#I literally had to block tags because going through them made me feel so sick

[crispycreambacon]

ID: A GIF of a white and grey cat looking at the viewer terrified before a missile lands on it and explodes everything /End ID

Finding something cool and thematically rich and wanting to see what other people think abt it and all I find is shipping

[viivenn]

making an important announcement about some things i’ve noticed in the gwendoline christie fandom that really bug me.

disclaimer: read this at your own convenience and discretion. i am not responsible for any sort of hurt feelings and frankly… i don’t care. if you’re mad about this, you are probably the problem. /lh

to start with id like to begin on a positive note so that i’m not diving into negativity, i don’t want to be completely negative about my experiences because i’ve actually met some of the kindest people in the world through this fan base.

the gwen fandom, the gwandom, the gwendoline christie fandom , the lesbian cesspool, has been an incredible experience that i’m grateful i’ve had the pleasure of being apart of.

i went through a rough patch during november, and if i hadn’t found out about gwen, or met such wonderful people during my time here , i honestly wouldn’t be here right now. i owe my life to these people, gwen included. i will forever adore miss christie and what she stands for alongside the friends i’ve made along the way.

and while i know someday this hyperfix will end, it’s really disheartening to me when a fandom is what makes me grow distant from things i enjoy. it happened before, i feel as though it is happening all over again.

and no, i’m not taking issue with anything like the catrissa stuff or the brienne and larissa ship going around or anything like that. i like that we can all be weird together and enjoy aus like catrissa and crackships like bririssa (not sure the official name that was decided lol). my issue is the amount of content i’ve seen that either focuses on gwen herself, or the strange relationship with minors, or the odd artwork of gwen, and the absolute disgusting behaviour towards giles.

gwen would be absolutely appalled seeing fanfictions of herself that involve nsfw or just her in general, anyone would, it’s disgusting to make works of real people in that setting. it’s like you’re treating them as an original character you can mould and manipulate as you see fit and using someone who is real with thought and feeling and consciousness for smut fics is not okay, or any fic in general. i totally get the hype around her characters, i literally have “brienne’s princess” in my bio and i’ve had “jane murdstone’s bloodbag” (in reference to my vamp au) as a name in a discord server.

but i think the fandom has begun to blur the lines between fictional characters and reality settings when it comes to gwen and the personalities she portrays on the television screen. it’s not fair to her. it’s disgusting. i’ve seen a minor do it, i’ve seen a grown adult do it. it’s something i don’t see shamed and frowned upon often enough and it’s really not okay.

on that note i’d like to quickly mention the photos, we alllll know what photos i’m talking about. the bunny one, the nudes, the ones gwen has expressed regret towards and wishes to not have them spread. was there not a “fan” who brought her a book of her nudes and wanted her to sign it? that person who was blocked on instagram by gwen because they reposted her nudes on their story and tagged her???? how can you refer to yourself as a fan after behaving so abhorrently? absolutely disgusting behaviour. as a collective fandom we need to stop touching those photos (metaphorically speaking) and leave them in the past.

i’ve been told of numerous circumstances in which adults have shown their nsfw works to minors in this fandom and it has to fucking stop. it’s disgusting!! how can you do that knowingly? i constantly ponder terminating my account after a minor got ahold of my nsfw work, and upon realising they WERE a minor it was as simple as blocking and moving on. it’s truly not that hard, folks. and the minors on tiktok who fight with others saying silly things like “that’s my wife” or worse. i’ve seen it all, i feel like, and the more i see it the more sick i become. i cannot stand it.

i have seen and heard of fans who have fat shamed gwen for that one pink dress she wore to the met gala. she looked so happy in that dress, and the audacity one must have to fatshame that poor woman on twitter then turn around and continue to proclaim your ‘love for her’ as if you’d done no wrong? are you fucking serious? are you mental?

and the sexualisation over the porcelain doll look, gods some of you are sick. those were not real breasts, people. considering the fact she wholeheartedly regrets her nude photoshoots , what possesses you to believe she would actually flaunt her chest in that outfit?

the blatant mistreatment of poor giles is not fucking okay either. just because you’re jealous of someone who makes her immensely happy does not give you the right to post something so vile and cruel about him. shame on you. why do you believe this is okay to post:

????????

are you serious? have any of you stopped to consider how HAPPY giles makes her? or is her happiness the last thing you ponder when you look at her? have you even noticed how unhappy she looks lately? have you truly paused to consider how she would feel about seeing this on your page, random twitter user, or the rest of you who think this is okay? bless your hearts.

and some of the absolutely horrific things i’ve seen about her online and the hurtful behaviour towards giles makes me question the difference between a fan and just the general paparazzi. because if you truly loved her and you truly loved giles then i would not be ranting into the fucking void about it for no reason.

i avoid interacting with pages i find problematic on here to keep from stirring the pot but tonight i chose violence and got reeeeeal pissy about how i felt about this place. it’s not okay what i see on here and it’s getting exhausting seeing the same cycle of content on a daily.

that’s everything i have to say, i think. i probably missed a lot that should be discussed in the comments but i’m done for now because i know if i go on i’ll probably cry.

before you post things about real people with real feelings , stop to consider how they will feel those real feelings towards the content you put out. chances are you’ll become less problematic and obnoxious that way. 💘

[vadersaber]

what makes me even more sad than people using Joel for these r*pe fantasies and everything is… what these people are writing is like the worst experience ever for some people out there. Like it’s the most horrible and ugly and terrifying thing they had to go through.

And now you have some random people online squealing about how good and hot and 🥵 their most horrifying experience was.

Like I don’t engage with these posts, I have so much blocked and filtered and I still somehow see these posts in the tags because things weren’t tagged properly or tumblr is just being dumb. And it makes me sick to think of someone who actually experienced this seeing the same things. I know trauma is a complicated things and sometimes people use writing as an outlet. But you can’t tell me it’s your trauma outlet to write r*pe fanfics when you’re answering comments, celebrating how hot and good the writing was.

i've made my stance clear on those type of stories before: they're definitely not my cup of tea so I have the tags blocked and i scroll by, always. if others enjoy them, great, you do you babes.

but like you said, when survivors of SA come in contact with them, that's an issue. such topics should always be properly tagged. i've already had a few people reach out to me saying they feel unsafe even browsing the joel miller tag because of this. going in the tag of their comfort character has become triggering for them.

now, everyone is free to write whatever they desire. i can't and will never tell people 'hey don't write this bc i don't like it' (even if i literally do not get how anything non-consensual is hot, especially being an SA survivor myself). but yes, joel miller's characterization this year has gone very weirdly, down a rabbit hole that for the life of me i cannot process.

[cinderspots]

Look.

I didn't want to do this.

I didn't wanna be the person, who dragged an individual relentlessly, but circumstances change. And sometimes people, don’t know when to stop.

I do not take this lightly, concerns have been raised, and i have never once ever done this before because i have never had a reason to do so.

Now I do.

So.

Dear @doomslayer81

This is for you.

...

First! I am going to put a series of tags of people who are alright with their identity being shared. Some stories have anon tellers simply because they don’t want to deal with the backlash. That is completely up to them of course.

@donnabenevientosimpingzone

@spacehumanwrites

@katsafaria

@sapphic-alcina-dimitrescu

Most people wished to remain anonymous.

Now, this is a callout post. Doomslayer81 has a infamous past of harassment, inappropriate interruptions of a variety of posts, a few suggestive comments, and a pattern of begging for forgiveness and repeating their mistakes.

Anonymous Quote

"Man's delusional, literally delusional. You could tell him to leave you alone and he'd still come crashing. He has no sense of boundaries, he doesn't know when he needs to stop, and he refuses to listen to anyone.

If you see this, motherfucker, let me make this clear. We want nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. Get it through your fucking head. I am sick of seeing you harass everyone, and there are plenty of others who share my sentiment. As you are now, you are a thorn on everyone's right asscheek, one that refuses to let go.

I say this as politely as possible, just stop. We will not forgive you or give you a second chance, this is our verdict, kindly fuck off."

This anon has beared witness to multiple harassment fiasco's with doomslayer81, and has multiple friends who've been "targeted" by the blog

@donnabenevientosimpingzone

"I hate what hes doing. I'm not sure if I can say I hate him, but I certainly hate what he's doing. He has manipulative tendencies and attention-seeking. He's harassed people for me before I blocked him and now he's harassing people that I blocked him. If he doesn't change, I'm not going to stick around and be a problem for other people- I will leave. I'm tired of his actions, and this is a side blog I made for fun- not a job. This is a choice, and I will choose to leave if he continues this bullshit."

They've blocked him and in response to that hes reached out to multiple blogs, harassing them to talk to donnabenevientosimpingzone about their decision and has repeatedly shown they cannot respect boundaries. Now this conversation alone isn't exactly damning. Which is why this is next.

CinderSpots [Me]

"Oh, I dont know if they remember, but ive been down this road with them before. It wasn't pleasant being repeatedly spammed/harassed about an ask they sent me, but i managed to block them quickly. Fuck off honestly, you've done enough damage."

Oh my god i cannot express to you.

I explained, others have explained, they beg for forgiveness, repeat the mistake, beg for forgiveness again. I dont know what else to say about this, at that point i had more information regarding them as a tumblr user and soon. So will you.

@katsafaria

This is the...5th person(?) they've contacted to attempt to reach donnabenevientosimpingzone.

After they've previously harassed them.

After they've been told to stop, and leave them be. You'll notice (once again) theres a pattern of repeating mistakes and then desperately begging for forgiveness. Now if you haven't been in an abusive relationship before (first off good job, you're doing so great for a tumblr user ngl) this is a sign of manipulation and attention seeking behavior, add this on top of the mistakes themselves and the way they seem to display it, this makes me question their age as well, but that is something I cannot prove or entirely back up, simply a gut feeling I have along with a few others.

The way they are behaving is manipulative and toxic, which is why this post began. They scream, red flag

@sapphic-alcina-dimitrescu​

“Yeah, I’d like him to know that he needs to read the room, to stop harassing people. If he doesn’t understand, but people seem angry, he needs to figure it out.”

They’re hardly the first person to tell me that. The thing is, he simply doesn’t figure things out, he doesn’t attempt to figure them out either. It’s a different story when only one or two people have a problem with someone, it’s a different story when the person who’s causing problems is genuinely confused, it’s a different story when someone truly means what they say when they apologize. 

They don’t mean it, because they consistently make the same mistakes over and over again. Would you forgive someone who apologized for the same things repeatedly and never changed? 

So many people got their inboxes spammed, their dms blown up, their discords pinged over and over again. There is a line. And they crossed it, big time. A lot of my mutuals and their mutuals and other people i hadn’t really heard of yet, have had a problem. Some didn’t want to give a quote, some wanted their privacy kept. The total tally I have as a final number of when I decided to put this post together is 22. People that I know of.

Anonymous Quote

“Here’s what I would say: Stop being an asshole and get a life.”

Anonymous Quote

“I just want to say he has repeatedly interacted after being told to stop.”

Anonymous Quote

“Honestly I just want him to go away, he just...won’t stop no matter what? It’s really uncomfortable.”

Anonymous Quote

“Just stop.”

Anonymous Quote

“Please read the room, stop, leave the fandom alone, and especially stop pushing your way into conversations. Stop.”

Anonymous Quote

“I see him everywhere, a lot, he’s kinda like an infection y’know? A lot of us tries to tell him to leave us alone the nice way, but he just..wouldn’t. I needed him to stop, so I blocked him. I’m lucky that way I guess, he didn’t try to get to me through other people..”

...

It doesn’t make me happy to do this, but if I can get this many people to tell me a similar story, doesn’t that say something?

I’m not saying, go to his blog and be a dick or something, I’m saying be aware of this person. Because a lot of people weren’t and got them nothing but trouble. He shows manipulative traits, and multiple people can back me up on the fact that he feels insincere and uncomfortable. As I was writing this, I realized he’d sent me two more messages that I’d failed to notice before, and somehow they were both incredibly willfully ignorant of everything I’d told him. 

Trust me, and if not me, trust the people who’ve spoken to me and allowed me to take their quotes to this post. Block him.

Block him.

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

[martuzzio]

The idea of Ren joining the Amputees-Only club sounds so bittersweet... cuz before he knew they were having fun, but also knew that they were allowed to have a bond like that. He never expected to join them.

I can honestly imagine in his first few meetings there's a few times where Ren just cries, poor guy...

Rendog's first Amputee's Only Club Meeting (written under the cut because this one is longer than normal)

Despite what the universe seems to think, Doc is a pretty easygoing guy. Yes, he does look scary as hell and yes, he was a mob boss at one point, but that doesn’t mean he’s a violent person. Well, he’s violent when he needs to be, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. In reality, his favorite moments are all from quiet parts of his normal, boring, daily life as a hermit.

In these everyday moments, Doc likes to process things. He likes to sit in the greenhouse and watch the bio bees work alongside the robot bees. He likes to brush his fingers on the plants and let his half-robotic brain process the data into something that resembles touch. He likes to listen to Grian and Etho chat as they work.

He observes small moments like these because that’s all he really does. He takes in data and processes it. He uses the processed information to judge his surroundings and react accordingly. Sometimes this means that he uses his data to laugh at his friends who make dumb jokes. But sometimes he uses the data to run, hide, or fight back. When all you do is process data to keep yourself alive, it becomes very hard to ignore incoming information.

This is how Doc eventually locates Ren. He wasn’t planning on finding where his longtime friend wheeled off to, much less go searching for him, but Doc unfortunately decided to take a more leisurely route to the bridge and his camera eye caught the slight movement anyway. Doc has to give it to him; the man knows how to hide. The werewolf is in a lesser-used community room, curled into a dusty couch that’s been shoved into the corner. The chrome wheels of his temporary mobility aid reflect off of the window overlooking deep space. Ren has his left leg drawn up to this chest. His stump of a right leg rests on the couch cushion, shunned. Ren’s obviously hid because he doesn’t want to be found, but unluckily for him, Doc was specifically altered to notice things.

Ren’s flinch when Doc claps his hand on his shoulder is almost unnoticeable. Ren looks like he’s either been crying or had a bad allergic reaction to the dust. Doc assumes the former.

“Cub was working on your new parts earlier today. They look pretty sick,” he ventures.

Ren looks like he has the entire universe on his shoulders. “That’s wonderful,” he mumbles. He opens his mouth as if to say more, but instead sighs and slides his eyes shut.

Doc plops down on the couch and slings his arm over the back of the rest. The action makes Ren recoil again, this time more visibly, and Doc pointedly ignores it. Instead, he says, “As much as I want you to come see what Cub is making, you will go to him when you feel like it. There is nothing you need to do right now besides heal.”

Ren barks out a wet laugh. “Bro, I appreciate you so much, but how can stumps heal?”

Doc’s cybernetic hand twitches in sympathy. “You know what I mean, man, and we both know it.” Doc replies. He looks down at the sliver of space between his leg and Ren’s and chews his words. Ren shifts his gaze to Doc’s arm, then to gaze directly at the creeper’s face.

Doc feels uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before. All of the other amputee hermits were already amputees when they joined the crew. They had time to heal, be angry, and let go in their own ways. He did, too. But now, with Ren sitting next to him, suffering through the same kind of anguish Doc felt when he first woke up from being operated on, Doc suddenly doesn’t know how to act. How do you comfort someone who literally lost a third of their body? As much as Doc knows what that feels like and as much as he wants to help his friend, he might not be able to. He might not ever be able to.

It’s the single most heartbreaking thing that Doc’s realized in a long, long time.

This revelation causes the duo to sit in silence for a long while. Then, Doc gets an idea. His eye shifts to look at his friend. Ren narrows his eyes tiredly but waits anyway.

“The Amputees-Only Club meeting is in a few minutes.” Doc murmurs. Ren is silent, but he plows on. “I think you should come,” he pleads. “I think everyone would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I’m sure they would.”

“I would be very happy to see you.”

Ren’s eyelids squeeze together. “I know you would.”

“Then let’s go,” Doc insists as he pushes himself to his feet. He turns around and smiles as much as he can at his friend, still curled up on the couch. Ren gazes exhaustedly back. “I think it would be a good idea.” He wishes his smile weren’t so frightening.

Ren moves to rub his eyes with his hands but remembers he’s missing one of his arms a little too late. The resulting crumpled expression immediately burns into Doc’s deep storage memory. “I don’t know, Doc.” The werewolf manages after a long moment. “I appreciate you trying to help, but…”

Doc understands. Of course he does. When he first joined the hermits, the idea of a weekly club meeting exclusively for amputees sounded farfetched at best and belittling at worst. Hell, he didn’t even think there were enough amputees on the team to warrant a club. Imagine his surprise when three other people showed up to his first session, all excited he was there to hang out with them.

With this in mind, all he can do is repeat, “I think it would be a good idea.”

Ren stares up at him, and in that moment, he looks as old as Xisuma. But then he gently closes his eyes, inhales slowly and shallowly, and motions for Doc to drag his mobility aid closer. Doc complies immediately.

The journey to the meeting room, like every other journey on the Hermit Craft, is long. It’s made even longer because of Ren’s inexperience with his aid, but Doc doesn’t dare to offer his help. They eventually end up in front of the elevator that Doc remotely called beforehand with his brain chip. When the doors open, Doc lets Ren wheel in first.

Ren is silent in the elevator. Doc tries to catch his expression, but his friend’s unruly hair blocks his vision. “We’re playing cards tonight.” He mentions.

“That’s what you do at every Amputee-Only Club meeting.”

Doc shifts his eye back to the elevator door. “…Correct.”

Ren doesn’t reply.

When the duo finally reaches the Club meeting room, Doc pauses outside for a moment instead of directing his brain to open the door like normal. He glances down at Ren again and murmurs, “if you don’t want to go back, or to your room or something, that’s—”

“It’s fine,” Ren interrupts. He sounds defeated. “We walked all the way here, so we may as well go.”

Doc activates the door without another thought.

The door slides open and reveals the club room. It’s small, smaller than the average community space on the Hermit Craft, but it feels warm. The soft yellow color painted on the walls matches pleasantly with the yellow of the couch cushions. Joe definitely was the one to orchestrate that. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner that’s set up to have nice views of outer space. Various game tables fill the rest of the room, a few surrounded by five chairs. Doc wonders if Ren will notice the new chair addition. Maybe he already had.

The most interesting part of the space, though, is the people within it. TFC is bundled up on the couch, snoring pleasantly and covered in at least ten blankets. His usual plate of cookies is already half eaten. Iskall is standing at the kitchen counter, fiddling with a teacup filled with a mysterious bright pink liquid. His outfit has a few suspicious-looking singe marks at the hem. Finally, Scar is sat at the poker table in the middle of the room, crossed legs resting on an adjacent chair. He’s sorting through a pile of yellow and orange chips. To Doc’s continued wonder, the stack of bright blue cards resting near Scar’s elbow have miraculously not been knocked onto the floor yet.

When the doors open, Scar and Iskall look over. Ren immediately shifts at Doc’s elbow. Doc waits a moment to let Ren speak if he wants to, but when his shorter friend remains silent, he clears his throat in a grinding noise and announces, unnecessarily, “We’re here.”

Scar is so excited that his eyes have turned into little slivers of green. “Ren, I’m so happy you decided to tag along!” He kicks one of the chairs out from the table and clonks his foot on it for emphasis. The blue cards wobble on the edge of the table but still refuse to fall. “Sit down! Iskall can get you something to drink. Have you ever played poker?” He leans forward with the question. “It’s difficult, but I think it’s fun!”

“Uh, I haven’t.” Ren replies awkwardly, still at the door alongside Doc. “I’ve never even heard of it before.”

“Yeah, I would be surprised if you knew about it. It’s one of those old-timey games from TFC’s era.” Iskall says from across the room. He is now by the couch and is gently patting TFC’s fluffy hair to wake him. “Don’t worry that you don’t know. We’ll teach you.”

Ren tries and fails to make a pointed noise of interest, but he still seems intrigued. Doc feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He rolls his shoulders to relieve some tension and moves to sit down. By the time he turns his head to look back, Ren is already wheeling forward to join him but looks lost as to where he should sit.

“Howdy, Ren. Sit next to me so I can teach you, but I’ll only teach if you’re willing to listen.” TFC, now awake, grumbles good-naturedly as he heaves himself off the couch. With his large frame still wrapped in a dozen blankets, he looks like a huge bear compared to Iskall. Which is impressive, Doc thinks, since Iskall is nowhere near frail. TFC’s metal prosthetic clonks on the floor as he walks over to the poker table. As he sits down across from Scar, he says, “There’s no point in just sitting there and gawking at us. Grab a seat.” He uses his leg to nudge the chair to his left.

Ren blinks and maneuvers his aid to let him sit down next to the astronaut. TFC procures a blanket from his pile and offers one to him. Ren, after slowly settling in his chair, accepts the pink fuzzy blanket. Doc accepts a purple one.

TFC lances over to Ren as he saves the blue cards from the edge of the table. “Poker’s good fun. You’ll get it in no time.” He snorts and flicks his gaze to Scar, who is busy stacking the chips into a pyramid. “This one always makes sure we have a great, long game.”

Scar looks up and winces minutely in a false apology. “Sorry about that.”

TFC chuckles. “Boy, I’ve never had better games than when I play with you.”

Scar’s grin almost sparkles. TFC and Doc grin back and Iskall hides his laugh in his shoulder.

“Anyway, ready for your first game with us amputees?” TFC brings the conversation back to Ren, who suddenly looks a lot more uncomfortable.

“I,” he begins, his eyes flicking to TFC, then Doc, before looking down. “I, well, uh…”

The table is silent. Iskall is staring at the table with his hands in his lap. TFC sighs and begins shuffling the cards. Doc, as much as he wants to clear the air somehow, can’t seem to find a way to do so. Scar just looks sad. He looks right at Ren, almost through him.

Ren stares back, eyes wide.

“You don’t want to be here.” Scar says quietly, finally. It’s not a question. Ren’s choked response makes the ex-convex smile slightly. “You can say so, Ren. You’re not going to hurt our feelings. None of us want to be here. But, as much as we may want to, we can’t change what happened to us.” He falls silent again as he looks at a particularly twisted scar on the back of his left hand. He rubs at it harshly with the pad of his thumb before Iskall stops him. “This might be selfish,” Scar continues, softly, “but I’m happy that I at least don’t have to sit in here alone.”

For a long moment, the table is silent. Then, with a rush of noise, Ren makes a sound like he’s dying. In a certain way, Doc thinks, he is.

“I don’t want to be here,” Ren confesses as his open mouth contorts and tears roll down his face. “I don’t want to be here.”

All Doc can do is wrap his arms around everyone else, encasing Ren and his other amputee friends in his embrace, and wish he could do more.

[peppermintbee]

OMORI has poor writing (Part 1)

OMORI stans, just block the #omori hate tag now because I’m going to use it to vent my frustrations with this game. If you love this game, I am not going to try to convince you otherwise. I am glad you enjoyed it so much. I am glad it means a lot to you. I’m not here to take that away from you. I honestly wish I felt the same way!

However, if you are like me and finished the game feeling disappointed, underwhelmed, and maybe a little frustrated, then I am here to say you are not alone. OMORI--while having the right set pieces for an interesting game--is a narrative mess.

I’m splitting this into two posts. This first post is about problems with the plot. The second is about problems with the message/moral. 

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 1: Plot Writing Lies

There’s a book by Brian McDonald called Invisible Ink which is about how to write a compelling story (you can read this great book online for free here). There’s an explanation of the writing “lie” that I find myself frequently thinking of. A “lie” in this context does not mean something is literally untrue, it means something FEELS untrue, unrealistic, improbable, or unlikely. For example, if a character gets shot in the leg but manages to do parkour, this is a “lie” since it seems unrealistic for that to happen. If a character witnesses their beloved parent’s death and shrugs it off, it’s a “lie” because that reaction seems highly unlikely.

In OMORI, the plot is held together by multiple little lies that--try as I might--I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

1. Sunny’s friends care about him, and vice versa

A major theme of the game is how friendship can overcome any obstacle. Friendship gets Sunny over his fear of heights, spiders, and water. Friendship is what Sunny remembers before the final boss fight, and allows him to face his guilt and defeat it (and prevent him from committing suicide). With the photobook and dialogue you are reminded over and over and over and over and over again that Sunny’s friends love him unconditionally.

However, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The childhood memories are cute but shallow, boiling down to simply hanging out and eating treats. Plus, Kel and Aubrey fight constantly, with Aubrey even physically hitting Kel when he steps out of line. Hero and Mari behave more like babysitters than true friends to the younger kids. 

But at least the other kids interact with each other. Sunny, on the other hand, showed nearly no affection or consideration towards his friends. He floats through the memories like a ghost--he could have been completely absent from all the photos and it would have made little difference. I was ready to accept this as Sunny being an unreliable narrator and not thinking he was a good enough for his friends, but this never contradicted. Instead we are given even more memories where Sunny just silently exists there being “cute.”

[Sunny enriching the lives of his friends by LARPING as a cat.]

Because of the lack of meaningful interactions between them, there was nothing in the game that made me think that these 12-15 year olds would have a strong enough bond that would survive 3-4 years of no contact after finding their friend hanged. In fact, that discovery only drove them farther apart. The only person who I could believe actually had a close bond was Basil, who almost literally filled that trope of being the friend who would help you bury a body (or in this case, help Sunny cover up the accidental manslaughter).

The writing fix for this would be simple: instead of showing us the same boring birthday and beach scenes over again, give the kids memories of overcoming some age-appropriate adversity together: heartbreak over an unrequited crush, anxiety over homework, sports injury, lost dogs, divorced parents, running away from home, bullying, etc. Set a precedent of the friends supporting each other through good times AND bad times. Without such backstory, Sunny’s friendships allegedly giving him the courage to overcome his guilt feels like a lie.

2. Sunny abandoning Basil in the bathroom scene

One of the most confusing moments in the game was Sunny’s negligence when Basil has his first breakdown in his bathroom. This part of the game is player-controlled, which is a strange writing decision because all you can do is click on Basil and various bathroom amenities over and over which completely saps the urgency out of the scene. When you try to leave, Basil begs Sunny to stay, but (due to a lack of player options) Sunny walks out without a word. With no option to talk to him OR get help for him, it makes Sunny seem exceptionally cruel to Basil. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the game was setting up for some sort of twist that Sunny DIDN’T care about his friends, which would fix some of the confusion in point #1. However, as we know, that is not the case. Therefore, Sunny’s negligence/apathy towards Basil’s pain feels like a lie.

The writing fix would be to make it MORE clear that Sunny is intentionally running away from Basil. Make it a cutscene, or, give a false choice such as “Leave Basil? Yes / Yes”. After Sunny leaves, Kel should make some remark about Sunny looking odd, “You look sort of shaken up, is there something you want to tell me?” then hit it home with Sunny shaking his head. This would make it more clear that Sunny is intentionally hiding Basil’s state, as opposed to just being a bad friend. As it stands, it just felt like a writing mistake.

3. Basil and Sunny working together to stage Mari’s death as a suicide

This is the plot hole that I see the most complaints over, but it’s so big I have to address it. Accidentally pushing Mari down the stairs I understand, but the rest is too absurd. Below are some of the “lies” that the writing tries to get away with:

That Sunny and Basil wouldn’t just claim she slipped and fell.

That either boy would even come up with this sick plan.

That they wouldn’t back out of this idea during the multi-step process (carrying her downstairs, outside, getting the jump rope, tying a noose, putting it around her neck, stringing her up, hiding the evidence... This is a series of multiple decisions, not one quick accident like the initial push.)

That it’s not the image of Mari’s death that traumatized Sunny, but the image of what they chose to do to her body that traumatized them. I understand the image of Mari hanging is more dramatic, but they literally did it themselves so why is that more haunting than Sunny killing her?

That Mari’s true cause of death wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the parents, the police, the friends, EVERYONE. (I’ve seen fans try to get rid of this plot hole by hypothesizing that the parents knew and covered it up, but the evidence of this is circumstantial at best. The father saying, “You’re not my son,” is unreliable since it happens in Sunny’s headspace. Divorce is common after the death of a child, and, at the very least, Sunny’s mom doesn’t show any evidence of knowing what happened. The way it is written, only Sunny and Basil know the truth.)

The ridiculousness of this twist is so extreme that it completely broke any immersion I had left. Frankly, the reveal that the happy, loveable Mari committed suicide is a far heavier and more realistic twist than a crazy murder-cover-up story is.

Additionally, it seems like Basil was only written into this scene in order to make Sunny the true victim of what happened. After all, Sunny may have pushed her, but it was Basil who came up with the demented cover up. (This is apparent from just the photos but the datamined Truth Album confirms it.) By having Basil come up with the plan, the game splits the guilt between the two of them to make the kids easier to sympathize with. It’s problematic because if Basil was not in the scene, there would be no way to justify what Sunny did to Mari. So why is what they did easier to accept when they worked together?

Fixing the writing lie: Sunny lies and says that Mari slipped. Remove Basil from the scene, and instead have Sunny confide in Basil which forces Basil to become a co-conspirator and burdens him with the terrible truth.

4. Sunny’s friends forgiving him and Basil for what they did to Mari

Last but not least, the story heavily implies that Hero, Kel, and Aubrey will forgive Basil and Sunny for what they did to Mari. I found this to be almost as unbelievable as the staged-suicide stunt.

It feels like a lie since the group’s friendship is never established as anything beyond shallow hang outs from 3+ years ago (see point #1).

It feels like a lie because this is hot off the heels of Aubrey being so distraught over Mari and the following fall out that in the last three days she 1.) attacked Sunny and Kel with a nail bat TWICE, 2.) Stole Basil’s photobook, and 3.) Shoved Basil in the lake. This trauma is still very fresh for her.

It feels like a lie because the complexity of the staged-suicide is so extreme, one would be hard pressed to forgive ANYONE for doing that, be it friend, foe, parent, sibling, lover, etc.

I’ve seen fans argue that the ending is not about forgiveness, it’s about telling the truth, and I want to believe that. Really. If the ending was about Sunny starting his redemption arc by telling the truth no matter what the consequences are, that would be a meaningful lesson. But the writing does not support that. The ending headspace segments are focused on assuring Sunny that his friends will support/forgive him no matter what. To do this, the game shows us the shallow photobook memories (again) to show how much they allegedly care about each other. Then, when fighting Omori, Sunny remembers these quotes from his friends, which directly correlate to their unconditional support:

KEL: Friends... Friends are supposed to be there for each other.

AUBREY: I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.

HERO: We made the mistake of leaving each other when we needed each other the most. This time... we’ll stay together.

BASIL: Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.

The really direct evidence that this ending is about getting forgiveness is this quote from Basil in Sunny’s headspace:

[BASIL: “AUBREY, KEL and HERO are good friends. You have to trust that they’ll forgive us.”]

This is one of the last scenes before Sunny tells his friends the truth, proving that obtaining forgiveness from his FRIENDS is in fact the leading motivation for Sunny’s actions.

Fixing this writing lie is easy. Instead, adjust the writing to be about telling the truth, not about how much the friends will still love Sunny. Have headspace Basil say, “Even if they don’t forgive us, Aubrey, Kel, and Hero deserve to know the truth. It’s the only way to make things right... or close to it.”

Conclusion

OMORI is undeniably a cute game with a strong visual identity, and has a premise that could make for a very compelling experience. However, the sloppy plot and weak character writing cause the potential of this game to be squandered. There are other issues as well that I chose not to cover for the sake of time, such as the poor pacing of the dragged out dungeons and the bizarre, unrealistic behavior of characters in the “real” world. 

However, there are a few more glaring problems with OMORI that I have to address: In part 2 of my critique, I break down what may be the biggest problem with OMORI’s writing: the message.

[ Link to Part 2: OMORI’s Message is Mishandled and Distasteful ]

[jungshookz]

ok so like y/n hanging out with her friends at an ice cream shop and super cute employee kook so happens to make y/n very nervous

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook (birthday boy!!!) x reader

➺ genre; marshmallow fluff level fluffy!!!! if u have a sweet tooth then this drabble is for you, jimin and taehyung are nightmare friends and i don’t know why u insist on hanging out with them all the time, *clown nose honk* 

➺ wordcount: 3.5k

➺ what to expect;  “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

                                      »»————-　♡��————-««

“oh, god. i think you’re going to have to roll me into the car.” you groan as you place a hand over your bloated stomach, “also, i’m… pretty sure i’m nine months pregnant.”  

whoever came up with the whole ‘all you can eat buffet!’ concept must’ve been a psychopath because you feel like if you take another step you’re going to projectile vomit all the way across town

you let out a huff as you bend down and place your hands on your knees

jesus

you’re going to be siCK

“no one asked you to eat like seven servings of mac n’ cheese balls.” jimin raises a brow before rubbing your back in comforting circles

“i’m sorry, do you not hear yourself?” you twist your head before looking at him as if he just sprouted two heads on each shoulder, “mac n’ cheese balls. deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. all you can eat deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. with a tangy chipotle-ranch dip on the side!”  

“alright, i get it.” he snorts before rolling his eyes, “i’m guessing this means you’re not in the mood for dessert anymore?”

you immediately stand up straight before giving your stomach a couple of pats, “where are we going for dessert??”

you’re ALWAYS in the mood for dessert

your first stomach might be full of food but your second stomach is completely empty

the monster inside your second stomach demands something sweet!

“well, scoops is right across the street. i heard the ice cream there is pretty good!” taehyung chirps before pointing at the ice cream place

you immediately feel your heart fall out of your ass

you usually never say no to ice cream but uh

there’s one reason why you’d prefer to go someplace else

jimin glances back when he notices you’re not following them to cross the street

he raises a brow before tilting his head, “if you actually need to puke, the garbage bin is right the-“

“i’m fine, i just-“ your voice cracks and you clear your throat quickly, “why do we have to go for ice cream?? there’s a frozen yogurt place a couple blocks away… and frozen yogurt is just as good!”

jimin and taehyung exchange glances before the two of them look back at you

“weren’t you the one who said that frozen yogurt was just a sad, watered-down version of ice cream and that the day you asked to go for frozen yogurt was the day we should execute you via cruel, unusual punishment?”

“yeah, and the cruel, unusual punishment was to force you to eat frozen yogurt?”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek

damnit

they’re right

you friggin’ hate frozen yogurt

“ooh, check it out!” jimin gasps, his eyes lighting up, “strawberry-rhubarb pie. i wonder how they turned a pie into an ice cream flavour!”

“uh-huh, yeah…” you mutter absentmindedly, eyes flitting around behind the large counter

okay

okay!

this is fine

everything is fine

maybe today is his day off something!  

hopEfully today is his day off because you are literally about to pop a button on your jeans and the last person who you’d want to have witness that would be-

“good evening, folks!” you practically jump out of your skin and you instinctively duck behind taehyung when he seems to pop out of thin air

he smiles brightly as he props his arms up on the top of the display case, “just give me a holler whenever you’re ready.”

okay

we should probably rewind a little bit

‘he’ would be… well, the person you’re currently hiding from.  

you don’t know much about him besides the fact that his name is jungkook (the name tags here are comically large, by the way. it’s actually a little ridiculous. it’s like the employees think all the customers are blind and that’s why they made their name tags the size of a baby’s head.) and every time you come here he gives you extra hot fudge on your ice cream and also he’s very veRY cute

you usually come here after you finish submitting an essay or doing a live presentation as a way to reward yourself

because why live life if you’re not going to treat yourself every now and again??

you started this tradition at the beginning of the year and originaLLy you went to the only ice cream place on campus

unfortunately, the ice cream place on campus isn’t super great

their waffle cones are always stale and the ice cream pretty much melts as soon as you take a step outside of the store

and you werE going to give up and just find another place (your second option was the ice cream at mcdonald’s but that’s actually kind of sad now that you think about it) but!!!!

you felt like you deserved to have good ice cream!!!

so you googled the best ice cream parlours in the city and scoops was one of the only ones that was the closest to campus

only a ten minute bus ride away and you didn’t even have to transfer to another bus or anything

it was pretty much a dream come true!!

and you still remember the first time you wandered in here because you were greeted veRy enthusiastically by jungkook

you were pretty much the only person in the store on that day because it was like 2pm on a tuesday which made it hard to believe that this place was as popular as it sounded

to be fair, 2pm on a tuesday isn’t really the normal time to grab a cone of ice cream so there’s that

“you’re not striking me as the cookies ’n cream type. that seems a little too basic for you…” jungkook mutters as he stroked at his chin thoughtfully, “and i’m not getting a rocky road vibe from you, either…”

“is that so?” the corner of your mouth twitches in a smile and you cross your arms as you begin to make your way down the counter, jungkook slowly following you from where he’s standing, “what kind of vibe are you getting from me?”

“red velvet cake!” jungkook stops in his tracks to point at the tub of red velvet ice cream sitting in the display case, “in a brownie waffle cone… with hot fudge on top.”

your brows perk up in interest

red velvet cake ice cream

in a brownie waffle cone

with hot fudge on top?

…that sounds like something you’d devour in three seconds flat.  

you obviously ended up enjoying the ice cream, and from that moment on, you promised yourself that this would be your place to celebrate your little victories

so, yeah!

the ice cream was good and the cute boy was just a bonus

of course… there is one tiny detail that has to be addressed

if it wasn’t already painfully obvious by now - jungkook makes you extremely nervous.

you’re not sure how it started, because you were literally fine when you first met him

the nerves appeared without warning of any kind!!

it was very strange

one day jungkook’s smile suddenly made your heart skip a beat and you had nO idea why because it had never done that before

and another time, when he told you that you were his favourite customer, your stomach started doing somersaults which was also something that your stomach had nevER done before

ooh, AND that one time when he said that he’d make a fresh batch of brownie waffle cones just for you… well, you were pretty much ready to marry him right then and there.

sure, when you saw the occasional attractive person on the street, you’d have the usual ‘oh, they’re pretty cute!’ thought, but that’d be it and then you’d never think about them again

but it was different with jungkook

it was more intense with jungkook

this wasn’t just a little schoolgirl crush.,,. this was,.., this was a schoolwoMAN crush

you initially thought that all these brand new feelings combined with the tingly feeling of chocolate syrup pumping through your veins should’ve been enough to scare you away from scoops forever, but…

the only reason why you keep swallowing your nerves and coming back is because the ice cream is really good here (five gold stars on google reviews!!) aND you can’t say no to extra hot fudge on the house!!!

sometimes jungkook surprises you with a couple brownie chunks or marshmallows or even cheesecake chunks on top without ever charging you which is also really nice of him

not to mention, on the days that you end class a little earlier, you like to come here to get some studying done

you have your own little table in the corner and jungkook always brings you a little treat to enjoy during your study session

nothing huGe like your usual red velvet brownie waffle hot fudge combo because you told him that you were only allowed to eat that if you were celebrating something, so he usually brings you a little cup with a random flavour of ice cream in it

strawberry shortcake

cinnamon toast crunch

banana milk is a really good one

and you can’t noT mention the chocolate-covered strawberries ice cream

the ice cream is a tangy strawberry base with swirls of dark chocolate in it and it is truly.,,. truly one of the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth

you just don’t understand why your knees get so wobbly and your palms get sO sweaty every time he flashes that handsome smile of his in your direction

you see plenty of attractive people every day on campus!

you see plenty of attractive people every day in your lectures!

your two friends are a couple of attractive people as well!!

at one point you even had crushes on boTh jimin and taehyung!! 

(you will be taking that information to your grave because if they find out.,,. you’ll never live it down)

so why is this any different??

“so, i’m gonna go with the strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… and-“ jimin turns to look at taehyung (and you, currently peeking at jimin over taehyung’s shoulder), “what are you guys getting?”

your eyes widen and you duck down again when jungkook leans over to look at you and taehyung

“i’m gonna go with… the dark chocolate and caramel swirl… in a plain waffle cone.” taehyung nods affirmatively, “yeah. take the order now before i overthink it.”

“one strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… one dark chocolate and caramel swirl in a plain waffle cone…” jungkook mumbles to himself as he rinses the ice cream scooper in the little bucket of water before tapping it off on the side, “-and one red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top, right, y/n?”

boTh taehyung and jimin’s heads nearly snap off when they turn to look at you

taehyung steps out of the way and you freeze like a deer in headlights

maybe if you just… stay very still… jungkook won’t see you…

a good two seconds ticks by before you figure that you probably look like an idiot right now

“um-“ you straighten up a little before smoothing your sweater down, “i… yep! that… yep. sounds good.”

jungkook smiles brightly before nodding, “alright! just give me a couple of minutes to get that ready for you guys.”

your heart starts to drum away in your chest as you watch the back of jungkook’s head

even the back of his damn head is attractive

it’s not fair!!!!

“…i feel like there’s something we’re missing here.” taehyung is the first one to speak up and you force out a chuckle before shaking your head

time to do what you do best

D E N Y

“there’s nothing you’re missing here!” you snort, “he just- i’ve been here like, once or twice, so-“

“red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top sounds a little too specific for you to have only been here once or tw-“ jimin pauses and his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “oh my god.”

your brows knit together in concern, “wh- what?”

a smile begins to creep onto jimin’s face and your mind begins to race with what he could possibLy be thinking when suddenly- “you slept with him!” jimin gasps before whacking tae’s arm multiple times, “she slept with him!!!”

“wha- NO- no, i did not sleep with jungk-!” you lower your voice when you realise that there are children in here and you lean in, “i didn’t sleep with him. i just- i come here a lot, and- i don’t know. he’s nice! a-and he’s cute. he’s- he’s nice and he’s cute. and he gives me free things, sometimes.”

“…yeah, i think she’s telling the truth. she definitely didn’t sleep with him.“ taehyung shakes his head and you let out a sigh of relief

at least someone’s on your side here

you jolt when taehyung suddenly gives you a hearty sLAp on the back, “she’s just in love with him and doesn’t know how to tell him-“

OH my go-

“hey, your ice creams are ready for you!” jungkook, once again, seemingly pops out of thin air and the thrEE of you immediately split up the mini football huddle, “i have them for you at the cash register if you wanna come over and get them! y/n, i tried something new with your cone - i wrapped marshmallow fluff around the top and then caramelised it so it’d turn into, like, a s’mores situation-”

“y-yep! i’ll be right there-“ you hold a finger out and jungkook nods before heading over to the cash register

you turn to look at jimin and taehyung and scowl when the two of them begin to make kissy noises at each other

“oh, y/n, come to the back so i can show you my cone-“

“you can fluff my marshmallows any day of the week, jungkook-“

oh, god

see????

this was exaCTLY why you didn’t want to come here!!!!

in case this happened!!!!!

“oh my god, lemme drizzle my syrup all over your face, baby-“

“okay, c’mon, that’s enough-“

“roll me up like how you roll those waffle cones with your big, strong arms-“

jesus christ

children!!!!!!!

they are both chiLdren!!!!

boys are so GROSS

jungkook waits patiently by the cash register as his fingers drum against the marble countertop

he leans over to peek at you and your friends and smiles lightly when he sees you whaCk at one of them

to be honest, he liked you the moment you stepped into the shop for the first time

he still remembers how excited you were when you were looking at all the different flavours

according to the company policy, customers are only allowed to try four samples but jungkook’s pretty sure he let you try twenty samples on that day

after the first time you came here, he was actually pretty worried that he’d never see you again??

he was pretty bummed about it for a while because he wished that he would’ve asked for your number or something while you were here but he was too busy trying to be the charming ice-cream boy anD he was also pretty busy admiring your cute face

so he was very much pleasantly surprised when you came back a week later and was fully ready to let you go ham on the samples again

>:-)

but, again, he didn’t ask for your number that time around either because he couldn’t figure out a smooth way to ask you

and he wasn’t worried about you noT coming back because you seemed like a pretty big ice cream person

the point is: jungkook’s had plenty of opportunities (practically handed to him on a silver platter) to ask for your number so that he can finally ask you OUT and… he hasn’t.

but today!!!!

today will be different!!!!

today he’ll finally make his move!!!

he’s not giving himself an option!!!

he actually wasn’t expecting you in today because you usually pop up every two weeks or so and you came in last week

at first he thought that maybe you were dating one of the boys that you came in with but from the looks of it, the vibes are very much platonic and not at all romantic

so he thinks he’s in the clear here

jungkook straightens his posture and puffs his chest out a little bit when he sees you walking over

okay

operation: finally ask y/n for her number, you pussy is undERWAY

“well, i’m going to go and pay for your guys’ ice creams and you can just continue to make fools of yourselves-!”

by the time you make your way over to the cash register, jimin and taehyung are stiLL going at it but you’re hoping that jungkook won’t pay it any mind

“alright, how much do i owe you?” you ask as you pull your debit card out of your wallet, “this ice cream is the only thing i’m willing to break my wallet over-“

“actually, all of this is on the house today.” jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet for a second, “it’s the special birthday discount!”

?

you tilt your head

what special birthday discount?

“birthday discount?” you ask dumbly, “it’s not my birthday, though.”

“no, it’s not your birthday… but it’s my birthday.” jungkook clears his throat, “and… you know, i wanted to do something nice for you!”

“okay, well, first of all- happy birthday!” you smile brightly before that smile immediately drops from your face, “and, second of all- i can’t take this for free, jungkook- you even sprinkled those fancy toasted pecans on top of taehyung’s ice cream! i have to give you something-“

jungkook swallows his nerves

it’s now or never!

“there is… one thing you could give me…” he trails off, his voice starting to grow a little quiet

okay

the confidence is beginning to dwindle a little so he should probably get to the point 

“yeah, i can think of one thing- like money??” you stick your debit card out again and jungkook rolls his eyes playfully before whacking your hand away

okay

just say it

just say it!!!!!!

“no, not money…” jungkook swallows thickly before shaking his head, “i was thinking more along the lines of… you know, your number.”

you drop your debit card on the countertop with a clatter

“my-“ you cut yourself off mid-sentence and you feel your cheeks immediately turn bright red, “you- you want my number?”

jungkook… jungkook wants your number?

you feel like money would be better than your number, but that’s just your humble opinion

“i mean- you obviously don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to! i-i’m not trying to imply that you owe me anything, i just-“ jungkook pauses for a second and his tongue pokes out to swipe over his bottom lip nervously, “i just, um, i don’t know! i… i really… enjoy your company, whenever you come in for a visit, you know? and i think you’re really pretty, so there’s that. i dunno.”

well, he can safely say that his self-proclaimed boyish charm flew out of the window as soon as he opened his mouth

why’s he so nervous all of a sudden??

he’s practiced this in front of the mirror a doZEN times

and every time he hits on himself in the mirror he’s tempted to give himself his number

that’s how good he is at flirting!!

but here he is!!! 

fumbling over his words!!! 

shoving his clammy hands into his pockets!!! 

diverting his gaze from the pretty girl who he’s been dreaming about ever since the first time he laid his undeserving eyes on her!!!

“no, no-! i just-“ you smile shyly as you slide your debit card back into your wallet with clumsy hands, “i would absolutely love to give you my number! it’s just that i- i didn’t- i didn’t think that you… liked me like that.”

jungkook looks up at you before scoffing playfully, “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

you press your lips together before flashing a sheepish smile at him, “i mean… i was probably paying more attention to the ice cream than to you.”  

jungkook snorts

he should’ve seen that coming. 

(p.s. he heard every single word of what your friends said earlier and this is just his dumb icky sleazy boy brain speaking but he’d be down to drizzle his syrup on ur face if you allowed him to) 

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[jadelynlace]

When You’re Unmatched Art / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

[you can find the reference for the tattoo Ivar did here. He thought he was being slick, but he most certainly was not. Ivar, your feelings are showing!]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ 

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. brief mentions of smut under the cut, and love sick Ivar.

synopsis: Ivar finally figures out how to design your first tattoo.

✎

For this to be Ivar’s passion—his mortal life’s calling—he could not, for all of the seconds in the year, figure out how to design your tattoo. There had never, in his professional life, been a client that had given him complete and utter reign. No simple idea, no nudge in a specific direction, hint of any realm no where on the forefront. You told him to design you a tattoo to take up space on your thigh. And that was it. Even after he declined, saying there must be some idea you had, you shook your head and give him control. Total, and utter control. And it was almost too good to be true.

Ivar knew he was screwed, when an entire sketchbook’s worth of pages went torn, crumpled and tossed into the garbage can with failed ideas. Even Sigurd offered no help—not that he was the artistic hand Ivar needed, he was the needle pusher and piercer. Music selector and unruly greeter. Floki only offered his normal words of wisdom, a way of not answering the question but instead making Ivar look deep within himself. “Don’t think about it much, Ivar. Just let your heart and your mind run freely together.” Great. No help. Both of them were caged in a muddled pile of muck and mud and dead leaves and Ivar couldn’t pull them out.

Through every outing the band of brothers went on, you in tow more often than not, Ivar would be at the receiving end of your questions—how he was coming along with it. You had no deadline, you understood his craft took time, but you were far too excited to see. Then came the first hook up—Ivar driving you home because you were too many martinis in, you inviting him up but he declined because it “wasn’t a good idea, princess” and you told him you “weren’t his fucking princess” and he drove around the block twice before finally knocking on your door. Weight against the frame with his temple kissing it, apologizing playfully for his nickname and you invited him in. A game of truth or dare later, Ivar asked you how drunk you were when it was his turn. And you told him you were sober enough to make decisions, clear ones, and then he dared you to kiss him. You felt like a high schooler again. When it was your turn to ask him and he had picked truth, your one question was the end of the game: 

“If I asked you to fuck me right now, would you?”

“In a god damn heart beat.”

He was more than screwed when you wouldn’t leave his mind, after you rocked his world and he used your name on his tongue to get himself off the next time his left hand was needed. And then he texted you, asking how your day was, that was it. And after a conversation, playful but real, he was over at your apartment with take out and beer and you two watched true crime and Ivar told you he had seen this one and tried to have you guess before the show told you. When you were right he said you were smart, when he silently figured out an equation in his head, how many liters to grams to degrees, or whatever the hell it was, you almost dropped your beer. He wrote it out for you to show you, a near different language across the page through algebra, and you told him he was smart. The tattoo idea clicked then. The minute Ivar realized he caught feelings, the tattoo idea became so visible he drew it in almost an hour.

There was never a nervousness with him when it came to the day of appointments, even with the most picky of his clientele, Ivar took it as it was gifted because he loved his craft too much to have these types of petty things take up hatred in his heart. But you walked through the shop, shortest of shorts on, a pair of flowing pants in your bag for the event that session went longer and nipped off into the chilling night time air, and both a coffee for yourself and a Red Bull for Ivar. He nearly wanted to throw the ink onto the floor because he was scared that once you saw the design, you’d laugh, you’d call him something pathetic and walk out, and it would be the last he’d see of you. Instead he handed you the artwork, and your eyes scanned the image for almost five minutes, mouth agape and holding it as if it were a map to the unknown, hiding gold and jewels and you asked him if you could keep the sketch. Even with it forever on your skin you nearly begged him for the original artwork, saying something about how you wanted to frame it. You’d never seen Ivar blush before, but you were sure he did when you said that.

The session wasn’t short—it was almost his full day’s work of hourly long needle dabs, buzzing and brotherly bickering between him and Sigurd. Intensive talks between you and him, explain to him the less than glamorous parts of your job, the funnier parts and the teenage humor of the men you worked with. Hvitserk’s track record for receiving the majority of patient vomit on every call and you watched Ivar laugh, smile more than you had known him too and you wondered if it was because of the machine in his gloved hand or if it was you. 

Sigurd ducked out right before lunch, picking up with the three of you had ordered and your skin received the welcome break from the on-going buzz. You were quick to kiss Ivar once, lingering lips on his to thank him and he looked shocked for a moment, worrisome that his brother would see before he tossed the fear aside, shoving his tongue down your throat. When it was all said and done, dawned with the artwork on your flesh you couldn’t stop the smile. Neither could Ivar. He’d promised the sketch after he photocopied it for his portfolio and you went home with the sore leg but a full heart. He showed up late, just shy of midnight after cleaning up the day’s worth of work, buying a frame and bringing dinner for the two of you to eat. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of it, even in its red and swollen, tender state, you loved this tattoo, and Ivar took his time treating it for you. Even after his head spent time between your thighs, one hand plastered on the bare skin and the other holding yours. Even after you rode him, artwork in his line of sight and it made him finish quickly; watching the piece on your skin, your palms on his chest as he moved your hips for you. Your head tossed back as you moaned his name when you came, the heavenly sight and you were forever marked with his skill. The after care from the sex went beyond the closeness, holding you as the television played in the background; he spread the lotion over it, his entire hand nearly able to cup your thigh as he made sure to leave no line un-slathered.

“You know I’m going to want another one before this one even heals,” You said to him, craning your neck up to look at him.

“Yeah?” Ivar asked, his hand in your hair. “Where do you think you want your next one to go?”

“On my arm, so I can see it all the time,” You replied, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Who knows, maybe I’ll just cover myself like you do,” You giggled.

“You’re perfect already,” Ivar said through a yawn, his eyes closing, head drooping against yours. “You tell me where you want ‘em, and I’ll do it—but you’re perfect already,”

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang  @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa  @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/ones-shots/blurbs/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[johnbroutledge]

fyeahbuddie >>> kelly-severide

rambling about fandom/the future of this blog under the cut.

first things first, cause i know it’s gonna be a question: no, i am not leaving 911 fandom. i still love the show and i will still be talking about it and creating things for the fandom. 

that being said, a lot is going to change.  to be completely honest, i haven’t been happy with my tumblr in a while. i’ve been doing a lot of stuff because i feel like i should, because i think it’s what people want, and not because its what nikki wants and it’s high time i quit doing that. i’m a people pleaser by nature and i genuinely would rather be miserable myself than upset or disappoint other people, and honestly, that attitude re: fandom is making me hate it. 

i’ve put a lot of pressure on myself in this fandom. i felt obligated to gif every new episode and to liveblog and to keep everything up to-date as best i could. i reblogged everything i was tagged in without question, even if if was something that i maybe, personally, wasn’t all that interested in. even when i’d already reblogged 15 of basically the same thing, even when people who don’t follow me and have never spoken to me started tagging me in things and never interacting with me otherwise. i took every single request. i never wanted to be the person who said no. 

i was miserable. 

i literally measured out every single post i made, did i post enough 911? is that too many posts about other fandoms in a row? did i an answer an ask in a way that could possibly upset someone? am i taking too long to respond, will people think im an asshole who ignores them? 

it was around christmas i guess, i was sick as fuck with covid and i was in bed, going through multiple daily panic attacks about my health and rather or fucking not i needed to be in the hospital, and still beating myself up about the fact that i hadn’t made gifsets, that i realized how awful my experience had become. 

don’t get me wrong, y’all, please, i love every single one of you. i am so fucking eternally, crazy grateful that 900 of you decide to be here everyday. but i can’t do this anymore. 

as some of you know, ive been struggling with writers block and it’s one of the big things that i’ve wanted to work on getting through this year. the thing that got me through covid and christmas was this incredible special outer banks fic idea that @daisiesandmoonlight and i have built, that i love so incredibly much, but i literally have talked myself out of even trying to write it because i felt like my first fic back into writing had to be buddie. 

i’m over that too. so, here’s how the future looks for this blog. 

-this blog is multifandom. completely. it will no longer be 99% 9-1-1. i will still be posting/talking about, and creating things for 911 fandom, but it is no longer my sole priority. my interaction will probably go way down as incorporate my other fandoms in earnest.  -i will be making gifs, but when i want to, for what i want to. i will no longer be holding myself to a strict “i’ve gotta live gif every episode” schedule. i will no longer be taking every single request. in fact, i will most likely not be doing 95% of what was in my inbox pre covid. i just, i don’t have the inspiration for it. those of you who have asked for requests via discord, i will still be doing yours for sure.  -i will not be reblogging every single thing im tagged in, if it’s not something im personally into, if im overwhelmed or i feel like there’s just been too much going on, i won’t be reblogging. im sorry, y’all. i really am, i love you and i love being this positive light who always hypes people up, but my tags are insane, especially on show nights, and it’s honestly too much a lot of the time. -if it inspires me, im going to let it. if that means i post 8 gifsets from one fandom in a row, or my first fic back into writing isn’t buddie, that’s okay.  -i will be adding admins to @thebuddielibrary to help take the stress off there. hopefully that is a positive growth for that blog as well <3 -i will continue to be a positive blog in all my fandoms. i will still not be interacting with drama or ship wars or ship or character bashing. that isn’t me and it’s not the vibe i want to cultivate on my blog. 

basically, i’m prioritizing my own self for once. i’m cultivating a blog that makes me happy. i don’t know what that looks like yet, honestly, but im going to find out. and i love all of you, but if you no longer want to follow me, i completely understand. you’ve all gotta shape your own experiences too, and i get that. 

in short: this may not be my final form, but it is my first evolution.  thanks for listening guys. and thanks for being here. tagging some mutuals so maybe i wont get lost. 

@ashavahishta @maygrant @taylor-kelly @briinstardust @sopheliza25 @bvckleydiaz @burzekbrettsey @gilbxrt-blythe @selenaurrr @matan4il @tylerhunklin @deareddie @doctornineandthreequarters @buttercupbuck @hennwilson  @siriuslyjamie @tarlosbuddie @whattarush @evanbuckleyed @evaneddie @herodiaz @nymika-arts @firefighter-diaz @maurawrites @malikjavaddzayn @captaincasey 

im sure i forgot someone so please signal boost this!!! 

[thetravelerwrites]

Rupert and Sanoh (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Kobold/Male Human, Female Half-Elf/Male Tielfling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Kobold, Half-Elf Content Warning: Sex, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Group Sex, Dom/Sub, Breath Play Words: 3349

A story with DuMont’s friends, Rupert and Sanoh! Rupert and Sanoh are having sexy fun in a bath when Kharis and DuMont enter the room. Not willing to stop, they try to be stealthy. It doesn't work. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

“Why do wererats always have to live in sewers?” Kharis grumped. “Every time we get contracted to kill rodents of any kind, I just know we’re going to have to go somewhere gross.”

Kharis, DuMont, Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman all pulled themselves out of the sewers of one of the larger towns west of the capitol. People had been going missing, and the mayor of the town realized that the rats in town were multiplying at an incredible rate, even with preventative measures. It was a clear indication that wererats were responsible.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Sanoh said. “The humidity down there was good for my scales. They’re so itchy.”

“It may have been good for your scales, but it definitely wasn’t good for your clothes,” Kharis remarked. “That stink isn’t coming out. You might as well burn that shit.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sanoh said with a sigh. Her dancer’s outfit, which she always wore regardless of the situation, was torn and it’s bright red hue was now dark brown. “I really liked this one, too.”

Rupert seemed even more miserable that Kharis. “Can we please find a bathhouse? I haven’t been this filthy in years.”

“You’re one to talk, look at poor DuMont!” Kharis said, pointing at her giant lover. DuMont, the mountain of a tiefling that he was, was splattered head to toe in muck and grime and rat guts. His large church-bell bludgeon that he had slung over his shoulder was absolutely caked in blood and gore. “He’s not even complaining!”

“That’s because he doesn’t know how to complain,” Sanoh said. “He takes the phrase ‘roll with the punches’ far too literally.”

“Is that wrong?” DuMont asked, his cavernously deep voice echoing through the city streets, causing many who weren’t already staring at the group to spin in surprise.

“Of course not, love,” Kharis said, patting his arm as he walked on all fours. “I much prefer silent temperance to someone who does nothing but complain.” She looked pointedly at Rupert.

“Norman complains more than I do!” Rupert retorted.

“I haven’t said a word!�� Norman protested. “Don’t pick on me because you’re a whiner.”

“Oh, my god, everyone shut up!” Sanoh said, rubbing her forehead. “There’s a bathhouse one block over, so will you all just please stop bitching.”

“I’m not bitching,” DuMont said in an undertone. “But I am hungry.”

“I’ll order you a rack of lamb and a sack of potatoes when we get to the inn, hon,” Kharis said. “Get cleaned up first. You don’t want to eat when you’re that dirty or you’ll get sick.”

“I’ve never been sick.” DuMont countered.

“Even still, you should be clean…er. And I don’t want you to drop pieces of food in the bath, either. It’ll feel like we’re all sitting in a stew.”

“You weirdos can sit in the stew, I’m getting a private bath,” Norman said.

“Why do you do that?” Rupert asked. “You always get your own instead of bathing with us, even though private baths are so much more expensive. It’s no wonder why you never have any money.”

“I’m not trying to get head by a paid companion in front of you lot,” He said sniffily.

“Suit yourself, but I bet that’d be fun to watch,” Kharis said playfully.

Norman snorted. “You would think that, you pervert.”

“You’ve become so shy since we started traveling, Norman,” Kharis said. “You used to be a nice, relatable pervert, just like the rest of us.”

“Maybe being with you people has made me see the error in my ways,” Norman remarked.

“Pssh, there isn’t anything wrong with being a pervert. Besides, I think DuMont balances me out. He can be such a prude sometimes.”

“I imagine being raised by a priest in a church will have that effect on a person,” Sanoh said.

“You are a pervert, Kharis,” DuMont said, as if in agreement with Norman.

“Does me being a pervert bother you?” Kharis asked him, grinning.

He looked at her and cocked his head as he walked, considering her, looking like a massively oversized dog, as he always did when thinking.

“No,” He said eventually.

“See? He likes it.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” He said. His face wasn’t built to smile, but Rupert thought he could hear laughter in his voice, and Rupert grinned.

“We would be the ones to pick brazen, sex-crazed women, wouldn’t be, big guy?” Rupert said, smacking DuMont’s broad shoulder in solidarity.

DuMont grunted in a way that could have been mistaken for a chuckle.

DuMont had been very taciturn since they had met him nearly a year ago, but his personality was slowly beginning to emerge as the five of them spent more time together on the road, doing jobs. Rupert was glad he finally felt comfortable enough with the group to try joking with them.

The bathhouse came into view shortly afterward. It catered to adventuring sorts, so it wasn’t necessarily a high-end place, and the five of them tended to frequent it often. The staff there barely batted an eye at DuMont anymore. The laundresses despised the sight of them, however, since they always arrived splattered with all manner of filth, much of which was hard to wash out.

“Hey, can we get the big tub, please?” Sanoh called out as soon as they entered the place. “We’ll pay extra to reserve the whole thing, though I doubt many people will want to come in after us.”

The woman at the front desk curled up her lip at them as they entered, but said, “Yes, of course. You’re usual packages?”

“Yes,” Norman said. “Private room for me, please. Do you have any companions available?”

“Derek is available.”

“Ugh, no, not him. What about Vincent?”

“Vincent is away visiting family. Connor?”

Norman nodded. “Connor will do. Just make sure he brings the right massage oils this time.”

“That costs extra,” The woman reminded him.

“I’m aware,” Normal said, starting toward the private baths.

“I’m beginning to think Norman is too fancy for us,” Sanoh said. “We can’t afford him.” She walked up to the counter. “Do you have any scale oil?”

“We don’t have any specifically for scales, but there are plenty for skin and hair.”

“Hmm…” Sanoh said. “Give me the hair oil, then. It tends to be thicker. What scents have you got?”

Kharis snorted. “Come on, let’s get these clothes off before they stick to us. She may be at this for a while.”

Dumont and Rupert followed her to one of the larger public baths, one with a door, and closed it behind them. Now that they had been together for a long time, they were less shy about bathing together as they had been. Even DuMont had stopped blushing when he saw them all nude in the same bath.

“Kharis, I’m hungry,” DuMont said insistently. The only time DuMont ever seemed to get grumpy was when he needed a meal.

“Let me at least scrub you down once and we’ll go get some food,” She told him, pushing him into the bath still wearing his loincloth. The robes and towels weren’t nearly large enough to cover him, so they just had taken to washing him in the bath, clothes and all. They usually did him first, drained the bath, and refilled it for the rest of them.

Once Rupert helped Kharis give DuMont a once over, getting him clean enough to go into the tavern, they left to get something to eat and Rupert and Sanoh waited for the tub to be refilled. When that was done, the fresh water was nice and hot, and Sanoh arrived with her purchased oils. They both stripped down and got in with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh, gods, this is nice,” Sanoh said.

“Mmm,” Rupert agreed. “I think this is the first time in a month that my shoulders have relaxed.”

“My scales were starting to get so brittle. Will you get my scale brush and scrub the oils into my back? I can feel them flaking.”

“Sure, just a second,” He said, getting out with a splash and grabbing her back. She had a special boars-hair brush she used to clean and sharpen her scales and horns. Her favorite thing in the world was laying out and letting him groom her tiny body all over. It often got her in a frisky mood.

Sure enough, after only scrubbing her back for fifteen minutes, she started to wiggle in his lap, rutting her hips backward into him. He began to harden immediately. Sanoh seemed to revel in getting him aroused in dangerously public places, but it always caused Rupert anxiety.

“What are you doing?” Rupert said. “Kharis and DuMont will be back any minute.”

“Then let’s be quick,” She said, looking back at him over her shoulder.

She lifted up in the water and slowly sank her swollen lips down onto him. He gripped her hips and groaned, his head falling back, trying to keep his voice down. There really was no arguing when she was in a mood like this. He began to thrust up into her, sloshing the water around them.

She laughed breathlessly. “Good boy.” She thrust back into him as he moved inside her. Before long, he picked her up and lay her over the side of the bath, slamming himself into her hard enough to make her thighs ripple. She began to moan loudly.

“Shh!” He hissed. “You’re going to get us thrown out.”

“But it feels so good,” She whimpered. “Norman has sex in the baths all the time, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t make me gag you,” He said, panting.

“You can try,” She said, laughing, before crying out against the tile. He put his hand over her mouth, but she bit him. He let go, inspecting his hand, and when he found she hadn’t broken the skin, he instead grabbed her throat, squeezing.

“Oh, fuck,” She wheezed, her eyes going glassy. As bossy as she was, she loved it when he was rough and took charge.

“Shut up!” He snarled in her ear. “You started it. Be quiet and take it.”

“I will,” She simpered, and he squeezed harder.

“I said, shut up!” He slammed hard into her, and she squeaked against his grip on her neck, her body trembling in excitement. She came suddenly, gushing down her legs, but he didn’t relent, crushing his body against hers, breathing down her neck and spine, moving at a frenzied pace.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” He said through his gritted teeth. “Stand still, don’t fucking move.”

Before he got the chance, however, he heard the far door open and Kharis’s voice drift through.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, pulling out suddenly and ducking under the water to hide himself. His cock was throbbing with the unfulfilled promise of climax, but there was little he could do about it now. He was just going to have to sit there and suffer in silence.

Until Sanoh sat back down onto him, spearing him inside her, her inner walls still quivering from the orgasm.

“Now what are you doing?!” He asked frantically.

“Just act natural,” She replied in an undertone.

“They’re going to know!”

“Not if you don’t make a big deal about it! Lay your head back and pretend you’re sleeping!

“Sanoh!”

“Just do it!”

Rupert lay his head back against the tile on the edge of the bath with Sanoh in his lap just as Kharis and DuMont re-entered the bathing area, stripping down to join them.

“Well, DuMont cleaned out the tavern, so if you want food, you’re going to have to find a vendor somewhere,” Kharis said.

“Not surprising,” Sanoh said, stealthily riding Rupert’s cock under the water, pretending to be washing her arms to cover the movement.

“What’s with him?” Kharis asked, nodding at Rupert.

“He conked out almost immediately after you left. I’m just keeping his lap warm,” She said smoothly.

Kharis snorted and said, “I wish I could fall asleep as easily as he can. DuMont’s like that too,” She reclined on the large red tiefling. “He can fall asleep mid-sentence.”

“A gift and a curse,” Sanoh said in agreement. She squeezed Rupert’s length with her inner muscles, and it took all his effort not to grunt or move. He dug his fingers into the skin of her hips as a warning. Sanoh snorted. She moved under the pretense of adjusting herself and nearly made Rupert jump out of his skin with how deep she’d push him into her. He couldn’t help but make a small sound.

Kharis noticed. “What are you doing?” She asked Sanoh, her eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?” Sanoh asked innocently.

Kharis gave Sanoh a sardonic look. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep anymore, Rupert, I know what’s going on. I’m a pervert, after all.”

Rupert sighed and lifted his head. “The jig is up, I guess. Sanoh, hop off.”

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” Kharis said. “Far be it from me to interrupt your fun.”

“What about DuMont?” Rupert asked skeptically.

“What about him?” Kharis replied, reaching over in the water and placing her hand in DuMont’s lap.

“Wha…” DuMont said, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun,” Kharis said. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“But…” He looked at Sanoh and Rupert.

“They’re already having fun,” Kharis said. “They started before us.”

“They are?” DuMont asked in surprise, squinting at the pair.

As if to answer, Sanoh let Rupert’s organ fall out of her and spun in Rupert’s lap. Now that she didn’t have to worry about stealthing, she rocked on him and moaned.

“Oh,” DuMont replied, and then sucked in his breath when Kharis squeezed him.

“Are you okay with this, buddy?” Rupert asked over Sanoh’s shoulder, though he was beginning to lose speech. “We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sanoh said with a snort.

“We’ll stop if you aren’t comfortable, DuMont,” Rupert repeated, giving Sanoh a warning look. Sanoh rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” DuMont replied, playing with Kharis’s hair and she fondled him under the water.

“See? He’s fine, don’t be such a baby,” Sanoh said, pushing him into her deeper. He grunted and stopped speaking.

Kharis held her breath and ducked her head under water, and DuMont tensed and groaned, his hands balling into fists on the side of the tub. From then on, there was little talk, just moans, grunts, groans, and breathy whimpering.

Kharis came up and went to the edge of the bath, bending over and presenting her rear. DuMont followed her and knelt down, pressing his cock into her and thrusting in hard, pushing her forward and down onto the tile. She laughed breathlessly.

“That looks like fun,” Sanoh said, going over to bend over next to Kharis, wiggling her butt at Rupert and moving her tail out of the way, so he could see her dripping between her legs. Rupert followed DuMont and rammed back into her, thrusting fast and hard.

“Wanna see something really fun?” Sanoh said to Kharis. Kharis nodded, and Sanoh leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

The reaction was instantaneous. Rupert grabbed Sanoh by the throat again and pulled her up against his body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice hard and angry. He sped up, fucking her roughly as he held her in place. “You belong to me. Don’t you dare do that again without my permission.”

Sanoh’s face went slack and she nodded, whimpering, completely at his mercy.

DuMont’s reaction was also immediate. He grabbed Kharis up and vaulted out of the bath, throwing her to the floor. He pinned down her arms and legs and put his face inches from hers. He didn’t say anything, but a low, guttural snarl issued from his throat, his brows furrowed as he stared at her with the intensity of a predator looking at prey.

“What’s the matter, big guy?” She said with a grin. “Are you jealous?”

“Mine,” He growled lowly, almost indistinguishable from the threatening, thunderous rumble of his voice.

“Prove it,” She challenged.

He opened his mouth and sank his front canine teeth into her shoulder, drawing blood. He thrust himself back into her without letting go, his jaws locked, and he lifted her off the ground and just railed her.

There was no hope of keeping their voices down now. If they got kicked out, they got kicked out. Sanoh and Kharis screamed, shouted, howled, and swore in pleasure as their lovers used their bodies to climax.

At some point, there was a knock on the door.

“Is everything okay?”

“Go away!” Sanoh and Kharis shouted in unison.

Kharis and Sanoh came several times before the boys were done with them. While Kharis had as much stamina as DuMont did and was just as active, at some point Sanoh’s legs gave out and she simply lay there on the floor in a perpetual orgasm trance as Rupert pumped her full of his warmth and kept going like a machine, finally collapsing on top of her, breathing as if he’d run five miles in a minute.

DuMont was the last to reach his peak, gushing into Kharis, his seed pooching her stomach and dripping out of her, down his legs, and splattering onto the floor. For a solid minute, the room was quiet, safe for a lot of heavy breathing.

Finally, as they all caught their breath, the re-entered the bath to wash each other.

“Kharis, you’re bleeding,” Sanoh said, pointing. There was a very large bite in her shoulder, and it was rather deep.

“Oh,” DuMont said, flustered by worry. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, big guy,” She reassured him. “I wanted you to do it. It’s proof.”

“Proof?” He echoed, his brow furrowed.

“That I belong to you,” She said simply. “Help me wash it.”

As rough as DuMont had been, his gentleness in tending the wound was a mirror opposite. Rupert and Sanoh sat cuddled together and watched fondly as DuMont lovingly treated and bandaged Kharis’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, DuMont,” Rupert said. “Sanoh marked me, too.” He turned and showed DuMont a bite on his left shoulder blade. “And Sanoh’s bites can be venomous. I was sick for a week.”

“I said I was sorry,” She said reproachfully. “It was the heat of the moment, I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, hugging her in close and kissing her forehead.

“Does it hurt?” DuMont asked Kharis.

“Not really,” She said. “I’m sure it will tomorrow when the sex high has worn off, but I feel great right now. And it’ll scar up nicely, I think.”

“I’m sorry!” DuMont said, hiding his face.

“Honey, it’s okay!” She said, pulling his hands down. “I like it! It lets everyone who sees it know that I’m yours. Don’t you want people to know that you and I are in love?”

“Well… yes…” He said, frowning.

“There, see? It’s all fine.” She went up and hugged his neck. “Don’t fuss so much. I’m fine.”

He pulled her back and fixed her with a glare. “No kissing other people.”

She grinned at him. “I won’t, I promise. It was just an experiment.” She winked at Sanoh, who stuck her tongue between her teeth as she smirked. “And I’d say it was successful.”

DuMont grumbled. “I didn’t like it.”

She patted his face and kissed his exposed jaw. “I won’t do it again.”

“Okay,” He said, seemingly satisfied, and he pulled her into an embrace, careful of her shoulder.

The wound healed up really quickly, and Kharis took to wearing asymmetrical shirts, so that she could show it off. Most assumed that it was a grievous injury from a wild beast, and Kharis would laugh and say that was partly right.

Sanoh and Rupert didn’t engage in sex around the two of them again, but it was definitely something they kept in the back of their mind. For a rainy day, maybe.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[quietlyimplode]

I dont really have the words for this one, except to say this is a story that's really close to my heart. It's one that was written of experiences and fueled by the movie being released. I wasn't sure if i wanted to share it, but I think it's a story I would like to tell.

Please heed the tagged warnings, on posts - there is nothing particularly kind or gentle about this series. It will move between Clint and Natasha's point of views and doesn't pull any punches. To those who have supported me with this one, I owe you a one shot, collect at any time. Thanks so much for the encouragement.

As always, take care of yourself. <3

summon your courage

1/6 (2137 words)

.

The television is split into four screens, each with a different room in the sparse apartment. He stirs his yogurt and clicks the remote to zoom in on the room the Black Widow currently sits in. He’s been watching her for just under a week now, having put the cameras in, invading her privacy in order to gather information for his employers.

At times, he feels dirty; like a creep; which in all honesty he is; watching a woman when she thinks she’s in private, all the private and intimate moments. He didn’t expect her to stay here for so long but he’s been glad for it, it’s almost respite for him.

Watching.

Waiting.

There’s a lull in her work, obviously; and she seems almost human, doing regular human-like things. Not at all like the dossier that’s laid out like a map on his left. All the information he has on her is stuck in his head. Death and destruction follow in her wake and there’s been certain kills that even he’s had to fold the page on and forget.

This is different.

She’s reading a book in French, he can’t make out the authors name from his view point, but he can see the title; Arsène Lupin is written in block letters.  Her knees are tucked to her chest and he can also make out how her foot taps, like she’s listening to music. He doesn’t think it’s a nervous tic and he can’t hear music; so, he assumes it’s in her head.

Sighing, Clint turns the sound up, and heads to the kitchen to make some coffee and dinner. Looking quickly at the clock, he marks the time as 9.15pm. She’s been reading since 7. If she follows her usual routine, she’ll be up in 15 minutes and get changed and go for a run, be back by ten and then get ready for bed. He’s assuming the run serves as a perimeter check, he often runs it backwards after she’s gone to bed, doubly making sure what she already must know.

The Russians are watching.

.

9 days in, she’s seemingly despondent. She hasn’t followed any of her usual routines, and has stayed in bed. He pulls his laptop closer and chews on fresh apple, watching as her eyes open and close and sleep. She has not moved once today. He wonders if what he’s been watching over the past eight days has been functional depression, she can do things, clearly. He has a bit of experience with that, according to his employer's psych team. She can take care of herself, but this, today, all together feels like giving up.

Maybe it’s a bad day, he rationalizes. She’s terrifying enough that the Russians have not made a move, suspects that they don't even know. He wonders if they’re hunting her, watching her or protecting her; it’s not something he’s made clear just yet; and to make matters worse on his run last night, he noted DRSD agents. Their walk as distinctive as their Russian counterparts. So, it seems that his presence here is not the only one. American, French, Russian, all vying for her attention and here she is, lying in bed. He focuses in, making sure she’s still breathing and marks the time. 1pm.

He loads the camera up on his phone and heads to the roof, craving the fresh air. He flips through the cameras he’s set up around his apartment to watch his own back, his own surveillance footage of his surrounding area. He’s satisfied enough that nothing is amiss and that his French is passable to not have alerted anyone, and then flicks back to watch her. She’s still not moved from the bed.

.

Day 12 hits and they’ve not had another day like Day 9. He doesn’t report that one to his seniors, reports it as a day in which nothing was amiss. French intelligence has moved on, but today, the Russians have made contact. It wasn’t anything big, a chalk mark on the pavement, a change in path on her run and dead drop of a post card from what he can make out when she came back. He writes it up, emails quickly and await orders on what happens next, wonders if he’ll be given clearance to wherever she goes next.

Some sick part of him hopes so, he wonders what that makes him.

.

He’s been pulled and sent to Barcelona with a fool of an agent that’s so far beneath his skill level, he sees it as agent training. Coulson must know. He makes it a point to be an asshole, he doesn’t want a partner and after this job, this man won’t want him to be partnered with him.

The whole time he thinks of her.

Wants to know what she’s doing, reading, if her routines changed or she’s completed her mission. He sighs hard on the plane home. He’s definitely a creep.

He can’t stop thinking about her.

.

Coulson is kind enough to put him back on surveillance. A reprimand of punishment for being a dick to the young agent. He’s gleeful as he heads to his apartment and bids Bonjour to the woman at the bottom of the stairs. He airs the room, and sets up the computers again, reactivates the cameras and waits for her return.

If she returns.

The apartment is lived in, still, her meager belongings scattered around the house.

He has hope.

.

He doesn’t have to wait long and within the day she’s back. He sucks in a breath at her appearance when he zooms in close. Black eye, split lip and he’s sure of unseen ailments by the hitch in her gait which she only allows inside her apartment. He watches her undress and walk around in her underwear; ribs are wrapped and he can see a stitched wound that goes from her neck to shoulder. At least she’s taken care of herself, enough to tend to her wounds.

He pays attention as she starts to punch her punching bag, her fighting style is clearly Russian, and there’s no clear compensation for her injuries. Her shoulder wound weeps blood down her arm, and still, she hits just as hard.  It’s impressive if not masochistic. It’s almost 40 minutes before she stops, drops and then starts with her usual routine of push-ups, sits ups and squats. At least some things don’t change. He marks the time and settles in.

It’s nice to be back.

.

He runs the perimeter nightly now, focusing on his own routines, now he understands hers. Marks all the Russians easily. Babysitting he decides. They’re babysitting her. By the run she takes, she knows exactly where her handlers are, makes it a point to run near each of them as a check in. It’s smart, but feels contrived, like she wants them to know she knows. He believes she can run circles around them, and likes watching her do so.

.

It’s a bad day again. She’s not got out of bed. He wants to shake her, tell her to get up. Do something. Punch the bag, read a book, eat something. But she does none of it. He watches her closely and makes sure she’s breathing. Hopes that tomorrow is better.

.

The next day seems worse. He didn’t go to sleep, just in case.. He doesn’t think she’d do anything to herself, but didn’t want to take the chance. He wonders what he would have done if she'd taken the knife to her skin. He calculates the quickest way there and waits. She doesn’t get up. Her eyes are open and no one's home. He wonders if she’s wet the bed, because he hasn’t seen her move once in two days.

It’s panic inducing. One day was enough. He almost wants to break cover and knock on her door to see if she’d open up. Instead, he hacks her phone and calls it. She makes no move towards her phone; the only response is a slow blink and recognition of sound.

He keeps calling. She doesn’t move.

In desperation, he contacts Coulson and asks what he should do. Since the apparent end of the mission will end in her death or the makings of a double agent, Coulson is non-plussed.

Watch and wait is the official lines. The feeling of dread curls in his stomach and settles like a stone.

.

They must know something is amiss. Obviously, she's not run her checks and hasn't touched base in almost 2 days.

They come for her in the middle of the night. It’s not something Clint had anticipated.

They put a bag over her head and drag her out. She doesn’t fight, and allows the men to inject her with something. He loads the cameras quickly to his phone, and sprints to her apartment. He feels like he breaks all speed records getting there, but he’s not quick enough. They’re gone by the time he arrives.

Breathing heavily, Clint pushes his body to run to the locations of Russians, the ones he passes nightly. They’re gone, except, god, he’s a fucking idiot. He has all their number plates and can track them. He calls through to Shield and is patched to tech. He fucking loves those nerds. It’s nearly 4 hours later but he’s been given three locations where she might be, where 3 of the cars have stopped. He only hopes she’s in one of them. Coulson hasn’t said anything, and he’s not explicitly said no, so he takes it as a yes; go get her and bring her in.  

.

The first address leads him to a dead end. Literally. The van is wiped down and abandoned. He holsters his gun and sits in the front seat. He feels ridiculous, his surveillance has led him to.. This. Chasing cars for a woman who when he catches up to her, if he catches up to her, he’ll have to recruit or kill. He 100% second guesses himself as he hot wires the van and heads for the next address. He just hopes she’s not dead when he finally gets to her.

And then wonders why he cares.

.

At the failure of the third address, he’s frustrated. He’s driven for over 10 hours and is tired. His back is hurting and he longs to lie down. Calling tech support again, he gets the location of the vans that were still on the move, they’ve all stopped now and he has another three leads to go on with. He’s got some choices to make. If he sleeps, he risks her being dead on his watch. If he stays awake, he risks becoming dead because of a stupid mistake.

He grunts and kicks the tires of the van, pulls open the back and unfolds the blanket from his backpack to create a makeshift bed. He sleeps on a 45 degree angle, gun in hand, legs out straight, relaxing his body and focusing on all parts of the blanket touching him. He goes through muscle relaxation and forces sleep to come. The three hours is definitely not long enough, but it makes him feel at least functional, as he lets caffeine and chewing gum do the rest. At least he gets to watch the sun rise.

.

The second to last address leads him to warehouse almost in Belgium and he rolls his eyes at the cliché of it. He’s strung on coffee and energy drinks, sugar keeping him going and he knows at some point he’s going to have to eat real food. He’s compartmentalising everything he does. It’s been 3 days and he hasn’t had a proper meal, barely any sleep. He just concentrated on the next thing. Fill up the car, drink coffee, next location, fill up the car.. it’s monotonous but serves a purpose, and got him here.

He knows this is where they’ve taken her. Knows it like the curves on his bow. It’s what he would do for wet work. Scouting the location, he tags five Russian’s pacing and one Black Widow tied to chair with a bag on her head. He can make out barbed wires not handcuffs holding her down, he closes his eyes to the barbaricness of it all but in the same moment the stones of despair in his stomach ease.

She’s not dead.

The little voice asks again, why is he so invested. It’s kill or recruit. Maybe he should shoot her from here and just divest them all of the responsibility of choice.

But he can’t.

He knows he can’t.

Knows that if she chooses death, it can’t be him.

He doesn’t want to wonder why.

Clint calls in, gives his location and an update, even if Coulson doesn’t want to know.

The reproach is significant, followed by a sigh and a be careful.

The rest of the series will be posted up on Ao3 with all my fic, maybe here, idk? As always any encouragement is lovely either here or Ao3. <3

[ajeepgirl]

Dr. Love Drug

Summary:  Kara solar flares but then gets very very sick. In her very sick state, she takes a bunch of cough medicine and maybe gets a teeny tiny bit high from it, and then goes to the pharmacy for medicine. Once there, Kara meets the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. And well, in her current state, chaos ensues.

Read On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33649807

Kara was doing it herself. Alone. Solo. If only to prove to Alex, Maggie, Winn, Lucy, and James that she could. Sure, maybe she had never done it before, because she never needed to do it before. But here she was, doing it. She could do it.

That’s what she kept telling herself, anyway, as she walked down the street, to the pharmacy near her apartment.

Her pounding head and double vision be damned.

She really hates it when she solar flares… Even more so when she winds up sick because of it. This time though, she isn’t just sick, no, she somehow got a massive sinus affection, pink eye, and the flu, all at the same time. All her friends were steering clear of her. Even Alex didn’t want to go near her.

Kara stumbles as she walks into the pharmacy, catching herself on a shelf, she blinks a few times to try to clear her vision and her head. It doesn’t help. Neither did the bottle of cough syrup she chugged that morning, apparently, as she coughs a few times. Nothing seems to help. She has no idea how humans stand being sick. Or how they haven’t figured out how to eradicate bacteria and viruses that lead to this level of suffering. She attempts to breathe through her nose, before remembering how stuffed it is, and resorts back to her awkward mouth breathing as she makes her way to the back of the store to the pharmacy (“You need real medicine!” Alex insisted, as she filled out some pad with scribbles on it).

It’s what led to Kara coming here. Alex was filling it out, saying she would run to the pharmacy for her, when she got a call from the DEO, from J’onn. It was an emergency. Kara insisted she could get the medicine herself. She knew without Supergirl, that the DEO needed her sister. Alex hesitated, she didn’t want Kara wandering around the city alone, in her current state. But when Kara pointed out that Alex had no idea how long her emergency would take, she caved and handed over the white slip of paper, setting it on the counter, giving Kara plenty of space, not wanting to catch whatever plague she had.

Alex thought she was funny. Kara did not.

As Kara approached the pharmacy, she waited for the person in front of her to finish, and she noticed how her head felt like it was flying… or more accurately, floating, several feet above her body. Was this another symptom? Maybe she did overdo it with the cough syrup after Alex left. She had no idea how much to take. The numbers on the bottle were too small to read in her current condition. Oh well. Too late now.

“Next?” Kara hears the female voice through her muffled ears.

Kara smiles widely as she hands over the folded pieces of paper. The pharmacist, a woman with long dark hair and piercing green eyes, takes the paper and opens it, and then looks back at Kara, her eyebrow raised curiously.

“Miss, this isn’t your prescription. It’s just a sticky note with your name and number.”

Now, if Kara had been in her right state of mind, she would have realized her error. She would have realized that she had grabbed the wrote piece of paper off her counter at the apartment. She had written this down before, when she was prepping for a meeting with a contact for a new article. She wanted to have it ready to go, to hand off to the person. But then a fight happened, and the solar flare happened, and she got sick… and well, the paper ended up back on her counter.

Apparently, right next to where Alex sat the prescription.

Kara, however, was not in her right state of mind. Oh no, in fact, the moment she looked at the woman behind the counter, all she could focus on was how strikingly beautiful she was. Her jawline could cut glass. Her hair was long but pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes, though, are what Kara couldn’t stop going back to.

As the woman spoke to Kara, she simply stared back for a moment, the fog in her mind seeming to block out her ability to function.

“Miss?” The woman said again.

This time, Kara looks at the pharmacist, the wide grin back on her face, her nose red, as her brain decides to work a little bit more as she says, “I guess I just need your love drug.”

The pharmacist simply stares back, silent.

But Kara, she didn’t stop there, oh no. She then leans in, and whispers. “Can I tell you something?”

The woman is now smirking, intrigued by the clearly very sick and apparently high, person before her. The woman bends forward ever so slightly. “I’m listening.”

Kara looks around, dramatically, to the very empty area around her. “I’m Supergirl.”

And then… Kara gives her a wink… and does finger guns.

It’s surreal, as the woman stands there, staring at her, taking her in fully for the first time, really sizing her up. As she does, Kara reaches up to take her glasses off. And that’s when she realizes… she was never wearing them.

Her eyes go wide as she looks back at the woman before her, as a second of sanity creeps its way into the fog of Kara’s mind as she also realizes that in her sick state, she has also left her hair hang down. “Oh Rao. I just did that.”

And the woman laughs.

“It is not funny,” Kara says as she leans back down again, this time at her name tag, “Dr. Kieran.”

The woman looks backward to the clock on the wall. “It’s time for my break, let’s take a walk, shall we?”

Kara’s eyes widen and then narrow. “Why?”

This time, the woman, Dr. Kieran, leans in. Kara naturally also tilts in to listen. “Because we shouldn’t talk about secret identities in public.”

Kara nods seriously as Dr. Kieran disappears for a moment in the back of the pharmacy and then reappear as she exits the pharmacy from a door a few feet from Kara. She waves Kara over to her as she walks towards the exit.

“Do you live near here?” she asks Kara as they make their way outside.

Kara nods and heads in that direction, with Dr. Kieran a half step behind her. Halfway there though, Kara starts to get woozy, the energy needed to be up and moving around this much apparently taking more out of her than she realizes. She turns to her new friend, eyes a little panicked looking. “Um… I think… I might…”

“Oh, fuck me. Don’t you dare-” Dr. Kieran says it as she turns to Kara, arms out, ready to catch her.

And that’s all Kara hears before she feels herself start to fall and the world goes black.

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

Kara feels warm, like she is wrapped by the sun when she starts to awaken. It takes her a moment to realize she is wrapped in several blankets. As she opens her eyes, she realizes she is most definitely not in her own apartment. She starts to sit up, a quick gasp coming out of her mouth.

“Woah, easy there,” comes the melodious voice from earlier that day. A hand lands on her shoulder. Kara turns slightly to see the familiar green eyes. “Easy, Kara, you might pass out again.”

Kara hesitates, feeling the woman’s hand on her shoulder and recalling the events from earlier. “How long was I out?” she asks.

Dr. Kieran glances at the clock on the wall. “About two hours.”

Kara looks around for her phone but doesn’t see it anywhere. “Do you know where my phone is?”

Dr. Kieran’s head tilts in confusion. “You didn’t have a phone on you, Kara. Just some cash and that sticky note you… mistook for a prescription.”

Kara feels her cheeks go red. “Right…”

Dr. Kieran sits down next to her on the coffee table. “Hey, I need to check your temperature, ok? See if your fever has broken.”

Kara nods, giving permission to Dr. Kieran, who then feels her forehead. “Oh good, I think it has finally broken. Now, do you want to tell me exactly how much cough syrup you took? I was afraid to give you any medicine because I wasn’t sure exactly how high you were.”

Kara feels her cheeks turn a brighter shade of red. “I… um… well… I wasn’t sure how much was enough… and I just… wouldn’t stop coughing…”

Dr. Kieran hums. “Don’t get sick often do we, Supergirl?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “What? Um… I’m not… who told you that?”

“You did.” She says, matter-of-factly.

The reminder sends the memory flashing through Kara’s mind. “Oh Rao. I… I said that… in public. Alex is going to kill me.”

“Who is Alex?” Dr. Kieran asks, interrupting Kara’s thoughts of panic.

“Oh, my… my sister. She is very protective of me.”

Dr. Kieran nods understandingly. “Well, my security specialist Querl has already made the security tape from the pharmacy disappear.”

“I’m… wait, you did what now?” Kara says confused.

The woman smiles at Kara mischievously. “I said, your sister doesn’t need to worry, I was the only one there when you said it, and any proof of you saying it, has been taken care of.”

“Wow… um… thank you,” Kara stammers out as she feels her face heating up again.

Dr. Kieran half smiles. “Now that we have all that settled. How about I get you some soup from my kitchen, and we get you all better, ok?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Kara says. “I… I can go home… I can manage…”

“Kara, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you clearly have no idea what to do when you are sick. And it appears, based on the fact that you showed up at the pharmacy, that you could use someone’s assistance in this matter. So please, let me help you.”

“Why? I mean… why would you help me? Why not out me? You literally have my full name and number.”

The pharmacist gives Kara a sad smile. “I know you don’t know me, personally, Kara. But you spend your time, when you are being Supergirl, protecting people. I assume that means you think there are people worth protecting, yes?”

Kara nods slowly.

“Well, even superheroes need protecting, sometimes too. Whether that is from some big bad evil person, or from a teeny tiny flu virus. So please, let me help you this one time.” She gives Kara a small smile as she gets up and walks off toward the kitchen, though not before giving her a small squeeze on the shoulder.

Kara lays back down, her mind swirling. This woman, Dr. Kieran, might just be the most brilliant, kindhearted, beautiful soul she has ever met.

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

Kara falls asleep shortly after she finishes the soup. When she awakes again, she finds Dr. Kieran in the chair next to her, reading a book.

“Ah, how is our patient?” she asks, seeing Kara stirring as she sits up.

Kara takes stock of her symptoms, noticing that she can breathe a little easier now. “I think I am on the mend, doc,” she says with a smile.

“Lena,” she says in return. “You can call me Lena.”

Kara smiles. “Thank you for your hospitality. I should probably get going though. My sister is probably freaking out.”

“Oh… about that,” Lena says as she pulls out a familiar phone. “With your name and number, I was able to find your address. I sent Querl over to retrieve your phone. Good thing I did too, you left your door unlocked.”

Kara blushes as she takes the phone from Lena. “Thank you…”

She sees five missed calls from her sister. “Oh no… Um… excuse me?”

Lena nods with a small smile. “Of course, I will make myself scarce so you can talk to your sister.”

The conversation doesn’t go completely awful. Though Kara might have skipped over the part where she told the pharmacist that she was Supergirl and only told her sister the part about how she passed out and the pharmacist she met is taking care of her for now.

“My sister would like for me to text her your address. Otherwise, she might be forced to use her government job to find you,” Kara says, using air quotes for the second part of her statement, as Lena reenters the room a few minutes later.

Lena laughs. “Good luck with that.”

Kara’s head tilts in confusion.

Lena only shrugs. “Long story. Look, I can drive you back to your place, whenever you want. No need for big sis to storm the castle.”

“Thank you,” Kara says with a gracious smile.

“I didn’t know Supergirl had a sister,” Lena says as she sits back down in her chair.

“Oh… she is human. My… adopted sister, from my Earth family. Very wonderful people. But very protective.”

“Ah, I see, adoption is… always complicated,” Lena says solemnly.

“You were adopted too?” Kara asks.

Lena nods. “When I was four. But we should really be focusing on you, Kara and getting you better.”

“You are doing a great job so far,” Kara says with a toothy smile.

“Oh, is my love drug working?” Lena says back with a smirk.

Kara’s face turns bright red. “Um…”

Lena chuckles. “How about I get you some fluids, maybe some water and Gatorade?”

She stands up and walks off, leaving Kara to stammer to herself for a moment. By the time Lena comes back with the drinks for her, Kara has seemingly recovered enough to speak again.

Lena hands her the water first. “Thank you. And can I just say, for the record, you are an amazingly gorgeous, attractive person.”

Lena smiles, a slight blush creeping up her neck.

“And I would love to have met you under circumstances where I wasn’t…”

“High on cough syrup?”

“Sick, I was going to say, sick,” Kara counters. “Anyway… I wanted to also thank you for taking care of me… and apologize for ruining your day.”

Lena sits down on the coffee table in front of Kara as she speaks, an odd, unreadable expression on her face. “You… don’t need to apologize for anything, Kara. I am just glad that it seems like after a few more hours of sleep, that you are nearly recovered. I assume that perhaps your powers are starting to return?”

Kara gives a small nod. “I think my cells are slowly reactivating, yes. I can tell that my sickness is nearly gone.”

“That’s wonderful. You will be out there saving people again in no time.”

“Wait, how did you know my powers were returning?” Kara asks, her mind finally starting to work a bit clearer again.

Lena has a thin small smile. “I suppose I couldn’t convince you that I just looked it up on the internet, could I?”

Kara’s head tilts sideways as she gives a soft, pouting look.

Lena lets out a low sigh. “I have a sibling too.”

“Oh?” Kara asks, unsure of how this connects at all to what they were just talking about. She is even more confused than before.

“You have probably heard of him since your cousin has worked closely with him,” Lena says as she stares down at the floor.

“Wh… what are you saying, Lena?” Kara asks as she sits up fully now.

Lena looks up, green eyes meeting blue as she searches in Kara, hoping that Kara won’t judge her for what she is about to say.

“My brother is Lex… Lex Luthor.”

The room falls silent.

Kara stares at Lena.

Seconds tick by.

Lena, unable to take it any longer, stands and says, “I understand… I can drive you home… or pay a service to take you home… whichever you prefer.”

Kara’s hand reaches out, and grabs Lena’s, holding her in place. “No, wait, I’m sorry. I’m just… still processing.”

Lena looks down, seeing Kara’s hand still wrapped around her own. She looks back at Kara, who uses her free hand to pat the couch, inviting Lena to sit next to her. “Please, sit down? I would like to hear your story… if you want to share it.”

Lena lets out a shaky breath as she smiles and says, “Ok.”

She sits next to Kara and tells her all about her life, though she focuses mostly on the past couple of years. She tells her how she went into hiding after Lex’s attack. She knows it is only a matter of time before he finds a way out of prison. So, she went into hiding under the name Kieran. She moved across the country to National City and got a job as a pharmacist. She has a private security team that she trusts with her life, and she has a small science lab in her home where she continues to tinker and build inventions. And she hopes to eventually launch a new science and technology company under a new name. But for now, she is steering clear of the limelight and of Lex’s prying eyes.

Kara is quiet as she listens intently to Lena’s story. She remembers her own thoughts from earlier that day and is glad she was right - brilliant, kindhearted, beautiful.

“Lena, wow, I’m glad you are safe.”

“You… you believe me?” Lena asks, surprised.

Kara nudges her with her shoulder. “Of course, I believe you. You literally took care of me all day today. You rescued me. I mean, I was wondering around the city, completely discombobulated, out of my mind, and then I passed out. You are my knight in a white lab coat!”

This draws a laugh out of them both.

“I’m glad I could help, Kara, seriously. I know I don’t have to… but a part of me feels like I should be trying to make up for all the evil things my brother has done.”

Kara nods, knowingly. “I understand. In a lot of ways, I feel like I am trying to make up for the sins of my people… I… I have to save this world because my parents couldn’t save my world.”

“Wow… yeah, Kara… that’s… that’s a heavy burden to carry. Can I ask, why you and not your cousin?”

Kara lets out a long sigh before she explains. “He was an infant… he has no memory of our planet. But me, I was a teenager. And it was my parents who played a huge role in the destruction of the planet by ignoring my Aunt Astra’s warnings. So… in a way… I have to make sure that I do not repeat the sins of my family’s past… my people’s past. My cousin, Superman, Kal El, he has no memories of these things… so they do not weight on him… or haunt him… like they do me.”

“Kara…” Lena says, trailing off. “I… I don’t know what to say… I cannot image being the last of your people… to have lost so much… and yet still feel such a strong desire to help and to protect… I think I would drown in my sorrow if I was in your position.”

Kara’s eyes glimmer with the hint of tears as she shrugs slightly. “Sometimes I do.”

Lena wraps an arm around Kara. “And that’s ok. I lose it all the time because of what happened with my brother.”

This makes Kara chuckle a little as she lets herself sink into Lena. “Just wait until you see Alex blow up at me for being gone for so long. She is going to lose her mind.”

That makes them both laugh even more.

They stay like that for some time, chatting about siblings and family and life before and after being adopted. They can both sense a shared connection, something beyond the fact that Kara is a Super and that Lena is a Luthor. There is something underneath the hero/villain storyline personified by their family ties. There is a story of heartbreak and tragedy and loss that both share. There is the openness and hope that Kara still carries strongly with her, which Lena cannot help but admire. There is the unwavering kindness and brilliance that Lena has despite the way she has been treated by those who claimed to love her throughout her life, which Kara cannot help but be in awe of.

When there is a pounding on Lena’s door later that evening, the two finally pull apart.

“That would be Alex,” Kara says, standing up.

Lena chuckles. “I know. I had Querl wait by your apartment to give her my address.”

Kara laughs, knowing Alex will be so angry she couldn’t figure it out herself. Lena makes her way to the door as Kara follows closely behind.

“Hello, Agent Danvers,” Lena says as she opens the door.

Kara pokes her head from behind Lena. “Hey sis! Give me one minute, ok! I’ll be out in one minute, I promise!”

Alex’s eyes go furious with murder as she grits her teeth. “Fine. One minute.” She eyes Lena closely as Lena smiles widely and closes the door again.

She turns to face Kara, a curious look on her face.

“Well, doc, I don’t have your number. You know, in case I need it for… a follow up.”

Lena’s lips purse together as she tries to hide the smile that wants to launch across her face. She holds her hand out for Kara’s phone, which Kara excitedly hands over. When Lena hands it back, Kara can’t help but giggle when she sees what Lena puts in for her name.

Dr. Love Drug

Kara immediately opens her camera, looks her arm around Lena, and pulls her in for a selfie. Lena’s only half smiling in the picture, caught between a look of confusion and attempting to smile for the picture. Kara sends the picture to Lena as soon as she takes it.

“You know, in case you wanted a token to remember the day,” Kara says with a grin as Lena hears her phone go off from the other room.

Lena shakes her head side to side. “What have I gotten myself into?” she says out loud.

“Oh, just you wait, all the cute dog videos are coming your way,” Kara responds as she opens the door.

Lena smiles fondly. “Goodbye, Kara.”

Kara looks back at Lena one final time, smiling brightly. “Thanks again, Lena.”

[cora-vizsla]

Hypnotic (Taking Over Me)- Chapter 3

Pairing: Eventual Jedi!OC x Sith!Obi Wan

Word Count: 3.7 K

Story Rating: E (18+)

Chapter Rating: I’m just gonna move these up to E now because I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Warning: Swearing. Threats of violence. Cannon typical violence. Calm kidnapping. There was only one bed. Almost naked cuddling. Dare I say fluff??

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any tags!

Zara was unable to fall back asleep. She could feel when Obi Wan finally succumbed to his own exhaustion and it set her on edge. She looked around quietly, keeping tabs on his signature across the building. There had been hope she could find her saber, but he must have stashed it away somewhere.

When she looked down to see her boots by the door, she decided she had no other choice. She couldn’t stay with her captor. There was a lack of clarity she wanted to rip out of her head even if it meant doing something risky. She told herself that Anakin wouldn’t sit around and wait at the mercy of anyone. It wasn’t her normal avenue of actions but hers obviously weren’t working. She shut her eyes and spoke like a mantra that Anakin would want her to fight. He would want her to escape.

Zara quickly pulled on her boots and grabbed a large jacket by the door. She could feel the chill coming through the door but knew that was the only time it was going to happen.

“I am a Jedi knight. I can do this. I can get back and warn the counsel. I can save Anakin.”

She winced when the cold hit her face and she realized then Obi Wan would feel the air change. She pulled the door shut and started running off in the direction she thought they had come from. There were still some footprints, but it was hard to follow. Snow had drifted over part of their journey, so she stopped to look around. Between the cold and running, her chest was heaving trying to pull in air.

“Zara! Zara you are going to die trying to run off like this!”

She whipped around to her captor having already caught up to her.

“I can’t stay here! I can’t let you manipulate me and hurt Anakin. I won’t!”

“You’re smarter than this!”

“Let me go! If you have one shred of decency in you, let me go!”

He stood up tall and shrugged his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. He tossed something to Zara, and she caught it quickly, gasping when she realized it was her saber. She looked back up at him as he ignited his blood red blade.

“Fight me. If you can best me, I’ll deliver you back to the temple myself.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you stay here and stop trying to get yourself killed.”

She looked down at her saber and considered what he was saying. She had yet to actually see him fight.

“Letting me go would be directly going against your Master.”

“It would.”

“Then why offer me this?”

“If I can’t best a new Jedi Knight then I don’t deserve to keep her captive.”

Resolution washed over her. She ignited her blade and a sick smile spread across the Siths face. She carefully pulled off her own jacket and set it down, not taking her eyes off her enemy. He spun his saber a few times easily and fluidly.

“Come on, darling, it’s cold out here. Time to get this over with so we can get back in the warmth of our home.”

Zara wanted to snarl but instead closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. She let herself feel everything within the force. She trusted herself and her abilities. When she opened her eyes, she had a new look of determination. She no longer looked at him as Obi Wan, lost Jedi. He was Lord Veth and he needed to be defeated.

Veth was the first to move forward, quicker than she expected, and their sabers clashed together. He gave her a dangerous smile and broke away, quickly striking again with a fury she was not prepared for. She was able to block every swing, but it frustrated her she couldn’t turn it, so she was on the offensive. She could tell he was holding back and only pushing forward to keep her unbalanced. He felt her frustration and laughed when they locked their sabers together again.

“Darling, have I told you how stunning you look in my clothes?”

In frustration, Zara shot her arm out, using the force to push him back. He was able to keep himself on his feet as he immediately moved forward again. With a grin, Zara raised her hand again and a bright light emanated around her. Veth shielded his eyes, temporarily caught off balance.

“Little knight you surprise me.”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?”

“How rude, we were having such a good conversation. How long are you going to keep this up? I’m stronger than you are, sweetheart. You aren’t going to best me in battle.”

She knew he was right. Between fighting off the cold and trying to use the force so much she was getting exhausted. She stepped forward a few steps, hoping the blinding light would protect her movements just a bit. When she dropped her arm and ceased the blinding light, she quickly brought her saber down. Veth seemed to be expecting it when his arm shot up, using the force to wrap tightly around her throat.

“Now, now. That wasn’t very admirable. You are so much better than cheap tricks.”

He kept the force on her long enough that she dropped her saber and clawed at herself. He watched her struggle until tears welled in her eyes.

“Do you yield, darling?”

She shook her head and he sighed in annoyance. He let go, letting her crash to the ground with a thud. When she tried to move further than up to her knees, she realized that he was still using the force to keep her in place.

“I’m not killing you. Nice try though.”

He held his saber up to her chest and watched as the red danced off her face.

“Yield.”

“Why? You said you won’t kill me.”

“I can maim you. Maybe cut one of your legs off so you can’t run anymore. You only really need one hand. Hope you get my point.”

She glared up at him in defiance. He sighed and moved the blade forward, pressing it against her shoulder. Zara cried out from the burn and he shifted his weight, clearly annoyed.

“I’m not really into torture, dear. Please just yield so we can go inside.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He reached forward and touched her head, rendering her unconscious instantly. He caught her and pulled her limp body close to his. Once he made sure he had both sabers he started towards the cabin.

“You have so much to learn, little knight. Hopefully you can accomplish that without many more scars.”

---

Zaras eyes fluttered open to immediately seeing the fireplace. She took inventory of her body and other than the tingle of warming limbs, she seemed to be okay. There were blankets under her as padding on the hard floor and a pillow under her head. When she shifted, she realized that the blankets felt way too soft against her skin. She peeked under the blanket to see that she was wearing nothing but her breast band and underwear.

“Your clothes were wet. Not that you believe anything I say but nothing unfavorable happened to you. I may be a monster, but I am not that type.”

She turned her head to look at him. He was sitting leaning against the wall wearing fresh clothes and his hair was wet where it fell in front of his eyes. She sat up slowly making sure one of the blankets was wrapped around her still.

“I placed a bacta patch on your shoulder. It shouldn’t scar too badly.”

She nodded and continued to look at him.

“Surprised you didn’t put force binders on me.”

“Why? The force is the only reason why you didn’t die out there. I don’t think you understand how inhabitable this planet is.”

“You’re mad at me.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, finally making eye contact with her.

“I’m disappointed that you would be that reckless. You easily could have died.”

“What does it even matter? You accomplished your goal either way. Anakin is at the mercy of your Master and I am out of the picture.”

“You.. Zara I have met many beings in my travels in my life. I have traveled to many planets and seen wars rage around me. Up until I saw you on the battlefield, I had only ever known of one person that cared so deeply for life. It.. got her killed and the galaxy is darker for it.”

“The one you were in love with?”

He nodded and pulled one knee up so he could rest his arm on it. Zara caught herself wanting to console him but kept still. Master Windu had told her multiple times that her compassion could be dangerous. She didn’t want him to be right, but she was trying to figure out how to console her Sith captor.

“S-Satine. Her name was Satine. I was a padawan still when I went to Mandalore to protect her.”

“She was a Mandalorian?”

“Yes, the leader actually. She needed help because she saw a brighter future for her people. A future free of war and loss. She saw peace when no one else could, myself included.”

“Is that why you fell?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“No. I told you, the Jedi did that to me. Though finding out she was gone did contribute to my anger.”

“I still don’t see how this connects to me.”

“The first thing I noticed about Satine was the fact that she cared so deeply. When faced with opposition she didn’t want to raise a weapon, she wanted to figure out how to stop everyone else from doing so. I followed you and Anakin on one of your first missions. It was the first opportunity that I could get to you without a Jedi Master sensing me the moment I landed.”

“That was nearly two cycles ago.”

“I know. I stood where I could keep the high ground in case you two noticed me. I expected you two to run in with absolutely no plan.”

“That’s what Anakin wanted to do.”

He nodded and she smiled softly at the memory.

“You though, darling, you had a plan. You had a plan to keep every one of your clone troopers safe. Clones. Quite literally made to be dispensable and replaceable. Yet you talked to them and listened to them. Your plan was good. Not strategic or quick, but it was the path of least resistance.”

Zara’s face fell and she sighed.

“I lost three troopers that day. The counsel let me know it was a success but all I felt was heartache. Life had been lost.”

“I saw that too. You don’t look like her nor do you act like her. Not really. You have the same heart though. I thought it was one of a kind but here you are, shining so brightly it’s sickening.”

Zara laughed and wrapped her covered arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees.

“Wont your Master find you weak for not killing me?”

“No. I told him I could turn you to the dark side.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that, sweetheart. I knew that from the beginning. I also knew that his greed and lust for power would see two incredibly young and strong force users under his control. He only needs Skywalker. He won’t pay as much attention to you. You’re just a bonus.”

“That’s.. devious.”

He chuckled and finally smiled fully.

“What else do you expect? I thought that’s all you saw in Sith.”

“You’re openly deceiving your Master.”

“The end goal of a Sith is to overpower their Master. We don’t work with them. We don’t trust them.”

“That sounds like a very lonely life, Obi Wan.”

He gave her a genuine smile. It was free of malice and ulterior motives. Zara couldn’t help but smile back at him, feeling a strange sense of peace flowing between the two.

“So is a life devoid of love and connections. We have two different types of master’s that lead us to the same cruel fate.”

Zara wanted to argue with him. She wanted to tell him that she was happy being a Jedi and didn’t mind the compromises she had to endure because of it. There was a line she had recited a thousand times when faced with questions about her chosen life. At that moment she couldn’t seem to form it into words.

“Your silences speak volumes, Jedi.”

“So do your actions, Sith. Where does that leave us?”

“I suppose we can figure it out tomorrow.”

“Why rush it? Doesn’t seem like either of us are going anywhere anytime soon.”

“How right you are, little knight. A Jedi and a Sith climb into a ship.”

Zara laughed and grinned at her own joke.

“And somehow find a way to understand each other.”

“For now.”

“Right. For now.”

---

Zara wished she wasn’t comfortable. As she laid next to the fire wrapped in comfortable blankets, she felt warm which was something she had been missing for days. The two had fallen into a comfortable silence. When she heard Obi Wan sigh, she turned to look at him. He looked much less comfortable than when she had woken up.

“Are you okay?”

He startled and looked at her, nodding.

“I’m fine, darling. Don’t fret about me. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi Knight.”

She huffed out a sigh and looked at him closer. She noticed the small tremors in his hands.

“You’re cold.”

“You are so rather perceptive.”

“Is your room warm?”

“Not particularly.”

She looked at all the blankets she was wrapped up in and felt guilty.

“Why don’t.. why don’t you come over here?”

His head snapped up at her question and it made her stifle a laugh.

“I can see that you’re cold. Instead of being warm in your own home you’re making sure that I am.”

“What kind of host would I be if I let you freeze to death.”

“Veth.”

“Again, not that kind of monster. Can’t imagine freezing to death would be very comfortable.”

“Can’t imagine? Looks like you are right now.”

He chuckled and went to retort but Zara wasn’t having it.

“Obi Wan.”

He fell silent and looked at her.

“If you can’t look at it as an act of kindness, look at it as an act of self-preservation. You want me to make smart choices, right?”

“Self-preservation.”

“If you die, I’m stuck on the planet with no idea where your ship is. Sitting in the house with a frozen Sith doesn’t sound fun.”

He chuckled and got up, walking over to where she was curled up by the fire. He slipped his outer shirt off and hesitated. Zara held open the blankets, so he climbed in, making sure he wasn’t touching her. When he let out a sigh at the heat she smiled.

“Between the fire and how warm it is in here you should be comfortable soon.”

“It’s already leagues better.”

“Good.”

He looked at her steadily enough that she could see all the shades in his eyes. When he wasn’t threatening or yelling at her she thought that they were almost beautiful. He reached up and gently pushed her hair back, his fingers grazing her skin.

“Stars, Obi Wan, you’re freezing.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You’ve really got to stop running out into the cold chasing stupid Jedi.”

He smirked and nodded, looking down as Zara took his hands in hers.

“Not to be crass, but you would get warmer if you weren’t wearing your clothes.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re taking all my lines, sweetheart.”

“Just self-preservation, remember?”

“Right. Not an ounce of kindness.”

“For you? Absolutely not. Never.”

He hummed and slipped his shirt off before doing the same with his pants. He was left wearing only his own underwear making it easier for Zara to see just how discolored his skin was.

“Veth, now who is being foolish.”

“I like it better when you call me Obi Wan.”

“Well, Obi Wan doesn’t sound like a fool. So, when you’re acting foolish then I’ll call you by a foolish name.”

He chuckled and shifted closer. They both told themselves it was to get more heat. Both were convinced that the only reason the other was close was to ensure they survived. Survival was smart. Sharing a bed with a sworn enemy was not. So, the easiest way to deal with their situation was to convince themselves that everything was simple.

“Then what do I call you when you’re being foolish?”

“Hmm. You usually call me Jedi.”

“It is one of the worst insults I know.”

“Watch it.”

They both laughed and Zara yawned.

“Get some sleep. Please don’t bolt out the door again.”

“I couldn’t escape without waking you regardless. You’re on the outside of this blanket cocoon. I’d have to uncover you.”

“Very true.”

“Turn around. Face the fire so you can get some heat from it.”

“You could just tell me I’m ugly.”

“Shut up, Veth.”

Obi Wan chuckled and rolled to his right, reveling at the heat of the fire on his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had been rather cold. When he felt a small arm wrap around him and Zara’s body press against his back, he had to stop himself from flinching. He felt her rest her forehead against his upper back and nestle in. He could have groaned at how warm she was but absolutely didn’t want to scare her off.

“Maker you’re cold. Next time you kidnap someone bring them to a more temperate planet.”

He chuckled and gently moved his arm, so he could place his hand over hers.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.”

He felt her nestle in deeper, getting comfortable up against him. He smiled to himself when her sigh danced across his skin right before she fell asleep. He knew that he should be trying to turn her to the dark. His Master would be furious at his weakness. The idea of trying to corrupt someone so light and kind was repulsive to him.

He could feel her breath steadily fan across his back as she slept peacefully. He hated the Jedi, that much was true. He would never be able to go back nor would he be able to escape the darkness that held him so tightly. Zara didn’t make him forgive the Jedi, but he found himself forgiving her for being one.

It had been a very long time since Obi Wan felt anything but contempt for another living being. He could hardly remember what it felt like to have someone’s arm wrapped around him, no matter the circumstance. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t feel anything but the physical sensation of warmth.

The truth though? That warmth meant everything to him.

---

When Zara woke, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She felt warm and comfortable regardless of how sore her body was. She nestled her face into the warmth in front of her and let out a sleepy sigh. When she felt something shift, she froze.

“Did you forget you fell asleep next to me?”

She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly at Obi Wan’s bare chest. He had his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him.

“I guess I did. Uhm. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We are both warm. Survival, right?”

She nodded against him, tentatively letting herself nestle back into the heat surrounding them.

“I didn’t.. I didn’t wake you at all I hope?”

“If you had any nightmares they didn’t show. Do you have them most nights?”

“Sleep isn’t something that is usually peaceful for me.”

“Perhaps there was enough darkness around you that your mind didn’t need to manifest any of it.”

Zara looked back up as he looked down, locking eyes with her.

“Your darkness is.. different.”

“Oh?”

He had an amused look on his face but the hesitance in his eyes told Zara that he was uncomfortable. She shook her head and looked back down. They had come to a tentative peace, but he was still dangerous. A different type of darkness didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Obi Wan gently hook his finger under her chin, tilting her head back up.

“You have nothing to fear, darling.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

He hummed as he ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I suppose you are correct. I don’t want you to fear me though. I will not harm you outside of necessity. Now tell me, what did you mean?”

Zara took a steady breath, willing down the nervousness and trepidation. She wasn’t used to being close to people, let alone someone who was an enemy of everything she stood for. She was vulnerable which was something she just was not comfortable with.

“That first day that I saw you, when you confronted Anakin and me. I felt your darkness. I felt it long before I saw you. I’m no stranger to the dark side but I also have never felt it the way that you carry it. You’re dark but.. you’re not chaotic. I see you calculating everything. As much as you say that I am different for my reverence for life, you are different too.”

“You picked all that up when we met?”

“I picked up on it but the longer I’ve been around you the more I see it. I’ve run into other Sith. I’ve fought them. Their energy was hard to be around because it was so unstable.”

“Are you saying I am less of a Sith?”

“No. Your eyes let me know that truth. It’s not that you’re light.”

He chuckled and moved his hand, so he was cupping her face.

“Your darkness is strong. It’s powerful but it isn’t all consuming like the others I’ve come across. You have a control over yourself that rivals even some of the strongest Jedi I have known.”

“Hmm, that almost sounds like a compliment.”

“I guess it is. At the very least it’s an admittance of me being taken by surprise. You are.. not what I expected.”

“Neither are you, darling. Neither are you.”

Tag List:

@mapplestrudel​

If you would like to be added/removed please let me know

[saynotoshityouhate]

Chaos

Summary: Everyone was convinced you’d never meet your match. That was, until you got the literal kick to the head of a lifetime. 

Word Count: 1726

Tags/Warnings: alcohol, possible concussion, slight illegal behavior, just a little smutty

I’m feeling chaotic, let’s go dancing. Who’s in?

Your friends were used to you starting craziness as soon as you clocked out on Friday afternoon. You were sure they all got your text and rolled their eyes, but they were stuck with you at this point. 

You got all ready - glam but also comfortable - you never knew where the night was going to go. Last time you went out, you ended up dancing until 2am, and then watching the sunrise from the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse. You weren’t sure how many of these weekends you had left - your friends had started settling down and were less enthusiastic about joining you in your shenanigans. They all had tried (and failed) to set you up with their boyfriend’s friends - unable to find someone who could match your energy. But at the same time, you loved your life. You could do anything you wanted, whenever you wanted. You were financially stable, had a good job, a nice apartment...you weren’t really looking for anyone or anything to come in and change things. 

You met the girls at the club, wearing the dress that made you feel most confident, paired with your worn in Converse high tops. “HEY BITCHES!” You gave each friend big sloppy kisses on both cheeks. They handed you a drink - you were last to arrive, as usual. “Y/N, I was just telling the girls about the engagement party my future mother-in-law is planning. You wouldn’t believe how tacky it is going to be! The invitations alone…” You cut her off after pounding your drink, and pointed to the dance floor. “I’m gonna go there now. Bye!” Setting your empty glass on the nearest table, you ran over to the middle of the dance floor. 

You loved the feeling of the stereo bass pumping in your chest. The ringing in your ears blocking out your inhibitions as you moved your body without care, your skin lit up in colors and sparkles. Here, in this moment, you were truly happy. Not a care in the world. No thoughts in your head saying you were unworthy of the love your friends had found. Complete and full contentment at the life you had chosen for yourself. And it was then that you received a swift kick to the side of your head. 

A few seconds later, you opened your eyes to see the hazel eyes of a wild haired, sweaty man. “Fuuucking hell, kid! I thought for sure you were dead. Are you alright?” You blinked up at him and nodded, unsure how you got to be flat on your back in the first place. “I’m so sorry, I was carrying my best lesbian friend on my shoulders, and when we spun around, her fucking foot hit you in the head.” He wipes his hand down his shirt before handing it to you, helping you up off the floor. The man was tall, dressed in a hilarious mismatch of clothes, with a mop of brown hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead, partially covering his eyes. He sported a patchy moustache/goatee combo which brought your attention to his plush, pink lips. 

He leaned down to look you directly in your eyes, examining them closely. “I don’t think you have a concussion...are you sure you’re alright?” You took a deep breath. “Yes. Totally. Super duper alright. All good.” He chuckled a deep laugh, showing off his imperfectly perfect teeth. “Awesome. I’m Adam - we’re going to go find shit to throw off the overpass. Wanna come?” You nodded enthusiastically, never having been this lost for words in your life. He grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the bar, barely giving you the chance to smile or wave at your friends as you exited. 

Adam and his friends brought you all across the city. Finding items to keep or to toss, literally, off of the highway overpass. Your group steadily dwindled as you explored the city’s hidden pockets, eventually leaving you, Adam, and a reusable grocery bag full of spare car parts and rotten vegetables alone on the pedestrian bridge that crossed the city’s busiest highway. Standing together, you looked upon the city skyline, standing proudly against a dark sky that was littered with stars. It was your favorite view. Feeling Adam’s gaze on you, you turned to look up at him. “Everything okay?” you asked, unsure why he was making such a face. “Yeah, kid, just making sure you’re not gonna have a seizure or somethin’ dumb.” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he resumed looking at the city. 

With the early morning hour, there wasn’t a ton of good targets to toss your garbage at. “Wanna split a pizza?” You asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Adam smiled and nodded, giving you the chance get him back for earlier, to grab his hand and run. You took the long way, zig zagging through dark alleys, running up and down stairs, eventually landing at your favorite, hole in the wall 24-hour pizza parlor. “Jimmy!!!!” You squealed are the shop owner, waving at him and jumping up and down. The proprietor groaned, pushing himself out of his chair and walked up to the window. “What can I getcha, y/n...and friend?” Adam smiled at Jimmy, and then you, and then Jimmy again. Nervously laughing and still trying to catch his breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anything but fucking green peppers,” you both said, almost simultaneously. Jimmy rolled his eyes and headed back to the kitchen. 

“Jimmy’s the best. He almost single handedly fed me all through my senior year of college. I was building this Trojan Horse out of Amazon boxes inside my apartment and I couldn’t access my kitchen because it was full of boxes so…” Adam grabbed your face, pulling you in for a rough kiss, his pillowy lips absorbing the blow. Your eyes were wide open, arms limp at your side. Sensing you weren’t reciprocating, Adam pulled back, hands still on your face. “I’m building a boat in my apartment right now, gonna sail down the Hudson. I’ve never met anyone like you before, like me - someone who could keep up with me and not be some fucking loser.” Adam looked deep into your eyes. “We were meant to meet tonight, Y/N. I was supposed to hit you in the head with my best lesbian friend.” Adam squeezed his large hands together, smooshing your face. “Fuck the pizza, come see my boat.” 

Jimmy walked up at that moment, pizza box in tow. “No, no fucking my pizza. Here - on the house - now get out of here. And y/n, I don’t want to find this pizza on some roof or in a tree or whatever the fuck you’re planning on doing tonight.” You turned your head towards Jimmy, with Adam’s help, and said through your smooshed face “Fanks Jummy.” Grabbing the pizza, you looked back up at Adam. Adam moved your head up and down, speaking in a high pitched voice “Yes, Adam, I’d love to see your boat!” Looking down at you with a cheesy grin, you started to laugh. “Fwine, but wet go uf my fwace.” Adam flailed his arms into the air. “Well let’s fucking go, kid!” 

Adam wasn’t kidding, he really was building a boat in his living room. It was the coolest thing you’ve ever seen. “Are these old pallets? Is that a fisherman’s knot? Did you repurpose 2x4s from…” “Whoa whoa y/n don’t get a lady boner over my awesome ass boat!” Your eyes were sparkling, climbing over piles of wood and fabric and an overused power strip. “When is she going to be ready to sail?” you asked, your voice giving away your excitement. “Why,” Adam stalked towards you, backing you up against the mast, “wanna be my sexy first mate?” Your heart was beating through your chest. This wasn’t your average one night stand, this was different - you could tell. This wasn’t the plan. But you couldn’t deny that he was your match. He was right, you were meant to meet tonight. You took a deep, shaky breath, looking into Adam’s eyes. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

Adam growled, wrapping his arms underneath your bottom and lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, squealing in surprise. He slammed your body harder against the boat’s mast, shoving his tongue into your mouth and squeezing your ass as he ground his rock hard erection into your pelvis. You lifted one hand from his neck, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, the slightest graze of your fingers causing Adam’s hips to thrust. The energy of that motion cracked the fragile integrity of the mast, causing Adam to fall forwards, landing on top of you, the broken splinters of wood scratched along your back. 

You both groaned. “Fuck, kid, you ok? How’s your head?” Opening up to the same concerned, hazel gaze from earlier in the evening, you replied “Yep. Super duper.” That was good enough for Adam, who stood up quickly, ripping his jeans and underwear down, kicking his legs for assistance. You lifted your hips to shimmy your own panties down to your ankles. Adam returned to his place between your legs. Looking up at him with a grin, you laughed “ahoy, matey. shiver me timbers.” Adam grunted - “you’re so fucking weird, and so fucking wet,” he ran two fingers through your slick, “and just for me.” You whined, moving your hips to meet his hand.  “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me. Gunna drop anchor in this hot cunt.”

Adam spent the rest of the night straddled over your back, where you laid on your stomach on his bed. Using a tweezer, he removed the hundreds of tiny splinters that had embedded themselves into your skin. You sighed contentedly, taking a large sip of milk, unsure what the future held. But for the first time, in a long time, the thought of sharing that future with someone didn’t make you sick to your stomach. You turned your head to take a look at him, wearing lab safety goggles “in case one flew out at him.” Smiling, you rested your head on his pillow, before falling asleep and dreaming of sailing down the Hudson together. 

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Zuko x female reader series: Part Five

The eclipse is approaching and your arrangement with Zuko becomes harder and harder to keep a secret but Azula comes up with a solution. 

Part One here

Part Two here

Part Three here

Part Four here

Part Six here

Tagged: @taeeemin​ @creation-magician​ @kaylove12​

Your POV

"She tried to kiss me on the mouth" Zuko told you "but i casually blocked it" he reported to you. Quite literally reported, after each event he'd come straight to you and report how Mai had tried something and how he’d stopped it. "Zuko you don’t have to tell me everytime you know" you smirked and Zuko nodded "i know bit it feels so weird...i want to tell you, i want to be open so you know you can trust me". You smiled resting your hands on his shoulders "i trust you Zuko, we’re in a crap situation but you’re not the thing i worry about". Zuko frowned at your tone and body language "so what are you worried about?". 

You weren’t suprised Zuko had noticed you’d been more tense than usual lately. The reason was you’d been feeling so guilty lately about all the secrets you had. The one about Ozai using Mai for her uncle, the secret you and Zuko were keeping from his actual girlfriend and not to mention the huge secret of your proposal you were keeping from Zuko. That one was the hardest because of how often you saw Zuko and how open and honest he was being with you lately. You’d tried coming clean to him but still didn’t know how to bring it up. You just wanted to ignore it and hope it would go away but of course that wouldn’t work. 

You sighed coming back to the present and answered Zuko’s question "i’m mainly worried about your father, i feel like we’re all pawns to him". Zuko nodded wrapping his arms around you hugging you, "i know...but i promise he won’t use me for this much longer, I told him he had two weeks to finish up his deal and he's had one, one more and i break it off with Mai myself". You nodded "sounds good" and smiled up at Zuko. As stressful as being together was you still felt better just by being with Zuko and apparently the feeling was mutual. Zuko looked down at you and moved to kiss you. He did it slowly giving you enough time to move away but you didn’t. This no sex arrangment had been killing you, you thought about Zuko most of the time and even as he’d been talking you’d been staring at his face not really listening. Appreciating the cut of his chin, how messy his hair looked, the glow of his eyes and of course how good his lips looked. So you didn’t have much self restraint by the time he leant in and you let him kiss you, telling yourself one kiss wasn’t that bad but then one turned into two, two into three, then Zuko’s lips moved lower and lower. Soon you found yourself in a familiar position and stopped grabbing Zuko’s hands. "Stop" you said suddenly and Zuko smirked "it’s okay, can’t blame a guy for trying...". "No" you sighed "Zuko it’s not that...i just, I haven’t been honest with you”. Something about the way Zuko was with you made you want to be open and honest with him, you couldn’t keep it from him any longer. “I know what Ozai has planned and it’s bad Zuko. We need to work out a plan". Zuko frowned realising you were serious "y/n what are you talking about?". You sighed distangling yourself from him "I didn’t tell you because i worried it would change everything...make me less exciting and more like a burden" you sighed and Zuko shook his head "you'd never be a burden y/n! I’m sure it’s not that bad, tell me". "Your father told me he's arranging your wedding or well our wedding". Zuko stared before he frowned "ours as in...". "Yup" you nodded. Zuko paused and laughed angrily "wow...without telling us? Or even asking us?". You frowned "well he told me to tell you, he thinks you know". "He didn’t even ask me about it!" Zuko said annoyed "who is he to decide we should get married!". "He said it’s our duty" you said softly and Zuko’s eyes sparked "we don’t have any duties! Atleast not like this, not ones that would force us together! We are not cattle". You couldn’t help feeling responsible and so didn’t reply as Zuko paced. "He’s still trying to make me just like him! Well unlike him i won’t force anyone to be my wife and i won’t be forced into a marriage just because he says so!". "That’s why I said we needed a plan, i’m sure we can think of some excuse to get out of it but it’ll have to be a damn good one". Zuko went quiet and you frowned "Zuko?". "Y/n there is a way but it’s risky..i  haven’t even thought it through properly it was just an idea I had". "What is it?" you asked and he sighed. "The more i think of it...y/n you know i care about you more than anything right?". You nodded smiling despite the situation "of course". "And these months with you and the time we’ve been together i’ve been so happy just because it’s with you...i don’t know if i should just..." Zuko sighed and you grabbed his arm "Zuko?". "I feel so selfish" Zuko cried "I’ve seen how the world sees us y/n, how we’ve treated them and I want to do better, I don’t want to be like my father just taking what I want and i’ve tried to change”. You nodded “I’ve noticed Zuko” and he smiled but it still looked pained. “I’ve been trying not to be who I was before, less entitled and demanding but now my father dangles this and i’m tempted. That’s why he chose you, because he knows he can use you to manipulate me, to make me happy. I could marry you and that would make staying here worth it, i could just envoke myself in you and block it all out until i become firelord and I know i could y/n, with you...being with you is more than enough to make me forget the world but that would make me a coward, like my father, and you don’t deserve a coward, i have to make myself worthy of you". You frowned "Zuko what are you talking about, how?". "By helping the avatar" Zuko told you and you went silent. "I’ve been thinking about my destiny and while I know it’s with you i know it’s not like this, i can’t just ignore everything i’ve seen out there y/n so i’m sorry but I have to leave and go help the avatar". "Why are you apologising?" you asked confused and Zuko looked at you before blinking "because i’ll have to leave again...". "Duh but who says i have to stay here?". Zuko’s eyes widenned "you’d want to come with me?". You hit him on the shoulder "of course! They drove you away from me once you think i’d let them do it again?". Zuko stared at you in shock "you’re serious? Y/n this will be really dangerous we'll be fugitives, they won’t hunt us to stop up they’ll hunt to kill us". "Sounds like fun" you smirked "so when we leaving?". Zuko shook his head at you in disbelief "you’d do this for me? All because i said i have to?". "Of course" you smiled "plus you know you’d die without me". "I would but not for the reasons you’re thinking" Zuko smirked and for the second time that day he leant down to kiss you and again you let him. Having the weight of your secret off your chest and at the same time having Zuko confide in you felt so good, it made you feel so free. You were going to get out of this situation, this place and all with Zuko by your side. Knowing that made you felt so hopeful, so excited, so in love. So this time you didn’t pull away as the kiss progressed although Zuko kept checking, as he kept meeting your eyes as if asking if this was okay. In response you took over to show him you wanted this and he was only too happy to let you take the lead.

***

“I’m breaking up with Mai” Zuko told you suddenly, still breathing heavily after your activities. “What?” you asked confused “but your father...”. “I don’t care” Zuko smiled at you “I’m going to do it, today in fact! I’m sick of waiting for other people to do what I want, we’re going to leave soon I don’t have to worry about my father’s wrath” Zuko beamed at you “i don’t care about it anymore! All i care about is you and i’m not treating you like this for one hour longer”. Zuko stood up grabbing his clothes and you sat up “Zuko are you sure...won’t that attract more suspicion from your father?”. Zuko shook his head “No, if he asks i’ll claim I felt bad being engaged to you and dating her, he always said I was too soft so he’ll believe it”. “But Zuko are you sure?” you asked “you don’t have to just for me...” but Zuko kissed you cutting you off. “Yes i do” he smiled seperating “I need to do this for me, for you, for Mai, plus I don’t think i’ll be able to hide it anymore” .You blushed and Zuko grinned noticing. “I’ll come find you after, you don’t even need to get out of bed if you don’t want to” Zuko smirked and you blushed. “Unfortunately I have to, I have training and then lunch with Ty lee, so i’ll see you in the evening, if you can last till then?”. Zuko sighed jokingly “I suppose I will have to” and kissed your cheek one more time before leaving the room.

5 hours later

After your morning with Zuko you felt like you were walking on air. You actually felt like you were glowing and all day you’d been in a great mood. You did better in training then you’d ever done before and knew it was because of Zuko. You still felt exceptionally happy as you made your way through the palace for your dinner with Ty lee. The invitation to have dinner with her had arrived just a few days ealier and you’d accepted immedietly. You were pleased she'd invited you and saw it as a clear attempt from Ty lee to befriend you. You wanted to make an effort to be her friend so were on best behaviour, feeling in the mood to make a new friend but as soon as you entered the room your face dropped. It wasn’t just you and Ty lee...Mai and Azula were there too. Ty lee had been very clear in her invitation it would just be you two but you could see from her expression this hadn’t been her fault. She shot you an apologetic look while Azula smirked openly at you. So Azula had crashed this and probably dragged Mai here too. That was fine, you could deal with this. You smiled at Ty lee letting her know it was okay and sat next to her. Mai looked up as you entered and you purposefully avoided her eye. She definitely looked upset telling you Zuko had broken up with her as promised and you couldn’t help feel guilty. You were suprised she was even here at all given the circumstances but again reminded yourself Azula forced her friends to do things they didn’t want to do often. Ty lee grinned at you and seemed pleased to have you there. Sure enough you saw why, between Mai’s glowering and Azula’s snarky comments this wasn’t the environment Ty lee thrived in. You and Ty lee took over conversation and you laughed about a play Ty lee’s sister was in. Your laughter evidently triggered Mai who slammed her drink down making you go quiet.  "Eugh why are you two always so happy all the time" Mai snapped glaring at you and Ty lee “your laughter is more piercing than my knives”. Ty lee looked down obviously not wanting to provoke Mai and you frowned watching. Mai looked at you and Azula smirked. "I assume you've heard?" Azula asked you “about Mai and Zuko?”. You looked up at Mai and she cocked her head to one side waiting for your reply. "Yes" you nodded "Zuko told me" you swallowed. "Before or after it happened?" Mai asked suprising you. "After" you lied "i didn’t know before". Mai raised an eyebrow "how soon after?". "Erm it was late afternoon, maybe 2?" you asked and Mai glared "he must’ve come straight from doing it, asshole". Mai saw you look down and sighed "okay I know he’s your friend so i promise no more Zuko talk okay?". Ty lee laughed nervously and you smiled "sounds good". Azula set her cutlery down and turned to you. It was like the seconds preceding a natural disaster, the look Azula gave you was all the warning you needed but you couldn’t do anything to stop her. "Apart from one thing..." Azula smiled sweetly "don’t you want to tell us the good news y/n? I hear congratulations are in order for you and Zuko". You paled as Mai’s eyes shot to your face and even Ty lee frowned side eyeing you. "What does that mean?" Mai asked and Azula chuckled "should i tell her or you?". You swallowed wondering how to talk yourself out of this but Azula beat you to it "y/n and Zuko are engaged". "What?" Ty lee and Mai cried and you glared at Azula "don’t say it like that! Mai it’s not like that, Ozai ordered it, we didn’t want it". Mai frowned but seemed less angry and then Azula spoke again. "You don’t want to get married? So you’re just sleeping together for fun i guess?". You flinched and Mai saw the look on your face "bitch" she spat. You ran your hands over your face agitatedly "Mai it’s..". "What not true?" Mai yelled but she knew from your reaction that was a lie. "No it’s true..." you admitted and Ty lee let out a mini gasp "that’s why you were asking about Zuko and Mai’s relationship at the ball...". You nodded your head "Mai i didn’t know you and Zuko had also slept together, if i did...". "You wouldn’t have done it? Wouldn’t have slept with my boyfriend?". You winced but nodded. "You knew he was dating me! You knew i liked him! You always told me not to worry! You were just friends! Was this some game?". "No Mai I always meant what i said i didn’t realise i liked Zuko until a few weeks ago and it hasn’t been going on long i promise!". "How long has it been going on?" Mai asked suddenly and you paused "since you got back from the Ember Islands". Mai narrowed her eyes "that was when you and Zuko first kissed?”. "Yes" you nodded hoping Mai couldn’t hear the unease in your voice, you begged her not to ask anymore. Mai tutted but could see Ty lee looked just as nervous as you and she put it together. Mai followed Ty lee’s realisation and stared at you darkly "and that’s not all...is it?" she asked. You shook your head and Mai glared. "The day after we got back?" she yelled “that day!”. "Not the day after you got back...that night, that night was the first time". You’d been trying to be honest but in retrospect you maybe could’ve omitted that detail. Mai looked from Ty lee to you and stepped towards you. "No" Ty lee cried stepping infront of Mai as she yelled at you. "You’re assholes the both of you! I came back from the trip thinking me and Zuko were back on track and that night, and after he’d been with me in the morning he was screwing you! And he has been ever since! All this time!". "It’s only happened twice" you cried and Mai’s anger rose "he’s barely been back from our holiday a week y/n" and threw a glass at you "only two times? Is that meant to make me feel better?". "Mai i’m sorry" you cried but Mai was in a full blown rage. Ty lee was losing her grip on her and frowned "y/n you should go" Ty lee told you "now". You agreed seeing how Mai was eyeing you and how Azula was just watching smugly. "Mai i’m sorry" you said rushing away. You could hear her yelling insults at you as you rushed away and almost jogged down the coridoor. You barreled into someone and as luck would have it, it was Zuko. "Y/n?" he asked seeing the look in your eyes "what’s wrong?". You grabbed onto his hand drawing him into his nearby room and shut the door tightly "Mai knows!". Zuko pailed "what does she know?". "Everything, she knows we’re engaged, that we’re dating and that we’ve been cheating". "How?". "Azula, she said it while me and Mai were together". "Shit, are you okay?" Zuko asked. You were suprised by that question "me?". "Yes you!" Zuko nodded "you had to face Mai’s wrath all on your own...she didn’t attack you did she?". You shook your head and Zuko nodded relieved. "She was just really angry and upset" you frowned "i feel awful". Zuko nodded and bundled you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and you sighed against him. "Atleast we know we didn’t do it to be mean or on purpose, we really care about each other" Zuko told you. "I guess" you nodded and Zuko smiled tucking a finger under your chin "don’t worry i’ll sort this out, i’ll give Mai time to cool off then explain". You nodded "she won’t understand but maybe she'll see we didn’t mean to hurt her". Zuko nodded "she will i promise but for tonight you should stay here". You looked at him confused "i should?". Zuko nodded "i know Mai and i don’t think she’d do anything but with Azula whispering things in her ears...i’d feel better if you stayed with me until we left this place”. Just Zuko talking about your escape made you smile and you were hardly going to reject such an offer. You felt exhuasted, drained and wanted to have some company so welcomed Zuko’s offer. He leant you one of his robes and you curled up quickly in his master bed. "This feels weird" you commented “being in your room like this so openly”. “You’ve stayed in my room a thousand times” Zuko grinned and you nodded “yeah but not since we’ve been together”. Zuko frowned if that was a good or bad thing but you made a tired noise and leant into his arms. "It feels nice" you smiled "no messing around, no hiding what we’re doing anymore, it’s finally just us". Zuko nodded "it seems more real". You re-opened one eye "not getting cold feet fire prince?". Zuko smirked "not at all" and drew you closer against him. "Good" you smiled.

The next day

You figured out the whole palace knew about your and Zuko’s engagement due to the fact seconds after leaving Zuko’s room the first person you saw bowed. Not a casual bow, but a full on-the-floor bow to both of you. "Prince Zuko, lady y/n, congratulations". You and Zuko frowned at one another, had Azula or Ozai told everyone? Either way it was apparently out now. "Thank you" Zuko coughed "excuse us" and pulled you along after him. You headed towards the throne room, being bowed to by every single person you passed, and Azula was stood waiting. "Ahh the happy couple" Azula called as soon as she saw you “a whole crowd’s gathered outside the palace following the news". "What, why?" Zuko asked. "To see the future fire lord and his wife of course" Azula smirked "the future rulers of the fire nation... fathers waiting for you both" she grinned before practically skipping away. You couldn't imagine Ozai was happy and Zuko misinterpreted your frown to be worry. Zuko took your hand "it'll be okay, don't worry". "I'm not worried" you smiled "he can hardly kill us, i think that would dampen the mood of the crowd waiting for us down there". Zuko joined you by the window and frowned down at the crowd "they’re all here for us?". "Apparently" you shrugged "i've never been paraded around infront of crowds before, remind me what the royal procedure is again Smile and wave right?". "Pretty much" Zuko nodded and you smirked "maybe i am cut out for this rulimg stuff" and pulled Zuko into Ozai's throne room.

Ozai was not in a good mood and thought a good way to start the day would be to tell you both everything you'd done wrong. "Not only were you not supposed to break up with Ukano’s daughter yet, you were not supposed to announce your engagement either". "I wasn't going to string y/n or mai along any longer" Zuko argued back and you smiled. "Well thanks to your nobility we have a war in a day and the people are crowding the palace requesting details about your wedding" Ozai glared. "Have you tried asking them to go away?" you asked and felt Zuko tense as he tried not to smirk. Ozai pretended he didn't even hear you and fixed his attention on Zuko only "you will deal with this" and strode from the room. You glared after Ozai before noticing Zuko was edging closer to the balcony. "We're going to have to make an announcement" Zuko sighed and you nodded. "Do you think telling them the weddings off will work?". "Nope" Zuko said before looking around to make sure you we're alone "y/n we leave tomorrow, so now we just have to play the part of happy couple, okay? All smiley and so happy to be engaged". You nodded "easy enough, i mean i think i can manage acting happy to be with you". "Ow yeah?" Zuko asked raising an eyebrow. You smirked "yeah, might be hard but i'll manage". "How will the fire nation ever repay you for your service?" Zuko asked smirking and you grinned "i'm sure you'll think of a way to make it up to me, now come on". You took his arm and Zuko nodded to you before pushing the balcony doors open and the crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

You and Zuko finally got to the end of your final day in the fire nation but it felt like the longest day of your life. After your official appearance on the balcony everywhere you went you were stopped and congratulated. Flocks of women congratulated you with so much earnest it was scary. Men who’d never even  bothered to meet your eye previously now bowed their heads as you passed, hoping to get in good with Zuko through you. You mother had sent you an 8 page letter telling you how proud of you she was and you burnt it. She hadn’t cared when you’d led you first fleet at 13 or when you’d manned your own crew at 9 but getting engaged made her realise she loved you apparently. As amazing as Zuko was as a marriage prospect you thought it was a bit much. All the women acted as if you were the luckiest woman who ever lived and constantly asked how pleased you were or even how you’d managed it by some of the bold elder women. It took a lot of restraint not to tell them you weren't getting married and even if you were you hadn't won anything or gotten lucky for bagging Zuko...if anything you and Zuko had come out equally well in this arrangement...it was infuriating having everyone treat you special for having a man attached to you. It made you look forward to your escape even more and you focused on making sure everything was ready all day. It was now evening and you were adding the last bits to your supplies as Zuko tried to speak to Mai considering it would be the last chance he'd get before you left. He appeared in your shared bunker red faced and in shock. "It didn't go well?" you asked and Zuko shook his head "i think it was still too soon to try and speak with her". You noticed the red slap mark on his cheek and nodded "yeah i thought it might be to soon". “We can try again if we ever survive tomorrow” Zuko spoke and you frowned. “When we survive tomorrow” you corrected him “we’ll come back eventually alive and well and then you can try again with Mai”. Zuko smirked at your optimism, something he wasn’t raised with a lot of, and nodded “when we come back”. You smiled at him approvingly, Zuko really had changed and you were so proud of the man he now was. 

The day of the escape you and Zuko made your way to Ozai’s room so Zuko could confront him. You weren’t too keen on telling the firelord you were leaving but you knew Zuko needed to do this so were supportive. You guarded the door and let Zuko talk to his father in private. When you heard the sound of lightning you threw the door open just as Zuko was rushing out of it. "Y/n lets go! Now!" Zuko cried. You saw Ozai on the floor in a cover of smoke and had to admit you smirked. You knew Zuko hadn’t injured him seriously but it pleased you Zuko had fought back against his abusive father this time. Zuko tugged you to the airship pad and soon had the one picked out ready. You took over flying having more experience than Zuko with vehicles and your ship slipped further and further away from the palace. Time passed and silence settled. You had your eyes fixed in the direction the sky bison had gone but Zuko was looking behind in the direction of the fire nation. “No-ones following us” Zuko said coming to stand beside you. “That took you twenty minutes to work out?” you asked smirking and Zuko blushed. “Hey it’s okay” you smiled patting his arm “i’ll miss it in a weird way too but this is going to be good, this is all going to work out you’ll see”. Zuko sighed yanking you against his chest so he could engulf you in a hug. “You’re right” he smiled “this is what i’ve always been meant to do and we’ll do it, together”. “I like the sound of that” you smiled and watched the last trace of the fire nation disappear from the horizon.    

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Angsty Zuko is great but loved and emotionally stable Zuko is superior (that’s probably why I added so many Zuko cuddles but i’m not mad about it). 

Next part is the last one in the series!