#I walked like five miles today and it wasn’t enjoyed

[thedissonantverses]

Me for weeks now: “Sure feels like people are co opting talking points about the writing from bigots without realizing it.”

Like three days later guy gets loudly racist and ableist because I had the audacity to *gasp* love Veilguard.

[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || part three

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: LOTS OF PLOT, being chased teehee scary, unrealistic demon sex bc be so honest w yourself that’s why you’re here, breeding kink, bondage/choking kink. there will be one more part, a finale to this lil series :’) i think for my next series for the creeps im gonna go with either jeff or masky, haven’t decided yet. ANYWAYS, enjoy!!

the finale to till dawn is here

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage.

The sound of crunching leafs echoed behind you, one set of footsteps in particular on your heels. Eerie laughter filled your ears as you threw one foot in front of the other, desperate to get away.

You had decided to follow Jack once he left your house. It wasn’t a logical thing to do, knowing that from what Jack talked about other beings like him existed. You knew Jack was a one of one and so were the others he told you stories about. He promised to introduce you to them someday, but not today.

Curiosity got a hold of your better judgment, causing you to slowly trail behind him. Curiosity was about to kill the cat. You could feel your lungs burning, a whooshing sound flying past your ear. You gasped as a rusty axe had been thrown into the tree beside your head. It had nearly nipped you, your ear millimeters from the blade.

What you didn’t realize, was that the moment you walked into these predators territory, you’d become the prey.

Jack knew you had followed him. He was fine with you doing so. Up until now, he had assumed the Supernatural borders prevented any human from entering. As an animalistic growl escaped his throat, weaving through the trees, he realized he had never been more wrong.

Toby was close behind you, Jack could hear his mouth twitching with pride as he got closer to you. Your presence had alerted every creep within a five mile radius, none of them aware of who you were. It was Jacks job to stop them from getting to you, ignoring the loud drum of your heartbeat. Thankfully Jack was the fastest, his killing style driven by animalistic primal hunger. He was gaining distance on Toby, reaching one hand out and grabbing him by his hair.

You forced yourself to not look back, to not question the sudden silence of your purser. Typically you thought of yourself to be a decent runner, now realizing track in high school could’ve never prepared you for a situation like this. Once all you heard was silence, you allowed yourself to slow down. Panting, you leaned against the sharp forest bark of one of the trees. Everything around you looked the exact same, like a never ending loop.

It was official. You were lost.

The sound of rushing water intrigued you, your eyes darting in each direction to find the source. Despite the eerie feeling of being alone in such a dark forest, you felt like multiple sets of eyes were watching you. Stalking you. Hunting you. The moonlight dimly lit the forest floor, your feet carrying you in what you believed to be the direction of the river. You had been camping before, the sounds of bugs or owls having previously been a comfort.

But here, in this forest, there were neither of those things. You trudged towards the river, a large river bank coming into view. The water was harsh as it crashed against the rocks below it. Murkiness and darkness prevented you from seeing the bottom of the river, unaware of how deep it was. Or from seeing what creatures lurked below.

Jack was close to catching up with you, his focus on Jeff and Jane as they slowly closed in on you. Jane was nimble, using her small frame and agility to swing through the trees. As Jack watched them both close in on you, it occurred to him neither of them realized the other was present. If the situation wasn’t so dire of your safety he’d watch in amusement just to see what happened next. Jeff went for the kill first, Jacks body flying forward to stop him. But Jane had beat him to it.

The loud crashing sound behind you caused you to jump, instantly turning around. A man and woman, whom you could almost think to be siblings, were visibly fighting in front of you. “What the fuck Jane? Can you not see i’m doing something here?” The man growled. Unsettling crimson blood dripped down the carvings on the side of his face. His cheeks were mutilated beyond belief, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Fight or flight was not crossing your mind, your body frozen in fear. “I found her long before you did dipshit,” Jane snarled. Knives occupied both of their hands, her unsettling, soulless black abyss for eyes glancing at you. “She’s a cute one, I can see why you wanted the kill. Sadly she’s mine Jeffrey, all mine,” She smirked. Jack went to intervene, the overwhelming sound of two more heartbeats stopping him. Shit, Masky and Hoody. Surely Slender had sent the proxies to check on the situation, Toby beating them due to his speed.

Jack felt conflicted, trying to rationalize what to do. If he intervened Jeff and Jane now, he would have to take both of them on as well as the proxies. His gaze landed on the two pale killers, both of them still bickering. But, if he managed to stop the proxies fast enough, he could come back and retrieve you. The proxies wouldn’t be hard to find, their heartbeats and smell practically giving Jack a map. He felt awful leaving you, the petrified look of horror written across your face as you watched the fight in front of you.

As the sound of the proxies grew closer, Jack turned around, chasing after the sound of pounding hearts.

“You always do this! I find a good kill and here comes Jane!” Jeff argued. Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault we have the same type,” She debated. Slowly you tried to back away, hoping they’d be so involved in their debate they’d forget about your presence. “You’re such a bitch, always copying me and my shit, find another hobby will ya?”Jeff spat harshly.You swallowed as you kept your eyes on them, trying to figure out if you could out run them.

Snap.

Both sets of eyes landed on you, your blood running cold. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, everything in you screaming to run. Their eyes contained a certain unnatural hunger, the kind that would only be satisfied by watching you bleed. “You know, the more I think about it, maybe we can call it even just this once, since it’s a special occasion,” Jeff said softly, glancing at Jane. As his eyes moved you noticed that he didn’t blink, his never ending gaze shifting back and forth. His eye sockets were hollow, your mind struggling to make sense of his rancid appearance. He had no eyelids?

“Maybe we should, how often do humans stumble through our forest like this?” Jane replied, chuckling. The two had seemed to come to a decision, moving in unison. They seemed to be patiently waiting for a chase, waiting for you to run. As you turned your back you heard an animalistic growl, one that you could only assume came from one of the pale killers.

What you didn’t realize, was that Jack was ready to rip Jeff apart limb by limb. The two pale killers were blindsided, Jane gasping as she fell to the ground. The demon had Jeff pinned to the ground, snarling above him. It was forbidden to kill another creep, especially on Slender’s grounds. “EJ what-” Jeff began babbling, the animalistic snarl from Jacks throat silencing him. Jane scoffed as she stood up, brushing off her dress.

“If you wanted the kill yourself there’s no sense in being so dramatic, just say so,” She quipped. Jacks gaze stranded from Jeff, settling on Jane as she fully regained her confidence. Jack was never one to hurt a lady, so instead he came up with a different solution. Standing up fully he picked her up, harshly gripping her arms as he tossed her into the nearby river.

You could hear her screams of despair as you continued running into the forest. Whipping your head around to look behind you, for the first time since you had entered the land of terror no one was following you. Your legs burned, your mind spinning. You felt dizzy, your vision beginning to be clouded with stars. The only thing you had on you was your phone. Shakily you took it out of your pocket, thumbing in the password.

Who would you even call? Jack didn’t have a phone, you had no service. You sighed, blankly scrolling between the apps you couldn’t use. Your eyes widened as your screen went black. Did it die? On seventy nine percent? You tilted your head to the side as a camera came into focus, a young blonde man with black and red eyes staring back at you. “Oh wow, hello there gorgeous! EJ sure does know how to pick em huh?” He asked. His pointy ears twitched. That was the final straw. You tossed your phone onto the ground, stomping on it with your boot. The glass shattered, your once prized possession now garbage.

Tilting your head back you let out a pained sigh. How long was it before these maniacs caught up with you? Looking around you found a decent stick. In comparison to the knives and axes the others were equipped with it would be nothing, but you’d go down fighting.

Snap.

You quickly turned around, gripping your stick tightly. Wincing as the wood cut the palm of your hand, you braced yourself. Swallowing, you tried to find the noises creator. A gush of wind breezed past you from a different direction, your eyes darting to your left. What if they were all circling you? Like a pack of wolves? What if this was in the end?

In the dull moonlight you were able to make out a tall figure, your fight or flight kicking in. Hastily you rose your stick, slamming it down on the shadow in front of you. A large hand grabbed your stick, snapping it half, before sending you on the ground. Your collision with the ground knocked the air out of your lungs, your back hitting the dirt below. Instinctively you began thrashing, a strong set of hands pinning you down.

“Hey, hey, HEY, calm down! Look at me!” Jacks voice was firm, filled with worry. Were you going insane? Seeing Jeff was definitely enough to make someone do so. He didn’t want you to end up like Nina. You blinked a few times, Jacks mask long discarded. Blood dripped down his nose, staining his upper lip. A gash sliced across his cheek, the same crimson paint dripping down his gray skin. “Jack?” You panted.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, Jacks attention temporarily preoccupied as you attempted to catch your breath. His mind returned to normal the moment you began rambling.

“Holy shit there was a guy with an axe who sounded literally like a ticking time bomb and then this like mutilated albino couple wanted to kill me as well and then this dwarf-”

Jack gripped your shoulders, shaking you.

“Why would you come here? Do you understand how difficult it is for me to protect you here?” He panted. His body was becoming tired. Sprinting across Slender forest and fighting off all of his friends was exhausting, even for him. Your eyes were widened as his hands gripped you harder unintentionally. “You single handedly alerted every monster in the goddamn area that there was fresh meat on the market,” Jack continued. You winced in pain as his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me.”

His eye sockets widened, the demon releasing you. He stayed on top of you, the two of you blankly staring at one another. “You’re bleeding,” Jack commented. The deeper he inhaled the stronger the scent became, electric cravings crawling across his skin. You didn’t have a chance to tell him where it was coming from, the demon grabbing your wrist to examine your palm.

The blood wasn’t bad, a small stream dripping down the precious little lines of your palm. To think that when he wanted to, he could hunt down whoever he wanted. That truly, you belonged to him. No matter the danger that he created or that others around you did, he was able to restrain himself. To protect you. The scent of your blood made his stomach flip, his body flooding with desire. Your legs shifted under him, your body becoming warmer as he touched you.

Your voice was low, a desperate whisper, “Jack…”

The worry that clouded Jacks mind was washed away by the sound of your soft voice. The only sound that could calm him down and make him feel at ease,was the enchanting sound of you saying his name. You yanked his hoodie, desperately bringing his lips to yours. Your blood soaked into the clothing, a groan escaping Jacks throat.

The delicious sound of your heart beginning to race flooded his ears, his hips slowly grinding on yours. You whimpered, pawing at his hoodie to bring him impossibly closer. Your lips melted against his, submitting to his rougher desperate kisses. His large hands slithered up your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your breast. You groaned into his mouth, the demon trying to be careful as to not nip you with his teeth.

“Here?” You panted, whimpering as he pushed up your bra. Jack kissed down the side of your neck gently, the throbbing pulse of your throat almost too much for him to handle. “I’ll make it quick love, I just need to let everyone in a five mile radius know who you belong to,” Jack huffed, bringing your right nipple into his mouth. You felt his multiple tongues attack the bud, his name spilling from your lips. With a pop he released your nipple, kissing down your stomach.

“How long until they come looking for us again?” You asked nervously, Jacks nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning and sliding down your jeans. He looked up at the sky. “I’d say till dawn,” He guessed. You giggled as he repositioned himself between your legs, your jeans shoved down to your ankles. “Guess you better hurry up then,” You say. His slender fingers began teasingly rubbing your slick through your panties, the thin cloth drenched.

“Let’s make sure you can take me first you troublemaker,” Jack teased, grinning at the sound of you moaning for him. He slid two of his slender fingers in front of you, your walls squeezing him as he curled them inside of you. Desperately you bucked your hips upwards, throwing your head back as he hit your g spot. “All that running made you awfully sensitive, huh?” Jack joked, relishing in the sight of you grabbing at his wrist, the one that was connected to the hand inside of you.

“Jack, fuck, please,” You whined. Jacks eye sockets widened.

He hesitated, “Please what?”

Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, the humiliation of him making you say what you needed settling in. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded, your voice cracking. Jacks hands were quick to work on his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a chill down your spine. You bit your lip as you eyed the leather, Jack noticing. A devilish sadistic thought entered his mind, his lips curling upwards.

“You want to try something new?” Jack asked, slightly guessing. You nodded, meeting his gaze. You vocalized a plea, Jack quick to flip you over. Your bare knees hit the dirt of the forest, the smell of the earth flooding your nostrils. Instinctively you went to arch your back, Jack stopping you by yanking you back by your shirt. “You might want to stay on all fours,” He purred in your ear, kissing your earlobe. He wrapped his belt around your neck, holding the metal buckle in his hand.

It cut off a decent portion of your airway, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of being choked. “You’re into bondage now? Such a whore for me,” Jack chuckled darkly, stroking his cock. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, trying to lubricate his cock as best as possible. Despite how drenched you got every time he was around, you always struggled to accommodate his size. And every single time it sent Jack into a frenzy, determination to make it fit ensuing.

He glanced up at the sky, the sun rising very faintly in the distance. “We don’t have very long, be a good girl and take it,” Jack snarled, shoving himself inside of you. You felt your body being split in two, his spare hand snaking down to your clit. He rubbed circles around the sensitive bud, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “You wanna be good for me don’t you slut? Relax for me,” He huffed, bottoming out inside of you. You were tense, grabbing handfuls of leafs and dirt.

He could feel you spasm around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size, whimpering as your vision became hazy. After what felt like forever to Jack, he could feel your body relax. “There we go, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Jack purred in satisfaction. He pulled back his hips, taking himself out of you. He then brought himself back inside, pleased to hear the sound of you letting out a choked out moan. He continued to swirl around your clit, his thrust becoming faster.

You felt light headed as the leather pressed against your throat, choking on the sinful noises that echoed through out the forest. “Fuck, if I had known letting you into Slender’s forest would’ve gotten you so hot and bothered, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your g spot. You were seeing stars, each thrust sending you into orbit. “Taking me so well, just like a good mate should,” He growled. His grip on the belt tightened, your airway temporarily cut off.

His thrust became more animalistic, the gears in his head turning. The savage and primal instinct washed over him, his coherent thoughts now vanished. Instead they were replaced with one thought and one thought only:

Breed breed breed.

“Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty with my cum leaking from that pretty cunt of yours,” Jack snarled. He released the belt, the leather flying forward and onto the ground. His large hands instead grabbed your waist, squeezing the flesh so harshly you swore you’d have bruise in the shape of his fingers. “Jack, fucking shit,” You moaned, his thrust merciless and brutal. He showed no sign of stopping, no sign of slowing. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one that Jack had made more times than you could count.

“I can feel you getting close for me. Need you to cum for me, need to fill you,” Jack huffed, holding back his own orgasm. Your back arched as you fell further forward, the side of your face pressed against the dirt. The sun was beginning to rise, your thighs trembling. “Jack I-,” You mewled, your orgasm washing over you like a ton of bricks. Jack couldn’t resist himself, fucking you through your orgasm. His hips began to stutter, the demon screwing his eyes shut as he came deep inside of you.

Dazed, you continued to hold your ass up in the air as Jack pulled out of you. The sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt was divine. With two fingers he scooped up the dripping cum, pushing it back inside of you, ignoring your whimpers. Gently he guided you onto his lap, wiping the dirt off of your face with his thumb. The sun began rising, the beams of sunlight dancing in between the trees as they hit the forest floor.

Jack could hear your heart rate begin to turn to normal as you inhaled deeper breaths. “Cmon, gotta get you dressed before the others get back from their hunt,” Jack murmured encouraging, readjusting your bra to fit you correctly. Still in a daze, you leaned your head against Jacks shoulder, allowing him to redress you. A small breeze blew past the two of you, the faint smell of blood hitting Jacks nose. He was sure the other creeps would be back any moment now, their kills fresh blood still staining their skin and clothes.

Quickly he dressed himself, scooping you into his arms. You had never been picked up bridal style before, instinctively you nuzzled your head against Jacks chest. Making sure you both had everything, Jack quickly looked around, noticing your shattered phone. He began walking towards the mansion, taking note you were beginning to drift off.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you met Ben. He owes you a new phone anyways.”

[marvelstoriesepic]

Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya goin' ?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you‘ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a chance.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

“Love comes to you just at the right time; the time you never thought it would have”

- Anurag Prakash Ray

[puck-luck]

horror movies & puppy dog eyes | nico hischier

warnings: use of y/n, oral (m receiving), use of pet names, telling your crush/roommate you like them (very scary, but it goes well here!), begging (ish? Nico is giving sub in this), spelling of cum as come because i think "cum" looks ugly pairing: nico hischier x reader summary: the one when you and nico get a little too close on the couch, the tension between you finally breaks and you tell (& show) each other how you feel. wc: 2511

You’d known Nico for years, having met him while out for a jog back in the preseason of his rookie year for the Devils. It was one of those serendipitous moments when you were in a rare fitness mood and you happened to bump into a cute boy in one of the parks about a mile away from your apartment. You’d stopped running by then and slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery from a bench to catch your breath. Nico, being the precious angel he is, had stumbled and almost fallen right in front of you. You laughed, he blushed, you introduced yourself, and he gave you his number by the end of the conversation. 

You two hadn’t become friends right away, considering how busy he was with his rookie year. They made the playoffs that year, but lost early on. It was the postseason after Nico’s rookie year when you two got close, hanging out when he was in Jersey and texting and calling each other when he wasn’t. When you told him you were looking for a new place to live because you were tired of your old roommate, he offered you his spare bedroom. It was in that apartment that you started watching the Devils because of Nico and it became a habit. You liked that you could talk to him about his game and he would explain things to you that you didn’t understand. 

When he was named captain in 2021, things started to change between you two. It was the first time that the line started to blur between friendship and romance. You had popped a bottle of champagne as he walked through the door, you’d hung streamers from the ceiling, and you’d blown up a few balloons that were littered along the entryway. Nico was tired and you could tell, but when he saw you cheering for him with an overflowing bottle of champagne, he’d never felt so alive. The thing is, even as big of a rush as it was, you and Nico ended up cuddling on the couch into the early morning. He had a game in Washington the next day, which they lost, probably in part because of how late you had kept him up. You both knew better, but with Nico’s head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, it was too comfortable to move. You two fell asleep right there and woke up entangled. Even now, years later, that night leaves butterflies in your stomach.

You had never acted on your feelings for Nico and he had never made any move on you. After living together for almost five years, you two had fallen into an easy routine and romance would only mess that up.

Sometimes, though, like today, it was really hard to keep yourself off of Nico.

His eyes were just so brown today, his hair was falling in his eyes just right, his dimples were showing when he smiled (with his pearly whites!) at you, his accent was peeking out more than you were used to, and you only noticed all of this once you had stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and he had returned from his early workout. He was all sweaty and muscular and you were staring, of course you were. Look at him. You couldn’t help it. 

You weren’t the only one, to be fair. When you had stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you were wearing one of Nico’s old shirts and your underwear. He was used to it, but the shirt had his number on the shoulder, and something squeezed at his heart when he saw you walking around with his number on, like you were really his. The sleepy smile you gave him after he sat you down at the counter and poured coffee for you was like a gift, too.

“What are you up to today?” Nico asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well. He blew on the hot surface of the liquid before taking a sip and burned his tongue anyway, but shook it off.

You hummed, shrugging noncommittally. “I’m working from home today, then we can hang out. Watch a movie?”

“Movie would be nice,” Nico replies. “Anything you’d like to see?”

“You pick,” you tell him. “I’m going to go hole up in my room for a bit. I’ll see you over work, okay? Take a break around noon for lunch. Will you be here?”

“I’m going to the rink in an hour or so. I’m meeting with some of the guys to run some extra drills and watch film. I’ll have whatever they have in catering.”

“Okay.” You hop down from your seat at the counter, walk around to grab a granola bar from the cabinet behind Nico. He places a hand on your other arm as you reach around him out of instinct, not intent, but he purposefully lets it linger a second longer than necessary. You press your lips together to keep any noise you might make inside of you and pull away. 

“Later?” Nico asks again, voice soft. His eyes are imploring and, if you’re not mistaken, a little heated.

The spot where his hand had rested almost burns with the lack of touch. “Later,” you agree, and because he’s not the only one that can make someone feel like they’re burning up, you lean up and brush your lips over his cheek.

It leaves a small smile on his face and you don’t look back as you walk away.

After work, Nico cooks dinner for the two of you and you settle on the couch, rubbing your eyes out of exhaustion. You’d been staring at your computer screen all day, ironing out details of the latest project your boss had assigned you. It was tiresome and your eyes felt like they had been way overworked. It’s only a matter of time after this movie starts that you fall asleep.

Nico presents you with your plate and set his own on the coffee table, heading back to the kitchen to fetch your drinks. You weren’t overindulging, but Nico had picked out a red wine that paired nicely with the meal he had prepared, and you were always down for a drink and a movie. 

Unfortunately, it was like Nico had something out for you, because he decided he wanted to watch a horror movie tonight. You were bundled up on the couch, eating your food, when he turned on a movie he knew you wouldn’t like, but you had told him he could choose… so you were stuck with it. 

It was more of a psychological horror than one that relied on cheap scares and you really tried not to pay attention because you knew the movie would freak you out if you let it. Instead, you decide to focus on Nico.

He's barely reacting to the horror movie, just watching it with a straight face that occasionally turns inquisitive. His hand rests on the back of the couch behind you, so close to being around you. You're just so aware of him at all times. His presence is so commanding. You bite the inside of your cheek as you sneak a glance at him, focusing on the skin of his thigh that is revealed by his gym shorts. 

He catches you staring once you didn’t jump at one of the very few scares in the movie. 

“What are you looking at?” Nico asks, bringing his arm down to wipe at his thigh, assuming he had dropped some crumbs on it or something and not noticed.

You shake yourself out of it. “Zoned out, I guess.”

Nico cuts his eyes at you, but lets it go.

After a few more minutes, you find your eyes drifting back to Nico’s lower half. He shifts down on the couch and rests one of his heels on the coffee table, the other still on the floor. His legs were spread deliciously wide in typical man behavior and normally you’d roll your eyes, but something about it today made your stomach turn. Your eyes grow wider when Nico reaches around and puts his arm around your shoulders instead of the back of the couch. 

“You okay?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side and giving you a little squeeze.

“Distracted,” you reply. You rub at your eyes for emphasis. “Tired.”

“Poor girl.” Nico rubs your arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just give me a hug,” you say softly, cozying up to him. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head right on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, strong and solid. You close your eyes and focus on that, the beat of it tiring you and lulling you into that weird in-between state of not-quite consciousness and not-quite sleep. Nico’s arm is solid around you and he smells good, manly.

You sigh, throwing a leg over his thigh. He places his other hand on the curve of your knee and pulls your leg higher. 

“Y/N,” Nico murmurs quietly. 

“Nico,” you reply in the same tone, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

He looks tormented.

You push back from him, but he keeps a harsh grip on your thigh to keep you from getting any distance from him. “What?” You demand, hands on his chest. The concern on your face leaks into your voice. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whispers.

“What? What’s wrong?” You squirm away from him. “Did I do something?”

This time, Nico stays silent for just a moment too long. You look over him, trying to get some clue as to why you’ve upset him. His hands are resting on his lap and you’ve seen this move before, so your eyes linger before you look up at him.

His cheeks and the tips of his ears are burning red. “I’m sorry.” The words rush out of him in one fell swoop. “I know we’re just friends, I just didn’t mean…”

“Nico,” you interrupt, but can’t find any other words. You stare at each other, nothing but the stillness of your breath between you.

“Please.” He deflates as the word leaves him. 

“Nico,” you repeat. You shift closer to him and move his hands from his lap, getting an eyeful of his bulge. When your eyes return to his face, he’s blushing even more than before, but his expression is less grave. It’s more hopeful.

“Is this…?” He asks, reaching out to touch you, but pulling back at the last second.

“Yes,” you answer, settling yourself in his lap and leaning in until your lips just barely brush against his. “If you want it.”

His breath catches. “Need it,” he admits, voice breaking. “Needed you since– God, forever.”

“Me too.”

His eyes search your face, brown and bright and pure, and he leans forward that last millimeter until you’re kissing. His lips slide over yours softly, like he’s mapping out every curve and memorizing it in case he never gets the chance to kiss you again.

You pull away and kiss over his features– a kiss to his nose, to his temples, to his forehead, to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the corners of his lips. When you sink lower to his jaw, feeling the stubble against your skin, it’s like the dam breaks.

“Thought about this so much, all the time,” Nico admits, breathless as you continue to kiss him and grind down slowly on his lap. His hands find your ass and he clutches at you. “Dreamt of it.”

“What did you dream about?” You mumble against his Adam’s apple, running your hands along the ridges of his abs. “Tell me, Neeks.”

“Fucked my hand so many times thinking about your mouth, Y/N,” he says. “Worried you’d hear me saying your name from across the hall.”

“I wish I had,” you slide off the couch until you’re between his thighs. You rub over the downy hair on his thighs, the same hair that caught your attention tonight in the first place. “I would’ve come over and shown you that the real thing was better than your imagination.”

He lets out a loud moan at that, reaching down to brush your hair out of your face. He looks down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His puppy-dog eyes never leave you, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear if he blinks for a second. He lifts his hips and you shimmy his shorts and boxers down at the same time to reveal his cock. 

Your hand circles the base of his length and you take the tip in your mouth, sucking lightly until his hips buck up with pleasure. You pull off and kiss his slit, licking the precum up when it bubbles out. His cock jumps when you trace the vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue and cup his balls. 

You blink up at him and bite your bottom lip coyly. “Tastes good, Neek.”

“Baby,” he whimpers. He lifts his hips. “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, love,” you apologize. “Let me make you feel good.”

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, bobbing your head and working the bit that you can’t fit into his mouth. He tries to keep himself still, but he can only do so much until he’s bucking up into your mouth and chasing his orgasm like a man starved. You let him thrust up, loving the sounds he’s making. 

He moans and whines the way you imagined he would, still in the habit of trying to keep quiet so that he doesn’t alarm his roommate. You’ll tell him after that it’s okay, especially now that you know how he feels and he knows how you feel. You’ll talk about it more after, you know you will, but right now, you just want to make him come.

You pull off and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him at a fast pace. “Gonna come, Nico?”

“Uh huh,” he groans, his hips stuttering as it becomes too much for him. “Y/N, I–” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as he shoots off, his seed spilling over your hand and onto his stomach. 

You let him breathe for a minute, catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, he catches you licking the come off your hand. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch, but he can’t go again quite yet. Plus, his mind is turning with all the ways he imagined getting you off. He had dreamt of so many things he could do to you, but his favorite fantasy involved repaying the favor: getting his mouth on you.

Nico pulls you up from where you sit and lays you down on the couch, spreading your legs. “I love you,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your thigh. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, Nico.”

notes: here we go again, readers. in my own personal headcanon, nico is just a sweetie pie who needs some lovin from his girl (my man, my man, thank you to my man). once again, blessings to @johncena2020 for reading the fic before it was posted on her lunch break & helping me with a title. ONCE AGAIN, thank you to wheelofnames.com for picking which boy i wrote about today. originally, you chose trevor (i can't blame you), but two trevs in one day is wild for a new blog. waiting for the day the spinner wheel chooses quinn and i indulge in writing some of my favorite things (to be revealed). also, where are all the new fics? what am i supposed to read during my 9-5? the stuff i've already read? blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. loving you guys. xo! <3

[sturnslcver]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ virulent love (series) ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, drinking, smoking, pills!

a/n: couldn’t figure out what i wanted to do for chris and y/n’s meet cute so it is heavily based off of a real life book i read, but ive already finished the rest of the story/chapters and it is all my own original ideas! enjoy! :)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

i creep up the stairs in search for my brothers apartment door. this place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment complex, with its expansive columns and marble floors. when arlo said i could stay with him after hearing about another one of moms manic episodes, i had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it’d be more similar to the last time i visited him, right after i graduated from high school, back when he had first started dealing. however, that was four years ago and a two story skimpy complex ago. that’s kind of what i was expecting. i certainly wasn’t anticipating this orderly area in the middle of downtown massachusetts. I spent all of last week packing up everything i own from mom’s house back in florida. luckily, i don’t own much. but after taking a five hundred mile drive alone today, my exhaustion is pretty obvious in my reflection. my hair is in a unsecured knot on top of my head, held together by a pencil, since I couldn't find a hair tie while I was driving. i reach into my purse to find chapstick, hoping to recover my lips before they end up as weary-looking as the rest of me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages to arlo.

i can't remember which apartment number he said was his. it’s either 1372 or 1374. maybe it's 1372? i come to a stop at 1372, because there's a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1374. please don't let it be 1374. i find the message on my phone and cringe. it's 1374. of course it is.

i walk slowly to the door, hoping I don't wake up the guy. his legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he's leaning with his back propped up against arlo’s door. his chin is tucked to his chest, and he's snoring. "excuse me" i say, my voice just above a whisper. he doesn't move. i lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. "i need to get into this apartment." he rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs. his eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. he lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he's never seen a knee before. he drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. great. arlo won't be back until tomorrow, so i dial his number to see if this guy is someone i should be concerned about. “y/n?" he asks, answering his phone without a hello. "yep," i reply. "made it safe, but i can't get in because there's a drunk guy passed out at your front door." "thirteen seventy four?" he asks. "you sure you're at the right apartment?" "positive." "are you sure he's drunk?" "positive." "weird," he says. "what’s he wearing?" "why do you want to know what he's wearing?" "if he's wearing a yellow shirt and goggles on his head he’s probably the janitor. the janitor in our complex is homeless" this guy isn't wearing any type of goggles, but i can't help but notice that his jeans and black hoodie do fit him very nicely. "no goggles," i say. “can you get past him without waking him up?" "i’d have to move him. he’ll fall inside if I open the door." he’s quiet for a few seconds while he thinks. "go back downstairs and wait in the lobby until someone can let you in" i sigh, because ive been driving for six hours, and going all the way back downstairs is not something I feel like doing right now.

“just stay on the phone with me until I'm inside your apartment" i like my plan a lot better. i balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key arlo sent me. i insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. he groans, but his eyes don't open again. "it’s too bad he's wasted," i tell arlo. "he’s not bad-looking." "can you just get your ass inside and lock the door so i can hang up." i roll my eyes. i’m hoping things will be different between us now that mom’s in the hospital. she was always turning us against one another. for example, by the time i was eleven, i’d saved up three hundred dollars so that i could finally get a pet hamster. she ended up stealing it and spending it on pills. she told me arlo stole it.

i wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so i just let it fall to the floor. i keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won't fall completely into the apartment. i take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. he doesn't budge. “arlo, he's too heavy. i’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands." “no, don't hang up. just put the phone in your pocket, but don't hang up." i look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “no pockets. you’re going in the bra." arlo laughs as i pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. i remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. i reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way. “okay" I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. "sorry." i somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then i push the door open farther and turn to get my things.

something warm wraps around my ankle. i freeze. i look down. “let go!" i yell, kicking at the hand that's gripping my ankle so tightly I'm pretty sure it might bruise. the drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him. "i need to get in there” , he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. he makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. i pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. i use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “fuck!" he yells. he’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. i release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then i immediately kick the door all the way shut.

i pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as i can. as soon as my heart rate begins to calm down, it starts to scream at me. my heart is actually screaming at me. in a deep male voice. It sounds like it's calling my name. arlo. i immediately look down at my chest and pull my phone out of my bra, then bring it up to my ear. "hello!" i wince, then pull the phone several inches from my ear. "i’m fine," i say, out of breath. "i’m inside. i locked the door." “okay" he says, relieved. "you scared me. what the hell happened?" “he was trying to get inside. i locked the door, though." i flip on the living-room light and take no more than three steps inside before i come to a halt. i slowly turn back toward the door after realizing what ive done. “arlo?" i pause. "i left a few things outside that i need. i would just grab them, but the drunk guy is still trying to get in, so there's no way I'm opening the door again. what do i do?” he’s silent for a few seconds. "what did you leave in the hallway?" i don't want to answer him, but i do. "my suitcase...and purse." “why the hell is your purse outside?" "i also left the key on the hallway floor." he doesn't even respond to that one. he just groans. "i’ll call chris and see if he's home yet. give me two minutes." "wait. who’s chris ?" "he lives across the hall. whatever you do, don't open the door again until i call you back." arlo hangs up, and i lean against his front door. i’ve lived in massachusetts all of thirty minutes. my phone rings. i slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.

"hey." "y/n?" "yeah?," i reply, wondering why he always double-checks to see if it's me. he called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? "i called chris." “good. is he gonna help me get my stuff?" "not exactly," arlo says. "i kind of need you to do me a huge favor." my head falls against the door again. i have a feeling the next few months are going to be full of inconvenient favors, since he knows he's doing me a huse one by letting me stay here. "what?" i ask him. "chris kind of needs your help." "the neighbor?" i pause as soon as it clicks, and i close my eyes. "arlo, please don't tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk guy is the drunk guy." arlo sighs. "i need you to unlock the door and let him in. let him crash on the couch. i’ll be there first thing in the morning. when he sobers up, he'll know where he is, and he'll go straight home." i shake my head. "what kind of apartment complex is this? should i prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home?" long pause. "he groped you?" "groped might be a bit strong. he did grab my ankle, though." arlo lets out a sigh. "just do this for me. call me back when you've got him and all your stuff inside." "fine." i groan, recognizing the worry in his voice.

i hang up on arlo and open the door. the drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head. i flip him onto his back and look down at him. he cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again. "You're not arlo," he mutters. "no. i’m not. i’m your new neighbor." i lift him by his shoulders and try to get him to sit up, but he doesn't. i don't think he can, actually. how does a person even get this drunk? i grab his hands and pull him inch by inch into the apartment, stopping when he's just far enough inside for me to be able to close the door. i retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. i grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. and that's all the help he's getting from me. when he's comfortably asleep in the middle of the living room floor, i leave him there while I look around the apartment.

the living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from arlos last apartment. arlo said he'd be back in the morning, so i’ll leave that to him. normally, i would be nervous about the fact that there's a stranger in the same apartment I'm in, but i have a feeling i don't need to worry. arlo would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for chris, i’m surprised arlo asked me to bring him inside.

i head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when ive rounded the corner, i come to an immediate halt. not only is chris up off the floor, but he's in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. he’s seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if he's about to fall off it any second. i can't tell if he's sleeping again or just attempting to recover. "chris?" he doesn't move when i call his name, so i walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. the second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. or a nightmare. immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. he begins to sway, so i throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. "come on." he drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. we make it to the front of the couch, and i start to peel him off me. "okay, chris. whoever you are. just go to sleep." he falls onto the couch, but he doesn't let go of my shoulders. i fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away. i gently push him back into the couch, yanking my hand away. i lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. "go to sleep, chris," i say gently.

his eyelids are heavy and watering when he drops to the pillow. he grabs my hand and hums. his eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh. i stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until he's quiet and still. i pull my hand away from his, but i stay by his side for a few minutes longer. even though he's asleep, he somehow still looks as if he's on edge. his eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern. when he makes another half conscious effort to reach for my hand, i finally give in. i place my cheek on top of our hands and lean into the couch. i fall asleep on the floor next to him.

@sturnsmadison @ryli3sworld @sunnysturniolos @ariologyy @sturncakez @sturnsxplr-25 @nickmillersn1gf

[seeingivy]

it's time to go

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: im sweating.

songs/media mentioned: happiness by taylor swift and it's time to go by taylor swift (not mentioned but name of the chapter!!)

previous part linked here

--

You take a deep breath in as you stand at the shining bright doors of the building, the reflective mirrors at the front showing you your small frame in comparison. You brush down the ends of your dress, ridding your palms of the sweat accumulating as you push through the doors. 

There’s a receptionist sitting at the front, with short black hair who is diligently typing away on the computer. You can see the issue of Vogue, the one the Attack on Titan cast did for season two, placed in a placard at the top of the desk. And when you look around, you see that every Vogue cover you’ve done - the one of you and Sukuna, for your albums - is displayed everywhere. 

Then again. This is a big deal. Surely it’ll be their biggest feature of the year. 

“Alright. Your interview should be up the stairs, in room eleven. They’ll start set-up at twenty and then the interview will start at half-past.” she states, handing you a shiny key-card. 

“Would you happen to know if my request regarding the piano was approved?” 

“I believe so. It should be in the room.” she responds, smiling. 

“Thank you!” you respond. 

You walk up the stairs and find the room, a few workers shuffling around the set. They all give you polite smiles as you walk straight onto the stage, an expensive brown couch on the left and the grand piano you requested on the right. 

You take your backpack off and pull out the box, filled with polaroids all tagged to perfection for your interview, as they all start adjusting the microphones and cameras into place. A shorter, older woman walks up to you, shaking the microphone pack in her hand as she gestures for you to stand up. 

“Hi! Thank you so much for helping me out today. I’m Y/N.” you respond, clipping the pack to the back of your dress. 

“No problem. I’m Leila.” 

You pause. 

“I know you. We-we’ve met before, right?” 

Her face widens in shock as she nods, a bright smile spreading across her face. 

“Yes, that’s right.” she murmurs, voice quiet. 

“It was…god. That was years ago, back when we were doing press for season two. We filmed a video for your daughter, she was asleep and she was a really big fan, right? How is she doing?” 

“She’s doing good. She’s still a big fan of your music.” she says, smiling as she loops the wires through your ears, shuffling your hair behind your ear as she readjusts. 

“That’s sweet. I’m so glad she enjoys it, that-that’s very special to me that she does.” you respond, cheeks warm and something stirring in your chest. 

You take her in full, trying hard to wrack your brain for how she used to look. She’s definitely years older now - five to be exact - but you can’t pinpoint any. No wrinkles, no tiredness - still the same woman you knew. 

But you’re miles away from who you used to be, having aged what feels like eons. You think back to the interview, the compliments you and Eren gave to each other stinging in your mind. 

Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together. 

Y/N. You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.

You’re sure you're crying as you look back at Leila, her eyes wide as she reaches forward to wipe the tears. The deep feeling, the sadness sitting so deep in your chest that you’ve been trying to ignore, is suddenly too overwhelming, too loud for you to swallow. 

“I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?” she asks, her look frantic. 

You take her hand in yours, squeezing three times. 

“No. It’s me. I just remembered that interview. What Eren and I had said to each other and it made me a little sad, that’s all.” you respond, wiping your tears against the back of your hand. 

Her face deflates. 

“I’m very sorry for what happened. To the both of you.” 

You sigh. 

“Thank you. I-I appreciate that.” 

“This industry is not kind. To anyone. And having seen how you two were as kids, how genuine,  it’s sad to see what they’ve said to you both. You know that most of it, if any, isn’t your fault. People- they’re cruel. You’re a very brave girl for still coming here.” 

You swallow hard. And hope she still thinks you’re brave at the end of your interview. 

You sit down on the couch, anxiously tucking the ends of your hair towards the back of your ears, as the interviewer walks in, a bright smile on her face. Leila leaves, giving you a thumbs up as she walks away.

“Y/N. Congratulations. I’m Layla. Thank you for finally coming down for your interview.” she states, taking her seat on the couch next to you as they adjust the microphone in front of her. She has a blue box in her hands, which she tucks behind the couch. 

You don’t miss the snub she makes at you for postponing for months on end. You became a triple threat months ago. And your interview - about your career, about your work - was supposed to happen ages ago. 

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready. I can promise you-you won’t be disappointed with what I have for you. What’s that?” 

“It’s for you. We’re saving it for the end of the interview.” she states, giving you a smile. 

You nod, as you brace your knuckles against your own box, the director coming over to give you both directions and stage you properly against the cameras. 

“Hello everyone! My name is Layla Ray and I’m here with Y/N L/N. After a great deal of anticipation, Y/N is finally here, seated with Vogue, for the infamous triple threat interview. We’re going to go through the highs and lows of her career and ultimately discuss what comes with such a great title. Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asks, giving you a bright smile. 

You swallow hard. 

“Thank you, Layla. I’m doing okay. How are you?” 

“I’m great, thank you for asking. This interview has been a long time coming. Six months to be exact. Any particular reason why?” she states, adjusting her tone to be quieter, matching your tone. You can tell she’s a skilled interviewer - the excitement from before dying down as she brings the energy lower. 

“I-I wanted to be sure of what I wanted to say here. I want to be honest when we talk about my career and that requires self-reflection. I needed the time to do that. And I-I brought things here to share so I had to put those together too.” you state. 

“We’ll go back to the start then. What drew you to the industry - acting, singing, dancing?” she asks. 

You pull out your first picture, the one you ripped off of your wall. The paint is still stuck to the tape on the back, the picture of you, Falco, and Colt at your popstar themed birthday party. Colt and Falco have excited smiles on their faces, a sparkly pink crown on top of your head and your hands are clenched around the microphone, at the bottom. You can hear Eren’s words ringing in your mind. 

Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture. 

“This is me at my fourth birthday party. It was a popstar themed birthday party my parents threw for me. I performed a little show for them and my brothers, did karaoke, the whole thing. I-I saw Hange’s speech a few years later when they became a triple threat and it-it basically cemented this as my dream.” you respond, holding up the picture before handing it to Layla. 

She’s smiling, running her fingers over the picture. 

“This must be a surreal moment. A dream come true.” 

You wish. 

“Let’s talk about Attack on Titan. How did you find out about it, what was it like being cast, and on a set for the first time?” 

“I found out about it through a flier at my coffee shop. I kind of showed up on a whim and did a chemistry read with my co-star. I got the role later that week and was flown out to be with them all. I-I was overwhelmed when I got there at first. I didn’t know much about the set, the terms that you’re supposed to use, they-they had to teach it all to me, like I was a five year old. A fish out of water moment.” 

You nervously walk to the other side of the set, where Eren’s sitting in the makeup chair. The team is brushing through the ends of his brown locks, his eyes fixed on his script in front of him, as he murmurs his lines under his breath. You reach forward and snatch the paper out of his hands and tuck it under your arm. 

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” he responds, eyes wide as he smiles at you. 

“Sorry. Good morning, Eren.” 

He smiles. 

“I was joking. Did you need something?” 

“I have an embarrassing question. Can you come here?” you murmur, cheeks burning pink. 

He quickly hops off the chair, giving a sympathetic nod to the makeup team, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours as you talk in hushed tones. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s a hot brick?” you ask. 

“Huh?” 

“Hange. They-they asked me to bring them a hot brick. And when I said what, they were like…You do know what a hot brick is, right? And I got so embarrassed I kind of ran away and now I don’t know what to do.” 

Eren pauses as he registers, which is immediately followed by him smiling and leading you towards the back of the room. He picks up one of the charged batteries of the walkie talkies and places it flat in your palm. 

“A hot brick is a fully charged battery.” 

“Oh. Right. Th-thanks, Eren.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s only like your sixth day on a set. I didn’t even know this stuff until the end of my first movie. You-you aren’t behind, I promise.” 

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.” 

“I’ll help you. Before the rest of the cast gets here. Teach you all the terms and the secrets and stuff. You’ll be a natural.” 

“Really?” 

Eren gives you a nod, the smile on his face drawing your eyes to his dimples. 

“Thank you, Eren. Really.” 

“It’s no biggie. I’ll help you with anything you want. Just ask, okay?” 

“One of our most overwhelming questions that we received was what was it like filming with your cast? Your show - along with Jujutsu Kaisen - were really the first of their types to have such a big child actor presence on them.” 

You smile, pulling out your next three pictures. The first - it's a picture of you and Bertholdt, holding a World’s Greatest Dad mug in front of Levi, who has the most annoyed expression on his face. The second is of you and Historia - tying Reiner’s hair into two tiny ponytails. And the third - you and Marco, hugging each other so hard that your cheeks are pressed together. 

“It was the time of my life, really. I-I went to sleep every night with a smile on my face. They were genuinely such good friends of mine and this experience, these memories - they’ll always be special to me.”

“Do you have a favorite memory?” she asks. 

“Hm. I-we were all kind of immature at that age. I still am. Anything related to dirty jokes, especially when Erwin or Hange were involved is a surefire favorite. Sometimes I’ll remember them and still burst out laughing.” 

The teacher stands at the front of the makeshift classroom, the lazy energy enveloping the room. The warm haze of the summer has the ends of your hair sticking to your neck, the cold desk soothing your burning skin - preventing you from listening to whatever the physics teacher is saying about the solar system. 

You look to your right to find the same sentiment shared by everyone else too. Eren’s eyes are closed, his chin resting against his desk as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Connie and Sasha are sharing a cold drink between them and Jean’s nearly turning pink as he fans Mikasa - the only one who looks relatively comfortable right now. 

You kick Eren’s leg.

“Hm? What’dya want, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

“Jean is fanning Mika. You could do the same.” you groan. 

You feel a light breeze on your neck as you turn your head to see Eren, leaning against his arm as he fans you with the book. You take it from his hand, giving a head shake as you turn to your side, the two of you facing each other on the aisles. You instinctively place your feet on top of his, the two of you looking at each other. 

“I was kidding.” 

“I know. I don’t mind though. You’re looking a little hot.” 

You smile. 

“Just a little?” 

“Shut up. You know exactly what I think about how you look.” he says, rolling his eyes. 

You bite back your smile. 

“And that’s why the answer is Uranus.” the teacher says, metal pointer smacking against the board. 

You look up at Eren, the two of you so incredulous - from the heat, from being stuck in here for three hours, from how stupid of a word it is - that you both burst out laughing. And then get in trouble together. 

“What the hell was so funny that your teacher had to take you out of class?” Levi asks, arms crossed against his chest as he stares the two of you down, hours later. Hange and Erwin are trying to mimic his intimidated stance, but all you and Eren can do is laugh. 

“Um. You don’t want to know, Levi.” you respond. 

“It’s stupid. We’re sorry.” Eren states. 

“No. No, I want to know what was so funny that you laughed so hard you pissed one of your nicest teachers off.” 

You and Eren give each other a look. 

“It-it’s inappropriate. We’re really sorry, okay? We’ll go and apologize right away.” 

You and Eren stand up, linking arms together as you move to walk away. Except Levi’s moved in front of you two, an entirely different look on his face. 

“Do I need to have a talk with you two?” 

“What?” you ask. 

“A talk. About sex.” 

You and Eren turn your heads to each other, eyes wide. And you immediately start back tracking. 

“Levi. Ew- oh my god. What’s wrong with you? You’re so disgusting. And-and-and a pervert.” 

“Y/N. Do we have to have a talk? Are you being safe? Why are you guys making dirty jokes in class that you can’t tell me?” he repeats, eyes burning into yours. 

“No! Oh my god Levi! It’s not like that.” 

Levi looks back at Hange as you look over at Eren, who's pouting at you. 

“What, Eren?” 

“You don’t have to act like you’re soooo repulsed by it. That’s not what you sounded like-” 

You smack your hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. 

“Eren. Shut up. This is not the time or the place to be bringing THAT up.” 

He smirks, clearly delighted by how embarrassed you are, before pressing a kiss to your palm where you’re covering his mouth. He turns back to Levi, Hange, and Erwin. 

“Levi. We’re sorry. The teacher said Uranus and we thought it was funny.” 

“Uranus? What the fuck is so funny about Uranus?” Levi asks. 

You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing in Levi’s face - his very angry face. Luckily enough for you, you're not the first one to break. And neither is Eren. 

It’s Hange. They’re smacking the back of Levi’s back as they ask him to say it again, the four of you - Erwin having joined you - as you all goad Levi on to say it again. And you laugh so hard that by the end of it, you’re on the floor - screaming for them to stop as Eren rubs circles into your back. 

Your chest twinges, as she hands the pictures back, and you tuck them back into the box. 

“The success after season one of Attack on Titan was pretty tremendous. You guys essentially became house names overnight. How did that feel, especially given your background? Nepotism runs deep and heavy in what we do and you seem to be one of our only outliers, here.” 

“It was horrible.” 

A shocked look spreads across her face. 

“I’m grateful for it all. Don’t get me wrong. But my life changed overnight. I-I went to school and I wasn’t treated as the same person anymore, by people I grew up with. There were people hanging around my school, waiting to take pictures of me, and-and anyone who had a chance of understanding me, they were all miles away. Filming.” 

“Did you feel that often? Comparing yourself to your co-stars?” 

“Originally, no. I-I was just happy to be there. But people, I mean. They talk. It-it kind of cemented that idea in my mind. I didn’t think it was weird that I was the only one who wasn’t filming until someone pointed it out. And-and someone always pointed these things out.” you respond. 

Colt snatches the phone from your hands, an irritated look on his face as he slides it into his pocket. After a six hour phone call with your new publicist and producers - Danny and Sareen - all you could do was aimlessly scroll through social media, their words swimming through your mind as you considered your options. 

“Quit reading that shit.” he says, making an effort to storm out of your room. He hangs by the door when he reaches it, his hands pressed against the frame. 

You shuffle under the blanket, pulling the soft fabric over your head. And a few seconds later, Colt’s pulling it off, expression a bit softer than before. 

“I-I just don’t get why you read it. What’s the point?” 

“I dunno.” 

He slides onto your bed, putting his cold legs next to yours under the blanket as you complain. 

“In my meeting with Danny and Sareen. They-they’re the new producer and the manager that reached out to me. They were saying all this stuff about how I can’t drop the ball anymore. How if I have people paying attention to me now, I-I have to keep it going.” 

Colt frowns. 

“I-I don’t know how this stuff works. What does that have to do with you reading a bunch of people saying rude stuff about you online?” 

“I told them I had time to decide, figure out what I want to do next. They said I should look online and reconsider. That if I want to be a triple threat, I-I should trust them.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah. They-they’re right. And they seem like the type to push me in the right direction, like Levi and Hange. I know they’ll do whatever to help me be the best. They want what I want.” 

Colt shrugs. And you know he doesn’t understand. 

“Let’s talk about season two. You made history this season - by being nominated for Best Actress in a Lead role among many others, becoming the most nominated actress in Institute history in one night. How did that feel? To-to do that so young?” 

“That-that was a win. It came after something really, really intense for me actually. I-I had all these feelings about what it was like to be famous. Building for months. And-and I got them put into words for me right before that happened. It was kind of like going from a really low low to the highest of highs. I-Intense is the word I’d use for it.” 

“Could you elaborate? On that?” 

You swallow hard. 

“Being famous is like living in a fishbowl. There’s-there’s glass in between you, the viewers, and me the person. And it may seem like you can see me, that you and I are the same but the glass is always between us. You enjoy on the other side, smack against the glass, sometimes even put your rods out to wring us out. We-we’re stuck there, that’s all. I realized that and found out I got nominated minutes after. But that’s this job for you. You’re at the bottom one minute and the top the next.” 

Her eyes flutter down to your tattoo but she doesn’t make a point to mention it. 

“Let’s discuss music now. Following winning Best Actress in a Drama Series, your impressive albums and tours started. You released your debut album, followed by lover girl, and then ribbons. This-this was an insane feat on your part - most artists take four to five years to produce albums at this pace. What motivated you during this time?” 

“My manager and my producer are pushing me at every step.” 

She smiles. 

“That’s some support system.” 

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” you respond, voice cutting.

She nods. 

“That’s right. Following your last performance, rumors were flying around that you had fired Danny and Sareen, your beloved manager and producer. Is this true?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why, if I may ask?” 

“I just told you. They were pushing me at every step.” 

You sigh, looking down at your hands, knotting your fingers together. One of the first things, you could come under fire for, is talking about them, so bluntly the way you are. 

“I looked up to them. My previous example from my mentors - Hange and Levi - was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because of them, because of how willing they were to support me, to defend me, I thought everyone was like that. I thought every person who was willing to be on my team was taking into account that I didn’t know much about the industry and pushing me in the right direction.”

“And that wasn’t true for them?” 

You take a deep breath. 

“I think they used that to their advantage. That I had a blind faith in them. That I wanted to please them, to please other people. I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to put out three records, to do world tours that fast. I didn’t know that it was insane that I forgot to eat some days, I didn’t know that it was crazy that they were waking me up after two hours of sleep to put me to work. I-I thought that it was all part of the hustle.” 

“How do you feel about it now? Having fired them?” 

“I-I don’t regret what they’ve done for me. I-I am thankful to them. If anything, I’m more embarrassed of what they did make me do. Why I didn’t think twice on things they asked me to do, songs they convinced me to write.” 

She looks intrigued. She knows she’s getting into the good stuff. 

“Songs like?” 

“London Boy.” you respond. 

“That brings us to Ricky James. Are you saying that you didn’t write London Boy?” 

“No. No, I wrote it. But I was asked to write it the way I did. Write a love song about him.” 

“Because?” 

“Press. It’ll get people to talk. People get bored of the same thing over and over again after years.” you respond, repeating Danny and Sareen’s words, about Eren. 

You sigh. 

“It’s embarrassing to admit that I did that. Pretend just to get people to listen to my music. I-I am ashamed of it.” 

“It’s okay. We-we understand.” 

“I don’t think you do.” you whisper. 

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes. 

“I-I regret it. It’s a horrible thing to do. Especially when, when you have real love and you give it up to pretend. And it’s humiliating to pretend, to see people coo over you and a guy you barely even know. But when you’re famous, when people are telling you this is what you have to do, when this is what everyone does, it doesn’t seem like much to give up. I-I could feel the shame crawling in my skin when I look back at it now.” 

You swallow down the regret, thick in your throat. 

“How so?” 

“The night my album premiered, Ribbons. In the past, all my best friends, they-they’d come to listen with me. Throw me a party, press kisses to my cheeks. I turned them all down that year. It’s one thing to pretend to everyone you know. It’s another thing to do it to people who know better. Who know what you’re doing. I didn’t want to pretend in front of their faces. ” 

“Speaking of that night. Could you speak on this?”

She sides the picture, the one the paparazzi took of you on the curb before Lana got to you, towards you. You pick it up and look at it - at your eyes pinched shut and your drenched hair. 

“It’s simple. Ricky James started liking me. Asked me out. I said no. And then he locked me out in the rain.” 

You see the discomfort spread across her face as she slides the picture back. 

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. But you came out of it at the top, with your hit featuring Lana Price. Was she part of your support system during that time?” 

You smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can’t sleep?” 

You look up from the shelves you were currently pawing through to find Lana, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, as she walks over to where you’re standing. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted water but I couldn't find the glasses.” 

She smiles as she wraps her hand around your wrist and leads you to the other side of the kitchen, taking a glass out of the correct cabinet and filling it up for you. You both lean against the counter, illuminated by the fridge of the kitchen light in the dark kitchen. 

And suddenly you’re crying again, wet, warm tears falling down the length of your face. At the thought of where you were four nights ago - running in the rain until she picked you up. You aggressively wipe the tears off of your cheeks as she catches on. And Lana, despite this being the second time having met you, is quick to pull you into her arms, the sweet strawberry smell of hers filling your nose. 

“You smell like candy.” 

“Don’t go biting me now.” 

You laugh, pressing against her arms harder as your tears fall onto her shoulder, trying to muffle your sobs by clamping your mouth shut. 

“Eren told me. About Colt.” 

She pulls back, wiping the tears off your cheek as she talks, softly. 

“You’ll get better at doing this. Protecting them. I can almost guarantee it.” she says, giving you a smile. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I did it. Which means you can too.” she responds, placing her glass of water in your hands. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Yes, it is. I’ll help you. Eren will help you.” she responds. 

“You’re already doing enough for me. Both of you. I’m intruding on your house right now.” 

You feel two hands, warm, around your neck, accompanied with a light squeeze. And then Eren, his voice still raspy from sleep, whispering in your ear. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you. What’s mine is yours.” he responds, sliding his hands off of you as he pushes the fridge door closed and opens the light. 

Lana groans. 

“God. Would it kill you to put a shirt on, ugly?” 

“Would it kill you to brush your hair, you hag? Or maybe not wake me up in the middle of the night?” 

“That wasn’t even me. Y/N woke up first!” 

“It was your croaking that woke me up, Lana. You sound like a toad.” he mutters. 

You laugh, which breaks the two of them out of their argument, and has soft smiles spreading across both of their faces. 

“You guys are like siblings.” 

Lana comes over, hands cupping your face. 

“My sweet, sweet Y/N. Please don’t insult me.” 

And then Eren’s behind you, arms slithering around your waist, his voice warm in your ear again. 

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, princess.” 

“Quit flirting, Eren. You’re such a manwhore.” Lana says. 

“Princess was her nickname on set, dumbass. Because she’s a pop princess. I’m not flirting.” Eren responds, 

“Wow. So you’re too good to flirt with Y/N. You think you’re better than her?” 

“What?” Eren asks, leaning off of you. 

Catching on to what Lana’s trying to do, you turn around and look at Eren, trying to hide your coy expression. 

“Do you really think that, Eren?” 

His eyes go wide, hands on your shoulders. 

“No! No, oh my god! I don’t think I’m better than you. If anything, you-you’re better than me. I’ll flirt with you all you want. I swear!” 

You and Lana stare him down for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, a pink spreading across Eren’s cheek as he grumbles, an irritated look on his face as he shoves past Lana. 

“You guys are annoying. I’m going back to bed.” 

“Aw, Eren! Come back! Flirt with her!” Lana says, teasing him on. 

“Don’t stay down here too, Y/N. You’re going to lose brain cells.” he murmurs, shuffling away. 

You turn back to Lana, who's filling your glass with water again. She has a soft smile on her face, eyes warm as she hands you the water. 

“This type of stuff…it really helps.” she says. 

“This type of stuff?” 

“Good people. Who want to take care of you. Make you laugh after you cry, all that cheesy stuff.” 

You hum, leaning against the counter again. 

“Lean on Eren. Don’t get so jumbled up on what it means and how he’s feeling because he just wants to be there for you.” she says. 

“I’m trying to. I guess I just feel bad.” 

“I would have benefited a lot from someone like Eren, if I knew him when I was younger. When I was-” 

You quirk your head to the side, beckoning for her to elaborate. 

“For the longest time, I thought that this is just how guys were. Assholes. Dicks. That it was a matter of finding one who was relatively nice, good enough. That real guys, they’re never like this.” 

You frown. 

“My dad was an asshole. Ricky was horrible. My brother was the only person who was nice to me but we just- we lived so far and with the jobs and stuff we grew apart. And when I had to deal with things on my own, things I was too young to even understand, I-” 

She pauses. Swallowing hard. 

“I would have benefitted from knowing Eren earlier. Guys like Eren, like your friends Jean and Marco. Eren’s helped with a lot of my shame and made me better. I-I owe a lot to him really. I know we said what we said earlier, but he is like my brother. He’s always protected me. Overwhelmed me with kindness under insults.” 

You smile. 

“He’s a good guy. Always has been.” you whisper, heart warm at Eren being Eren, still. 

“So let him. Overwhelm you with kindness. Be there for you. You have no reason to be ashamed. And every reason to be scared. Quit feeling bad and just let him. He’s the person you’re comfortable with here.” 

You smile, leaning your head against your shoulder. 

“Dunno. You’re pretty cool too.” 

She laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what would be cool. If you guys went to bed.” Eren says, shuffling into the room again. 

Lana groans. 

“All men have is the audacity. You just ruined a really sweet moment.” 

You smile at Eren, which he returns. 

“Can Lana sleep with us?” 

He stops smiling. 

“Huh?” 

“You sleep on the left and she can sleep on my right!” you respond. 

“Y/N.” he whines. 

“Please? It’ll be like a sleepover. I can’t have bad things on my mind before I go to bed if you’re both there.”

“No thanks, sweet girl.” Lana says. 

“I’m trying to lean on you guys! Give in.” you respond. 

They both groan as they agree, the three of you shuffling towards Eren’s room. You settle straight into the middle of Eren’s bed, as they both shuffle around - loudly talking in Eren’s bathroom. 

“Ew, Eren. Why did you just kiss my cheek? I’m not Y/N, idiot.” 

“That was for you, Lana Bear!”  

“What pervert spirit possessed you at this time of night? And you know how I feel about that nickname after what Hyla said to me at dinner, so shut up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lana. And I just wanted you to know I love you too. You’re like a sister to me.” 

You hear Lana smack Eren. 

“Were you eavesdropping? Asshole. I was lying. None of it was true.” 

“Okay, Lana. Sure thing.” 

“I’m serious!” 

You shake the memory from your head, as you pull out the picture for her to see, one of you and Lana that Eren took. You’re both on his couch, your hands tangled in the bowl of popcorn - glaring at the camera. Eren was blocking your rewatch of High School Musical. 

“Speaking of support systems, one of your most talked about relationships is that with your co-star, Historia Reiss. After seemingly dropping songs about each other and making up and breaking up, there’s a lot of speculation on what happened. Anything to share?” 

You smile. 

“Historia and I are friends. And friendship is complicated. You just got to witness ours first hand, that’s all. Everything between us - it’s water under the bridge, if there ever even was one. We’re just really similar and we butt heads. We still love each other at the end of the day.” you say. 

“Well that’s lovely to hear. How about Ryomen Sukuna? The two of you are all anyone talks about these days, especially after how cozy you two were on the red carpet.” 

You snort. And pull out the polaroid - of you and Sukuna, of him kissing your cheek at the awards show. And in the background, Nobara and Maki are pretending to gag. 

“We’re not dating. And we won’t ever. We’re just really good friends.” 

“Friends kiss each other on red carpets?” 

“These ones do!” you respond, smiling. 

She laughs, nodding as you tuck the picture back into the box. She swallows hard, rubbing her hands against her palms as she asks her next question. The one you know she’s been itching to ask. 

“Look. We’ve talked about your career at great length - all but caught up to the night that you became a triple threat. But there’s one person that we haven’t discussed yet, maybe brought up in passing but haven’t broached. Who I think is relevant.” 

You smile. 

“Eren.” 

“Eren.” she repeats, nodding. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“I mean, everything. How did it feel to know that you finally got him back for what he did to you, the way he dragged your career through the mud. I mean you basically had him hanging his head between his knees by the end of the night, after you ended him. Throwing his relationship with his brother in his face, the songs you wrote, I mean- that. That has to be liberating. To do all that and come out as a triple threat at the end.” 

You can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you take your last picture out, one of you and Eren at Levi and Hange’s vow renewal. You’re leaning your head on your palm, looking up at him as he smiles down at you. And you swallow the hiccups as you respond. 

“In what world did that night seem liberating to you? Making a joke out of the love I shared with someone? I sobbed my way through the entire last song. Didn’t even make a speech. In what world was that liberating?” 

You see the shock spread across her face. 

“I just thought-” 

You smile. 

“Since we were fifteen, all people have done is speculate about me and Eren. Are we dating? Are we in love? Are we real? Are we faking? And therein lies the issue, because I think the people, the fame - it came between something really real.” 

She stops, nodding. 

“Something real? Are you telling us that Eren Jaeger lied in his interview?” 

“I don’t know his truth. Maybe it was fake for him. But I was there too.....And it was real for me.” 

You look down at the picture, fiddling with it in your hands. 

“I-I’d like to sing my song, if I could. I-I think it’ll help explain how I feel.” you say. 

She nods, gesturing to the piano. You sit at the seat, sneaking out the vinyl sleeve from the inside of the bench and pull it out. The album cover is a picture of the cast from season one of Attack on Titan. You and Eren are front and center, smiling at each other instead of the camera, everyone’s heads going in different directions. Jean and Mikasa are looking at something to the left and pointing, Ymir is smiling at Historia who is disgusted at Connie and Sasha plugging their fingers in each other's nose. 

“This is my fourth and final studio album, called The Lucky One. And this is my first song on the record, called happiness.” 

You brace your hands against the keys, playing the tune into the air as you sing. The feeling sits deep in your chest. Your realization was simple. That Historia’s statement - that your Eren wasn’t the Eren that existed anymore - is true. You just chose to focus on the wrong part of it.

You loved Eren and he made you happy. He burned you down, hurt you in the way that only he knew how, but loved you, made you whole in only the way he could too. There's a deep hurt. 

But there was great happiness. It’s why you forgive him. Why you choose to move forward, and hold whatever love you did have close. 

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

There is happiness In our history Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight Leave it all behind Oh, leave it all behind Leave it all behind And there is happiness 

You wipe the tears off of your face as you turn back towards the camera. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love of my life. He’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, he’s all too willing to understand you. Too willing to meet you where you are, as you are, and look past all the bad parts of you.” 

You stifle your sob, the tears pouring out of your eyes. You glance back at the picture of you and Eren at the piano. And the memory sticks out in your head. 

“I love you.” 

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times. 

“Eren, you-” 

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times. 

You swallow hard. 

“Eren Jaeger is the love in the room. He gives people a chance, even when he shouldn’t. He’s supportive, so incessantly adamant about his belief in you, that you believe in yourself too. He loves hard, he loves soft, and everything in between.” 

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. Until he wasn’t anymore. And I-I don’t know what they did to him. If they pumped him full of drugs, if they told him something about this industry that I’m unaware of, if-if it was something about me. But this Eren Jaeger, so full of love that it was almost spilling out of him, doesn’t exist anymore. He was real. But he’s not like this anymore.” 

You swallow hard. 

“This career, the way we live in our fishbowl. It-it’s so cruel. You all enjoyed watching me ruin him. You all enjoyed watching him ruin me. You liked that we spent our entire lives loving each other and maybe loved it even more when it came crashing down. It was interesting to speculate on, to talk about. You saw the softest love in us. In him. And then gutted it out of him like he was a fish.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“And with that, I quit.” 

The interviewer sits up, hand on your shoulder at the piano bench as the shock spreads across her face. 

“You’re quitting music?” 

“I’m quitting all of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. You already got to have him. You don’t get to have me too.” 

You give her a smile as you turn to the camera, before walking straight off of the set and into the waiting room outside. 

--

You sit on the bench outside, swinging your legs as you watch the people around you move. They’re all rushing to air the tape, which you expected. And making flash copies of the vinyl you gifted them, getting ready to post them online as the interview goes out. 

Figures. 

The only person who comes to your side is Leila. 

“HI.” you say, cheeks burning from the tears and your eyes swollen. 

She hands you the blue box, the one they hid behind the couch at the start, and shakes her head. 

You give her a strange look as you open up the box, filled with a large stack of letters. You reach for the one at the top, opening the pages to find Eren’s messy handwriting scribbled on the pages. 

Dear The Institute (I don’t know if you’re a person or like someone specific I’m just writing a letter to the address Levi gave me),  My name is Eren Jaeger. I’m fifteen, the son of Carla and Grisha Jaeger. I’m going to be in a new show called Attack on TItan. But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I want to tell you about my friend, my best friend.  Her name is Y/N L/N. She’s going to be my co-star in the show. You haven’t heard of her yet but I promise you won’t forget her. And I’ll make sure you won’t. Because I’m telling you now, she’s the next big thing. And you’re going to make her a triple threat.  I’ll spend this entire time convincing you until you do. But she’s amazing. It won’t take much.  You will hear from me again, Eren Jaeger

You pull another page out, opening up the crinkled pages, the block sitting in your throat. 

Hi (Can you tell me your name? It feels weird to call you The Institute. Like that’s almost dystopian.)  It’s Eren, again. Y/N is going to perform her song, New Year’s Day at the award show tomorrow. It’s her first one and it’s perfect. Like genuinely, who the fuck makes a hit song on the first try?  And even after making something great, she’s trying to be better. She doesn’t like to play the piano, but she tries anyway. Every time I try to teach her, she’s hanging on the ends of my words, trying over and over again until she’s satisfied.  She works very hard. I’m asking you to not overlook that.  See you soon (and when’s your birthday? We’re basically becoming friends at this point.)  Eren Jaeger 

You flip the pages, again. 

Good morning/good afternoon/good evening (covering all my bases, I don’t know where you live),  Now, don’t start discrediting what I’m saying as biased because of the rumors.  Granted, they are true. I adore Y/N with my entire heart. I love her with every fiber of my being. But that doesn’t discredit any of her work or how I’m vouching for it. Because she truly is amazing.  Her new movie is coming out on Saturday and her album on Sunday. Quit being assholes and give her this award already.  She deserves it. Really.  My deepest apologies (for calling you assholes and for bothering you all these years),  Eren Jaeger 

And again. 

Hi,  We broke up. And we don’t really talk much anymore. But the fact that I’m still writing this to you should be proof enough for you to at least CONSIDER her as a triple threat.  Like seriously. We aren’t even dating and I’m still raving about her work (because it’s that good).  Her new movie comes out soon.  She is all things great. The sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between. The light in the dark, every cheesy thing you can think of.  Art is a reflection of who you are. And her art has always been the best.  For the love of god, give in already,  Eren Jaeger. 

And the last one, despite being the shortest one, is what hurts the most. Dated for the day after the awards show, what you assume is barely hours after Eren was sobbing during your performance. 

Dear The Institute,  Thank you for listening. And for making her dream come true.  Best,  Eren Jaeger 

You hold the letters close to your chest as you cry into the box, nearly twenty or thirty pages you still haven’t read. Of Eren, his messy handwriting, and his endless love for you. 

His words ring in your mind. They don’t make any sense and none of it does. You didn’t have any faith in me like I did you. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star.  I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.

You sit up from the bench and walk out the door with the box in your hand. You find Falco and Colt standing on the curb against the car, soft smiles on their faces as they push you into the car. And take you where no one gets to touch you, suck you dry, push you too hard, take what you love most away from you ever again. 

Your most haunted memory sticks out to you as you drive away. As you feel the physical weight of this life be left behind on that piano and let him go. 

The waves continue to crash, Eren’s hand raking through your fingers as you both look up at the moon, shining above you. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, Eren?” 

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” 

You curl your nose in disgust. 

“When would I have time to go skinny dipping, Eren? And if I did, you would have known.” 

Eren turns on his side, a bright smile on his face. 

“Let’s do it.” 

“What?” 

“Skinny dipping.” 

“Eren. Quit being ridiculous.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“I just turned twenty-two. Like fifteen minutes ago. I am the pinnacle of seriousness.” he states, putting on his best Erwin-like tone. 

“Eren.” 

“Come on. It’s like a quintessential experience. We don’t get those - prom, memorizing your crush’s classes and waiting outside them, going on a date in the city. Let’s do this one.” 

You nod as you both trudge to the shore, hands locked together as you quickly lose your clothes and run into the water, biting cold against your skin. The Seattle cold does nothing to help, the two of you shivering in each other's arms as you hold each other in the water. 

“Ttt-this was a sss-stuppid idea, Er-rren.” you shiver, glaring at him. 

“It-it’s ff-un.” he responds. 

You groan as he pulls you into his arms, your face flat against his neck as you guys hug in the water. You can feel his heart beating under your ear and you pull back to find him smiling at you, his hair matted against his forehead. You reach forward and push it out of his eyes. 

“Thanks.” he whispers. 

You nod, giving him a smile. He’s all but grinning at you, the smile on his face so big that it’s throwing you off. 

“Eren. What?” 

“Nothing. You.” 

“Me?” 

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Just trying to remember this moment. You and me - being real people.” 

“You sound like a crazy person.” 

“You’re not a pop star. I’m not an actor. You’re Y/N and I’m Eren. We’re skinny dipping. And I love you.” 

You turn your head to the side, confused by his sentiment all together. 

It makes sense to you now. 

--

Almost a year and a half later and you’re nervously running your sweaty hands against the pleats of your black dress. You half debate walking in, even though you flew all this way. If there’s still a place for you in this townhouse, even though you all but grew up here. 

You can hear a loud chatter on the inside, voices talking over each other as you think hard, every regret of yours running through your mind. You wonder if they replaced you already, if your doppelganger is walking around in there.

As always, this is what brings you back to them. All of them. And you hate it. Because as always, they are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones who feel it too. 

You’re fish. On the same side of the glass, separated from everyone else. 

You supposed that’s what it does to people. That being fish, to some extent, was something everyone related to - not just you and Eren, Mikasa and Jean, everyone else who was famous.

This tears down things that were a resolute fact - bringing you to places you never thought you’d return, to people you didn’t think you would ever need anymore. A fishbowl - separating you from everyone else on one side of the glass, with everyone else - normal and whole - on the outside.

Fame can do that to people. But grief can too.

The news clip rings in your head. 

. 

. 

. 

Marco Bodt, best known for his time as a recurring character in the drama series Attack on Titan, died on Friday, five days short of his twenty-fourth birthday. 

You brace yourself and knock on the door of the townhouse. Eren’s the one who answers.

--

next part linked here

an: lol. so does "passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" still apply if he's dead....thoughts? also the lucky one tracklist

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlo l@mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

[featherandferns]

hurricanes : where are they now?

jj maybank x fem!reader

content warning: none

word count: 1.6k.

read hurricanes | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

“An expedition of one man, John Routledge, and a group of teenagers who are with us today. Locals who grew up here and who succeeded where centuries of conquistadors, explorers and admirals failed. Today, we come together to celebrate these teens. Friends, from both sides of the island, who came together to solve this five-hundred year-old mystery. Let’s hear it for them!”

You gladly join the applause with the other townspeople, though your mind feels miles away from your body. The sensation of your hands clapping is phantom. Your thoughts are elsewhere, eyes trained on JJ. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, looking starkly different to his usual attire of dust-stained tees and oil splattered shorts. As the whoops and hollers continue from the locals that were labelling your old group of friends as derelicts and dead-ends only a year or so ago, the six rise to their feet. JJ of course joins them last. He seems uncomfortable in the praise, likely aware of the hypocrisy of the guests. Somewhere in the madness, JJ’s eyes meet yours. At first you’re stunned, shaken into a falter in your rhythm of clapping, but then you find the confidence to offer him a smile. Small and reserved, but there nonetheless. He matches it perfectly. 

When the ceremony comes to a close, everyone is encouraged to partake in drinks and food and admire the relics taken from El Dorado in their adventure. You find yourself inspecting a stone statue, covered in moss and discoloured with age and wear. In your hand, you nurse a glass of champagne. You can only recall drinking it once before in your life, at your parents wedding way back when you were only a child. But you suppose you aren’t a child anymore, nor are the Pogues. 

“I need to…I need a reset right now. This is a lot.”

His voice rings like a Herald Angel: distinct in your memory. You glance around and spot the gang walking away from the stage, overwhelmed by the attention. Namely JJ. You can sense his anxiety from a mile away. He’d never been one for public speaking, as ironic as it seemed, in his extroverted glory. You see him dip into his leather jacket and pull out a flask. You can’t help but smile. It’s nice to know that some things never change. 

“It’s time to celebrate,” he announces. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to the statue and pretend to read the plaque. Your focus is still adrift. Now, it journeys back to thoughts of your relationship with JJ. To sleepless nights on the fishing rig and early mornings at the wake. To giggles in bedsheets and arguments in kitchens. To the night of the hurricane, when you closed the chapter of your story with JJ forever. The last time you ever saw him until today. That was two years ago. It’s all a trip. 

“Enjoying the champagne?”

Your head snaps around at the intrusion. JJ. A smile naturally comes to light on your face. Glancing down at your glass, you shrug. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to say no to an open bar,” you hum. 

“Ah, that’s why you’re here,” JJ grins. 

“Why? Is there something else going on today?” you jokingly wonder. He catches on quick. 

“I don’t know? I think I heard something about some derelict youths finding El Dorado and a shit ton of gold or something.”

“Holy shit! You would’ve thought I’d heard about that!” you gasp, failing to mask your grin. 

JJ chuckles and shakes his head, taking another swig of his flask. You mimic his actions with your glass of champagne. The chatter of pretentious rich folk serves as comfortable background music for the silence that falls between the two of you. 

“So,” you say after swallowing. “El Dorado, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t believe you guys actually found it,” you mumble. 

“That makes two of us,” JJ admits. He nods at you, eyes trailing down your body effortlessly. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Ah, thanks,” you bashfully reply. “Not too bad yourself, Maybank. I’m liking the leather jacket look.”

“Thought I’d make an effort for the occasion. You know, now that we’re legends and all that,” he light-heartedly jokes. 

“Names etched into history,” you agree. 

Again, another silence. It’s so difficult keeping within the polite confines of smalltalk. The urge to stray from the path into uncharted territory is palpable, but you shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“Shit, I just remembered,” JJ suddenly says. He tucks his flask back into his leather jacket and digs about for something else. Your brows knit when he produces a small, wrapped box. “I, uh, got something for you.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you nervously laugh. 

“Well, I didn’t,” he admits, a little embarrassed as he does. “I was gonna leave it on your porch if you didn’t show like some fucked up Easter Bunny or something.”

Smiling, you reach out and take it from him. Your glass finds safety atop of the glass casing of the statue as you work to unwrap it. The moment the logo is revealed, hidden beneath a layer of thin plastic wrap, your smile falls and lips part. 

“JayJ…”

“Just–” he quickly cuts, “keep opening it. Please.”

You do as he asks and are soon left holding the bottle of perfume you’d been pining after since you were fifteen. The one that you’d look at every time you went to the mall. The one you’d spritz on your wrist in Sephora before forcing yourself to walk away. The one JJ said he’d spoil you with when they found the Royal Merchant. A wave of sadness washes over you with the summer breeze. You find it somewhere within you to meet JJ’s gaze. He stands, hands deep in his jacket pockets, and shrugs. 

“A promise is a promise.”

“I can’t take this,” you immediately say. 

“You can and you have to,” JJ argues, pushing the bottle closer to your chest. “Like I said, a promise…”

“...Is a promise,” you hum, smiling. You can’t help but crack open the box and retrieve the bottle of perfume. Two hesitant sprays to your wrist feels the same as tossing hundred dollar bills onto a fire. You lift the skin to your nose and inhale, and your eyes slip shut at the memory. A gentle hold to your forearm has you guiding your arm out to JJ and he takes a whiff. 

“Knew it. It smells perfect on you,” he smiles. 

You carefully place the perfume atop of the glass case before tossing your arms around JJ’s neck, before you can have any second, rational thoughts. JJ wastes no time in returning your embrace. His arms wrap comfortably around your middle, pulling you tight against him, and his face nuzzles into your neck. Eyes closed, you take in the smell of his cologne and realise in a painful moment that nothing has ever smelt more safe, more familiar, more wonderful than him. 

“I missed you, JJ,” you confess into his shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” he returns. Your eyes clamp shut just to keep from crying. It’s bizarre, feeling as though you’re undoing months of work but in the process, feeling better than ever before. 

You reluctantly force yourself to pull away. Sniffing, you laugh self-deprecatingly. 

“I’m so proud of you guys, for all of this,” you say, gesturing to the madness of celebration and the cases of treasure. “I’m proud of you.”

“I wish you were there with us,” is his immediate response. 

You shake your head, smile steady. “It was never my adventure.”

“I don’t care,” JJ says. “You were the best adventure I ever had. And my worst mistake.”

“JJ–”

“No, I…I’m not trying to have a repeat of that night,” JJ sadly chuckles, referring blatantly to the hurricane, “but I have to tell you this because I don’t know if I’ll ever have a chance to again.”

You swallow thickly, preparing yourself for his next words. 

“Fucking things up with you was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve done a lot of dumb things.”

Your soggy laugh gives him space to continue. 

“And I don’t think I’ll stop regretting what I did to you for the rest of my life,” JJ admits. You hold his gaze. Lose yourself in the depths of his eyes, in the honey-soaked warmth of his voice, in the glow of his aura. Shaking his head, his voice is quiet when he says, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being in love with you either.”

A tear slips from your eye. You purse your lips and close your eyes and search yourself for a minute. Two years. Two years and nothing has made you feel more seen than this moment. Than this man. 

“I know I never stopped loving you,” you whisper. 

When you force your eyes open, JJ’s staring at you, chest shaky with breath. His mouth moves to speak but before he can muster up any words, he’s called over by the gang. The two of you look over to find an elderly man talking to John B. Pope and Kie are gesturing for JJ to join. He waves them off, gesturing for a minute, and when he looks back to you, you’ve steeled yourself. 

“I should probably…”

“Yeah, you should,” you smile, nodding. 

JJ nods. “I should be free tonight, though. In case you’re around.”

Your smile grows. Nodding, you take a long, steady breath. “Then, I guess I’ll see you later.”

JJ smiles. It’s the same smile you used to see almost every day, three years ago, when you were still in love. You don’t know what it means - what this next chapter of your story will set - but you know that you can’t walk away from him again. In fact, as JJ heads over to the group, flashing you one more smile as he departs, you realise that perhaps it was never really over. Hurricanes come and go, but they’re never fully gone. And perhaps, finally, you’re ready to rebuild. 

[s-4pphics]

forever dying. (e.w.)

FEAR. noun. an unpleasant emotion or thought that you have when you are frightened or worried by something dangerous, painful, or bad that is happening or might happen.

emotions writing challenge :3

wc;cw: 7 hunnid, angst, ellie needs a hug :(, gore

Ellie’s boots bury deep into the snow with every weighted footstep, her pack and bow hitting her back as she walks. She wanted to run, but she didn’t want to cause a scene; Freaking out in public makes her freak out more. 

She needs to get home. She misses you and she’s on the verge of panicking because you’re not next to her. She should’ve never volunteered to do patrol. 

You’re tired, you’d whispered in the early morning as she dressed, just lay here with me? 

He’s old, Ellie whispered back: about Joel. If she doesn’t go, then he’ll have to, and he’s old, although he denies it; He shouldn’t be working as hard anymore, at least, that’s what Ellie convinced herself when she saw him reorganizing the horse shed. Boxes were being stacked, but he was tired; It was evident in the tremor in his arms. Ellie’s exhaustion will never be able to match his, no matter what she does. Plus, I wanna go. It won’t be long, promise. 

And just like that, she kissed your head, your nose, your lips, before snagging her coat and leaving. 

She’s gotten used to killing clickers; There was a dark point — two years ago — where she actually enjoyed it: the grittiness, the power she had over the source that destroyed the world. But moments like today remind her how gruesome and horrific life is. 

It was only mile three into patrol when she saw the scene from a distance: the outline of a boy, no older than ten, dead and bloody, being preyed on by at least five clickers. At least. 

Millions of thoughts rushed through her mind: why was he alone? Why is he so small? Why didn’t she come sooner and save him? 

Horror slammed into her and she froze, nausea overtaking her at the sight. Shimmer was already snorting and shifting, preparing to turn around, but Ellie couldn’t move. She only gripped the lasso tighter, her thick gloves pinching her skin. 

Apparently, she breathed too loudly; All the clickers turned towards her direction in milliseconds. She wasn’t prepared for all of them to rush towards her and Shimmer. She wasn’t... fucking prepared. 

Ellie’s still not sure how she made it out, but she did, and she needs you close. Vulnerability is extremely difficult for her, but she melts with you. She should’ve never left this morning. 

“Ellie!” Jesse. “Wait up!”

She’s already shaking her head, moving quicker.  

“I’m fine!” She’s not. She swiftly peers over her shoulder, dismissively waving her hand. “I just… I needa get home. We’ll talk later.” Has her safe haven always been this fucking far?  

It seems like hours pass before her walk ends, and she’s on your shared porch; She shoves through the door and is hit with immediate warmth and the smell of cinnamon, and her heart calms. Only slightly. 

She kicks her shoes off and tosses her supplies on the floor before padding down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. 

You’re sitting on the floor, reorganizing the bookshelf, murmuring song lyrics to yourself. You meet her eyes in a mirror propped up against the wall and smile. 

But it drops at the sound of her voice. 

She only whispered hey, but her tone is enough to get you up and moving towards her, concern on your face. Her expression is telling: fear. Grief. No wonder she’s back so early. 

Your hands are cautious as they hover over her shoulders, but she nods gently. It’s okay, she hopes her eyes read, please hold me.  

She’s instantly pulled close, right up against you, and she falls apart. Ellie doesn’t feel any tears coming, just feels them seep into your sweater. You’re asking if she’s hurt, but she’s not sure how to answer, so she stays quiet. 

Your touch is so soothing. But she’s scared… and heartbroken. And guilty: she, somehow, feels at fault. That poor kid. She's sobbing now, loud and painful.

Hope, in this time, is lethal. The graphic scene is proof enough that the world is forever dying. 

[plooto]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⊳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

synopsis . colonel miles quaritch—respected, feared, a machine . now, only bluer and younger the recom was near perfect. that is, until he catches the scent of a younger, field trained scientist. a distraction..but maybe that’s just what this programed machine needs.

words . 3.3k

notes . bts requests are open ! i’ll be adding some stuff too, so don’t be shy to ask <3 . lol accidentally posted this today instead of the 12th 🤧

arriving back at the base, you and the colonel don’t say a word about what previously happened. however it was all you could think about..

something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, legs wobbling as you take a look.

“ oh shit. ” you mumble, looking at your connected queues. your eyes widen and your ears pin pack against your head. a chill runs up your spine and you look up to miles, who was still looking down at you.

“ would you pay attention? ” he blinks, looking away from you to where you eyes were previously. his heart races as his eyes narrow at the connection. you gently pull your queues apart, tugging your pants back up and stepping past him as you try to not look down at his length at half mass. he on the other hand, did not look away from you, his hands moving on their own to tuck himself into his pants.

“ hope y’don’t expect- ”

“ i already forgot it. come, we’re behind schedule.. ”

you shook your head, ears pinning against your head as you think of your words. lying wasn’t something you did often, more often than not you told the truth. making your way into the science lab, you haded the samples to the researcher, earring praises for how much you gathered. you smiled with appreciation. you stepped back out of the lab, walking yourself to your quarters to put on clean clothes to start your research, you hadn’t made it very far when you were captured in a headlock.

“ gross! why d’you reek like… ” she pulled your head closer to hers, sniffing you “ quaritch? ” your face flushes a deep purple.

“ i just got back from that mission with him, remember? ” it wasn’t a lie, just..not the whole truth, zee released you from her hold,

“ whatever, hey, the other recoms and i are meeting up later to have some drinks, wanna join? ” your eyes shifted as you thought,

“ yeah sure, as soon as i finish my shift i’ll head over there. ” zee gave you a smile, chewing her gum as she turned to walk away from you, but not before she leaned back over,

“ ‘n don’t think i didn’t notice your tail when i brought up the colonel ” you slapped her arm, giving her a push in her direction. a laugh erupted from her as she waved goodbye. you drug your hand down your face, hoping to rid it of some of the heat.

what a day. you thought, entering your room, you stripped taking a shower, an attempt to wash his scent off and out of you.

making it back to the lab, your tan of thought briefly slipped as you were having one of the nurses draw your blood as a sample, tail swishing as your mind backtracked to the exchange with the colonel. he was so large..and strong. your face broke out in a blush as you still felt his large five fingered hand imprinted into your back, a chill running up your spine.

“ and, i’m all done. here you go. ” i thank the staff, thanking eywa she did not notice your flushed face or the blush that stained it. you went back to your station, arm shifting uncomfortably from the makeshift bandage placed on it.

by the end of the day, you were near beat. doing a field run, and having to run around the lab, your knees were wobbly as if they weren’t before. you stretched, hanging your lab coat and making your way to your room to change and heading out to meet with zee and the rest of the deja blu team.

approaching the door you heard cheers. you smiled at the sound of them enjoying themselves, your eyes landed on the source of the commotion—your best friend taking a rather large shot. the recoms around her cheered, slapping their hands together aggressively. another recom was the first to notice you, he stood up, making his way to you.

“ yer zdog’s friend right? corporal wainfleet ” he extends his hand to you. you look up on him, placing your hand in his much larger one. a grin appears on his face, a grin you didn’t notice. a yelp left your lips as he tugged you, lifting you into the air.

“ the scientist has arrived! ” you freeze curled up like a kitten, suspended in the air by lyle’s hands. zee turns her head, holding her now empty glass up to you, happy cheers leaving her lips. lyle shakes he laughs, pulling you back down to the ground.

“ thank you..do not do that again.. ” i say, looking up at him awkwardly. realizing his hands are still on my waist, i take a step out of his hold, making my way to zee without waiting for a response.

“ here, drink ” i grimace, shaking my head as i push the glass away from me.

“ no, i- i really shouldn’t- ” you heard boos, a presence behind you,

“ don’ tell me. y’ve all that bite ‘n y’don’t drink? ” you tail swishes, realizing who is behind you—quaritch. colonel miles quaritch. you don’t respond or move for another moment, the colonel behind you smirks, hand reaching to grasp your tail. you spin around, holding your tail in your hands, a half hearted glare at him as a blush coats your cheeks as you remembered the last time he gripped your tail crossed your mind.

pressed up against the tree, his hand wanders lower for a brief second, his large hand wrapping around your tail as he pushed into you.

you blink, locking eyes with the colonel, a playful smirk on his lips. your brows pull together, bordering confusion.

“ ow! don’ tell me boss’as gotten himself a girlfriend.. ” you didn’t hear anything—neither of you did—too busy in a silent stare down. the two of you just continued looking at each other, unspoken tension rising.

“ i’ll have a little drink, zee ” it wasn’t peer pressure, no. you just figured a little buzz would get you off edge around miles. drink placed in your small hand, you threw your head back, grimacing at the sting in your throat. you stick your tongue out, momentarily forgetting the stare down with the colonel.

“ what the heck was that.. ” you kept your grimace, the burning of the alcohol settling in your throat. the colonel watched you as you chat with your friend, eyes narrowing as you turned away from him. retreating to his wall, he crossed his arms, watching as you mingle with his squad. with a chair pulled up next to zee, she leans over

“ sooo, y’wanna tell me why you smelled like the colonel earlier? ” you face flushed as she nudged you

“ oh um, no ” you mumbled, voice unsure and wavering. you looked around, trying to get her eyes off of you, your eyes landing on the colonel in question once again, you try to hide the blush that coated your cheeks, failing miserably. before you were questioned, you blame it on the alcohol, which it probably was contributing to it, your brain becoming fuzzier by the minute.

the colonel on the wall behind you smirked at your tinted cheeks. even if you did work with those pathetic science pukes, you weren’t so bad. you giggled at mansk, sure he was quieter than the others, but you thought he was funny in your tipsy state. he leaned towards you, whispering something else, your face showed shock. from where miles was standing, he couldn’t hear what mansk had whispered to you, but he was watching. the way your face lit up with every emotion had him in one mean chokehold—one that he hadn’t been in since his teenage years. you stood up, tugging on zee’s arm,

“ i’m going to turn in, ‘ve got work early tomorrow.. ” zee nodded, uncoordinatedly running her fingers though your hair, you have her an upset pout, one that had no real malice, before waving bye.

that was the last time the colonel seen you. the pout you gave him when you felt his thoughts, how pretty your golden orbs looked when you were glaring at him—what the fuck? miles shook his head, pushing the thoughts of you that ran through his mind to the side. that stupid slip up was really starting to take an effect on him. if only he hadn’t kissed you right then, he wouldn’t be in this mess now.

meanwhile, in the lab you were lost in thought as you patiently waited for your results to finish. you pressed a finger to your lips, it has been days, yet you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours..gah! that kiss was the reason you two were now a ‘mated pair.’ your mind continued to wonder, tail swishing happily as you thought of miles. you pursed your lips, pressing a finger to your chin. you two were a mated pair now..we haven’t explored that with recoms..you shook your head.

no! you would die before you let anyone know that your kuru joined with the colonel’s. you cursed, taking the data and plugging it in. you smiled, the data matching your hypothesis was the only thing you needed. your research for today was complete—doesn’t mean you weren’t going to try and give yourself a day off. you pulled up other data you wanted to work on, pulling your hair back in a messy bun, you began to work.

“ l’n, a moment. ” your head slowly lifted from the small screen in front of you too look up at the general. you groaned internally, knowing she wanted to send you out again. you stood up from your chair, walking over to the general and stepping outside the lab with her. you didn’t bother kneeling down this time, wanting to make this conversation short and cordial.

“ the deja blu squad is down a member. we need you to fill their spot. ” your eyes widened, an excuse on why you absolutely couldn’t bubbling in your throat. “ you’re already field trained, l’n. you are the best candidate we have. you fly out with the squad in two days. ” you nodded once, giving her a salute you returned to your work, sinking deeper into your swivel chair as you worked.

looks like you weren’t getting that day off..

the days leading up to the mission were a blur. you didn’t sleep well, finding yourself up at night, pillow case wet as you felt the effects of not being near your mate. your mate. you scoffed, you pulled yourself to sit up in bed, looking at the clock. 0400. you groaned, at this rate, you’ll never get any sleep. you forced your body to move, putting on a pair of cargo shorts and a short sleeved tee. entering the desolate hallway, you made your way to the armory. testing if the vest fit, and the gun wasn’t too big for your arms. it did not fit, nor did the gun fit well. you cursed in na’vi, looking around and finding a belt with the same pockets or compartments the vest did. twisting and turning, you did what you could to make sure that the belt you had on didn’t shift or give way while you were out.

hyper fixated on the belt, you didn’t pay attention to the hiss of the door opening behind you. the colonel watched as you shimmied, observing your movements with a faint grin on his face.

“ think y’got it on tight enough, cupcake? ” you turned quickly, looking up at the colonel with startled eyes. he holds his hands up, “ d’nt mean to frighten ya, ” he admits, his way of apologizing you learned. you nodded once, turning back to make sure your pockets were filled, extra magazines and whatever else you thought was needed. the colonel stepped closer to you, gently swatting at your hand when you reached to grab the gun that was too large for you. you looked back at him, expression filled with confusion and irritation. he pointed to the other side of the room, a smaller but effective gun on the display. you put the magazines back, walking over to the gun he pointed at. you fiddled with it, looking at it confused. you knew how guns worked, sure but this one was a piece of work.

“ christ, and they said you were field trained. ” he pulled the gun out of your grasp, leaning down to explain to you the fundamentals before handing it back to you.

“ got it, princess? ” you lifted your eyes from the gun to meet with his. you blinked, a blush coating your cheeks. he was only a hair away from you, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, your tail behind you swishing with content, you body realizing your mate is near. your eyes flickered to his lips, your breath hitching as you look back up at him, his pupils blown. you blink, your heart pounding in your chest and using your head as a speaker.

quaritch was feeling the same. he leaned closer, his subconscious missing the feel of your body against his. his lips pressed against yours, melting together in a slow kiss. you internally mewled, the strain of not being near your mate washing away in an instant. his hand fits, resting on your nape to pull you in closer. gun long forgotten as he pushes you against the rack, the items inside shaking. he pulled away, only for a moment before kissing you with more urgency than before. your hands lifted, running along the expanse of his chest. the door hissed open again, this time you did hear it. against the want of his body, the colonel pulled away, pressing a finger to your chest, making up some bs reason for you to be that close.

“ don’ getcha ‘self killed. ” you watched him as he walked away, your chest heaving. your eyes danced over to the person who walked through the door—wainfleet. you swallowed, nodding once before pulling on the gun stray, tightening it comfortably.

“ need a hand? ” you didn’t shake your had soon enough, wainfleet already walking over to you, leaning over you to pull the straps tighter. you purse your lips, feeling tiny next to him. “ how’s that? ” you nod, not looking up at him. his hand resting on your shoulder drew your attention, doe eyes finally looking up at him,

“ don’t worry your pretty head about the colonel, he gets off on giving people a hard time. shoulda seen him with the new recruits.. ” you give him a small smile,

“ thanks.. ” you mumble, receiving a nod from the corporal.

soon, the rest of the recoms fill the room, gearing to go on the expedition. you ignore miles’ gaze when you all walk out to the chopper. awkwardly stepping on board, you tucked yourself into a corner, being the smallest so you were out of the way.

“ pinky, up here, that’s mansk’s spot. ” you don’t bother showing your irritation, you just. get up, mansk taking his spot on the chopper while you took the spot behind colonel, the one beside him belonging to zee. as the bird fits off the ground, you hold onto one of the bars, waiting for it to get into the heart of pandora. your eyes begin to droop, but just as fatigue was about to embrace you, the smell of pandora’s untainted air hits your nose.

you keep your eye closed as you breathe in it’s smell, welcoming it with open arms as you sigh in content. but what you didn’t notice, was the colonel’s tail wrapping itself around yours. your eyes are fixated on pandora, leaning yourself out of the chopper, hand still gripping the bar as you leaned out, nowhere near tall enough to hit your head. your tails unwrapped, but you didn’t notice, too enthralled of the pure beauty that came with this planet. the chopper touched down, and you jump out immediately, but standing still to look at the sky—pink with pandora’s moons foating just beyond its reach, you smile. a smile of pure bliss and serene happiness.

“ pinky, get here. ” you were snapped out of your daze, falling in beside colonel as he starts briefing on the mission.

“ we spread out in twos, we meet back here before eclipse and we do the same tomorrow. ” you shouldn’t have spaced out while he was assigning buddies, but you did anyways. you blink a few times, brows pulling together in confusion. did he call you pinky?

“ christ- hey! how many times i gotta tell ya getcha head out cha ass? ” his hand grips on the back of your neck, fingers resting on the sides. your heart beats so hard and so fast you were sure he felt it in his fingers. you swallow the lump in your throat before replying,

“ so-sorry sir. ” he gives you cocky smile, pushing you in front of him.

“ y’r with me, wont have you getting anyone on my squad killed. ” your ears fatten against your head at his comment, but you walk anyway. you don’t really pay him any attention, your body knows to follow him, so it does, but you were lost in thought, your mind drifting from the sight of pandora, to his thighs—so thick, and strong..

“ like whatcha see? ” your eyes snap up to his, a blush staining your blue cheeks before you look away. “ oh, don’ look away now, cupcake. where’s that fire from this mornin’? ” your blush deepens, but you recover quickly, spitting back a response,

“ what is this- this game you’re playing, colonel? is it fun to you? ” you drop the gun, letting it hang around your shoulders as you flail your arms out, eyes narrowing as him. miles blinks, taken aback from your outburst. his ears flatten against his head, realizing he just might’ve offended you.

“ no, ‘m not playing any game, ” the hell’re you on? he wanted to add, his resolve crumbling as he looks at you longer. “ you drive me crazy, ‘kay? since that braid thing that happened y’re all in my mind, distractin’ me n shit. ” you blink at him, shocked. he steps towards you, but you don’t back up, you let him approach you, craning your head to look up at him. he raises his hand, cupping the side of your head, fingers brushing the base of your queue.

“ q- quaritch.. ” you mumble, voice trying to show restraint, but your body reacts the opposite way, leaning into his touch.

“ miles. ” he corrects you, tilting your head to look up at him.

“ miles, we shouldn’t.. you are the colonel, i- we’re- we’re not compatible, ” his ears flatten,

“ this int for everyone. this is you n me, cupcake. ” he pauses for a moment, his other hand resting on the other side of your face, forcing your eyes to truly lock with his. “ j’st us. ” you blink up at him, small hands coming to rest on his wrists. mumbling words in na’vi he didn’t understand. you wanted to fight this, this pull, you couldn’t, you nodded, gripping his wrists the slightest bit tighter. his ears lift from his head, relieved. miles pulls you in for a short but rough kiss. without anyone to interrupt him this time, he pulled you closer. moving the guns out of the way, his hands move from your face, hooking under your thighs, and lifting you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his thin waist. he. pulls you as flush as he can against him, tilting his head to trail hot kisses down your neck. his fangs drag across where he felt your pulse, daring to sink into the soft flesh.

“ wait- don’t. it’ll bruise, ” his eyes close, resting his big head in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“ alright. ” he sets you back down on the ground, but his hands didn’t leave you, one hand making it’s way to rest just above your ass, ring finger and middle finger brushing the base of your tail. “ c’mon, princess. ” he nudges you in front of him, fingers dragging down the length of your tail as he watches you walk.

published . october 12 10 , 2023

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Thirteen.

Apologies for not getting back to comments and reblogs, guys. Life is a bit fraught at the moment between my anxiety and work pressures. I'm only just about able to find the time and mental clarity to post! I love you all for leaving such beautiful comments, though, and I appreciate you for taking the time to do so :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 4,217

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Whatever the hell you’re doing, please, don’t stop on my account.”  

He stood for a few seconds, admiring the view. God, that body. Honestly, it was a sight he’d never tire of when coming back into his flat, seeing Ella there. What he liked even more was the fact that after first arriving, she hadn’t actually left as yet. Well, that was partly untrue. The day before, they’d driven up to the huge ASDA supermarket on the other side of Nuneaton to buy food, and so Ella could purchase a few necessities that meant she didn’t have to go home. 

A five pack of knickers, a couple of new tops, another pair of jeans, socks, pyjama bottoms for lounging in, some moisturiser, a toothbrush, face wash, deodorant and body spray. With a few pieces of makeup already in her bag, but not too bothered about being seen bare faced, she was set to stay for as long as she wanted. After seven weeks without one another, they weren’t quite so content to part ways just yet.  

She’d called in with her mum and told her, April cooing and sending her into a pink cheeked mess of embarrassment, telling her to enjoy herself. Oh, she really, really was. 

Pausing from the yoga stretches, Ella jumped to her feet, giving him a big kiss as he placed the massive IKEA bag full of clean laundry down. “I like how bendy you are, innit.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, her eyebrows raising a few times in rapid succession. “I noticed that with all the creative ways you were bending me around last night.”  

He laughed, low and dirty, smacking her on the bum before heading to the kitchen area. “I will a few more times today too if you like?” 

“I like!” she grinned, standing on one leg, lifting the other behind her and reaching back to grasp her foot as she bent elegantly. It was just them on that Monday morning, Snedders off to try his best at being allowed to move back into his own abode, and Steve over in Leamington Spa, visiting his mum.  

She then flexed herself even further, James’s eyebrow raising sharply as he watched her bring her foot to touch the back of her head. He wasn’t sure a dick twitch was the appropriate response, but it was the one he had.  

“Shitting hell!”  

“A yoga body is a healthy body,” she sighed, breathing deeply before releasing her foot, repeating the same with her right leg. 

“It’s a fucking elastic band, Ells bells!”  

She laughed softly, extending further, her foot once again brought to the back of her head. “That’s what Mary used to say when she supervised my yoga time, make sure I wasn’t like, running in place or doing excessive sit ups.” 

Indeed, at her very worst with her illness, Ella had exercised to extreme excess. Jogging for six miles a day, doing hundreds of push ups and sit ups, all on roughly two hundred calories.  

Clicking the kettle on, he smiled thinly. “I miss Mary, she was so cool.” 

“Yeah, she was the best. Even when she was trying to make me eat carbohydrates and I was sitting there, screaming and crying, calling all the food minging and throwing my plate,” she spoke, her behaviour back then making her feel embarrassed in the present. She’d come far since. “Speaking of which, I want some of that melon we bought. Can you pass me a knife, please?” 

Grabbing the cantaloupe from the fruit bowl, she walked around to his side of the kitchen units, placing it on the chopping board while he moved to pull a knife from the block in the corner. Immediately, he paused, looking down at the blade. A flash of being on the bathroom floor hit him, remembering the pain, the distress, the blood.  

“James? You’ve stopped,” she spoke, her brain quickly assessing the situation. Oh, no, that wasn’t the... Oh, shit. Reaching for him, she grasped his arm, taking the knife from his hand. “Bleedin’ hell, that was the one you used, wasn’t it?” 

He nodded, eyes a little rounded, Ella opening a drawer to place it in and hide it away. He didn’t need to see it. “Baby, come on. Come here. You’re alright,” she spoke comfortingly, pulling him into her arms. Slipping a hand beneath his t shirt, she stroked his back, soft skin flecked with scabs from her nails, her other hand smoothing his hair as he wrapped himself around her, pressing his face against her neck with a groan. The comforting scent of daisies began to soothe him, just as it always had with her. 

“Really didn’t think it’d affect me like that,” he mumbled. She could have slapped Steve for being so thoughtless; to clean the blade his best friend had used to take his own life and simply return it to place, voicing that. “Nah, babe. Don’t be pissed off at him. They’re my knives and they’re worth a fortune. He wouldn’t have chucked it away without asking me. Probably just forgot, innit.” 

His heart thundered against her chest, Ella guiding him over to the sofa and sitting him down, taking the half smoked joint present in the ashtray and lighting it. With a large puff taken, she handed it to him, her hand resuming its stroke between his wide shoulder blades. “Smoke that and calm down. You’re alright, you’re past it now. It’s okay, I’m here.” 

It was the first falter she’d witnessed in him since he’d absconded to his room back at Moor Acres, Ella trying her hardest to be supportive, although she didn’t know what magic words to say in order to soften what must’ve been a traumatic flashback. True, he had the reminders there on his own arms all the time, but seeing the blade he’d used as an implement truly must’ve rocked him hard.  

Just her sitting there with him was all he needed, feeling her kiss his shoulder and rest her chin atop the thick plane of muscle, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “Thanks, darlin’. Feel a bit better now, like.” Both she and weed were brilliant for calming anxiety, Ella perhaps having the greater edge there, James finishing the joint and stubbing it out, pulling her onto his lap as he rested back.  

She wasn’t sure she believed that, and her face must have revealed it with the soft scrutiny he picked up on. If there was any person in this world he could share with other than Michael, it was her. It was her first, in fact. “I was back there for a second, in that moment. It fucking scared the fuck out of me, Ella. I spent months chasing it, wanting to go back there and succeed, like. Nah. Just holding it again made me see how much I wanna be alive, innit. Don’t ever wanna go back to that darkness.” 

His ability to open up and express where it’d taken him to made her proud, Ella kissing his forehead before her lips met his. “I believe they call that person growth.” 

Immediately, he frowned, pointing a heavily ringed finger at her. “Don’t you quote that old witch at me.”  

Of course, he meant Dr. Beaumont. She had to concede that truly, she wasn’t for everyone. She’d eventually gotten through well with Ella, although the young woman also heavily credited people like Mary and James helping her through recovery, but for him, her methods had not been effective. 

“I think it’s a boarder term rather than a Clarice Beaumont specific,” she declared, moving off his lap and over to the kitchen. “Tea?” 

“Yeah, yeah I was doing that before my brain went splat, wasn’t I?” he hummed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “Nice one, babe. Love you.” 

It fell from his mouth without him even registering, but god, how true the sentiment was. He’d loved her for months, but declarations of such did not come easily to him, especially not when he’d been so ill upon realising it.  

Ella beamed, racing back over and jumping on him, holding his face in her hands as she smothered him in kisses. “I love you, too!” She hummed happily as they fell into a deeper kiss, James making her snicker with laughter as he pulled her knickers up and began to squeeze and lightly smack her bum.  

“Stop it!” she warned. 

“You fucking love it!” 

True, she did. He knew how to give the good smacks.  

Going back to the kitchen, she prepared the tea and used a different knife to slice herself up some melon, selecting a few more fruits too that she added to a bowl and took back to the sofa. They sat there snacking on them while watching a film, James deciding on The Silence of the Lambs since Ella had confessed she’d never seen it. 

After it had finished, she went for a bath while he sat and played guitar, Steve arriving back after half an hour of his playing. Of course, he had to let him know of the incident that had occurred regarding the knife.  

“Oh fuck,” he exclaimed quietly, his face falling. “I didn’t even think, ya know. I don’t even remember doing it, I just went on autopilot when I was cleaning up the mess. Nah, no excuse though, Jim. I should have gotten rid of it,” he spoke, moving to hug him tightly. “Sorry, man.” 

James could understand that, knowing he’d probably had to disengage his thoughts to an extent in order to get through something as horrific as cleaning his best mate’s blood from the bathroom floor. “It’s alright, but yeah, just don’t get it back out the junk drawer. I’ll go buy another set eventually.” 

His friend looked thoughtful for a minute. “Hold on. Them are proper chef knives, aren’t they?”  

“Yep,” he confirmed, “nicked, most likely. Do you remember when I bought them off that fella in the pub with the duffle full of knocked off goods?”  

He did, now it was mentioned. “Yeah, yeah! You paid like, seventy quid for ‘em and later found out they were worth about four hundred. “Nah, hang on. I have a plan.” Moving rapidly to the kitchen, he grabbed the block, took the suicide knife from the drawer and slotted it back in, leaving the flat at speed.  

James was rolling a joint when he returned, a huge, triumphant grin plastered across his face as he slapped down a wad of twenty-pound notes on the table. “He is redeemed!” he announced, grinning widely. 

“How the... shitting hell, how much cash is that, mate?” he spoke, quickly sealing the joint up and leaning to count it. “There’s three hundred quid there! How did you... how... you just walk out with ‘em and return with three hundred quid ten minutes later? Explain.” 

“Fella downstairs is a chef, ain’t he? Gave him a hundred quid discount and he ripped my hand off for ‘em!”  

Never let it be said that Steven Savage was not a brilliant negotiator.  

“Here, sellers fee,” James spoke, pulling five twenties for the pile and handing them to him. “Go on, I’m up a hundred and thirty. You have that, mate.” 

“Sure?” 

“Before I change my mind, man.” 

“Quality!” he announced, placing the cash in his wallet. “Ka-ching! Pub tonight then, yeah? Or are you planning on pounding a new hole into Ella some more?” 

James smirked, lighting the joint. “I can do that later. Suppose I better ask the missus, though.” He paused for a second. “Ella! You up for the pub tonight, babe?” 

A few seconds pause followed his boom. “Yes!” 

“Top grade reply, my darlin’,” he called. 

“Innit!” 

“Fucks sake. She’s picking up the way you talk,” Steve groaned, James laughing, passing him the joint.  

“Innit?” 

“Nah, I ain’t sitting there with you two parroting each other all night on my own, and being stuck at the face.” Pulling his Nokia from his jacket, he scrolled through the phone book, taking another puff on the joint before passing it back. “Hester! How are ya, gorgeous? Yeah, I’m alright, yeah. You up for a few drinks tonight? Yeah, yeah, I’m heading up The Gallows with Jim and Ella. Alright, see ya there at seven. Bye.” 

They waited on Ella to get ready, finding that she actually fussed much less than either were expecting, zipping her boots up and fluffing her hair before pulling on her jacket. James smiled to himself, noting that it was the first time he’d seen her in a top that revealed her body, the one she chose cropped just above her belly button. It meant her confidence was growing, that she didn’t feel the need to hide in clothes four sizes too big.  

Hester was already waiting at the bar when they arrived, hugging them all in turn, squeaking when Steve gave her leather clad bum a sharp slap.  

“Beast,” she teased, poking him with a long fingernail. 

“Just the way you like me,” he grinned, the pretty blonde turning to Ella and tucking in at her side. 

“We need some serious girl talk, darl!” she whispered, the guys asking what they wanted to drink, both giving their beverage requests before heading off to a table together. “So, seeing him again already after Saturday, hmm?” 

Ella bit the corner of her lip. “I haven’t been home yet.” 

Hester’s mouth dropped open. “Get the fuck outta here! Really?” 

“Yeah, really,” she began, sitting down, pulling her cigarettes out and offering her one. “It’s like we didn’t spend that time apart at all. I’m really enjoying it, being with him on the outside. It’s the simple things, like being able to kiss him whenever I want to without being barked at by an orderly,” 

“Or shag his freakin’ brains out!” Hester chimed excitedly, biting her tongue naughtily. 

“Oh yeah,” Ella confirmed, “there’s been plenty of that!” 

“And! How is he? Are we dealing with impressive merchandise, too?” 

Of course, she’d ask for the dirty details. “He’s fucking amazing, and yes, the merchandise is above average,” she revealed, grinning as Hester clapped and hugged her arm with a squeak. “Not like, freaky big, but oh god. Not small either!” 

“Darl! I am so happy for you!” she enthused, giving her a little shake.  

“Yeah, I’m bleedin’ happy for me too,” she chirped, looking in the direction of the bar with a happy smile. “That’s my man up there!”  

The squeaks continued. “Dude, you’re fucking with War. You have no idea how cool that is! I mean, you’re cool all on your own, such a freakin’ awesome chick, but shit! You bagged one of the biggest hotties on the scene, I swear. Girls line up for that man to be single. He’s renowned for turning girls down if he’s with someone!” 

That was very much who James was as a person, Ella knew well. “And you’re shagging another, so yes, my friend. We have done well for ourselves.”  

Hester nodded, offering her hand. “Put it there!” Ella shook her hand, the pair descending into giggles. They composed themselves by the time James and Steve arrived with them, the former resting a hand upon Ella’s thigh after he sat down, giving her a wink.  

Hester’s words stuck in her thoughts a little, but she truly didn’t notice the validity of them until she glanced around the bar, seeing the way female eyes especially all roved towards their table. It didn’t matter at all to her, that her boyfriend had status as a musician very much coming into prominence, but certainly, her spot seemed to be a much coveted one.  

Finally, after years of being a bullied loser, an antisocial, miserable anorexic, she was now one of the cool girls. It wasn’t of her own merit, though, merely through the man she was with. Or, so she thought.  

On the way to the toilet, she passed by the bar, overhearing a couple of women talking between themselves as they looked her up and down. 

“Well, of course he’d be with someone like her! She fucking looks like a model.” 

Slowing down, she changed her path to the cigarette machine instead, her curiosity piqued. She needed a new pack anyway.  

“No, she’s too cute looking to be a model, but that body. I’d kill for legs like that. And she gets to wrap them around War.” 

“I know! It’s so unfair! Why not me?” the first girl wailed, laughing with her friend, Ella picking up her Marlboro Lights and popping them into her pocket, continuing to the toilet. She’d be lying if such wasn’t a shot in the arm for her, to hear other women especially be complimentary. On her way back again, she caught the eye of them, smiling, receiving the same back before returning to the table.  

Suddenly, she understood how women like Hester must feel all the time. Her friend was effortlessly cool, with her long, dark and blonde streaked curls, her gorgeous boobs and effortless style. It felt strange, but nice. Sadly, it was not to last, though.  

“Ahh,” Hester exclaimed after they left the bar at 9pm, about to move on somewhere else. It could get a bit much for the guys, being on their own territory and thus getting pestered by fans for autographs or pictures. Sniffing the air, she began looking around, trying to trace the source. “Where’s that smell coming from? Is that the new curry house?” 

“Yeah, I went with Dan and Snedders a few weeks ago. Fucking lovely,” Steve confirmed, pointing across the street. “Shall we go?”  

Everyone agreed, although inside, Ella felt her hear beginning to pound nervously. It had been a long, long time since she’d eaten at a restaurant. Eating around James wasn’t an issue, Steve or Hester either. But being in a place where other people were? Gulp. Maybe it would be quiet, though, being a Monday night.  

No such luck, she found upon entering, seeing a rugby team in there still celebrating their obvious win with their various cohorts. Oh, god. Sitting down, Steve ordered a round of drinks while they studied the menus, Ella feeling her mouth drying up rapidly. She didn’t know the calorie content of the food, although she was getting a lot better with not counting every single thing she consumed.  

Where to begin, knowing that it was a fairly large meal, too. It had been years since eating a curry because of the high fat content, panic starting to creep over her, biting her lips together to try and hide the fact she was trembling. It was noticed, though.  

“I probably should have asked you if you were alright with this before we piled over here. Sorry,” James whispered at her side. “Just choose something small, like a side dish if you don’t feel up to anything bigger. No one’s judging you, babe.” 

A side dish. Yes. But what the hell to have? The Indian names of the dishes all began to blur, her heart thundering, palms sweating. Why did it have to be like this? 

“Give me a sec. It’s hot, I need a bit of air.” She was out of her seat and marching for the door in seconds, Steve and Hester looking to James.  

“Yeah, she’s having a bit of a food panic, innit,” he confirmed, Hester’s face saddening, Steve looking confused. He still didn’t really get it, but then he didn’t truly know Ella very well. He didn’t have the understanding that certain foods or situations could spark anxiety, especially after they’d sat together that morning sharing a large plate of Marmite-slathered toast.  

“The poor darl,” Hester cooed softly, James standing. 

“Give us a minute, she might need to just go straight home if she’s too anxious and all that. If she does come back in, though, don’t make a fuss, yeah?” Leaving the curry house, he turned to find her sitting on the steps of the bank flanking the building, wiping her eyes as she smoked a cigarette and trembled.  

“To use one of yours and Steve’s favourite words for Snedders, I feel like such a fucking flid right now,” she sniffed, James coming to crouch before her. “I wish it wasn’t so scary, but my brain just panics and I get myself all stressed!” 

“Okay, take a few deep breaths,” he began, resting his hands to her thighs and stroking them. “What’s the scariest right now? The different food, or the fact you’re not eating somewhere familiar?” 

God, he was so intuitive with her. “Both. Sorry, I’m like, not trying to be difficult, but both!” 

“No one thinks you’re being difficult, least of all me.” Leaning to kiss her, he then continued. “Alright, well a group of pissed up rugby players ain’t gonna be paying attention to anything other than shovelling in curry like it’s their last meal, so that’s something. And the different food, I suppose you can count that as another milestone, innit? Eating something different would be an achievement.”  

He was right. “And I wouldn’t look like a freak for having something small?” 

“Nah, nobody gives a shit what you eat. Except for you. Don’t even matter if you can’t finish it, at least you gave it a go, yeah? There’s no orderlies watching over you, you’re just a person whose out with her boyfriend and friends, nobody expecting anything of you either,” he continued, his words beginning to calm her down. He always had a knack for it, deescalating her spirals.  

Taking another drag on her cigarette, she contemplated a while longer. It would definitely be something she could speak of in triumph when she went to see Mandy, her new therapist she’d been referred to by Dr. Beaumont for continued treatment outside of the facility. “Okay. Let’s go back in.” 

He smiled, kissing her head. “Proud of you, little.” They returned inside, Ella picking up her pint and chugging a huge amount back, lifting the menu again and studying. Although she’d been told not to make a fuss, Hester really wanted to do something to make it better for her friend if she could. Being a vegetarian, it narrowed down her choices, too.  

“Ella, I really can’t decide,” she began, leaning to point at the vegetarian options on the page before her. “Do I go with the lentil daahl, or the spinach and paneer? Or, I could have the veggie bhuna. Arrgh, help!” 

James smiled, watching it. In including Ella’s input over her own choice and cleverly detailing the dish ingredients, Hester was not only giving her information she could easily process, she was making it all a little less frightening for her.  

Ella noticed that they were available as side dishes, feeling herself beginning to calm further. “I think I’m going to get the spinach and paneer, so you can try some of mine if you like?” 

“Then I’ll get the daahl, and you can try some of that!” With decisions made, the waiter came over, scribbling down their choices first, then Steve’s. 

“Chicken phal, boiled rice and a keema naan please, mate,” James spoke lastly, the waiter eyeing him carefully. 

“Sir, this is the hottest dish on the menu. Forgive me, but are you quite sure?” 

“He’s got a cast iron stomach, my friend,” Steve chirped, nodding towards James with a grin. “Spicy things don’t affect him at all. He can eat a raw chili pepper and not even flinch.” 

James confirmed, while Ella and Hester looked at him in disbelief. “It’s true.” 

The waiter scribbled the order down. “One moment, guys.” He headed for the kitchens, returning a few seconds later with a small, white plate in his grasp, a whole red chili atop it. “This I must witness for myself, sir.” 

He expected him to take it and moderately nibble off a piece, his eyebrows raising when James took the chili by the stalk and bit the entire thing from the top. He waited, knowing there had to be some kind of reaction as he crunched through it, James shrugging.  

“That’s really tasty, I like it,” he spoke. The waiter was stunned. 

“Oh my god!” Hester cried, pointing. “You aren’t even flinching!” 

“Mm,” he hummed, washing it down with a mouthful of Coke, deciding not to drink any alcohol at all that night. “I like spicy food, never been bothered by it.”  

The waiter left them too it, muttering ‘crazy white man’ in his native Urdu as he headed back to the kitchens, Hester still in a state of shock at witnessing him do it. 

“Just make sure you brush your teeth before you go near Ella’s lady bits later!” she spoke, the girl herself snorting into her pint glass as she took a sip. 

“Yeah, I ain’t in the market for burning her flaps off.” James spoke, everyone descending into hysterics. Looking at her, he winked, covering her hand with his, glad to see her looking much more relaxed.  

They’d both succumbed a little to what ailed them that day, what they were now gladly on a road to recovery with, and both times the other had been exactly what they’d needed to restore a calm balance. How good they truly were for one another.  

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Ten - Breathe, Please

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen |

It's a good think Mansk has a thing for scientists. They can be pretty useful in certain situations.

cross-posted on ao3 here cw: not being able to breathe, allusions to sex, ooc miles (?) wc: 7.3k (i wasn't kidding when i said i got carried away)

When Jiniraa woke up in the morning, she didn’t feel rested at all. She tossed and turned the entire night, unable to get her mind off the feeling of Miles fingers brushing against her cheek and neck. His touch left a line of fire that was impossible to put out.

It didn’t help that she fell asleep without getting washed off. She felt sluggish and grimy, not a great combination for the morning. Their apartments were basic, more like one-bedroom apartments. There was one main room, which consisted of their bed, a desk and table, a secondary seating area, and a small fridge. An adjoining bathroom was found just a few paces away. Pretty basic compared to the standards of the Recoms, but it was over the top extravagant to the minimalist way of life Jiniraa was adapted to. 

Regardless, she learned to enjoy having her own space - she even created her own little routine for the morning. It was quiet, peaceful. She still didn’t like sleeping alone, but it helped knowing there were half a dozen others on the other side of her door. Still, she slept the best when they made camp in the forest, surrounded by the sounds of her home and protected by those around her.

Jiniraa took a quick shower before carefully wrapping her hip with the leaves she’d collected on the most recent expedition. Walking out of her apartment and into the main corridor, Jiniraa learned Spider got a wicked sunburn over the past four days. He refused to use any RDA sunscreen. He’d be bed-bound for the next few days while his body recuperates. Was he regretting that decision now? Absolutely. Was he going to learn from the mistake and accept the sunscreen next time? Absolutely not. 

Spider and Jiniraa were slowly earning more privileges around Bridgehead, but they still were escorted to and from every location. Jiniraa didn’t mind, it’s not like she would’ve gone anywhere by herself anyway. She’s been around for almost a month,but people would still stare like they’d never seen a Na’vi before. The allure was still there. It made her uncomfortable, being the center of attention. 

Jiniraa looked around the gathering Recoms, doing a headcount. One was missing. Miles. He was never late to a meeting time. If anything, he was the first one waiting in the hallway. Lyle announced they were heading out and Miles still wasn’t there. She looked back at his door as they moved, expecting him to come out at that moment but nothing happened. 

Mansk was the closest one to her, trying to pull his shirt tighter on his neck and chest, completely covering his tattoo. Jiniraa didn’t think anything of it as she approached, “hey Mansk, do you know where Miles is?”

Jiniraa watched him swallow before replying slowly, “the Colonel…won’t be at breakfast today.”

Mansk was selective with his words, almost like he was making sure something didn’t slip. Jiniraa didn’t seem to catch on. Mansk was glad he’d slipped his sunglasses on - Jiniraa had a knack for being able to tell when people were lying. His shades were his shield.

“What is he busy or something? He never skips meals.” She laughed to herself, the Colonel never passed up on the opportunity to eat, even if it meant scarfing down food before heading to his meetings with Ardmore or other RDA officials. 

Jiniraa tried to think of what could’ve been more important than breakfast. Her mind drifted back to the night prior, the way he ever so gently caressed her face. He believed she was asleep, but she was wide awake the entire time. This wasn’t the first time Miles snuck around a few extra minutes after carrying her from their transport. It became a little ritual for the pair; Miles thought it was his personal secret, but Jiniraa knew full well what was happening. She’d never dare bring it up, afraid he’d stop. It was her secret as well. 

Mansk watched as thoughts tumbled around the woman’s head before he turned forward, giving her shoulders a gentle push to catch up with the rest of the unit. He surely wasn’t going to tell her what he’d been through last night. 

After they returned from their four-day stint in the forest, Mansk wanted nothing more than a shower, a clean pair of clothes, and some time with his favorite woman in the science department - Dr. Renia Cox. She was one of the only a handful Avatar operators currently in RDA’s ranks and functioned as the on-base doctor for the Recom unit. 

Mansk met Renia within his first week on Pandora. Something must have gone haywire when they were growing his new body because his eyes were awfully sensitive to light. The migraines completely incapacitated him - to the point where he’d have to lay face down in bed, under the covers for any semblance of relief. Renia gifted him his precious sunglasses, hoping the dark shades would help while she figured what was going on with his new body. 

Renia was Mansk’s Godsend, able to almost completely cure his extreme light sensitivity. They grew closer over the late nights they spent together, running test after test trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Mansk. At one point, Renia even accused Mansk of making it all up so he’d get to spend time with her. He denied the accusation with a laugh. When Mansk was given a clean bill of health and she signed off on his field clearances, Renia expected him to disappear from her life, but he didn’t. He stuck around, sneaking to her lab and just hanging around her lab as she worked late into the night - not that she minded whatsoever. He worked his way into her routine. It was nice. Oddly domestic in a place so hostile. 

Their relationship grew physically intimate; another perk to having an Avatar body was the sex they experienced together. Sex as a human was good, but sex in a Na’vi body? Whole other ballpark. It’s not even fair to compare the two. 

So that’s where Mansk was last night, sitting in her lab, head leaning on her shoulder as he fiddled with wet specimen jars. She was finishing up the last of her reports, trying to speed through as quickly as possible so they could have their one on one time. Mansk didn’t mind waiting, he was at peace, just listening to her mutter under her breath as she scanned the reports for errors. 

That peace shattered when a slamming noise echoed from down the corridor. They should’ve been the only ones in this sector at this time of night. Everyone else cleared out hours ago, way before Mansk even arrived. Mansk and Renia were on edge, rising from their seats while trying to think of what caused that noise. 

“Renia, you stay here,” Mansk’s voice was stern and tight. He no longer was in lover boy mode, he was in military-and-there-is-a-threat mode.

“Hell no, I’m coming with,” Renia scoffed at his statement, grabbing a scalpel from the desk. Mansk rolled his eyes, expecting her to say that. She was still in her Avatar body, so Mansk felt a little better, but she was still pretty weak.

Mansk sighed, “fine, but you stay behind me,” she didn’t acknowledge blankly looking past him, “baby?”

She nodded, gripping her weapon of choice even harder. A scalpel probably wouldn’t do much, but if it made her feel better she could cling to it for all he cared.

At some point in their approach, Mansk pulled his handgun from the thigh holster. Renia didn’t even notice, too busy ducking behind her boyfriend. Her fingers traced over a large indent in the wall - probably from a fist. A fist that made a dent in solid metal like this is a strike that could take her head clean off her shoulders. She pulled on the back of Mansk’s shirt, his attention whipped backwards, sensing the woman’s fear. He looked at the indent, but didn’t say anything, only pressed forward, glancing back more often. 

Mansk didn’t know what to expect when he turned the corner. He’d almost expected some sort of rabid animal that somehow managed to work its way through the ventilation system. Did Pandora even have rabies? However, the last thing he expected to see was the Colonel, skin flushed and dripping with sweat as he pounded away at a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. 

The Colonel must’ve been haphazardly swinging his limbs around as he made his way to the training center. The dent was a purposeful punch though - that definitely wasn’t an accident. 

Mansk put the safety on and slipped the gun back into its holster, tentatively approaching his commanding officer. With all his grunting and swinging, Miles hadn’t noticed the pair enter the room, his emotional state created a tunnel vision effect. 

Mansk tentatively called out, “Colonel?”

Miles whipped around, teeth bared. He truly didn’t realize anyone was behind him. 

Mansk continued, “Colonel, is everything alright?”

The blood was rushing through Miles’ ears and Mansk’s voice sounded a mile away. Miles glanced down at his hands, noticing the blood pooling around his knuckles. He was beating the bag so aggressively he’d broken skin long ago, but that was the last thing on his mind. 

His mind was stuck on the woman sleeping in her bed. Was she still whimpering and writhing in unconscious pain? He needed to get rid of these feelings. They were clouding his judgment. He’d been altering mission objectives to make sure she was kept out of harm’s way. When scouting, he was often more focused on her location rather than the path in front of them. When they made camp for the night, he didn’t rest - he was kept up by the sounds of her breathing and the way she shifted in her hammock. 

“Colonel?”

Miles wiped the blood on his pants, not caring if the material stained. They were already muddy and disgusting from the past four days.

Mansk did an overview of the Colonel, trying to assess his state. Mansk contemplated asking Renia to grab a sedative. She had the same thought, but it passed quickly. For Mansk, the idea lingered as a last resort. 

Renia went to take a step forward, only to be stopped as Mansk grabbed her upper arm in a soft, yet firm, grip. He was afraid the Colonel would lash out if she approached. He knew the strength the Colonel possessed - he could throw her across the room with ease. They had a heated debate, communicating through silent facial expressions, leaving Miles alone with his internal struggle. 

His bloodied hands. He couldn’t look away from them. These hands have been bloody before. The human Quaritch’s hands have been bloodied hundreds of times. But these hands? These were hands that caressed the side of Jiniraa’s soft face less than an hour ago. No hands like these should ever be graced with touching someone like her. 

She’d already been stained by blood. Her clan was almost wiped out all of those years ago. By him. No. Not him - the man whose memories he possessed. He had no clue how many people she had to help bury, giving their energy back to Eway, in the wake of his - the human Quaritch’s - attack on Hometree and the battle that later ensued. She’d never told him. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the full extent. Hell - she’d been fucking shot at some point. Based on how healed the wound was, she was a kid when it happened. Miles felt sick to his stomach every time he thought about it. 

A new voice interrupted Miles’ thoughts, “Colonel Quaritch?”

His head snapped up at the woman’s voice. Mansk was tense, a few paces behind the woman. He was fully prepared to lunge forward and grab her by the waist if Miles tried something. He’d be damned if Renia, the only good thing on this bloody planet, got hurt under his watch.

Renia continued with a soothing voice, “Colonel, what's wrong?”

“I-I…” Miles couldn’t even form a single word, let alone try to string an entire sentence together. Unable to articulate the storm of emotions raging inside of his head, he collapsed to his knees. His eyes continued to stare at his hands.

Mansk had never seen the Colonel act like this, never demonstrating this extent of emotions. He’d gone from a full on rampage to a broken man on the floor in the matter of minutes. Mansk truly believed the best thing would be to leave the Colonel alone. He clearly didn’t want to talk. Or at least, they weren’t the people he wanted to talk to. 

Mansk walked beside the woman, leaning into her ear, “c’mon, let’s give him some privacy, yeah?”

Renia didn’t want to leave the Colonel like this. It didn’t sit right in her stomach, but she trusted Mansk. He knew the Colonel better than she ever could. Reluctantly, she followed Mansk as they left the training room. They walked to the lab in silence, fingers brushing against each other, but both too scared to fully commit to the grip in a public setting. 

Once inside the safety of Renia’s lab office, Mansk exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. 

Renia was the first to speak, shock spread across her face, “okay, what the hell was that all about?”

Mansk leaned against her desk, watching her gather gauze and alcohol pads. She was making a little medkit for the Colonel - she’d noticed the bloodied knuckles immediately. His heart warmed at the care she felt for others, doing so even without being asked. 

Mansk sighed, leaning his elbows against his knees as his gaze fell to the floor, “I don’t know…”

It wasn’t the complete truth. He had an idea of what it could have been about. Mansk was quiet and observant by nature. He’d noticed how Jiniraa and Miles had been acting these past few weeks. Dancing around and stealing glances from each other. Unspoken words said more than any spoken words ever could. 

Renia finished gathering her supplies, cleaning up the mess she’d made. Mansk watched her work silently, observing like always. Renia walked back towards the Recom, tilting her head with a small smile when she joined his position, leaning against her desk as well.

“Do you…” Renia began hesitantly, pausing and selecting her next words carefully, “do you think it’s about the girl you’ve told me about?”

Mansk sighed, not saying anything as he stood up and moved between her legs. He dropped his head into her neck, feeling her arms instantly work their way around his shoulders and into his hair, rubbing at the base of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled directly into her skin. Her touch was soothing - he was sure he’d start purring at any second. 

“Hey - that tickles,” she laughed at the sensation. Music to his ears. “Well - from what you’ve been saying, he’d pretty whipped for her.”

Renia had a joking tone, but Mansk knew what she meant. He didn’t respond for a few minutes, just letting himself enjoy her touch a little while longer.

“I think he’s scared,” he mumbled out. Renia didn’t expect Mansk to respond at all. She hummed, trying to figure out what he’d meant. 

“Yeah? Big bad Colonel Quaritich is scared of a woman?”

Mansk’s ears dipped down, but she didn’t notice, “yeah…something like that.”

The Colonel wasn’t scared of her. He was scared of losing her. Mansk knew the feeling - it was the same thing he experienced with Renia. He always feared it would be the last time he saw her. The atmosphere was turning too depressing for Mansk’s liking. He pressed a kiss to her pulse, knowing it would tickle just enough without being too enticing.

She giggled, throwing her head back a little. It just created more real estate for Mansk to kiss along, peppering soft touches along her throat. She tried to push him off a little bit. There was no real effort in her movements - they both knew damn well she didn’t want him to stop. His touches began growing in boldness, lust pooling in their abdomens. They both knew where this was going. 

“Hey - hey, Mansk, baby, hey, let me just drop this off, yeah?” She was trying to talk through gasps as Mansk became more intentional with the placement of his lips, hands starting to slide under her top and grip her waist. “He needs to bandage those knuckles up so they don’t get infected.”

Mansk paused, pulling back for a few seconds, winking at the woman, “I think he can wait for a few minutes.”

Mansk got too caught up in his own memories. He’d somehow managed to make it all the way to the mess hall, grab his tray, load it up with food, and sit down at the Recom table - all completely on autopilot. Now, he just had to worry about the strain in his pants. 

“Hey Mansky! Heard you and a lil’ lady gettin' busy last night!” Lyle elbowed Mansk in the side with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, a wolf whistle topped it off. 

He took a bite of his food, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Lyle moved to tug at the collar of Mansk’s shirt, exposing the bruising that littered his collarbone, “yeah what’s this then?”

Mansk ignored the overzealous Corporal - he didn’t want to feed into his childish antics, but he also didn’t want to risk exposing what he and the doctor had. It was new and needed to be protected. 

It also was a good thing Lyle couldn’t see his back. Scratched to hell and back. 

“Oh - you are a fuckin’ liar,” Prager started, pointed an accusatory finger. “Do you forget we share a wall? I barely got any sleep last night! Just sayin’ all I heard was the bed frame slamming against it all night.”

Zdinarsk mumbled, “you’re just mad you aren’t getting any.”

Mansk shrugged his shoulders, looking back down at his meal. It was a good thing he’d already established a quiet personality. It didn’t seem too strange that he didn’t engage further in the conversation. The unit thought he had an expendable fuck buddy, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Renia meant more to him than that. He was relieved when the topic changed, no longer having to hear them debate about who Mansk was sleeping with.

Jiniraa kept pushing her food around on the plate. She normally didn’t have an appetite for Bridgehead food, but today the look of the food was making her nauseous. Her mind was elsewhere, back to thinking about Miles, still reeling and trying to figure out what was more important than breakfast. 

Without fail, every time she heard the loud banding of boots against the ground, she’d look up expecting to see Miles walking through the door. Alas, she was deeply disappointed every time. It was a louder-than-average human walking. 

Mansk watched her from across the table, biting the inside of his cheek. It felt wrong to keep what he knew a secret, but he knew he needed to. Under the table, he nudged her bare feet with his boots, causing her to look up at him.

“You good?”

Jiniraa sighed, “...yeah.”

“Hey, at least get something in your stomach,” Mansk pointed down at her food, not looking away until she started eating. 

●●●

“I don’t think I can move in this,” Jiniraa pulled at the new material on her body, not liking how it hugged her in weird places.

Lyle barked out a laugh, “tough shit, princess. Your other shit is dirty from being in the field. You only have to suffer for one day.”

He wasn’t wrong - the entire ensemble had been caked in mud, sweat, and grime. It was pretty disgusting - well overdue for a proper cleaning - but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about this. She’d been given Na’vi sized green hiking shorts and a cropped black tank top. Mansk managed to convince Renia to lend the outfit, not that anyone knew that. They just figured Mansk stumbled upon it in a closet. He was always appearing with random shit. Prager was always amazed when he came back with goodies, insisting he was a Bridgehead Santa.

“Well I feel constricted and I look stupid,” Jiniraa huffed back, not bothering to hide her annoyance. Miles had yet to make an appearance, skipping both breakfast and lunch. That left Lyle in charge for the day. It was both a blessing and a curse: Lyle was more relaxed than the Colonel, but he was a thousand times more annoying.

Lyle threw her a flirtatious smile, obnoxiously flexing his arms as they walked towards the gym, “I was gonna say you look hot - ya know, like more human in that.”

She slapped his arm, muttering how she wasn’t human, but smiled regardless and rolled her eyes at his antics. They pair had grown considerably closer over the past month. After Lyle got over his initial resentment of the woman, he started to appreciate the way she’d talk with them. It was refreshing, the way she’d share the forest rather than just belittle them for ignorance. That was what he hated about Dr. Augustine. He also knew their shenanigans pissed the Colonel off to no end - and why would Lyle ever pass on the chance to piss off Miles for fun?

“Stop flexing, you’re going to burst a blood vessel and bleed out internally.”

“I don’t think it works that way. Can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” his smirk was relentless. Stupid glasses perched on his bald head. “Let’s go, we have a lot of work to get done today. You’re starting to actually make progress. Can’t have you goin’ soft on me.”

Jiniraa unenthusiastically followed Lyle. He wasn’t wrong - she had been making good progress over the past three weeks. You could actually see the definition in her arms beginning to form. Her legs were stronger. She didn’t get winded as quickly, able to keep up with the group rather than slow them down.

She felt good. She didn’t feel as helpless anymore. She was helpless in the clan - a burden, brushed off to the side when she didn’t make progress quick enough for Jake’s standards. Here? They had no other option, they had to make her better. Their lives depended on if she could hold her own. 

“Lyle,” she whined, “I’m tired. Can’t we have one rest day?”

Lyle acted as if he seriously contemplated the proposition for a minute. He didn’t. “Nope.”

They walked past the mats on the ground. It seems they wouldn’t be sparring right now. Jiniraa couldn’t help but be thankful for that - to this day, sparring remained her least favorite. They approached the obstacle course - the only thing she truly excelled at and enjoyed. It was a little more mechanical than moving through the forest, but the general idea was the same. For once, she was on an equal playing field with everyone else. 

“Hey Lyle, let’s make a bet,” she called out. He turned around, ears perked and eyebrows raised. She knew that would work. “If I’m able to beat you on the obstacle course - can we all have the rest of the day off?”

Lyle smirked, never one to stand down from a challenge, especially one he so easily would dominate at. “Sure, sweet cheeks. You beat me in the o-course and the whole team gets the rest of the day off.”

Lyle gathered everyone around, explaining the deal he’d made with the Na’vi. She couldn’t help the anxiety building in her stomach. She’d been confident before, but it was quickly fading away. 

Zdinarsk was elected to be the referee, stepping forward and explaining the rules, “alright - you both have to complete three full rounds through. No pussying out. On the count of three. One. Two…three!”

Both competitors dashed off. Lyle had more raw power and strength than Jiniraa could ever dream of possessing, but where he had strength she had agility and speed. Their strengths and weaknesses played off each other. 

At certain points, like the solid wall, Lyle clearly had the upper hand. Hell, he was almost half a foot taller than her, so anything with height was right up his alley. He would take the lead for a couple seconds before Jiniraa’s agility helped her pass over low jumps and glide down the decline balance logs.

Jiniraa started out strong, but by the third lap she was seeing stars. She should’ve listened to Mansk and ate an entire breakfast. Her hands were raw from climbing the rope twice already. Her legs were burning from pushing so hard. Her knees were definitely bruised from slamming them against the solid wall - her nemesis of the obstacle course. 

A moment’s glance towards Lyle showed he was only narrowly in the lead as they approached the rope - the final obstacle for the third round. He was pouring buckets of sweat. She probably didn’t look much better herself.

They reached the ropes at the same time, pausing to make eye contact before darting up the rope. Lyle had years of experience under his belt, he moved up the rope with ease. Jiniraa - not so much, but she wasn’t about to give up. 

The bell was just out of her reach, but she decided fuck it and tried to throw her shoulders just enough that her fingers would brush the rim of the bell. Bad idea. Not only had she missed the bell entirely, but she lost her grip on the rope. She didn’t even realize she’d let go before plummeting fifty or so feet towards the ground.

Sure, the ground was covered in mats, but they didn’t do anything to break her fall. The impact knocked any air straight out of her lungs, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. 

Lyle watched from the top of the rope, fingers brushing along the bell, “shit fuck shit bitch,” profanities escaped his lips as he descended the rope, a little faster than his body could handle. A little rope burn never killed anyone. 

Across the compound, a certain Miles Quaritch was sitting in a meeting, messing with the white gauze wrapped around his knuckles when his datapad started dinging in his pocket. He attempted to ignore it at first, but it was insistent. 

The General shot the Colonel a deadly glare for his interruption. They - along with other RDA personnel whose names Miles refused to learn - were discussing Sully’s raids and how he hadn’t been seen in weeks. No shit. The meeting wasn’t going anywhere, so Miles decided to check what was so urgent. Carefully, he slipped the datapad out of his pocket, keeping the screen under the lip of the table. 

He sighed as he opened it before his heart dropped to his (empty) stomach. It was the alarm on Jiniraa’s throat comm - her heart rate was pressing into dangerously high territories.

Now, the primary purpose of the heart rate monitor was to make sure she didn’t take off the comm because it held the tracker. The secondary purpose was an afterthought, more medically significant. After that first interrogation, the scientists were worried of some sort of underlying heart condition. Miles didn’t understand the medical jargon completely, but basically her heart rate would spike and her brain would starve because it wasn’t getting enough air. That’s the gist he was able to understand. Hence the reason Miles had an alarm on his datapad, notifying him when her heart rate crossed into those dangerously high territories. 

Miles rose from the chair, not caring that the metal scraped loudly against the floor. He didn’t wait for the General to finish her statement before he interrupted, “General, I have to go. It’s my team.”

He turned on his heel, not waiting for her permission before sprinting out of the room and running through the corridors. The echo of his boots acted as a warning system, telling bystanders to get out of his way or he’d trample them without a second thought. He didn’t even notice the amount of people who lined the walls as he ran, long strides carrying him towards the gym. There wasn’t much on his mind. 

He couldn’t get the door to slide open fast enough, not even waiting for it to open the entire way before slipping his body through and running towards the unit. They were all circled around, shifting from foot to foot, not really knowing what to do. 

“Move,” Miles roughly shoved Lopez to the side, sliding through the newly created gap. 

The scene in front of him broke his heart. Jiniraa was lying on the ground with wide teary eyes, attempting to take in short and shallow breaths, but her body wouldn’t allow it. It was in shock. 

Lyle was sitting behind her, forcing her to sit up rather than lay flat on her back. Ja, as the medic of the unit, had taken over the situation almost right away. He was trying to get her to take slow and deep breaths, working through the pain. The sensation would pass eventually. His words fell on deaf ears; he didn’t want to yell - that was what he was trained to do for military work, but Jiniraa was basically a civilian. Yelling would probably make the situation worse.

Her eyes were crazed as they looked around, completely unfocused and hazed. She was spiraling. Miles recognized that look. When her eyes met his, the tears began to fall. He squatted down next to her, resting his forearms on his knees. He didn’t know how to be of use in this situation. A shaky hand reached out for him and latched on. The touch made him snap out of the stunned state he’d been in.

“What happened,” he wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, he just needed answers. His voice was quiet, trying to not spook the woman more than she already was, but there was an underlying bite in his tone. 

Lyle was brave enough to speak, “O-course, sir.”

“Explain.”

Lyle cut right to the chase, knowing if he tried to give an elaborate explanation the Colonel would be more pissed off than he already was. 

“Sir, it was a timed race. She must’ve lost her grip on the rope and she fell and landed on her back, sir.”

Ja filled in the blanks while monitoring her breathing, “wind got knocked right outta her, sir. Diaphragm started spazzing when she made impact.”

Miles knew what that felt like. He’d taken a few tumbles himself back in the day. Getting the wind knocked out of you was a terrifying feeling - you feel like you’re suffocating within your own body. 

He sighed, “how long ago?”

Ja checked his watch with a quick glance, “about three minutes ago.”

Ja pressed two fingers to her wrist, trying to get a sense of her rapid pulse. The color was leaving her face as the panting continued. She wasn’t calming down at all. If anything, she was getting less air now than before. Miles’ throat was going dry at the sight. 

“Sweetheart, you need to breathe.”

She didn’t react at all - her face remained unchanged, but her fingers continued to grip his. She repositioned her grip, nails now dug into the bandage around his knuckles, definitely breaking open the freshly scabbed skin. He didn’t care. That didn’t matter right now.

Miles brought his free hand to the side of her face, watching as she pressed her cheek into his palm. He swiped his thumb against her tear-stained cheek and she pressed further into his warmth, looking for comfort. 

“Sweetheart, Breathe. Please. You need to breathe. Deep breaths. Please.” Miles was begging. No question about it. He may as well be on his hands and knees begging for her to calm down before he breaks. He didn’t care how absolutely pathetic he sounded right now. Her eyes closed as she whimpered. The sounds were starting to affect his own body. He felt that familiar burn in the back of the throat as tears begged to gather in his eyes. 

His brain was racing, trying to think of ways to calm her down. Quick glances to Ja and Lyle were useless - they didn’t know what to do either. 

Think, Miles, damnit, think. 

He looked her body up and down, trying to think of something, anything, that would end this torture. For both of them.

His eyes landed on the bottom of her sternum. That day - that day on the tarmac, she pressed her palm against her sternum to self-soothe.

Without any better options in mind, he unjoined their hands. Her newly freed hand gripped the material of his fatigues. He didn’t care. She could rip a hole in them for all he cared. His own hand from a new home resting on the bottom of her tank. One hand cradled her face while the other rested on her chest. 

Her quick breathing made his hand slip under the fabric, his thumb now dangerously close to her breast. She didn’t seem to notice, but he sure as hell did. He could feel her heart raging under his palm. He didn’t know how much longer her body could take of this before it passed out from over-exertion. 

He lowered his head towards her, almost letting their foreheads connect as he repeated his plea over and over, “breathe, please. You’re okay. I promise. Just breathe.”

Honestly, Miles didn’t know how long he stayed like that, bent over and forehead almost touching. In reality, her breathing was back to normal in four or so minutes, but it felt like eternity. The only thing that snapped Miles out of his trance was a new figure appearing next to them, taking Ja’s place. 

Miles growled under his breath, shielding her body with his torso as he looked up. He was met with a semi-familiar face. She stared back at him.

His ears went flat to his head as he demanded, “who’re you.”

“I’m Doctor Cox…” she trailed off, expecting Miles to fill in the gaps on his own. He narrowed his eyes on her, not recognizing the name right away, “...we’ve met before, Colonel.”

Mansk watched the two interact carefully, not knowing how the Colonel was going to react with a new presence in the mix. Once Jiniraa made contact with the ground, Ja knew she may need more advanced medical care than he could provide as a field medic. Mansk offered to find a doctor, knowing there was only one doctor on the entire compound he trusted - his beloved Renia. He was lucky she was already linked to her Avatar body for the day.

Miles watched her eyes momentarily flick to the bandages around his knuckles. Her and Mansk interrupted his rampage last night. She brought him a little medkit afterwards. He nodded and they silently agreed to keep the intimate details of their meeting between them. 

Sensing she gained his trust, Renia began, “Mansk filled me in on the way here. Can I take a look at her?”

Miles looked at Mansk. He was refusing to make eye contact. His shades weren’t over his eyes for once, so it was pretty obvious he was hiding something. Miles didn’t give a shit about that right now. He exhaled, looking down at the woman in his arms. She had just managed to calm her breathing - he didn’t want something to set her off again. 

He leaned down, face getting closer as his eyes searched her face for any discomfort, “you okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded, the first time she’d reacted to anything since he got there. Miles let out a sigh of relief, sitting himself back on his heels, watching as she shifted to lean more towards Miles than using Lyle as support. 

Renia offered the Na’vi woman a kind smile, pulling her travel kit into her lap. Jiniraa looked at her apprehensively, never meeting another Avatar besides the Recoms.

“Hi, you’re Jiniraa right?” Jiniraa nodded. “I’m Dr. Cox. I work with these guys a lot. I need to check you out, okay? Mansk said you took a pretty nasty fall.”

Jiniraa nodded, sliding herself completely out of Miles’ grip to sit independently. He didn’t like that and kept a hand placed firmly on her thigh, needing to feel the warmth of her skin. He absentmindedly rubbed circles into her skin. The trio on the ground didn’t notice Mansk shooing away the rest of the Recoms, trying to give the doctor some space to work. He also knew Miles wasn’t completely in the right headspace, not even bothering to hide his lingering caresses. 

Renia pulled a small metal flashlight, shining it into Jiniraa’s eyes, muttering observations to herself, “good pupil response. Jiniraa, can you grip my hand and squeeze as hard as you can?”

Miles almost snorted at that test. His leg probably would be bruised from how she’d been gripping it a few minutes prior. He managed to keep quiet, letting the doc continue her exam in silence. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like she has a concussion, which is good. I do want to listen to her breathing though. May I?”

Jiniraa nodded. She was used to physical examinations like this - the scientists that lived among the Na’vi completed yearly physicals on everyone. Even so, that didn’t change the way she flinched when the cold stethoscope pressed against her skin. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know it’s cold,” Renia muttered an apology before speaking louder, “alright. Big breath in. Big breath out. Good. Now, just breathe like normal.”

Miles watched the scene unfolding with unrelenting intensity, taking note of every minute facial expression the doc made. He watched her brows pull together in concern for a moment before relaxing. 

“What,” he demanded. 

Renia shook her head, “it’s nothing. Heart just sounded weird there for a second. She probably just has a little murmur or irregular rhythm,” before Miles was able to throw his questions at her she continued, “heart murmurs usually aren’t life threatening. I have one in my human body. They’re just uncommon throughout the Omaticaya people though. That’s where she’s from, right?”

Miles didn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on Jiniraa’s faltering form. She looked drained, like she could pass out and fall asleep at any moment. Renia glanced between the two, a small smile ghosting her face. 

“Well, it looks like she should be fine. You did a pretty good job calming her down, Colonel. If anything else happens, especially within the next day or two - you should page me right away. I’m on call 24/7, so don’t hesitate if something seems off.”

Miles nodded, not paying attention to the doctor as she gathered her belongings, neatly packing everything in her bag. She stood, turning to see Mansk already watching her. She returned his look of admiration. He wasn’t trying to hide his affections either. She walked past him, nudging him to follow.

When they reached the entrance of the training center, a little alcove in front of the door, Renia paused. It was large enough to keep them out of anyone’s direct eyeline.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that’s her?” She fiddled with her badge, clipping it back to the waistband of her shorts.

Mansk signed, rubbing a hand down his face. A motion she’d seen him do a hundred times. An indicator of his exhaustion level, “yeah, that’s her.”

“I don’t think you’re right - ya know, with what you said last night.”

Mansk smirked down at her, “I said a lot of things last night,” he met her serious gaze and reset himself, tilting his head, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t think he likes her, like you were saying. I think he loves her.” Mank hummed in response, watching Renia as she watched Jiniraa and Miles. “It’s sweet, ya know.”

Mansk nodded and yawned, rubbing his eyes this time. That meant he was ready to completely pass out. Renia laughed at him, laying a playful hand to his chest, “you need some real sleep tonight. We can’t be up that late again.”

Mansk opened his eyes, humming, “yeah, we’ll see who’s the one begging for more tonight, baby.”

Renia leaned up, pressing an innocent kiss to the corner of his mouth before nipping at his pulse on her way down. She knew how to make him tick as well, “I think we both know who will be begging for more.”

Before Mansk was able to protest her blatant teasing, she was already turning with a wink and exiting the training center. He groaned, watching her purposely swing her hips just a little more than necessary. 

●●●

Miles decided to call off the rest of training for the day. They’d been going for over three weeks straight without a single break. One day off wouldn’t kill them. He also needed to get Jinraa some proper rest. So here they were leisurely walking back to the housing distinct in an awkward silence. Jinraa hadn’t said much since the doctor - who so clearly had Mansk wrapped around her finger - left, only responding with one word answers when spoken to directly. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” Miles nudged her shoulder, throwing her off balance for a quick moment. She shrugged and Miles clicked his tongue, not accepting that answer. 

“I’m sorry,” there was a little crack in her voice. Miles had to take a deep breath, he was still learning how to deal with emotional people. 

“For what?”

She only shrugged again, not really knowing what she was apologizing for. It just felt necessary. 

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Neither realized it, but their steps lagged as they drew closer to the Recom apartments. They were trying to savor the time together, regardless if the silence didn’t feel right. 

When they inevitably reached their doorways, Miles looked down at Jiniraa, fingers tracing a stripe on her waist as he asked once more what was bothering her. 

“I want to go home,” she managed to squeeze out. Miles pressed his lips together, forcing himself to pull his gaze away from her when she looked up with those big teary eyes. 

“I know you do,” he paused, contemplating if he would say it, “I…I’m sorry.”

She turned and approached her door, moving away from his touch. His hand instinctively followed her body. It stung - how she didn’t acknowledge what he said. Her hand hovered over the keypad for a moment before dropping back to her side. Her back remained towards him as she spoke.

“Miles?”

“Yeah?”

“I…” she trailed off, whispering, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

His body acted on instinct, eliminating the space between them in two huge strides before wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his chest to her back as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. The thing he’d wanted to do for weeks now. 

She shifted in his hold, spinning around so they faced each other. He moved his greedy palms under her hair, trying to feel as much of her skin as possible. Her own hands were pressed against his chest. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest, rising and falling at a quick pace. Their breaths intertwined. Glazed eyes looking into the other. 

Miles reached down without breaking the intense eye contact and gathered into his arms. He couldn’t count how many times he’s done this by now - dozens, probably. But none of those times mattered. None of them were as intimate and sensual as this exact moment. 

Two hands gripped on the backs of her thighs. Bare from the new shorts. He contemplated looking down for a moment, but he didn’t dare peel his gaze away from her face. He wouldn’t look away, too busy memorizing what it looked like in the light. 

“Miles…” 

Next: Eleven - We Can't

●●●

so i may have gotten a little carried away with this part... also accidentally quoted mo bamba and had a flashback to hs (scary times)

sorry for the cliff hanger this was getting way too long, but i didn't want to break up what i'd written so far. this isn't going where some of y'all think it's going - we'll get there in due time. trust the process ;)

taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@luciddasher

@ttreader

[theangrykimchi]

48!! —thot-son-of-odin

Aaaa!! You can't guess how absolutely excited I was for this prompt as I've wanted to write this particularly scene for literal *years* but didn't really want to write an entire fanfic around it. So thank you for this opportunity! I hope you'll enjoy reading it 😘💖

Read on AO3

Working as a live-in nanny was never in Loki's plans for the future, but here he was, at 25, working as a caretaker for a two year old.

In all honesty, it wasn't the easiest work but it was better than other alternatives for someone who was also studying for university. Plus, the money was really good, Thrud was an absolute pleasure, and his employer was pretty laid back and fun to be around. Thor wasn’t pushy or demanding like his previous two employers—and way more handsome than most people Loki had ever laid eyes on. Which was <i>kind</i> of a problem because Loki was sure Thor didn't lean that way (and by that he meant <i>Loki's way</i>) and that was just unfair because Loki had suddenly turned into one of the most popular clichés and had, of course, developed a crush on his boss sometime in the five months he'd been working for him.

Loki pined <i>hard</i>, day in and day out—especially when Thor scrunched his nose and laughed one of his full, belly laughs or when he answered Thrud’s questions, mastering all the seriousness he could, or when he held his daughter close and rocked her to sleep. Loki was truly gone on him if he found the way Thor fell asleep with Thrud on the sofa <i>cute</i>.

Ugh, this was totally unfair!

Today, Thor was still downstairs when Loki made his way to the kitchen with Thrud following after his steps, chattering a mile a minute in barely comprehensive baby talk. Loki stopped in his tracks when he entered the room and saw Thor was in there, in his undershirt and slacks, flipping a pancake on a precarious stack.

“Good morning.” Thor beamed at them and, damn him, he looked really fucking pretty with the light streaming in from the windows giving him a golden glow, half-ready for work. It was too early in the morning for Loki to have to deal with him and his…Thor-ness!

“You're still here,” Loki blurted out, freezing at the doorway while Thrud yelled in excitement and ran to her dad who picked her up readily and kissed her cheek in greeting, making the toddler giggle as his beard tickled her.

“Got an important meeting later and decided to take my time getting ready so I can calm my nerves. Can you get the plates?” Thor hitched Thrud on one of his hips and brought the stack of pancakes at the breakfast table while answering.

“Oh,” Loki said and went to retrieve the cutlery and crockery while Thor secured his daughter in the booster seat and then went to get the toppings. Coming to stand right behind Loki, Thor held on his bicep as he stretched to reach a bottle of chocolate syrup from the top shelf. “Wha-what’s the meeting about?” Loki asked just so he could say something, trying not to look as affected as he felt when Thor lingered for a couple moments more than necessary. He could feel his breath, hot and minty, as it breezed through Loki's hair for god's sake!

Thor fell back and walked away, leaving Loki to stand there, clutching on Thrud's silicone spork.

“The money we need for the new production to go through,” Thor said. “The sponsors aren't exactly convinced of its effectiveness so I need to be at my most charming today and kiss their asses.”

<i>You could kiss my ass</i>, Loki thought stupidly, getting a very vivid image in his brain. Out loud he said:

“I bet you're going to charm fat checks out of their pockets before the meeting is even over.”

It made Thor laugh and Loki was sure he was looking at him lovestruck but he really couldn't help it—Thor laughed with his whole body, his face open and expressive, his broad shoulders shaking as he leaned backwards.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Thor said, mirthful, a brilliant smile still on his face.

They had breakfast while they discussed softly between them, taking turns to feed Thrud as she was more interested in hitting her plastic plate on the booster’s tray instead of eating but, before long, it was time for Thor to finish getting ready and go to work. He sighed as he looked at the time, looking ruefully at his daughter and Loki.

When he was ready to go, Loki followed behind him to the front door. Thrud hitched on his hip.

“Did you get the documents from the study?” Loki asked, gently removing Thrud's thumb from her mouth.

“Yes, I think I've got everything,” Thor answered, peeking into his briefcase to make sure before he patted his pockets to check for his keys. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nah, just getting this little mongrel to daycare and studying. I'm going to make stew or steaks for dinner, depending on how your meeting will go. So, call me later to let me know you seduced hundreds of money out of them, okay?”

Thor laughed again and lingered in the doorway. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lo. You're truly the best.”

Loki shrugged with his free shoulder, fighting down the blush that was threatening to spread on his cheeks.

“Drive safely,” he said instead, holding on to the door handle as Thor smiled and butterflies rushed through his gut.

“You too,” Thor said back and leaned in, kissing Thrud's forehead and then leaving a soft peck on Loki's lips before he turned away and left.

Five steps down the porch he froze in his tracks. Realising what he had just done.

Loki stood equally still, Thrud slipping slowly downwards as she wiggled to be set free, wobbling her way further in the house to her toy box.

Thor's eyes were wide and terrified when he turned slowly to glance at Loki who was staring at him, eyes equally wide, mouth parted in surprise.

“Ahh, fuck it,” Thor cursed lowly and let his briefcase fall with a thud on the wooden boards. Turning fully, he made his way back to the front of the house decisively, reaching for Loki just as Loki was reaching out for him.

[queercontrarian]

my first azris fanfic ehehe

feels like it was just hours ago i told @iftheshoef1tz about this idea (because it was literally hours ago and i just wanted to contribute something to romance week. i know it's not technically meetcute day, but it's whatever day so i can do what i want). anyways, have the unedited first chapter of my modern azris agegap au snippet bundle - that's a lot of words. i'll shut up now. enjoy.

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

Azriel is already in pain when he wakes up, which is usually a bad omen. His knee feels tender, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It doesn’t bode well for the day he has planned, and he wonders if he should just call Cassian and cancel their hike for today. 

With a sigh he forces himself to throw the warm blanket to the side and at least get his feet on the ground. One small step towards starting this day. A coffee would be nice, he thinks, but Nesta has been on his ass to limit his consumption, which is ironic because his sister-in-law drinks much more coffee than he ever has, but if he has one now he won’t allow himself to have one at Cassian’s house later, and he definitely needs that one to make it through the afternoon and the evening without prematurely passing out on his couch. 

With nothing else to do, Azriel stands and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, and yes, the knee is definitely going to cause problems. Once again he curses himself for deciding to walk home in the dark after getting shitfaced at Cassian’s and Nesta’s party, for not seeing that dumb root sticking from the ground and for getting his foot stuck under it. Most of all for having gotten to an age where the pain in his joints doesn’t disappear after a maximum of two days. He knows that he’s not twenty-five anymore, but it’s been more than a month since the party, and he can still feel it. Maybe someone should just shoot him, like a lame horse. 

Standing in the kitchen he stares at the coffee pot on the stove, a fancy little espresso maker Rhys got him for his fifty-third birthday, along with a trip to Italy. He realises he hasn’t left these woods since that trip, except for his weekly trip to get groceries at the town’s supermarket, and visiting Rhys and Cassian at their homes located around that same forest he lives in. He’s been moving around, contained to that twenty-five mile radius, for two years. 

On second thought, maybe he will have a coffee. While he reaches for the espresso box - another expensive gift from his friends - and both his knee and his shoulder pop this time, he remembers that he went to Greece for Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. That was last year, so he can still count that towards his “recently been active” list. Hanging out with family, travelling overseas. Suck on that, Cassian, he thinks. I’m going places, I’m not rotting away all alone in my cabin. I don’t need to “get out more”. I don’t need to “meet new people”. I’m perfectly fine where I am. 

Granted, he is alone right now - he takes his eyes off the stove to look towards the window where Mr. Goggles used to sit. The cat had already been old - and named, as Az always feels the need to stress - when Feyre had given him into Azriel’s care because there was no space for him in Rhysand’s house. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room - Rhysand’s mansion has more rooms than the two of them can possibly know what to do with - Rhys is just very allergic to cats. So Az had taken the grumpy old furball in and they had lived together for nearly three years. Now Mr. Goggles sleeps in the earth below his favourite window sill, under a small bush of white pansies that Elain says remind her of the fur pattern on his face. Azriel wonders what flowers she’ll put on his grave when he dies. Will they bury him next to the window behind his favourite armchair too? He wants to be cremated, but he’d be fine with a cardboard urn like Mr. Goggles’ casket.

The whistling and clattering of the espresso maker pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s not all that bad. Sure, maybe retiring so early was a mistake - he doesn’t need the money, he just misses having something to do - but when Cassian and Rhys left he hadn’t felt like being the only one to stay behind. Maybe he underestimated just how empty his cabin would feel once he spent more than just the nights and weekends there, with his brothers spending the majority of their time with their wives, ten miles through the forest in the homes they’d built for themselves. He’s not lonely, he doesn’t need or want anyone else in his house, or his life for that matter. The area feels crowded enough with just Old Man Schmidt down the street. Maybe he’ll get another cat. Nesta has mentioned occasionally seeing one roaming about where her office is.

While he sips his coffee he’s still debating whether to call the hike off - his body tells him yes but his brain says if he mentions it to Cassian he’ll come to his house to inspect the old injury himself, and he hasn’t even told him he fell in the first place, and he will undoubtedly notice the pathetic state of Azriel’s house. Everything is reasonably tidy, but it’s painfully obvious no other human being has stepped through the door in months, maybe even a year. The last time he had people over was for Mr. Goggles’ funeral, for Christ’s sake. Azriel shifts his weight onto the damaged knee and immediately regrets it. He bites back a pained groan, letting his head fall back against the cabinet.

Cass would tell him to see a physician. Az hates going to the doctor, and not only for the usual reasons - he hadn’t gotten the memo that it was a bad idea to sleep with, have a messy entanglement and then ditch the only medical professional for nearly 200 miles. He’s not gotten a check-up in almost four years. Neither of his brothers knows that though, and he would rather die than tell them, both about the problem and the reason behind it. Fifty-five feels like the worst age to come out to your life-long best friends. 

Summer is already fading, but the sun is still warm on Azriel’s skin. He tilts his face up to the sky as he walks, before he quickly remembers he doesn’t want to sustain another injury and he concentrates on the dirt road under his feet again. He grits his teeth through the strain on his leg and keeps walking. 

The quickest path to Cassian’s house leads him from the treeline where his cabin is straight through the clearing past Old Man Schmidt’s property and through the woods. He’s walked this path a thousand times, but something is off today. Old Man Schmidt never has guests over, but this morning there’s a new car in his driveway. When Azriel crosses the street he realises it’s not just the new car, there’s a moving van as well, and parts of the garden are ripped open from construction, old furniture and materials, tools and workers all over the lawn. Az has always been curious, and he’s a little perturbed that he hasn’t noticed what has apparently been going on for a few days already. Has he really been that disconnected from his surroundings? He wanders off the path and up to the fence, leaning against the gate. He tells himself it looks at least a little cool but really he’s just trying to take the weight off his knee. He doesn’t recognise the licence plate on the car, and he tries to look around for Schmidt but he’s nowhere to be found. The last time they spoke he hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to sell his house. Then again, the last time they spoke was six months ago. Maybe things have changed. 

“Can I help you?” Azriel turns his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash, his carefully combed hair immediately falling into his face, obstructing his view. He was so immersed in his snooping that he hadn't noticed the man stepping up to the fence. 

“Um, yeah. I’m looking for Schmidt? Boris Schmidt, he lives here,” he manages to say, buying himself a minimal amount of valuable time as he sizes the other man up. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and muscular with silky short hair that is so red Azriel wonders if it’s dyed. None of Feyre’s attempts to colour her hair have turned out this perfect though, so he thinks it just might be real, or done by a very, very pricey stylist. Everything about the stranger screams expensive, from his hair to his crisp white shirt and leather boots. He even smells like it, and Azriel is suddenly very aware that out of all the things he has on, only the shirt and the underwear have been washed in the last three days, and he can’t even remember the last time he put on cologne. 

“Mr. Schmidt doesn’t live here anymore. Hasn’t for over a month,” the stranger explains, and his voice is deep and smooth, feels like it wraps itself around Azriel, sliding through his ears and into his brain, muddling his thoughts.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. There’s a short pause where the stranger only stares at Az with his amber eyes, waiting for him to say something more.

Then he asks “Are you the neighbour?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes I am. Are you moving in?” The stranger smiles, and good Lord above he is beautiful. Azriel swallows hard around the feeling suddenly bubbling up in his chest, through his throat and spilling into his mouth. He is too old to be reacting like this over a pretty boy.

“I am. Eris Vanserra,” the stranger introduces himself, reaching his hand over the gate. Azriel shakes it.

“Azriel,” he answers, then quickly adds, “Azriel Kantor.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Azriel nearly wishes Eris would stop talking because it is incredibly hard for him to concentrate on coming up with answers when his hand is burning where the man’s skin has touched his, and this is getting ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t gotten laid in one and a half years?

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, and means it for once. “I, uh, I live right down there. Can’t miss it.” He vaguely gestures behind himself with the burned hand, trying to shake that feeling off. 

“Not like there’s many other houses around,” Eris replies smoothly, a faint smirk still on his lips, and Azriel has to pinch his arm to stop himself from staring. 

“Yes. Only me. But my friends live south from here right through the forest. I’m actually going to visit them-” He trails off, and unfortunately the other man picks it up right where he left it.

“Azriel,” he says, embarrassingly breathless from forcing out that one word. Way too late he realises that maybe it was intentional, maybe Eris would prefer not calling him by his first name, and not having Azriel call him by his in turn. He’s being awfully presumptuous. But Vanserra only hesitates for a moment before giving him another smile.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you." Eris is already stepping away from the fence. "I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Kantor.”

“Azriel,” he repeats, slowly, savouring every letter. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He lets a few seconds pass by silently where neither of them move. Then he turns and leaves him standing at the gate, glued to the spot like an idiot.

“You too,” Az calls dumbly after him, too late and too slow. Eris doesn’t look back, only lifts his hand with the smallest hint of a wave, and Azriel quickly looks away and returns to the dirt path, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. 

Miles and hours later he can still hear the echo of his name from Eris’ lips in his mind when he raises his hand to ring Cassian’s doorbell. 

Maybe he’ll walk back later instead of having Cassian drop him off at home after the hike. His knee doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

[deans-baby-momma]

A/N: Just a little something I came up with on the LOOOOOONG trip home from vacation. Inspired by a song we listened to. Anyone wanna guess? LOL

Lightning flashes across  the sky illuminates the otherwise dark highway, thunder tumbles in the distance indicating another springtime storm approaching. 

The headlights of my car barely penetrate the sheets of rain to reflect the lines of the deserted highway. Rural roads are not known for their stellar lighting, no streetlights and not many homes that have bright bulbs to shine out that far. 

I can barely see five feet in front of me as I maneuver the rental car I’m using between the lines. I am ready to get to the next town, find a hotel and take a good hot shower before falling into bed. Today has been tedious and tiresome. 

Another flash of light from the sky bounces off something on the side of the road and I slowly apply the brakes. As I get nearer, I can make out the silhouette of another vehicle on the side of the road. Dark, maybe black; sleek but big. Not a truck but an older car, one that is made from actual metal and chrome and not the fiberglass and plastic the newer ones are manufactured with now. 

I look out the passenger window as I pass to see if the driver is inside or if someone is standing nearby but I see no one. Hopefully some other good samaritan came by and picked them up and they aren’t walking in this torrential downpour from the sky. I don’t know anyone who would enjoy walking in this crap. 

A couple of miles down the road, though, I see someone walking along the edge of the asphalt, hands in their pockets and their shoulders slumped over trying to shield the rain. I can tell it hasn’t worked as the whole top half of their body is soaked through, their clothing clinging to them like a second skin. He has no umbrella or coat, like he wasn’t expecting to have to walk in this mess

As I get closer, I can tell it’s a man. Tall, muscular and bow-legged. His cowboy swagger gives away his condition and makes me swoon. Cowboys are my weakness. When he notices me, he turns his head and I swear my heart stopped. Not only was he built like a God but he looked like one too!

I pull up alongside, rolling down my window and offer him a ride. His response is a smile as he reaches for the door. As soon as he is out of the elements and the cabin is once again a reprieve from the outside, I press the gas and continue my journey.

“Thanks again,” he says and his voice is smooth like honey. “I didn’t think I’d ever see another vehicle.”

“Yea, not many people out at the time of night,” I responded. “Especially in this storm.”

We ride along in silence for a while until we start seeing the telltale signs of the next town. I sigh in relief, thinking of how I’m that much closer to that hot shower and nice, warm bed that awaits. 

“Is there anywhere you want me to drop you off?” I ask, silently lamenting that my time with the stranger is coming to an end.

“I guess just point me to the closest motel. I was just passing through and I doubt there is a mechanic shop open this late to go get my car.”

I pull into the Motel 6 and put it in park. “Well, I’m staying here. I’m just passing through too.”

“Thanks for the lift,” he says as he opens the door and steps out, heading to the lobby.

Grabbing my bag from the backseat, I climb out of the vehicle and close the door, locking it and walking toward the lobby myself, to check in. As I step inside the building, I hear the concierge telling the stranger that there are no vacancies. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” he huffs as I see rain drops drip from his hair and slither down his neck into the back of his shirt. “There’s nothing? Not even a sofa in an empty corner?”

“No sir,” the young boy says. “We are booked solid.”

“You can stay in mine,” I say as I approach the desk. “I have a room and most of these places have at least a cot.”

The stranger and the boy behind the desk look at me bewildered. Yes, I just offered a stranger a place to stay so he doesn’t have to sleep outside in the rain. This is the same stranger I picked up on the side of the road not even an hour ago. So what? I’m a nice person. 

I step up to the desk and check in, grabbing my key and turning to the man standing behind me. “We’re in room 23. Come on,” I smile as I walk out of the lobby, my suitcase rolling along after.

The storm rages outside the window as we settle in for the night. As I predicted, the room provided a full size bed and a couch with a pullout mattress. After my shower, I snuggle down under the comforter on the bed and listen to his teeth chatter.

“Get over here and get in the bed,” I tell him, sitting up to see his silhouette shivering under the thin sheet. “I didn’t pick you up just to let you freeze to death in my hotel room.”

The man stood up as a flash of lightning lit up the room. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers and I salivate at the sight. He is pure brawn, muscles sinewy and taut; his stomach has a small paunch but other than that, he looks like he could take care of himself in any situation. 

His skin is ice cold as he slides into the bed alongside me, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. Or is it the fact that I’m absolutely turned on by him?

We lay on our backs, both of us staring at the ugly yellowed ceiling above our heads.  I close my eyes and will myself to sleep but before I can accomplish that, I feel his hand begin to run along my thigh.

Before long, we are in the throes of passion, his body thrusting into mine with ease. He was doing everything just right and had me cumming in minutes. I screamed out my release as I heard him grunt and then felt his spendings filling me full.

After cleaning up, we cuddled and drifted off to sleep. I’d never felt more like a woman than I did in this stranger’s arms. It was magical, 

The sun shining through the window woke me up and I lay there, still in his arms as I lamented what had actually happened. I had picked up a stranger on the side of the road, brought him into my hotel room, where we made love and I hadn’t even asked his name!

The man who rocked my world was still asleep when I was dressed and ready to leave. I grabbed the complimentary pen and pad and left him a note. It’s the least I could do.

‘I am the flower you are the seed. We walked in the garden, we planted a tree

Don't try to find me, please don't you dare.

Just live in my memory. you'll always be there.’

To be continued…..

2nd A/N: Hopefully the last part will be posted this weekend (6/16-18)

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @brownbearhusky @purpleeclipseeggsland

[justinhubbell]

Our Norway Maple

On Weider Street our house was easy enough to locate, as it stood behind one of the largest trees on the block.  The Maple tree towered over the house, at least seventy feet high, and was reliably beautiful year round.  They came today to take it down.

Growing up our Norway Maple wasn’t a tree.  It was a narrow walkway of sheer cliff side over a great chasm.  I made a game of walking on its roots in circles until—inevitably—I’d lose my balance and tumble off.  The game never once lost its luster, and I can remember playing it as vividly last week as I did twenty years ago.  

I love to balance on things.

In the fall our tree would blanket lawns front and back with a shower of leaves.  Its trunk formed a massive hand that was clearly visible depending on the angle you looked at it, with long fingers gently reaching as if to stroke at the sky above.  No serious attempt to scale the tree was ever made, as its bark was too rough, with no lower branches, and no real handholds.  It was simply a monument to our house and home.  It was always like that.  Magic.  In photos and videos it is there.  Looking out a window it was there.  It’s possible our tree had admirers a mile away.  Coopers’ Hawks perched in it.  Squirrels ran up and down it.  Carpenter Ants defended it ferociously.  An unknown total of lives in the millions knew our tree.  

The workman rapped on my front door unceremoniously at 10:30 to let me know he and his crew were here to consume the tree.  Today.  Now.  And could this broken Hyundai be moved, please.  Two days earlier a massive tree finger snapped and fell.  It destroyed my parents car, and came through our front living room window.  I didn’t hear the initial crack, only the sudden explosion of sound and glass that interrupted our quiet morning inside.  As they fire up their machines to cut and eat away at my childhood friend, I can’t bring myself to watch.  The sound of its destruction vibrates through every room of my house regardless.

Before it all happens I take a few photos, the last photos, and I hug the tree and kiss its bark.  What most people don’t know about trees is you can hug them as hard as you’d like.  A tight desperate embrace that might injure loved ones, or a pet, is nothing to a tree.  You can close your eyes and squeeze and lean in.  Trees give everything back.

Over and over I tell myself I can’t watch, I can’t be present for this, but Dad puts a stop to that.  He swings by my place and I’m compelled to join him as he watches the tree come down.  We stand in our front hallway for a spell, and then he leaves me to take photos from the street.  I watch that pumpkin grin streak across his face as he struggles with his camera, and the light.  A neighbor rolls up on him, and moments later they’re enjoying a friendly chat.  No family but cats can join us for the historic event.  I watch from the highest point of our attic.

The work crew bring five large machines, and they make quick work of this being that took one hundred years to grow.  Parts of the plant are fed into a giant wood chipper.  Logs and beams and branches that could be made into things are reduced to tiny splinters exhaled into a covered truck bed.  I am mostly silent, still not believing it.  My heart aches for my beloved to be here next to me.  Someone to hug or hold hands with.  Someone to ease the wrenching of my heart as our beautiful tree is killed for good.  During a brief respite I come to collect debris, sawdust, newly formed buds, and the last leaves our tree will ever produce.  I run them upstairs to put them in a corked ceramic jar that had always been empty until now.

Saturday something in me knew it was “now or never” when it came to selecting wood to keep.  I try to stay conservative but absolutely a large bough of the tree is invited inside to lean against the corner of the room it once smashed into.  I hurt my shoulder in the process, and it’s okay.  Who cares?  I take enough wood for a room accent, a walking stick, a magic wand, another room accent, perhaps a second staff, a natural cross section of a trunk, and a few other odds and ends.  If it was only possible, I’d have left the main trunk of this maple to slowly decay for another hundred years.  A “tiny library” could be cut into the bark.  A treehouse of sorts could lovingly perch atop the remains.  Even only just to enshrine what once was, I’d preserve the skeleton of our Maple.  Dad says that this is impossible, because he signed a contract.  It’d be more expensive to do what I propose.  It already cost four grand to remove this tree.  Outside the tree is methodically cut into bits.  When big pieces crash to the ground it shakes the Earth.  The work crew barely speaks, and when they speak they shout.

It is not all sadness that I feel.  I think of what tree will come next.  I propose a Weeping Cherry, but Dad prefers a Japanese Maple or Ginkgo.  The problem—as he loves pointing out—is that neither breed is spectacular until a solid century of growing takes place.  He confesses a prejudice against weeping cherries.  This makes sense only in that Dad typically objects to the things I love.  A magnolia is his concession, and I suspect everyone will go along with it.  If I have my way at least the flowers will have color, like a Purple Saucer, or a Yellow Lantern.  I’d take a Crape Myrtle or Dogwood too.

Around 12:30 Mom arrives home.  At the time of the accident she busied herself collecting as much debris as she could, telling absolutely everyone that she had oral surgery scheduled for Monday.  Today.  The day our tree comes down.  Coming up the stairs and into the house she presses an ice pack to her jaw, and makes an aggravated show of having been told to relax.  She caws news of her operation in between complaints of doors left open.  I choose to part ways, and smoke weed.  What else can I do?  I can’t decide if it’s sacrilegious to turn away, or worse to watch the entire execution.

Many hundreds of miles away my brother suffers still yet another headache.

With a growling stomach I fix a bowl of greens.  I pop an edible.  I smoke and watch videos as our Maple is torn down.  There are times I feel totally pathetic, and other times I’m relieved.  The cannabis dulls pain and allows me to take in other things.  I actually do get lost in the videos.  I’m able to pass my time peacefully, rather than in anxious pacing grief.  I check in on Mom, and she says she’s doing fine.  I think about lighting candles and saying our goodbyes with greater intention.  It’s a blur, and then the work crew leaves.  The street is silent again.  I make my way up the stairs and let out a gasp when I see it.  The tree remains.  There is a stump.  I had believed the entire plant would be removed, and somehow a stump.

The thing is I could cry.  I considered this Maple family.  I always knew its day would eventually come, but never dared imagine it.  There was no discussion of this.  No rumors or hushed questions.  Two days in a broken state, and gone on the third. 

I don’t cry.  The sadness has only just moved past my navel, it is nowhere near my eyes.  I am stoned now.  I move back to the window and it really is gone.

I turn back to writing, and then take a shower.  The act of having seen the stump is enough to send me running into hot water.  I undress and look out the skylight for the first time without our Maple.  It is bright.  I bathe.  I am joined by Meaninglessness and Purposelessness.  I summon the courage to dress myself to go outside.  To see our Maple.  I step out in a knit gray dress and tights, with bright blue flip flops.  My hair is wet from the shower.  My mustache is significant.  I stand near the stump and take off my shoes.  I step onto the exposed roots and make a circle like I always did around the tree.  The sadness shoots straight up to my heart and I quickly hop off.  

I make my way across the street and take in the new view of Home Without Maple.  My sadness rises up to my neck.  I can feel it tugging beneath my palate.  Neighbors come to take photos.  To look in amazement at what has taken place.  They speak of how—just the other day—there was once a giant tree here.  I stumble over to my Family Shrine and thank my Mother for having left behind a pile of twigs.  To anyone else they are only just twigs.  The leaves are still yet about to erupt from buds that grow like yellow green flowers.  I pick a bouquet of them, and place them in a raku fired vessel my Beloved made in her youth.  I will keep them for as long as I can.

Alex comes home and I open my arms for a hug, but she billows past to use the bathroom.  We make our way back outside later and embrace over the stump left behind.  Mom joins us.  I’m still in my flip flops.  It is a hollow icy emptiness that I feel inside.  I am still processing, still not believing.  I rake my thoughts for the silver linings and find enough to keep from sobbing.

There is a new tree coming.  Nobody was hurt.  A loss like this marks the beginning of a new chapter, and this time I am writing it.  Every part of our Maple I foraged will be kept and loved as the original tree was.  The broken pieces will become Earth again, and the Earth may yet grow more Norway Maples.  That our tree is physically gone does not make it absent.  I can feel its bark still on my hands.  I retain the memories of looking up to see mornings, noons, and evenings filtering through its leaves.  Even though it is not there, it is right there.

And always will be, for me.  That is until the new tree outgrows it.

If such a thing is possible.

[hockeylvr59]

Here With Me Part 26 || Taylor Makar

Author’s Note: Kelsey and Taylor's Patriot Day Weekend pt. 2 FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).

Warnings: smut, lingering trauma // Word Count: 3.080

~~~~

Twenty Five

April 15th, 2023

Waking up in Taylor’s arms was forever going to be one of Kelsey’s favorite things. He looked so peaceful still in that state of half sleep, her koala bear of a boyfriend refusing to let her get up right away. Things were okay. They were okay. And for that she was grateful because she couldn’t imagine losing him. 

Eventually though, the needs of her bladder became too demanding and Kelsey forced Taylor to let her up, returning from the bathroom to see him stretching lazily in bed. 

“So we need to go to the store today because I only shopped for one dinner and breakfast but that can wait for a bit if you want to go for a run with me or take the kayaks out for a bit…” Kelsey mused as she moved to her bag to figure out what she was going to put on clothes wise. 

“I’d be down for a run.” Taylor mumbled, his energy appearing quickly as he shook off the remnants of sleep. 

Nodding, Kelsey grabbed the work out clothes she had brought before starting to change, not caring that Taylor’s eyes clearly lingered on her as she did so. He’d seen all of her before anyway. 

Together they put in about six miles, taking in the scenery of the small town that surrounded their weekend beach house before returning to shower and change to go shopping after having breakfast.

It had looked like a really cute small downtown with quaint shops when they’d run through but nothing had been open yet as they’d awoken fairly early for a Saturday morning. So when Taylor suggested that they walk back through town before doing their grocery shopping, Kelsey had agreed eagerly. 

Taylor had laced his fingers with hers before they’d even reached town and Kelsey couldn’t help but smile at the secure feeling it provided her.

Some of the things in the shops made her smile because they were just so silly but others were cute or unique and some set off ideas of things she could do with some of her scrap fabric. After all, Taylor’s parents had invited her up to Canada and she couldn’t exactly go empty handed, so maybe some hand towels or pot holders were in order. 

Kelsey knew that boutique shopping probably wasn’t at the top of Taylor’s list of fun things to do but not once did he complain as she pulled him into another shop. 

Though she didn’t buy anything besides a postcard to remember the trip by, Kelsey enjoyed window shopping and browsing all the same and she appreciated Taylor being willing to come along for the ride though she was sure he knew what he was in for when he had suggested it in the first place.

It was also Taylor that spotted the European cafe style restaurant and suggested that they have lunch before going to the grocery store. 

Agreeing, they were seated out on the patio and immediately ordered water while they considered the menu. 

Deciding to indulge since they had walked, Kelsey ordered sangria while Taylor got a beer. Then, seeing that they had award winning lobster bisque on the menu, Kelsey decided to try that for lunch while Taylor got a salmon salad. 

“We should figure out our shopping list…” Kelsey mused once they had placed their orders and were just waiting for their food. “We’ve got breakfast for three days, lunch for at least two, and three dinners to plan for.” 

“I’m good just continuing with omelets for breakfast.” Taylor declared. “So maybe just a few more things for that and more eggs.” 

Nodding, Kelsey pulled her phone out to start a list in her notepad. Starting with condoms, because she certainly wasn’t about to let them forget those, she added eggs, vegetables that she knew Taylor enjoyed in his, plus a small thing of cheese for her. 

“Any thoughts on dinners?” Kelsey questioned, switching over to her Pinterest to see if it supplied any ideas that might fit with her boyfriend’s no dairy, no gluten diet. 

Eventually they settled on making chicken fajitas with gluten free wraps, doing gluten free spaghetti and meatballs, and making ribs on the grill with vegetables and potatoes - regular for her and sweet for him. 

Kelsey had just finished typing up her list when their lunch was brought out to them and she smiled because it all looked delicious. They might have to come back here for another lunch since they hadn’t really figured that out beyond leftovers. 

Chatting lightly about classes and Taylor’s off season training led to a discussion about another hike together and led to them making tentative plans, weather permitting, to hike Mt. Greylock the following weekend. 

After finishing lunch, they walked home to get the car and finally made their way to get groceries. Immediately Kelsey sent Taylor to pick up a box of condoms while she worked her way through the rest of the store. In addition to all of the food they needed, they picked up two six packs of Truly’s since they had two and a half full days still to relax and chill. 

By the time they made their way home and got everything put away, Kelsey was more than ready to sit back and watch the waves for a bit. With the knowledge that Taylor wouldn’t be able to sit and do nothing though, she roped him into playing a board game with her at the outdoor dining table. 

Finding a two player version of Catan on the game shelf, they settled into it, drinks in hand. After figuring it out, they played two games before realizing that they should probably start dinner, especially since after Kelsey won the first game, Taylor had won the second and therefore had stopped pouting. 

Tonight, they cooked together, Kelsey cutting vegetables while Taylor seasoned and grilled up the chicken, adding the vegetables to the grill as Kelsey got them ready. Amidst cooking, they shared soft touches and occasionally a kiss or two as they moved around each other. It left Kelsey feeling warm and content beyond the buzz of alcohol coursing through her. They were okay. 

Before long they had settled down with some delicious looking fajitas and Kelsey couldn’t wait to dig into the meal she’d made with her boyfriend. There was something so domestic feeling about cooking with Taylor and she wanted so much more of it, could see them doing this beyond this weekend or this year…long into the future. 

With Taylor looking as relaxed as she felt, Kelsey grinned at him and nudged his foot under the table. Love you, she mouthed before sipping at her second Truly. 

Taylor couldn’t help but grin back at her, feeding off of the happy vibes she was sending. She had needed this weekend and it was nice seeing his girlfriend reappear right before his eyes. She’d been so tense and clearly off in her own head lately but right now he could tell that she was relaxed and content, just enjoying the moment. 

“Love you too Kels.” He murmured softly, wanting her to hear it. The way the words made her flush a little with joy was something he’d never tire of. 

As they cleared away dishes and cleaned up the little bit of leftovers, Taylor bumped against her hip playfully. 

“So I hear there’s a hot tub?” He questioned casually. At the same time, his eyes communicated that his motives may have included seeing her in a bikini. 

“There is…” Kelsey agreed. “If you want to finish up here I’ll go get it started and we can give it a go.” 

A light tap to her ass with a hand towel signaled that Taylor agreed and so Kelsey moved to start the hot tub up as her friend had assured her it had been cleaned prior to their arrival and was ready to go. 

While the hot tub got going, Kelsey moved back inside to get her suit out of her bag. With Taylor using the bathroom off the master, Kelsey worked to change into the top before heading into the bathroom when Taylor was done to pee and change into the bottoms. 

“Damn.” She heard Taylor murmur under his breath when she reappeared in the suit and she made a mental note of how badly she could drive him crazy this summer if she brought some other bikinis to Canada. 

“Beach towels are in the hall closet.” She instructed Taylor as she moved to put her hair up in a messy bun so that it didn’t get wet. 

Finally ready she led Taylor back out to the hot tub which was now bubbling from the jets, steam forming against the cool evening air. 

With the towels set off to the side, Kelsey climbed the stairs and swung herself into the hot tub, sighing at how good the warm water felt. 

Sinking into it she waited for Taylor to join her, sliding to rest against her side. 

“Good idea T.” She grinned, flexing and stretching her calf muscles which were a little tight after their run and subsequent walk as she relaxed back against the arm he had thrown over her shoulder.

“I have those sometimes.” Taylor grinned, squeezing her gently. 

 “It’s been so long since I’ve used one of these, forgot how good it feels.” 

“Did I wear you out today?” He teased noting how her eyes fluttered shut as she continued to settle. 

“Nope.” Kelsey assured him, popping the p. “But I’m hoping that you will tonight…” As she trailed off, her eyes opened to peer up at him. 

“Is that right?” He questioned, speaking low against the shell of her ear. 

Holding his gaze, Kelsey let her eyes do all the talking as her fingers dipped to scrape her nails gently against his thigh. 

For a long moment, Taylor looked down at her before reaching to tug her to straddle his lap under the bubbling water. 

The way he kissed her after that made Kelsey’s toes curl. It was deep, his tongue delving into her mouth as he held her body tight against his. It was lazy, but held all the promise that whatever she wanted, he’d give it to her in time. It made the desire pool in her core more and more as the minutes passed with only pauses to breathe. 

Grinding down against him, Kelsey moaned softly. He felt so good and she needed him badly. And not just to make love to her as good as that was. She needed him to use his big body against her, driving her completely wild. 

“Take me inside.” She mumbled, breaking the kiss to speak softly into his ear. As much as she needed fucked, that was not happening in a hot tub. She couldn’t help but mentally cringe at the thought of how unsanitary that would be. 

Taylor pulled her mouth back to his, nipping at her lips before he finally pulled back and carefully shifted her body off of him so that he could slide out of the hot tub. 

“Come on then…” He agreed, offering her a hand and a towel as they quickly dried. With Taylor pulling her inside, Kelsey giggled as she reached to put the tub to its inactive mode before finally letting him drag her into the privacy of the house. 

Taylor’s hands felt amazing as he worked to strip her out of her suit, leaving a pile of wet clothes on a towel for them to collect later. 

“Don’t be gentle…” She assured him, communicating how she wanted all of this to go. 

“Got it.” He mumbled, pushing his own trunks to the ground, kicking them aside before picking her up, his dick pressed against her belly as he carried her back to the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed unceremoniously. 

Instead of climbing in beside her, Taylor’s hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her toward the bottom of the bed. It was then that he sunk to his knees, his body settled between her thighs. Though he pressed a couple of kisses along her hips and against her knee he wasted no time in getting his mouth on her core. 

Kelsey could only moan as Taylor worked her body closer and closer to the brink with his tongue and lips. Somehow every time he did this it only seemed to get better. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, which only spurred Taylor on further. It wasn’t long before his arm was pinning her hips to the bed as she bucked beneath him. 

“Kels…” Taylor mumbled in warning, his face messy with her fluids as he pulled back to peer up at her. She knew that he wanted her to stay still but it wasn’t exactly easy when his mouth was doing such incredible things to her body. 

“You could just fuck me already.” Kelsey replied breathily though she knew that he wouldn’t, not until he’d made her cum. 

“I could huh?” Taylor prompted, tone on the edge of teasing as he kissed along her thighs because he knew that at this point she expected an orgasm before he was inside of her. 

“Taylor…” She whimpered, going crazy having been so close prior to him pulling away. 

Thankfully Taylor was too much of a sweetheart to keep her hanging and he lapped back over her core, sucking at her clit until she was falling apart into pieces beneath him. 

While she caught her breath, Taylor moved to get a condom from the box they had bought earlier and slid it on, mimicking the way she had applied it yesterday. 

“Knees Kels.” He directed, tapping her side gently. She had said not to be gentle and for Taylor that meant putting her into the position where he could slide the deepest and get the best leverage at the same time. The fact that she had previously communicated that it was one of her favorite positions only added to it. 

Once Kelsey had settled comfortably, Taylor knelt onto the bed behind her, his hands drifting to her hips. 

“T…please.” She pleaded softly and unable to deny her, Taylor lined himself up to press inside her in one smooth stroke. 

Immediately she let out the prettiest sound and Taylor cursed softly as his dick twitched because of it. Holding her hips still he continued thrusting into her, varying his speed and force and drawing more sounds from her throat. 

The rougher his thrusts were, the louder she became and so Taylor let himself go knowing that she would tell him if it was ever too much. It definitely wasn’t, his body knowing hers as well as it did, and Kelsey knew that this orgasm was going to be incredible. The way it rolled over her forced her to clamp around him drawing out his own climax and they collapsed together onto the bed, Taylor taking precautions not to crush her under his weight. 

“Fuck…” Taylor mumbled, his head tucked into her shoulder. Kelsey could only nod in response, making Taylor’s chest rumble with laughter. As he shifted to pull out, Kelsey dug her nails into his forearm. 

“Not yet.” She pleaded softly. The pressure and fullness created from him just resting inside of her even as he grew soft was too good to give up just yet even though she knew that he needed to pull out so they could both clean up. 

Taylor certainly had no complaints about remaining with her warm, wet core wrapped around him. The fact that she regularly requested he stay for a few more minutes made a wave of contentment roll through him. Clearly there was something about it she liked a lot. 

When he finally did pull out he did so carefully, making sure that the condom remained intact until he could remove it and dispose of it into the trash. With that done, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some warm water before taking it back to Kelsey to clean her up. Then he kissed her gently, silently checking in to make sure that that had been okay and what she had wanted from him. He really did take the best care of her and she kissed him back just as softly, pouring her love for him into the kiss. 

After finally getting feeling back in her legs, Kelsey untangled herself from Taylor’s nude body, getting up to pee before returning to the bedroom where Taylor was digging clean boxers out of his bag. 

“You know we could sleep nude…” She mused, drawing his attention. 

“Not sure my dick is ready for that.” He replied and the look he shot her told her that this was going to be one of those protecting her things, at least for a while longer. 

“Okay.” She agreed, moving to grab underwear from her bag while stealing the t-shirt he had worn this afternoon after their post run shower. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” He questioned seeing her. 

“Always.” She teased. “At least a little.” 

Her giggles turned into a squeal as he pulled her flush against his chest and tickled her before kissing her deeply until they both fell into bed. 

*****

April 18th, 2023

While in Connecticut, Kelsey and Taylor maintained a similar low key routine. They woke up and exercised together, be it a run or yoga or taking the kayaks out on the bay. Then they showered and had breakfast or brunch before either enjoying the beach, playing a game, adding in another round of sex, or just relaxing. Dinner each day was followed by either another trip out in the kayaks, some slow dancing, or time in the hot tub before they fell into bed whether to sleep or fool around. 

By the time they were packing up the car to head back to campus late Tuesday morning, Kelsey’s demeanor was completely different, she was back to the girl Taylor had fallen in love with in the first place. After everything, she finally felt secure once more and for that alone, Taylor wouldn’t have traded this trip for anything. 

Though he knew that she wouldn’t be quite as relaxed once they were back in the real world, he hoped that the feeling of security she had gained would remain with her through the coming weeks and months as they headed toward summer and their first real time apart.