and he would agree the lush fur was soft and silky. Satisfied, the cat walked away into the hallway before lying down on the rug, ready to take a nap.

He stood next to you, a metal arm extended for you to take. You did so, dusting yourself off. The Soldat stared at you, you didn’t seem to age; not that he knew anything about you, only physical. He led you again down the hall, to his room; wooden floor, one seat, and a bed on the floor. The layout had you thinking of the base, just nice furniture and place. He stopped in front of the bed, “Сидеть.”

He followed his own instructions, he tugged at you gently, “I still can’t understand Russian Soldat.”

“Сидеть; it means sit, Зайчик.” 

You nodded, now confused at the other word said. You shifted, and the bed creaked: memories creeped their way into your mind, your body burning as a result. You avoided the Soldiers gaze, knowing the flush of your skin was very much prominent. Soldat smirked, knowing what was being conjured in your head. “Y/n.” Your eyes widened, he never said your name before. You gave a nod as he looked to see if you heard him, “I… I have… missed you,” the words felt foreign on his tongue.

“I’ve missed you too, Soldat… But, why did you return Soldat?”

“Are you not happy to have me?”

Your eyes soften at the man, “Of course I am happy, but from my understanding Bucky has you…” you bit your lip trying to find the right word, “... has you… restrained.”

The Soldat smirked, “He is only in control because I let him.” Your face betrayed your thoughts, and he seemed to notice, raising an eyebrow he spoke again, “I saw you. I will be honest, I do not care what Bucky does most of the time but he was upsetting you.”

“So you came out to - in a way- stop yourself ?”

“I want to be with you, Y/n. Bucky was ruining my chance to see you more.”

You looked away, as the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, “You have grown a lot Soldat. But, this is also Bucky’s life. While we have a child together, I do not think he wants to be with me. And I have to respect that, it’s his choice.”

“What about my choice?” He gave a low growl, teeth clenched at what was said.

“You were in charge… no… what I mean is; while you had to take orders because you were brainwashed and had to survive, during that time - it was you in control. Bucky was trapped in his own mind for years Soldat, it’s only right he has his… time to be in control.”

“I don’t care.” You pressed your mouth into a thin line, of course Soldat would be hard-headed. “Call me James.”

Your brows knitted together at the name change, “Okay… James.” You leaned forward, and he followed your actions, “I need you to let me talk to Bucky please.”

“No.”

“So-,” you cleared your throat, “James please. I need to speak to Bucky.”

“No.”

“Please, I am begging you.”

He smirked, “How about you beg a different way?”

The man in front of you was very different as well, compared to the man you knew. You felt the heat slowly burn through you, “You speak a lot more now.”

The smug look was still on his face, “So do you. As I remember you moaned a lot more.”

With his guard let down, Buck was able to take back control. With a smug turning into wide eye fear, he jolted back. His breath was heavy, eyes frantically taking in his surroundings, “How did you awaken him?”

“I didn’t awaken him, I…not-I, I wouldn't know how to.”

Fear turn to anger quickly, now a familiar feeling cold metal touch ripped your throat, “How the fuck did you awaken him!”

You gasped for a breath, but to no avail. Black dots slowly clouded your vision, gasping one last sentence, “Soldat… or.. Buc-Bucky.”

The metal touch was quickly rescinded as fast as it came, he stood there horrified at what he had done. “Fuck! I-I cou-didn’t mean too.” You hunched over, breathing as much air as you could.

Bucky shot up, and moved himself to the other side, “I’m sorry. I-I… I just don't understand how he came out.”

You gasped again, the oxygen supplying your brain, “He said you were fucking up talking to me.” A couple of coughs slipped past your lips, as your throat tickled still.

He paused, “What?”

“He said he wanted to see me more, and you scared me away. He had to stop it.”

A stupid look made its way to his face, “So, the assassin who is my brainwash counterpart, high-jacked my body to do damage control? Is that what you're saying?”

You rubbed your throat, rolling your eyes at the man, “Yes, basically. Could you not ask James this yourself?”

“James?” His eyebrows continued to knit together.

“That's what he wanted me to call you.”

He was at a loss for words, the Winter Soldier was… gaining humanity. This wasn't supposed to be the future, the Soldier was supposed to be buried and gone. It dawned on him, “He loves you. In his own twisted way, the Winter Soldier actually cares about you.” Fear coursed through him, “You activate him.” It was whispered to himself but you heard it.

Your voice turned soft, “I think he just wants me around.”

Bucky started to breathe heavily, as if the oxygen was being withheld. He gripped the counter top, fighting to breathe. You made your way to him, touch and voice still soft, “Hey. Hey, it's okay. Focus on my voice, or focus on my hand. Can you feel it?”

He gasped again, but nodded. “That's it, you can breathe. One deep breath in: one, two, three. Hold; one, two, three. Exhale; one, two, three.” He started to follow along, till he vision wasn't blurry, till his breath was deep and strong. You rubbed small circles on his back, “It's okay, you're here.”

Bucky gave one loud inhale, he eyed you, “Did you do this a lot for him? Comfort him?” There was no malice, just curiosity.

You gave a shrug, “Not really, he comforted me more than I did him. Not with words, more with actions.”

“What did he do?”

“He held me a lot. After um… what was needed. He would hold me til I fell asleep. Sometimes I would feel the metal arm slowly graze my back or massage my head. When I would cry, which was a lot, he would wipe my tears and kiss me to distract me.”

Bucky nodded, he continued to melt into her touch, his body no stranger to it. They stayed like this, in each other's space, relishing in one another's presence. The comfort the two of you gave each other, it put Bucky’s mind at ease. Slowly, memories of the past were in a way granted access to Bucky.

There's gonna be a part 3

Taglist: @thenameswinter99 @sebastians-love @otherotherplace