#I've never come close to drawing blood in my LIFE and I am a-okay with that.

[wanderingandfound]

What they don't tell you about running up that hill to make a deal with God is that your calves are going to mutiny the next day.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What A View

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: A trip to the Shard goes a little differently.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: The Shard is the tallest building in London. Also totally another case of my mind just jumping to something else in the bingo other than what was probably implied. So this is 'High Sex' and obviously I went, 'oh, right, so high in the sky?' I am so smart. (lie).

Warnings: swearing, p in v sex, Steven kinda having an exhibition kink, overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1329

You hadn’t expected the afternoon to play out like this. 

With your back pressed against the cool glass, Steven spreading you wide. His fingers dug into the fleshy part of your left thigh, pushing on your leg as you just about managed to keep your balance by pressing the ball of your foot against the marble sink. 

You’d spotted a discount voucher for the Shard and had asked if Marc, Steven, and Jake would like to come with you. 

Marc had rolled his eyes playfully, “I’ve seen London from up high plenty of times,” and declined.

Jake had been sleeping. 

Steven had grinned and nodded excitedly. “You know love, I’ve never actually been up the Shard? It’s true what they say, you live in London but you don’t do the normal tourist things.” 

Everything had been relatively normal on the way, though the elevator to the upper floors and viewing platform had been a little busy. Both you and Steven had shuffled into a corner, your back to his chest. 

He’d gone quiet after a few seconds, his grip on your hand tightening as his muscles stiffened. For a moment you had thought that Marc had fronted. 

Once you were on the right floor you had barely stepped out, heading towards the large wall length windows when Steven had pulled you in the opposite direction and dragged you into a bathroom. 

You hadn’t even had a chance to question him before his lips were on yours and his hands slipped under your top. 

You held onto his shoulders for dear life, up on the tiptoes of your right foot as he slammed into you. His thick cock hitting so deep you could see stars. 

You moaned against his hand, his palm haphazardly covering your mouth in a hasty attempt to muffle your sounds. You had never been much of a screamer during sex until you’d met them. 

No matter how hard you try little groans escape your mouth with every frantic thrust of his hips. He angles upwards with every buck, hitting just right on the spot he knows so well and rubbing his public bone against your clit with every motion. 

Steven’s own mouth is pressed into your neck, biting and sucking and leaving sloppy kisses as he tries to muffle his whines. He had always been a screamer. 

You pull tightly on his shirt, a fraction away from ripping the cotton as pleasure coils in your stomach, building higher and impossibly higher.

His name is muffled by his hand as you say it, breathless and needy, but he still hears it. 

He pulls his mouth away from your skin just far enough to speak, frowning in concentration as he tries to keep his voice under control. “You… okay?” 

The slap, slap, slap of skin almost drowns him out. 

You nod, eyes closed but still let out a soft whine and he picks up the pace, fucking you even harder, like he is trying to get caught, trying to make you scream his name so loudly that the whole of the city will hear you.

“That’s it love, that’s it,” he whines, nipping at your neck and groaning as you clench around him. He knows you’re so close, can feel you approaching orgasm buzzing along your skin like electricity, practically taste it in the air. He wants it so badly, needs it more than breathing. 

“You… you… gonna be…” he swallows, having to fight back his own moans even more. “You gonna… be good? Gonna… gonna…” he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as he pistons his hips. Everything’s too much it’s blinding, dizzying. But not enough. 

The way you squeeze him, your back arching off the glass as you meet his thrusts desperately. The bright sky behind you, the sweat on your skin. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your neck and he groans, his eyes rolling back.

There’s a light mist forming around you on the glass, the heat from both your bodies collecting. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, his own pleasure close on his heels. “God, can you imagine if someone was cleaning the windows,” all his words come out in a rush, “and they just, fuck, just saw us here. Saw you moaning and taking my cock so well, saw how pretty you are all full of me and just begging. Saw how I need to keep you quiet so we don’t get caught because you just, just need it so bad that you can’t stop, and, and-” He groans loudly, the sound turning into a whine. “Love, fuck, please, please, please,” he punctuates every word with a sharp snap of his hips that has you reeling, sinking into pleasure.

“I need you to,” he groans as you squeeze and clench around him, your pussy fluttering and trying to pull him deeper. “I need to hear you.” He gasps, “please, if I move my hand can you please try, can you try not to be too loud? Please. I,” he moans again, “please, need it so bad, need it, need you.” 

You nod rapidly, barely getting a chance to register his words in your hazy, lust filled mind before he rips his hand away from your mouth and grabs onto your shoulder, pressing the full length of his body up against up against yours as he pounds into you. 

“Steven,” you moan, just managing to keep your voice below your regular talking level. 

He groans in response, much louder than you. 

“I’m gonna-”

He kisses you roughly, sliding his tongue messily into your mouth for a moment. 

“Gonna come, love? Gonna come on me?” His voice rises in pitch towards the end and you nod, your thoughts all turned to mush as all you can comprehend is the feel of his skin and the heat of his body as he pushes you higher and higher to ecstasy. 

“Need you to,” he whines, tears just pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Need you to.”

You moan his name, gasping against him. Every muscle tenses as he finally pushes you over the edge you've been dancing by. Pleasure washes over every nerve, running over your spine as you convulse and cling onto him like a lifeline. 

Steven whines, fucking you through your orgasm even as he comes, pumping his hot, thick cum deep inside and filling you to the brim. 

You breathe heavily as you both come back to yourselves, holding each other tightly. The sweat starts to cool on your skin and you swallow, a sudden flash of panic flicking to the forefront of your mind. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” You ask quietly. 

Steven shakes his head, still pressed into your neck. “We weren’t that loud.”

You laugh. “You sure?” 

“Nope.” 

You laugh harder. 

“Honestly, love, I don’t give a shit.” 

“Really?” 

“Hmm.” He looks up at you with a large grin on his face, his eyes soft and loving. “Too happy to care. Anyone says anything, I’ll sort them.” 

You giggle at his playful tone. “My hero.” 

He chuckles and kisses you softly.

“Does this count as joining the mile high club?” He giggles, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead. 

You shake your head as you laugh.

“Oh, well.” There’s a soft flush to his skin, an afterglow of his orgasm that you hate to admit makes heat pool a little in your stomach.

Steven notices the slight change in your expression, the small clench as you squeeze around his softening cock.

He groans softly and presses close to you again, mouthing at the love bites he’s left on your neck. He grinds against you slowly, not pulling out but pressing up against your clit with a roll of his hips. 

The little surprised gasp that leaves your lips makes him smile. 

“Give me a minute love,” he mutters, keeping up the soft rock and glide. “Maybe we can be louder this time.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[romanarose]

Steven with a Reader with OCD

Steven Grant x GN!Reader with OCD

You are struggling with obsessive thoughts late at night, and worry how Steven will react.

Warnings: OCD, compulsions, bleeding, aggressive nail clipping ig?

AN: I've been doing a lot better with my OCD lately, I always do better when I feel in control of my life, and I'm always more in control when Im in a stable living environment. Living with my parents was never stable, living with my last roommate was not either, but living in this dorm has been such a sanctuary. Still, there are some things I struggle with, compulsions that have been a part of my life for so long, I don't know if there's a way to go back, I don't remember a time when I had normal nails. Just wanted to write this for a little comfort.

********************

When Steven woke up and saw you weren't in the bed, he assumed you were in the bathroom, but when you didn't come back to him, Steven was worried so he came outside the bedroom for you. Steven saw you sitting on the couch, legs crossed, the finger tape you had been trying all unraveled on the coffee table.

You saw him, immediately closing your eyes in defeat before going back to work, trying to make your nails 'right' "Sorry" You mumble.

"What are you sorry for?" Steven asked, sincerely.

You tried to stop from crying, angry at yourself. "For failing. I really wanted to break this, but... laying in bed I just could feel everything, and it was wrong, and it was bad and-" You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, and angle the nail clipper far in, proceeding to take off most of the nail on your toe, not that there was much.

Steven saw your low cut, abused nails and fingers, the sensitive skin that wanted to be covered and protected by callouses but now open to infection, the little bits of blood on your feet.

"It's okay, my darling, I know you're trying"

"Not hard enough, apparently"

"Hey" Steven tilted your chin up to him. "You've done really, really, well with others things, love. This is just something that's been around a long time, it's hard to break"

You pull away from him, embarrassed, but unable to stop. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't feel like I had too."

"Yeah, it doesn't seem like something you'd do for fun" Steven offered sympathetically, earning a small smile. Steven was familiar with strange quirks. Steven's bedtime routine before he met Marc was extensive, and Marc was intense about cleaning, so when you began dating, he didn't think too much of your strange eating habits. As things progressed, and you met and fell in love with Jake and Marc, you opened up about your obsessive-compulsive disorder, Steven tried his best to support you, reading all the books and articles possible, and holding your hand when there was nothing to be done.

"It's fucking humiliating" but you don't stop, you can't stop, you're trying so hard to get a nail that was in the skin, digging in at the calloused layers of your body trying to protect you. "Ow!" You missed your goal, clipping the skin and causing blood.

Within a flash, Steven stole the clippers from your hands.

"Steven!" You shout in a panic, never mind it's 3 AM

He stands up, trying to play keep-away but he's not tall enough for that. "You just cut yourself open!"

"Give it to me!" You're in a panic, you need to take care of it, need to make it right even though you know it will never be right.

"I draw the line at you hurting yourself."

"Fuck you." You storm into the kitchen, dropping blood on the carpet as you put on your slides and grab your keys.

"Bloody hell" He sighs exasperated, following you. "Where are you going!"

"To the fucking store to get another fucking nail clipper!"

"You're not driving when you're this upset."

"You don't get to tell me what to do" You clutch the keys to your chest and press your body against the door as he fights to take the keys back, but the pressure of it was all too much. Steven was mad at you, he thought you were weird, and your nails still weren't right and it was bad and things were bad and you had to fix it but he won't let you fix it and can't he see you needed to fix it?

When Steven heard you crying, he stopped, backing away immediately and giving you the clippers. His heart hurting for you, he watched as you, still crying, sink to the floor and start going back to work at your poor toes so fast, like it was the most important thing in the world. "I can't stop" You say through tears.

Steven sighed. "I know." He kissed the top of your head before stepping away. "Do what you need to do, then come to the bathroom when you're ready."

You only barely register what he said, and you certainly don't register the water running in the bathroom, your only though being fix it, fix it, fix it.

When you finally satisfy that ache enough, everything hurts, and you know damn well it's going to hurt more in the morning, multiple infections on your hands and feet, then more as they nails grow in again. Tired and ready for sleep, you pad over to the bathroom with bleary eyes, finding Steven sitting on the tub, looking up at you worriedly.

"Hey. You feeling better?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm like this."

"No" Steven stands up, taking you in his arms. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I know it's a lot. Here."

You look at the tub, realizing now theirs steaming water in it, only a few inches high.

"Is that for me?" You ask, curious.

"Yeah, it's really hot, so be carful. I just, I know they usually hurt, I thought we could try and prevent infection?"

You felt like you could cry again. "That would be great. Thank you"

The water was very very hot, Steven first put your fingers in the hot water and washed them with gentle soap, cleaning out all the blood, then after patting them dry, Steven put triple antibiotic gel on your fingers, bandaging the worst one. He then repeated the action on your toes, very careful but thorough on the toe that had been clipped.

As he laid you down on the bed again, tucking you in, he asked. "How are you feeling? Any racing thoughts?"

"No" you shook your head. "Just shit hurting" Before you or him could say more, you broke down crying again. "Im sorry"

"Oh love," Steven quickly embraced you. "You have nothing to be sorry for"

"I'm so fucking weird and gross" You sob.

"No." His voice was firm as he guided you to look at him. "You are not weird, and you are not gross. You are suffering, and it just hurts me to see you like this. I promise whatever I can do to ease your pain, I will. I'm sorry you're hurting, but you're doing so well, and I'm so proud of you."

Steven held you tight that night, the way that always comforted you, relaxed your mind, and although you swore you could feel your pulse in your thumb, and you still felt embarrassed, you felt safe knowing that Steven, Marc and Jake would always love you

**********************

IDK who would even like this but @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel and @welcometostayingawake bc ur my buddies and you support my weirdly specific shit

[harrysxcarolina]

Revenge - 01

Welcome to the beginning of Revenge. In this story you will be shown into the very dark and twisted lives of Raeelynn, Harry, and friends. This story is not for the weak. It will mention some very dark topics and triggering actions. Please use this as a warning, read at your own risk. This story is completely made up by me, and none of the events mentioned in this story is real nor has any of them happened to any of the characters, people that are mentioned, and/or portrayed in this story. This is the second warning that has been made in regards to this story, please be advise to refer back to the Revenge introduction for the full breakdown of what this story will contain. Now without further a do sit back, relax, and enjoy the roller coaster of emotions of Revenge.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst, murder, death.

-

You used to tell me that I could be anything that I wanted to be when I was younger. You would wrap your arms around me and softly kiss my hair before whispering, "Raee promise me that you will always fight for your dreams. No dream is too big or too stupid. So promise me."

The naïve little girl underneath you would smile fully up at you before holding out her pinky and whispering, "I promise. Just for you."

I trusted you completely. I trusted that you would keep me safe. I believed you so easily back then. I was so blinded by you that I had no choice but to let your storytelling distract me from what you were really planning.

It used to be so simple back then. Life used to feel so magical as a kid. Telling yourself that everything is reachable and that one day I could be everything I ever dreamed of. When you get older you realize nothing will ever be that simple again. Well, now all I wanted to be was free. Free of the misery I feel. Free of the pain. Free of my haunted nightmares. Free of the constant reminder that I am not good enough. That I will never be good enough.

I just want to be free. To not feel like this anymore. I hate you. I hate you for making me believe that I could be anything. That I could go out and obtain anything my mind and heart ever wanted because all you did was set me up for failure. You didn't prepare me for the real world. You just kept encouraging me to live in a fantasy that will only turn into a nightmare.

And where are you now? Nowhere to be found. You left me in the moments I needed you the most. You left me all alone to deal with him. To deal with the aftermath of something I never created. You abandoned me and forced me to become someone I never wanted to be.

I used to miss you, and now all I do is hate you.

I hate how I was left with nothing but misery when you escaped and forgot to take me with you.

You don't know what he does to me. You don't know what he allows to happen to me. I want to believe that you didn't know what your actions would cause when you left. I used to tell myself that you didn't because if you did you wouldn't have left me behind. You would have come back and rescued me by now, but I've learned the hard way. You aren't coming. You did know, and you just didn't care. Nobody cares.

Nobody ever car-

"Okay everybody that wraps up today's class. For those of you still working on your thoughts, please finish up your free writing and if you'd like to leave your notepad on my desk, please do so. I will make sure to get them back to you at the start of next week. Don't forget that you have your written essay due on Monday. I expect everyone to have it completed and peer-reviewed by three peers along with your final draft when you turn it in. No exceptions. Have a great weekend!" Professor Tilly states as she stands from her desk, drawing me out of my daze. Glancing around the room watching others pack up their belongings and making their way out of the lecture hall, I begin to grab my things. Slowly marking my journal I close it and slide it deep into my bag.

"Ms. Scott, a word before you leave?" Professor Tilly speaks up as she makes eye contact with me. Her lips smack as her tongue slowly traces the outline of her mouth. Panic sets in. I glance down at my watch. 3:45 pm. I can't be late.

"Yeah sure." I manage to say as I quickly stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to her desk. My body goes rigid as I feel myself begin to spiral in panic.

My fingernails slightly dig into my palm as I clench my hands. I can feel the heat radiating off my back as I try to come up with a good enough excuse to use in case she tries to keep me. I can't be late. I can't be late.

"How is the semester treating you?" She asks as she moves back behind her desk and sits on the edge. Her tight skirt slowly slides up her thighs as her hands catch my attention. She’s adjusting the pens in the pen holder that sits on the left corner of the wooden desk.

My chest constricts. My breathing hitches deep in my lungs. They feel like they are about to explode. Not only from the lack of oxygen, but from the pressure of trying to remain calm so she doesn’t catch on. I know where she is going with this. My hand gripping the bag slightly tighter than before.

"It’s uh- it’s going good. I'm enjoying it, Professor." I whisper as I slightly wince at the feeling of my nails digging a little deeper into my palm. Relax. I need to take a deep breath and relax. I can't be late. My eyes divert back down to the black notebooks on her desk.

"You have yet to leave your notes for review," she states. My heartbeat picks up. I fidget with the strap on my bag trying to avoid her eye contact.

"Uh yes, I know. I thought it wasn't a requirement that it gets reviewed by you. I thought-" I started off but was quickly interrupted.

"No, no of course not. I meant it when I said at the beginning of the term. These notepads are for your own personal progress through this class. Almost all of your peers have turned theirs in at least once to get guidance on their progress, and you have yet to do so once. I just wanted to check in and make sure that you have no questions in regards to it." She says as she catches my eye.

Shaking my head as my lip finds its way in between my teeth.

"I’m fine, thank you. I just like to keep my thoughts private," I explain as I sway back and forth slightly. My thoughts are more dark and twisted. They are far too gone to share with anyone except myself, but she doesn’t need to know that. She nods her head in agreement, not knowing the full depth of my darkness.

"Most writers do that. Some prefer the guidance of a village while writing and others are a bit more private when it comes to their thoughts and writing progress. I understand completely. Well, in that case, please have a wonderful weekend, and I look forward to reading your essay on Monday," she states as a chuckle leaves her lips. Giving a small wave, I make my way towards the door quickly glancing down at my watch. 3:58 pm. Shit, I'm going to be late.

Picking up my pace, I quickly make my way out of the lecture hall and across the campus to my car.

***

"Casey it's not that simple," I say with a chuckle as I grab ahold of the stepping ladder and slowly climb up to put the last few books back on the shelf.

"I don't see how it's not Raeelynn. Clearly, he likes you as he keeps coming into the store at the same time every day just to get a small glance at you. Don't be naïve and say that you don't see the way that he smirks at you," my best friend, Casey says with a laugh as she walks behind the ladder and holds up a few more books for me to grab and put away.

Shaking my head, I take one book at a time and gently place them on the shelf.

"All I'm saying is it won't hurt that tomorrow when he walks in you simply just say hi. He's been coming in for a few weeks now and you've yet to even speak to him. The poor mate keeps trying to bait me for information on you. I give him credit though he hasn't given up," Casey says as she slightly taps my arse making us both slightly lose balance, me more so than her.

"I've told you time and time again that I am in no place to date or even entertain the idea of dating someone right now. I have too much on my plate. Therefore, I have no reason to talk to him," I state as I slowly make my way down the stepping ladder and make my way to the back of the store to throw the empty box away. Casey huffs in annoyance but follows me.

"Look, you've said that for the past two years. Don't you think it's time to get back on the horse and try again? I know Logan really messed with your head, but babe you've come a long way. Maybe it's time to start letting someone in to help you take some of your stress away." She gently laces her arm with mine and pulls me to a stop. Taking a deep breath we both glance at each other.

"You know that it has nothing to do with Logan, and no one will ever be able to help take my stress away. Plus I’m not going to rely on someone else to help me with any of my stress. All I have is myself. I’ve definitely learned that the hard way."

"Why do you think that way? Why do you think that you are unsavable? Raeelynn, you are amazing, and anyone would be lucky enough to have you. Fight for you." Her eyes get softer and she gives me a gentle squeeze. If only she knew the truth.

Sighing, I pull her in for a hug, "thanks, Cas. I appreciate you. I just can't do it right now. There are things that can't and will not change, so there is no point in trying. At least right now.” She holds me back and I gently lay my head against her shoulder, wishing things could be different. But I know that they will never be any different than they are right now. I wish I could tell you everything, friend. I really do, but it will only ruin you too and I can't drag you down into hell with me. You're too good for it. Forcing a smile onto my face, I pull away but keep her at arm's distance.

“All right let's get the rest of these books stocked or Gloria will have our arses." I say, causing us both to laugh as we make our way into the back room.

***

"Okay, so your total comes out to be $46.53. Would you like me to bag up these items for you in paper or plastic?" I ask as I gather up the books that were just purchased. Taking a deep breath and glancing at the clock, I try to hold back my nerves as the time is getting closer to closing. Today went by too fast.

"Um, plastic will be fine, thank you." The customer states as she continues to rummage through her purse trying to find the exact amount of change for her bill. I quickly bag up the items and print off her receipt, wishing her a good night. Picking up a few misplaced things, I take my time putting them back in their rightful homes as I avoid looking at the clock.

"Alright dear, that does it for me. I'm going to head out for the night. Are you sure you'll be okay to stay by yourself? I know I sent Casey home earlier, but if you need me to stay with you, I don't mind. It's pretty dark out and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, dear." A soft and gentle voice whispers behind me. I couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling of comfort spread through my body. She was always so worried about me closing up the shop all by myself, but I know how to handle my own. I definitely made sure of it too. More like forced to.

"Yes, of course. You go ahead and head out. I'm sure I can handle it. It won't take me too long, so you have nothing to worry about." We both make our way to the front of the store and begin to close the blinds on the windows. Smiling back at me, she gently pulls me in for a tight squeeze.

"Okay, well, you have my home phone if anything were to go wrong. There are a few boxes in the back that I didn't get to do today. If you wouldn't mind putting out the new merchandise to help stock up for the big sale tomorrow?" She asked as I followed her out to the curb and watched her as she gathered up her keys.

"Yes, of course. I will have everything all set up for you, and I will make sure to call if I need you. Now go on and get home before I have Richard blowing up the store phone asking me why you are late for your Friday dinner!" I chuckle as I shoo her towards her car. She laughs a contagious laugh as she gets in and pulls away.

Shaking my head as I make my way back into the store, making sure to lock the door behind me. I get to work on unboxing the new shipment of books. After what felt like forever, I finally finished going through all the clearance books. I replace them with the new, upcoming author and make sure to place the proper coupons out on the display.

After breaking down all the boxes and placing them in the back room, I go through the store and turn off all the lamps and lights and take one last glance around to make sure I didn't miss anything. I finished cashing out the registers, stocking the shelves, and getting the displays set up for tomorrow. Taking a deep breath I, unfortunately, cannot stall anymore. Gathering up my belongings, I make my way to the back door and lock up.

Heading down through the alleyway behind the bookstore, I dig in my purse for my keys. I source through each and every pocket and I can’t seem to find them. I make a mental note to switch out bags once I get back to the apartment because I can't handle the stress of losing my keys. It's not helping that this alleyway is poorly lit and I have to stop to use my phone flashlight. Finally, after taking every single item out of my purse I found the bloody bastards at the bottom of the bag. Recollecting myself, I begin to walk again only to stop dead in my tracks only after a few steps. There are a few loud bangs and thuds echoing around me causing me to slowly look around.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. There’s the usual dumpster, a very skinny, homeless cat that looks like it has to have at least 3 diseases, and darkness. Rounding the corner, just a few yards away from where I was standing, there was a really nice black Mercedes. That wasn't there a moment ago. I slowly start to walk again. A cold chill worked its way down my spine causing me to shiver and pull my jacket closer to my body. The crisp air is getting the best of me once again.

"Johnson, this is your last chance. Where the hell is my shit?" A deep, raspy voice shouts, clearly pissed.

"Lo-look I just need a little bit more time to... to get the rest of it. That's all." A shaky and very whiny voice responds.

I slowly and very quietly take a few steps forward, trying to get a better view of where the voices are coming from. I peek up over the dumpster, finally able to see who the voices belong to. Two guys are standing at the back end of the Mercedes, one taller than the other. The taller one is slender, but with a muscular body. His hair is untamed as his dark unruly curls go in every direction. The smaller one is scruffy, very skinny, and looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks. His hair is all chopped up and greasy. The taller one is holding the shorter one by the collar of his shirt. I try to squint my eyes, hoping to get a better look at the two, unable to make out their faces from how dark the alleyway is.

"I have already given you two weeks. Two weeks over your deadline. Johnson, you fucked me over and I never give second chances." He says through clenched teeth as he pulls Johnson up off the ground and in the air.

"No... no, I didn't fuck you over, Styles, I swear! I just had something come up and I had to use the money, but I swear, I'll get it back to you. Just give me one more day, please!" Johnson begs as his legs involuntarily swing back and forth. Styles lets go of him, dropping him on his arse. Styles looks down at him without saying a thing for a moment or two.

"You are a piece of scum. You weasel your way through life thinking that you can get away with every bloody thing," Styles spits as he kneels down so he is face to face with him. The smaller guy tries to scoot away but doesn't get far, as he is met with the dead end of the brick wall behind him.

"Please. I swear I can get every penny. If Robin was here, he would understand. I just need more time." There was a pause. What the hell am I doing? I’m standing here like an idiot watching this shit. I must be losing my mind. I begin to back away but, I’m once again, drawn back in. A deep chuckle flows through the air and I see Styles throw his head back in laughter.

"Bloody hell. You must be really fucking stupid. Did you really just say that to me? Compare me to Robin? Well, guess what? Robin isn't here. What makes you think that I would actually care what he would have done? Let me tell you why I don't care. Low lives like you are what is causing the destruction. I'm here to clean up the mess Robin made," Styles sneers as he stands back up and quickly runs his hand through his curls. He slowly turns around and faces my direction causing me to quickly duck behind the dumpster. Licking his lips, he turns back on his heel.

"Get out of my face. This is your last warning. If you don't have my money by tomorrow, you'll have a bullet with your name on it. Trust me. I never miss what I aim at," Styles says through clenched teeth. Johnson gets up and starts to speed walk in the opposite direction, but before he can make it far there's a loud bang. His body slowly falls to the wet ground as the blood seeps through his dirty clothes. I gasp and drop to my knees.

My eyes grow big. My stomach drops. I feel sick to my stomach at what's in front of me. His body lying lifeless in front of me. I hear footsteps getting closer to me and the body. I freeze not knowing whether to move or not. Styles pushes the body over with ease by the tip of his shoe. The body flips so he's now laying on his back. He leans down and quickly pulls a phone out of his pocket.

"It's Styles. I need a cleanup on the corner of Blackburn and Lisbon. Be discreet and hurry. We don't need this getting out. Tell Robin the job is done. I'll be there in fifteen." With that, he ends the call. Standing up from his crouching position he continues to stare down at the scrawny, blood-soaked body.

"Scum like you is what makes this job fun." He unlocks the black Mercedes before reaching in the dead guy's pockets pulling something out and twiddling it between his fingertips. I can't tell what it is, but seeing by the look on his face, it’s clearly something important. I gasp with horror as the warm crimson blood slowly makes its way closer to the tip of my shoes. I quickly cover my mouth, my gaze shoots up in hopes he didn’t hear my stupid mistake. My eyes widen and my stomach begins to twist into knots as the man I just witnessed murder another person looks me dead in the eyes. I feel the color drain out of my face. His stare doesn’t leave mine as they dilate and become coal black. Well fuck. Do I run? Do I scream? Both? Oh hell, what if he murders me next.

My body goes completely numb as he begins to take steps toward me. I have to run or I'm going to end up just like that man lifeless on the ground. I quickly turn and run the opposite way. I don't even look back to see if he is behind me. I just keep running. Getting closer to the street lights. My legs are getting tired, but I keep pumping them. My adrenaline is sky-high as I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Heavy footsteps are behind me.

I’m gasping for air, and my legs are getting tired but I must keep running. Internally cruising myself for always skipping gym days. My chest feels like it is getting tighter and tighter by the second. My lungs feel like they are about to catch fire at any second. Flashes of the dead man and all his blood keep replaying in my head as it gets harder for me to breathe. There’s a corner coming up, and I see the Chinese Takeout sign from the place I always order food from. I'm on fifty-second street!! Oh sweet Jesus there's a police station just a block away!

I press my legs harder and faster giving it the last of my energy. I need to stay alive. I need to get to the station. His footsteps are getting closer and closer to me. I'm trying to run faster but my tired legs won't let me. My breathing has gotten worse. Deeper. Harsher. My body is tired but I'm almost there. I see the street light getting brighter and brighter the closer I get.

Finally, I reach the corner, quickly turning and pressing my legs even harder. I keep replaying that dead man's picture in my mind. That's going to be you Raeelynn if you don't run faster.

Maybe I should stop. Maybe he'll listen when I tell him that I won't tell the cops. That I'll act as if I didn't see anything. That I was never even in the alleyway, to begin with. I know I am being delusional. There is no way in hell that he is going to just let me walk away from this alive. Especially because that’s what everyone says in this situation and they always go to the damn cops. He won’t believe me. Shit, I wouldn’t even believe myself.

Keep running. You don't want to die! You have your whole life ahead of you! Not like my life is something I want to keep living, but I guess anything is better than dying. I try to pump my legs harder, faster even, but it seems like no matter how hard I try they won't go any faster. I feel like I am moving in slow motion at this point. I see the station just ahead of me but no matter how hard I push my tired legs it never gets closer. Just as I am about to reach the front steps, I'm roughly grabbed and yanked to a stop.

"If you even make the slightest bloody peep I will kill you. Do you understand?" His rugged voice said close to my ear. I felt his harsh breathing down my neck as his grip on my elbow grew tighter. I slowly nodded my head as I tried to regain my breathing. I force myself to remember all the great times I've had in the short 22 years of my life. There weren't many, but there were some.

I don’t dare say a word as tears slide down my cheeks. He remains quiet as he drags me back down the road, cautiously looking in every direction. We reach the dark alley and he pulls me past the body, towards his car. It takes everything in me not to vomit all over my shoes as my eyes can’t seem to leave his lifeless body as I pass.

I can't believe he killed him. That's going to be me soon. What the bloody hell did I just get myself into? As if my life isn’t already complete shit.

[datastate]

okay last post on this but i think i've processed the game now. i feel as if y6 had gotten so close to being a genuinely good game - i enjoyed the twists, the characters were overall charming, the tension was raised well, with kiryu reluctant to disrupt the main antagonists but eventually given no choice but to fully give in to the yakuza life again (tragic as that is), and so on - but i just cannot dismiss how they treated haruka. the introduction cutscene showed such potential, as did the idea of trying to figure out what haruka had done in the four years' absence, but hitching the majority of the plot upon her without giving her the barest hint of agency made me. so frustrated. i feel the same toward kiyomi. they'd gotten so close to letting them be people, only to then make them plot devices for male leads is stupid.

and the thing that stings the most is that i know they're capable of engaging with fem characters and centering them without it feeling shallow. i loved how strong makoto & yasuko were shown to be throughout their games, from hating & fearing the underworld to taking charge within it. i primarily prefer makoto's treatment to yasuko's due to the fallout of yasuko's death, but ultimately - i really loved how much more they brought to the plot! it's always interesting seeing civilians begin to familiarize themselves with the hidden background of a society they used to regard with distaste or a sense of betrayal, to reason out their pain and thereafter realize they can grasp the internal workings for themselves. it's something shown in akiyama's storyline as well!

for haruka, i was really intrigued to see how she would grow up to balance this life. she'd engaged with it just as much as kiryu did, despite never swearing an oath. her entire life's been shaped by the tojo clan, and kiryu's never been given the opportunity to fully cut ties - his only escape from the blood the tojo clan drags his name through is framing his own death.

initially, i was actually very happy to see that she had (perhaps tragically) also fallen into kiryu's steps. even with her attempting to distance herself from the orphanage, to begin anew, she associated with another yakuza group. like kiryu, it's a fate she can't escape due to the nature of her existence; something she faces in its raw detail moreso than any of the others at the orphanage. how is she meant to balance a normal life against her reality? she was given the 'dream' that many girls would've wanted, that her own mentor wanted, and lived it for them - but for herself, she still couldn't find the same happiness she once had with her family. for all their pains and trials, they had one another to fall back on.

so she tried again to find what life meant for her, on a smaller scale, detached from the orphanage and looking for peace. but, similar to makoto and mirei... the yakuza games seem to believe that women can only be at peace when they have children. while i appreciate the overall high regard of 'family' (be it in blood or bond), i find myself irritated to see the ways in which they make this the axis upon which their arcs revolve. makoto's end was given after y0, and is rather callous of her background of sexual abuse imo (not that she 'couldn't' have had a child, but i wish there'd been shown a bit more initial hesitance/fear, as is. expected lol) -- mirei's is a bit more understandable with how the media would've exacerbated what's already a personal tragedy (without letting it rest) + i am more lenient to draw parallels between her situation and wenhai lee's in seeing this as their 'second chance' ... but i don't want to have to be lenient to dissuade my annoyance with this as a recurring point in every girl's life in these games. the main character with an exception to this would be yasuko, which i appreciate, but the fact that she is the only one that comes to mind is. rather frustrating.

the same idea applies with the fact that the only way to really interact with interesting fem characters is through hostess clubs. i appreciate the effort put into these side characters, i write down some of the ones that particularly charm me with their humor/how they grew up. but ultimately... they're indulgent for the player alone. and it's frustrating. something i wish they'd do more is in situations like seeing yuki again in y2; the work that comes after the entertainment industry. to see how they grow as people after all of that. how they pursue other interests of theirs, or to help them with resparking a certain passion. you have this in side characters like yuya, but it's completely dismissed with any and all hostesses - even with protagonists breaching their 50s. i'll be honest, it isn't a good look for the characters, and it's just not satisfying starting with blank slates every time!

i don't know. this long-winded rant has gotten out of hand, but... while i did enjoy the story of y6, i'm going to be endlessly frustrated with haruka's treatment here. she was given the start of development (following what she saw and thus indirectly proving their bond: kiryu avoiding those he loves in the name of protecting them), only to have it stilted with this sudden development & motherhood placed upon her as the end-all (reminiscent of what we last see of makoto). this, combined with carelessness (& convenience) of her coma (in which i wish we saw more of kiryu's grief & following guilt for grieving someone not yet dead; as if he's given up on her, etc.) just sticks out sorely contrasted with how good the story generally is. they were so close, but no cigar...

[lovelyrecs]

PART THREE MOTHERFUCKERS

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

wow it is really full of his details. i've never watched it but i've seen enough reels to know the wrong answer; who's his favorite gilmore girl boyfriend?

NO AUNT.  BITCH. He bites back a grin.

huge fan of her dedication and also doubt. she will NOT just take steve rogers' word (as she should), she will hunt down his full fuckin file and read every word of it

THE MEMES THE MEMES ARE SO FUCKING FUNNY. and this one. i cant stop thinking about this fucker:

because melon sorbet is correct and i hate it so much

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

i'm gonna use this. he is so very rightfully indignant and this is so

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

WE HAVE TELEKINESIS THATS SO SICK

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

she's so right

okay this meme. what the hell is carly shay looking at who is that also the handle!! avengeridontevenknowher LMAOO

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

i would pay so much money for that footage

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out. “That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles. “Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

i love her SO MUCH she's so annoying i love her so much

Bucky is a man of dignity. Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

oh my gosh i really i thought he'd walk around and halfheartedly look up and say hello cryptid and then walk away. like his whispered hello that other morning

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout. “It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

that shane ryan dynamic is really coming through here. top part for me because i can imagine it so clearly. i wish i could draw

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

MET NAT ALONG THE WAY AND BEFRIENDED HER??? holy mother do you know how cool you have to be to do that. i want to know how so badly. was it one of her odd jobs?? tell me she didn't meet her on a mission but one day when she was like a lion tamer for a day or something

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.   “There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?” The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

oh my god did he just see the thing

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

okay i am so deeply impressed this is the second time she's done this on this stupid trip. how does she move so FAST and silently

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

WHY IS HE INDIGNANT??? HE DID NOTHING AT ALL AND SHE SEARCHED FOR TWICE AS LONG AS HE DID i cannot believe the GALL

From: co-host (TGS) can you pick up  From: co-host (TGS) i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

she's so (not bitchless) i bet bucky barnes took this statement to heart. he imagined it spat out from her mouth and he made a face and thought of steve and sam and (reluctantly) clint. bitches

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

very relatable i listen to myself talk and my eye twitch comes back

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.” Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.” “No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.” “Right.” “I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

OH MY GOSH HE ACTUALLY CAUGHT THAT SHIT ON CAMERA THIS IS AMAZING

loved this chapter ari i love the forced proximity and them literally wandering away LMAO what an incredible trope

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.  

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters. 

NO AUNT. 

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human. 

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently. 

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night. 

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.  

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin. 

“Good evening,” you greet. 

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says. 

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” 

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off. 

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses. 

He sighs. “How long? An hour?” 

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable. 

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees. 

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.” 

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones. 

You go back to singing, but worse this time. 

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response. 

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters. 

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance. 

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness. 

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves. 

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing. 

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker. 

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision. 

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing. 

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans. 

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks. 

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly. 

A second passes. 

And then another. 

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again. 

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face. 

An hour passes. 

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table. 

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift. 

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had. 

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while. 

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting. 

He hears bells ringing in the distance. 

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.  

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break. 

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon. 

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there. 

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall. 

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands. 

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper. 

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”  

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning. 

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up 

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours. 

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening. 

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

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[uroborosymphony]

"Calista," Sarang breaths against the palm of the Lamia's hand, and it sounds like a prayer. It is, in a way. So rarely does she speak her name, avoiding the entirety of it all together, that whenever she allows the syllables to gather on her tongue, they spill over her lips like blood out of a wound finally liberated to heal... or kill her. Calista shows weakness by dancing around her Huntress. Sarang shows weakness by bowing before her executor, or the one who should have been an executor, but is now wielder of her heartstrings, the bow of her life energy. She nuzzles her cheek further into Calista's hand and smiles up, a vixen vowing allegiance to a dragon, sharp-toothed and with a glint in her eyes. "Do you speak a language that would grant me the words needed to describe how much I've missed you?" ((no context, just me choking about the immortal terrorist girlfriends, hope this is okay~))

"Yes?" The Lamia answers. It is rare for Sarang to voice out her name, it sounds like a prayer when she does, a prayer Calista answers to, religiously. She is sitting, while her huntress is laying down on that couch, her head into Calista's lap. Her fingers have been gently traveling through Sarang's dark locks, over her temples, sometimes resting down her shoulder as they have been reading, both holding a book. The atmosphere is silent, soothing on the soul for a sunday afternoon. Her attention is never divided when it comes to Sarang, and so, she places her read down, closing the pages meticulously, to listen to her. Sarang's cheek is nuzzled into Calista's hand as a fond facial expression draws on the lamia's usual harsh and severe features. A rare sight, of pure adoration from Calista as her eyes rest on her huntress, her fingertips caressing the apple of her delicate cheek, her eyes meeting hers when the other looks up. Naturally, the timid smile of the creature mirrors Sarang's while she listens to her words, carefully. "I do." Answers the Lamia on a tranquil tone. Being the erudit she is, after living 600 years there was no languages she did not master. Even the forgotten and forbidden ones. "My Own." She then adds, her fingertips now following the lines of Sarang's features, light, cautious, as if her skin is made of glass and secrets. "The Lamias, daughters of Hecate, communicate in their own language. A secret one. Yes, that is right, I do have sisters. Sisters I regularly crossed path with prior to the Great War. A sorority of eleven ; I am the twelfth. The Lamias aimed to chain me down for my disobedience, my refusal to bend to Hecate, the chaos they knew I was euphoric to cast on both the Immaterial and Material realms. I could not possibly let such obstacle stand on the way of a world I still am planning on reshaping. Hence why," Her eyes change colors, as they always do when her head wanders in territories only the creature is aware of, from golden to black, to bloody red. The tip of her index finger, tracing Sarang's jawline, then lifts the other's chin slightly and keep on diving into that undying, untouched, untainted beauty of hers. The creature's eyes switch back their nominal golden again, losing themselves into Sarang's even more. "I remain the only one left speaking the language and I want you, only you, to hear it." She whispers, leaning down, closing the distance between their faces.

She whispers, the depth of her voice on a light tone that seizes the air, with her mother tongue, like an untold secret, a pandora box. "It means : The skin off my bone, the blood out of my veins, until you return to be part of me again." Her smile never leave her lips. "Is what I have felt as well, in the years that separated us, through the loneliness of my tormented soul, my Huntress."

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: taking Wanda to meet your parents wasn't the best decision in hindsight...

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: i’m not sure what to say other than sorry in advance oops

part one | part two | part three | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

The restaurant my parents chose wasn't too flashy but rather comforting and homely, with an Italian theme and matching cuisine. It was bustling with people, but it didn't take long for Wanda and I to find my parents sat at the back waiting for us.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked, glancing at her with a comforting squeeze of the hand.

"I've got you, haven't I?" she asked playfully, her accent thicker than usual as she spoke. And though she was joking, I knew there was truth to her words which sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

"You're cute," I said with adoration, appreciating how lovely her eyes looked in the dimly-lit restaurant. "Come on."

Hand in hand, we approached my parents' table and I had hopes that tonight would go well. My parents weren't exactly intimidating – at least anyone I'd ever known hadn't got that impression – but I still worried for Wanda. Unlike her, I couldn't read minds, so I couldn't tell if she was actually looking forward to tonight or if she was just doing it for me.

"Y/N, you're here!" my mum exclaimed with a grin when she spotted me.

"I am," I said with a nervous smile, before motioning to Wanda. "And so is Wanda, my girlfriend."

"Yes, Y/N mentioned you would be coming," my mum said with a friendly smile, looking to Wanda, before motioning to the table. "Please, sit, sit."

I squeezed Wanda's hand gently before pulling out a chair for her. She smiled at me appreciatively before I took a seat beside her, facing my parents.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Wanda," my dad said with a nod. "Y/N mentioned you plenty of times when we'd call to catch up with her."

"You, too," Wanda spoke politely. "Both of you. Y/N told me that you're travelling the world, is that right?"

I leaned on my hand and glanced at Wanda, who shot me a mischievous smile. Quirking a brow, I mentally applauded her. Getting my parents to talk about their travels was an easy way of bonding with them – they would tell every server and customer in this restaurant about their travelling if they could. She'd cracked them instantly.

I'm just that good, milashka (cutie).

Trying not to laugh as her words echoed in my mind because of her powers, I leaned back into my seat and listened in as my parents went into a ramble about their ongoing adventures. This was pretty much how the rest of the evening went, as the four of us dined on expensive wine and delicious pizza. They seemed to be getting along well, with Wanda asking all the right questions and giving them her picture-perfect smile that impressed all the elders. Heck, she was even impressing me.

Naively, I appreciated how well the evening was going until my parents decided to talk to Wanda about her career.

"So, Y/N mentioned you're one of those Revengers," my mum remembered as we ate.

"Avengers," I corrected her, mildly embarrassed.

Wanda chuckled, glancing at me, before nodding. "Yes, I am. For over a year now, I've been working with them."

"Them being Iron Man, Captain America, the Black Widow...?" my dad asked, looking up as if trying to remember the rest, further embarrassing me.

"Those are the ones," Wanda quipped with a nod.

My mum hummed in response as my dad nodded before leaning back in his seat and eyeing Wanda curiously.

"I can't imagine your job is the safest," he began. "You protect people from threats, right? Keep them safe."

Wanda seemed caught off guard, but recovered quickly. "It's got it's... dangers, yes. But I can handle myself. I've got powers and I know how to use them."

"You do," my dad agreed, before his eyes flickered to me briefly. "But Y/N doesn't. She's just a regular human."

I set my fork down on my plate and looked to him calmly. "Dad, what are you saying?"

"No, it's fine," Wanda said reassuringly, resting her hand on my leg under the table. I grabbed it and held it as she continued to speak to my father. "Y/N doesn't have powers, you are correct."

"And dating an Avenger, I can imagine, must put a huge target on her back," he said with concern, and my mum nodded in agreement. "How can we be certain that she is safe?"

"Dad!"

"Your father is right, Y/N," my mum said, giving me a look, before her expression softened as she looked to a startled Wanda. "We're not implying that you're incapable, Wanda. We can clearly see that you care about our daughter. And you're a lovely person. You're pretty much perfect."

Wanda swallowed hard. "But?"

My mother frowned. "But dating you is bound to put our Y/N in danger. She could get hurt just for being involved with you, with your friends. She doesn't have powers to protect herself. And I can't imagine you're around her all the time to keep her safe."

As angry as I was at my parents for saying this stuff – even if they were saying it out of love – memories of the incident flashed to mind. They were right, but it was a risk I'd accepted when dating Wanda. What good was it doing by bringing this up now?

Noticing Wanda's silence, I spoke up instead. "I appreciate your concern, guys, but I'm an adult. I understand the danger I may be put in by being with Wanda. But I love her and I know that she is here for me if anything were to ever happen."

"We know," my father said, giving me a small nod. "We just thought we'd share our opinion anyway. It's been weighing on us for a while is all."

I sighed quietly. I couldn't exactly fault them for that.

"Anyway, never mind that," my mum said, setting down her fork. "Now that we've got that out the way, let's order some dessert, yeah? Our treat."

Nodding, I let my parents get excited as they perused the dessert menus before them. Instead, I looked to the quiet brunette beside me and saw how lost in thought she was, eyes focused on the table and stuck in a daydream.

With the hand that was holding hers, I patted her hand with my thumb to earn her attention. She looked up suddenly, questioning gaze falling to me. I frowned and quirked a brow, wondering if she was okay. She forced a smile my way, squeezing my hand reassuringly, but I didn't believe her. I also couldn't question it right in front of my parents, so I decided to speak with her later.

Dessert went by quickly as Wanda, suddenly, wasn't very talkative. I didn't know if my parents noticed, but I sure did and I felt extremely guilty. If I had known of my parents' concerns, I never would have brought Wanda to meet them tonight.

After the evening came to a close and we all stepped out of the restaurant, I expected to be going home with my parents since we lived together, but they claimed they had more plans together tonight.

"Wow, you guys have more of a social life than we do," I joked when they told me to make my own way home.

Wanda barely smiled and I felt bad.

"We'll be back in a few hours," my mum promised, before pulling me in for a hug. "Tonight was fun. A great final night before we leave tomorrow."

I returned the hug and as I gave my dad one, I heard Wanda thanking my mum for the lovely evening halfheartedly. After saying our final goodbyes, Wanda led me to her car in silence, giving me time to try and put some jumbled thoughts together coherently.

As she had been for the past hour, Wanda was quiet on the drive back to my place. Whenever I would glance in her direction, she'd be chewing on her lip and focusing on driving, though the blank expression on her face made me think that maybe she was distracted. It didn't take a genius to know she was thinking about my parents' words and I suddenly felt guilty for putting that all on her.

"I'm sorry," I blurted halfway through the journey. "I'm sorry for what they said. It wasn't fair of them, I know that. They just... they meant well, Wanda, they really did." I tucked my hands under my thighs, wincing as their words echoed in my mind. "It doesn't change anything though, y'know? We're still us. We're still okay. I don't want you to feel like anything's changed because it hasn't."

I paused, swallowing hard, and glanced her way. She didn't even look my way, still in the same position as she was before I started to speak. Looking back to the road ahead, I let out a disappointed sigh, figuring she wasn't in a talking mood. I didn't blame her, but I hoped she would have understood what I meant.

The remainder of the drive was like this, Wanda deep in thought and me huddled under an imaginary blanket of guilt. When we finally reached my house, she turned the engine off and I waited for her to say something, literally anything. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel mindlessly and I figured she was out of words for tonight.

"I'll ring you in the morning," I mumbled quietly, opening the car door. "If you want to speak, that is."

Leaving her there, I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door, but stopped when I heard her get out the car, too. Waiting, I turned around and watched as she approached me, eyebrows knitted in thought.

"Please say something," I said with pleading eyes.

She licked her lips, biting her lower lip so hard I'm surprised she didn't draw blood. Finally, she released it and looked to me with apologetic eyes.

"Your parents were right," she said.

I blinked with confusion. "What?"

She nodded, looking down at her shoes momentarily. "They were right, what they said. My life puts you in danger."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, crossing my arms. "I knew that when I got with you, but that doesn't change anything."

She gave a disbelieving smile. "Seriously? Y/N, that changes everything."

"No, it doesn't," I told her sternly, growing frustrated. "This is the stuff you sacrifice when you love someone."

She sighed, shaking her head and looking away. "You shouldn't have to."

"But I chose to," I said, clenching my jaw.

"Don't you remember what happened last time?" she asked, stepping forward and holding my hand. "The incident?"

"We said we wouldn't talk about that," I reminded her with a low voice.

"But you remember, right? When they took you and I wasn't there? They could've hurt you!"

"Shut up!" I told her, raising my voice. Pulling my hand away from hers and taking a step back, I continued, "Why are you saying that? You came! You helped me!"

"But what if they did something to you before I got there?" she snapped. "What if I hadn't got to you on time?"

The memories came spilling into my mind, escaping the locked box I kept them in. Tears burned the corner of my eyes as I tried to think about anything else.

"You remember how scared you were?" Wanda asked, frowning at me with exasperated eyes. "You couldn't be by yourself for weeks!"

"Why are you doing this?!" I yelled, clenching my fists. "Why are you trying to frighten me?!"

"Because you should be frightened!" she retorted, stepping closer to me. Her dark green eyes were swirling storms of rage as she added, "It could happen again!"

I shoved her away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose with annoyance. Tears slipped from my eyes at the terrifying memory of what happened, what could have gone wrong, but I ignored them as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Why the hell was she acting like this? Making me so angry at her for no reason?

"It's not even just that," she continued, jaw tensed. "How many times do I get hurt because of work and you get worried?"

"That's because I care about you," I muttered through stinging eyes.

"This will always be my life," she said, a hint of regret in her words as she looked to me. "I can't change it."

"I'm not asking you to!"

"Exactly! You're not! Which means you'll suck it up and stay with me and will live your life in constant concern for my well-being. It's not right."

I opened my mouth to respond because what she was saying was entirely stupid. But my emotions got the better of me and no words came out. Instead, my bottom lip quivered as I sucked up a breath.

"I need time to think," she suddenly said, anger disappearing from her voice and being replaced with an astute calmness.

My gaze snapped her way and through blurry vision, I watched her step back with her hands on her hips.

"So you can what – think about breaking up with me?" I said bitterly, and despite my anger, I didn't expect her to look at me with a softened expression, meaning my words were correct.

"Maybe it's better that way, Y/N," she said gently, eyes meeting mine.

I squeezed my hands together and tried to breathe through the pent-up anger that she'd caused, but the longer she stared at me, waiting for a response, the more I wanted to explode.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered, scrunching my eyebrows together.

She pressed her lips together, looking away, and it only pissed me off more.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Wanda?!" I yelled. "You're quitting on our relationship because, what, you think I'm in danger? Well, news flash, honey, the worst already happened and I'm still here!"

She barely flinched as she avoided my eyes.

"You're a fucking coward!" I said, pointing at her. "If you needed an excuse to end things, you could have just said so!"

Breathing out, I wiped my tears away shakily. I expected her to argue back, to realise she'd made a mistake and regretted her words, but as I waited, I knew she was certain of her decision.

"Fine," I settled, brimming with rage. "Fuck off, Wanda."

Still, nothing.

Turning on my heel, I stormed to my front door and went through my keys with difficulty, hands shaking with anger. I heard Wanda's car door shut from behind me but didn't bother turning around. I clearly didn't need to as I heard the tyres screech against the road and knew she was gone.

Kicking my door with frustration, I found the key and opened up before heading inside and slamming the door behind me. How dare she break up with me because of something that I chose off my own back! She just gave up like we meant nothing to her, not even bothering to talk things out with me! And selfishly, she left me feeling pissed and resenting her more than I ever thought I would.

"What a bitch!" I shouted into the empty house, throwing my keys to the side harshly.

When they clinked against glass, I looked up and saw the vase of flowers Wanda had given me before dinner.

"The first and fucking last," I said dryly, before grabbing ahold of it and throwing it against the wall without thinking.

The glass shattered on impact, leaving a mess of water, flowers and small shards on the wooden floor. I looked at it, the brokenness resembling how my heart felt. As the adrenaline of my actions and previous angry words wore off, all that was left was hurt and pain and oh God, Wanda was gone. She'd left me. She'd given up.

I sank to the floor, pulling my legs up to my chest, and hugged them tightly. Stifling my cries, I dug myself into my knees and felt a pain in my heart. Why didn't she fight for us? Did she not love me enough? Was I not enough?

—

"You ignored the memes I sent you, I thought you died."

As Natasha pushed right past me and into my house, I blinked with disbelief.

"Sure, come right in," I mumbled sarcastically, closing the front door.

Following after Natasha, I found her making herself at home in the living room, plonking herself on the couch and pulling her feet up comfortably.

"You could have sent an emoji or something," she continued, giving me a knowing look. "They were some good memes."

"Well, forgive me if I wasn't in the mood," I said sourly, joining her on the couch.

Her playful smile faded as she picked up on my words. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned my elbow on the back of the couch, getting comfortable. It had been two weeks since Wanda broke up with me and in those two weeks, I hadn't been doing particularly well. I guess you could say I was still in a slump. A horrible, tiresome, angry, sadness-filled slump.

"I'm fine."

She pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to argue, but thankfully, she didn't. I was glad – the last thing I wanted was to prove that I was okay when, really, all I wanted to do was curl in a ball and suffocate under my duvet.

"I'm sorry," she said, resting her hand on mine. "If it's any consolation, I think Wanda made a huge mistake."

"Ah, so she told you," I said with a nod of realisation. I hadn't told Natasha the specifics of why we broke up, but clearly Wanda did. I guess it made sense – they were teammates. If anything, I was surprised Natasha still wanted to speak to me, instead expecting her to side with her friend.

"She did," Natasha answered. "And I think she's an idiot, but that's not my business. I just came here to make sure you were okay."

"Really? I thought you wanted to show me the memes," I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood with a small smile.

She chuckled, slapping my hand gently. "That, too... but seriously."

My smile faded as I looked down, my finger playing with my trousers distractedly. "I'm not okay, but I'll get there." I began to glare at my trousers, my anger for the witch returning. "I have to be. Because she doesn't want me anymore... fuck her."

"I'd rather not," Natasha mumbled.

Though my anger was present, making me tense like it had been the last few weeks, I couldn't help but smile at Natasha's words. Then laughter bubbled from my lips and for the first time since Wanda left, I felt momentarily happy.

"I'm glad we can still be friends," Natasha said, making me look to her with a smile. "I know that you and Wanda are over now... but I still like hanging out with you."

"Me, too," I said in agreement. "Thanks for coming to check in. You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did." She nodded before offering me a small, encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, y'know."

I wanted to believe her, but despite how pissed I was at Wanda, I still loved her. And I couldn't imagine stopping, though I knew I'd have to if I was to make it through this.

—

Getting over Wanda was a difficult process. Everything I felt was a mixture of resentment, exhaustion and misery because I missed her. I missed being able to call her when I saw somebody do something stupid in public; I missed kissing her when I hadn't seen her in a long time; I missed hearing her adorable accent first thing when I woke up after she spent the night; I missed her.

Two months followed the breakup and the only time I'd see her was when she'd dodge Anna's apartment upon knowing I was going to take care of her. I guess I was glad in that sense, as it meant I wouldn't have to deal with her awkwardly. But it also made me feel like shit because it meant she didn't care about me at all. Clearly our breakup wasn't affecting her like it did with me.

And it was definitely affecting me.

I was scrolling through Instagram one day when I saw a particular post on my feed from Natasha's account. Yeah, one of the Avengers had a private Instagram account. She gave me her username when she saw me on it one day and I remember being so confused to how she had it.

"I'm an Avenger, not a hermit," was her response, and from that day onwards, we followed each other.

So, I saw a post on her Instagram and it was some goofy photo of her, Tony, Bruce and Wanda. They were posing with exaggerated smiles as Natasha grinned up front; the caption said something about working long days, but I wasn't paying much attention as, naturally, my gaze fell to Wanda.

Just like everyone else, she had a playful, exaggerated smile on her lips like nothing kept her down, but what stood out was the sling around her arm and the cast underneath. It must have happened in a mission or something and it wasn't my business, but I couldn't help but worry. Was she okay? Was she looking after herself? I wanted to text Natasha and ask, but I stopped myself.

She'd broken up with me for this very reason. I wasn't agreeing with it, but for a second, I did see why she'd made her point. It still wasn't fair though. She didn't get to make that choice for me.

We weren't together anymore, I reminded myself. She broke up with me. It had been two months and I needed to let go. If she didn't care about me, why should I waste my time and energy caring about her?

Not letting it get to me anymore, I simply liked the post before continuing my scrolling. Though I knew that deep down, her face was imprinted in my mind and I still worried for her well-being.

—

The fourth month following our breakup was when I properly saw Wanda again, excluding the times she would duck out of Anna's apartment upon my arrival to care for her. It was also the first time since the breakup that Wanda made the effort to speak to me.

I was sat eating dinner on my day off when I got a call from the hospital nearby, interrupting my meal. The nurse was explaining how Anna had fallen over and hurt her back and was now in a hospital room. She was calling me because she thought I'd like to know since I was her registered nurse and carer. I was glad to get the call, immediately pulling my shoes and coat on and rushing over there to make sure she was okay. She didn't have anyone else apart from Wanda and I – it was no question I had to go.

Though, of course, I didn't really think about the fact that Wanda may be there until I saw her there. I also didn't consider the fact that I was wearing my pyjamas when I stepped in the lift and headed to Anna's floor. Too late now.

After asking the receptionist where Anna's room was, I found Wanda hanging around it outside the door. With only Anna on my mind, I approached her and tried to hide my panic. She spotted me instantly, stopping her pacing and looking to me with tired eyes and a frown on her face.

I didn't care that she looked worried, nor that she was holding up well since we last spoke in anger. I didn't care that she'd dyed her hair a reddish-brown colour, nor that she managed to pull off both that and the whole 'loungewear' look in a place surrounded by blinding white and blue. I didn't care that my heart ached when her green eyes found mine, nor that I missed seeing her so close and not in my dreams for once. I didn't care about any of it. Or, at least, I tried to tell myself that.

"What happened?" I cut straight to the point, stopping in front of her. "Is Anna okay?"

Wanda nodded instantly. "She's fine. She tripped over her dining room chair and hurt her back. The doctors just checked her out and said it's nothing too serious, but she won't be able to walk for a while."

I pressed my lips together, feeling the panic wear off at the sound of good news. Anna had always been more than just a patient to me and the last thing I wanted was to hear she'd hurt herself badly.

"Can I see her?" I asked Wanda, quirking a brow.

"Yeah, of course," Wanda said, before looking away awkwardly. "I was just waiting out here for you. The nurse said you were coming."

I chose to say nothing as I walked past her and into Anna's room, seeing the older woman laying on a hospital bed and staring at the ceiling. When she noticed my presence, she smiled at me and motioned for me to join her side.

"It's so good to see you, milaya (sweetie)," she said happily, as I stopped by her side, "but you didn't have to come! I'm not dying."

I heard Wanda enter the room behind me, but she took a seat on the chairs opposite the bed. Ignoring her, I smiled down at Anna and grabbed her hand.

"Don't say that," I told her gently. "Of course I'm here. You're my number one priority. I had to make sure you were okay!"

Anna waved her hand in typical Anna fashion. "I've suffered worse. I'm absolutely fine."

I knew it was best not to question her, so I didn't.

"I'm glad you're both here," she said, looking between Wanda and I, making me swallow awkwardly.

Since breaking up, I hadn't mentioned it to Anna, but she wasn't stupid and she'd clearly noticed that we weren't spending time together anymore. I didn't know if Wanda had told her, but if she had, Anna never mentioned anything. Like now, she simply looked between us both with a grateful smile, unaware of how awkward we felt.

Thankfully, the awkward silence was interrupted when a doctor walked in the room. After introducing herself, I asked if I could speak to her outside about Anna and she happily obliged. She told me about Anna's condition and how it would affect the way I cared for her, especially regarding her new medication, and I asked anything and everything to make sure she was truly okay. After being reassured that she was, I thanked the doctor and returned to Anna's room, only to find Wanda and Anna in a heated a argument.

I couldn't tell what had got them so fussy as they were bickering in Russian, sentences too fast for me to comprehend with my limited knowledge of the language. It got to a point where Anna began slapping Wanda on the arm, looking angrier than ever, so I stepped between them and pulled Wanda away.

"What the hell is going on here?" I interrupted, holding Anna's slapping hand down to the bed and raising a hand to keep Wanda at bay. I looked between them, seeing the frustration in both their expressions, and asked questioningly, "Well?"

Wanda said nothing, eyes avoiding mine as usual, so I looked down to Anna who was glancing between us before spouting off into another ramble in Russian, trying to grab Wanda so she could yell at her directly. To my annoyance, Wanda tried to push past me, yelling back, and I was unfortunately caught in the middle as I attempted to keep them from ripping each other's throats out.

Thankfully, their bickering came to a halt when an unknown voice called into the room: "What is going on in here?"

I looked to the door, following the mystery voice, and saw a young woman, maybe in her thirties, standing in the doorway and looking between the three of us with confusion. I had no idea who she was, though she seemed familiar. Judging from the confusion Wanda had, she didn't seem to know either.

"Sasha," Anna breathed out with surprise, and then I realised. That was Anna's granddaughter. "What are you doing here?"

[wrathbites]

I am lowkey now obsessed with vampire!Shepard/Kaidan. I never knew I needed this in my life until right now. Could I perchance throw out an idea for a fic? The first time Shepard feeds off Kaidan for some reason? Bonus points if they're together romantically by then.

INHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALES AND SCREAMS FOR A YEAR. Ahem. 'Nonny, you have no idea how delightful it was to come across this message. It made my weekend, never mind my day. I only set out with this AU because it sparked joy for me, but hearing others say they also enjoy it? Hearing this from you? Receiving a prompt about it? I'm still on cloud nine, never intending to come back down lol

aofihuehfurwghurwg okay so onto the fic. I hope you don't mind, but this isn't a "first feeding" so much as a "first taste" (I have... several... first feeding ideas now. 9 to be exact. [I have AUs of an AU now oh god]) and they're not romantically together yet so I need to skip on those bonus points buuuuuuuut. For at least another two of those ideas I have rattling around in my skull, those points would apply. Alas, trying to wrangle them onto paper and into words is proving somewhat of a challenge XD

So uhm. With that! I hope you enjoy!

Risk the hostages now, or countless others later. Save a few, or potentially hundreds more. An impossible choice but Shepard makes it. He always makes it, he has to. So Kaidan and Vakarian follow his lead when he steps aside, and allow the batarian terrorist safe passage.

Except — the gravity well shudders under his fingertips, tortured by another with claws hooked deep. Except Shepard's mask of indifference doesn't quite cover his eyes. They burn as he catches Balak by the arm and yanks him to a stop, drawing every remaining gun to his head.

Except Shepard's grin is a vicious slash of teeth with no humour, fangs a threat when he leans in close and says, ever so softly, "are you really willing to walk away from the Batarian Scourge, Balak?"

And then all hell breaks loose.

~

Shepard's already bled through his undershirt by the time Kaidan's kicked free of the last of his armour, mentally cursed up a storm over the new set of bruises smarting across his back, and gone limping off to medbay in search of him. There's a fist-sized dark patch spread under his ribs, no bandages in sight, and blood coming away from Chakwas' fingers with her meticulous scrubbing. They look up when the door swishes open. Kaidan doesn't miss Shepard's eyes rolling heavenward.

"Could you excuse us for a few minutes, please, Doctor?" he asks. Her lips press into a thin line of displeasure as she dries her hands, gaze snagging on his sidearm — standard protocol, whether she likes it or not.

"Remember the rules, gentlemen — there's to be no maiming one another in my medbay," she says in a tone that'll brook no nonsense, only departing when she receives acknowledgement and agreement from them both. Kaidan engages the lock behind her, moves over to the window and tilts the blinds for privacy, finds Shepard watching him when he turns back around. Still seated, still playing the docile vampire when he'd been anything but just an hour ago.

"Why do you still bother with restraints?" Kaidan asks when it's clear silence will reign otherwise. They won't hold him, not for long, not without the assistance of a stasis field, and yet Shepard's making no effort to free himself.

Why? Why leave yourself a moment's vulnerability. Why trust me?

Shepard twitches his shoulders forward, all he can do with neck, arms, chest, waist, and legs all bound and secured. "A false sense of security is better than none at all, I've found."

"Uh-huh. Sure, that's believable, but I'm pretty sure Chakwas knows ten different ways to incapacitate you before you can so much as snap your teeth in her direction."

"One, actually."

"Shepard."

"Alenko," he parrots back with a scowl and, Christ, what Kaidan would give to knock his other fang loose. Insufferable bastard.

"Seriously, Shepard, c'mon. Are they even necessary these days? You've been a vampire how long?"

"Almost six years," Shepard's back to that staring habit of his that doesn't involve a single blink, eyes boring into Kaidan like laser sights as he approaches, gait the same as it would be if he was pacing the rest of the ship, neither slow nor cautious because he doesn't need to be either —

"And when was the last time you attacked a human?"

"About the same length of time."

— not around Shepard.

"So why?" The stare breaks when Shepard glances down, watching Kaidan pry open a buckle and loosen the strap around his left wrist, followed by the one at his forearm. No breathing, but there's a catch around an unnecessary swallow. Hm.

"They're... one of the conditions I must abide by."

Conditions. To return to active duty. Kaidan's placement as his watcher, the sidearm Kaidan can lay hands on at all times, more he's not aware of but Shepard hinted at their first day aboard. More, including restraints. Fucking hell.

"Six years handling humans like fragile glass, and they still treat you like a monster."

His other arm free.

"My species didn't exactly win humanity the First Contact war with diplomatic discussion, Alenko. The caution is warranted."

His chest next, still as the death he walked away from.

"The day caution becomes cruelty is the day it should end," Kaidan replies, taking a knee to work on the bindings around Shepard's legs. He freezes, however, when cool fingertips brush the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. It's one thing to have a vampire's hand so close to his throat, but to have them skirting his amp jack?

Kaidan's turn to swallow.

"Speaking from personal experience, Alenko?"

He looks up and Shepard's fingers ghost around, settle under his chin and tip his head up, grey eyes fixed where his pulse hammers fast.

Oh god.

"Something like that," he replies, a sandpaper rasp, mouth gone dry

"You underestimate the threat I pose to you," Shepard says next, soft as a whisper, still fixated on Kaidan's throat while freeing his own one-handed.

"Or maybe," Kaidan says, reaching for the restraints around his waist, "I listen to what others say about you, and decide I don't see what they do." The last one comes loose with a faint hiss as it slides from his hand, and just like that Shepard's free.

If Kaidan had true cause for concern around him, it'd be proven in that moment. He'd be flat on his back with teeth in his neck and hands holding him down, bones creaking in protest of a vampire's strength. He'd be struggling like a hooked fish, dark energy screaming between them, and ultimately he'd lose.

But it's not death looking back at him. It's Shepard, gaze lifting from the heartbeat he can see and Kaidan can feel, halting just as his breath does when Shepard's thumb lifts to his mouth, not quite making contact. Not yet.

"And if I tell you I'm a danger?"

A moment's vulnerability.

Oh. God.

"I'd ask if you were planning to kill me or kiss me."

The slightest pressure from Shepard's fingers and he stands, turned free when Shepard doesn't follow suit, stepping back when a jolt of ice strikes his hip in time to the blossom of blue around his sidearm, biotic field humming along his nerves. "I could ask the same of you," Shepard says.

"Conditions," he replies.

There's no flare of panic from Shepard when he removes his pistol from its holster, no flinching aside. No, he gets to his feet, stands straight, hands clasped behind his back. Watching. Waiting for his watcher's judgement.

"Caution," Kaidan continues, turning the pistol sideways and pressing it to Shepard's chest, "at its end when it becomes cruelty."

You're not a monster.

Shepard sets it aside with the same care he shows when settling a hand on Kaidan's side, over his belt. Loose, a question. Will he walk a fine line with danger, or retreat back to safety?

You never were.

He finds the blood on Shepard's undershirt, catches it in his fist and pulls him across that minuscule distance between them.

I'm not afraid of you.

Shepard's cool to the touch all over, lips, teeth, the line of his jaw, the tender skin around his own amp jack. His tongue, soothing the sting when Kaidan nicks himself on one of those fangs, his breath when he draws back, his exhale Kaidan's inhale, his moan Kaidan's secret.

I never was.

"We shouldn't —"

"Shepard, if you hit me with fraternisation regs now, I swear to god I'll knee you in the balls and see how quick you recover from that."

Laughter, tucked into his shoulder when Shepard ducks his head, Kaidan's fingers buried in his hair and free hand sliding around his back, finding the stain twin to the one on his front.

"I meant I haven't fed yet. I can't — you can't — be bleeding. Around me."

"Another one of those wonderful conditions you agreed to?"

"Mmhm. No direct feeding from a human. My own preference as well, but..."

"Go, then. I'll wait."

"You will?"

"I mean, I won't stare at you while you're uh. Feeding. That'd just be weird. And I promise I won't snicker if you stick an IV line in the bag and 'slurp it up like a slushie'."

~

Shepard's still laughing some ten minutes later and it's just as well he can't choke on inhaled mouthwash, else Kaidan would have some awkward explaining to do when Chakwas quizzed him on the cause of secondary death.

He catches her smile when she spies his sidearm on her desk. What she does with it after they leave medbay, back to business as usual when it's decidedly not, he never asks.

And he notices the missing cut later, when he's checking and rechecking the repairs on his armour. Smooth skin where there shouldn't be. He swipes his thumb over his lip. No dried blood to be found, no scarring, either.

No mark from Shepard's kiss except the memory.

[delaber]

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand​ for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86​ for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster.  Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu​ @diggsbeatriz​ (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-) 

[babypandawrites]

Allies, Pt. 12

The Siege of the North, Part Two

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: Implications of Death, I think that's all? Word Count: 3,286 Summary: With the Fire Nation waging war on the Northern Water Tribe, you didn't expect things of the past to be brought up, but, when do you expect anything at this point.

Note: And here we have, the final part of Allies :') But don't worry- the story will continue in a sequel 👀 Phew I did not mean for this to take so long, but I was having a really hard time with the end and ended up having to change where the reader was towards the end for me to... actually be able to write the chapter. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed the story thus far! It means the world to me, really. It's crazy to think about how I've been working on this for four months! I hope you guys will stick with me for the months to come while I write the sequel :') I'll be carrying over the taglist to the sequel since it's the... same story just a different name heh. Let me know if you want to be added or taken off! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and that you all have a great day! <3 Also hi sorry bringing this poll back up bc the results are currently tied!!!

-Navigation- | -Atla Masterlist- -Last Part- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Next Part-

Taglist: @boomeraangin | @brokennerdalert

Eyes blinking open, Y/n slowly came too. Her vision was blurry, and her head was pounding. Faintly, she could hear someone talking, but her head was too fuzzy to make out who it was and what they were saying. Her vision clearing, she could see a rocky ceiling, which seemed… odd. Was she in a cave?

When she tried to sit up, she found that she couldn’t move. Her arms were trapped against her sides, and her legs were bound together. Groaning quietly, Y/n twisted onto her side. Aang was on the ground a few feet away from her, hands bound behind his back. He didn’t seem… present.

Observing the situation more, she noted the figure that stood at the entrance to what she was assuming was a cave. They were still talking, and her head was finally clear enough to make out what they were saying.

“I don’t need luck though, I don’t want it. I’ve always had to struggle and fight and that’s made me strong. It’s made me who I am.”

Struggling weakly against her bindings, Y/n furrowed her eyebrows together. “..Zuko..?”

His head turned to the side slightly, an acknowledgement that she was awake, but he didn’t turn to face her. “Don’t bother trying to get free, I’ll just knock you out again.” He paused for a short moment. “Sorry about that, I just.. I knew you wouldn’t give up. You never have.”

Zuko had… taken her too. Why…?

Grunting, she continued to struggle against the rope, stopping only when Zuko rested his hand on her arm. “What did I just say? Did I knock you in the head that hard?” Sighing, Zuko settled on the ground next to her. “I’d prefer if you didn’t make me knock you out again. You probably think otherwise but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Opting to stay silent, she shuffled in place. He watched her carefully, before awkwardly looking about once she stopped moving. He took in a deep breath, when she started shuffling again. “Are you.. uncomfortable?” Being met with silence, Zuko glanced at Y/n to see she was looking at him with a blank expression. “I can sit you up, if you want.”

Not receiving an answer once again, he let out an annoyed breath. “Conversations usually go both ways, Y/n.”

Still, she looked at him blankly. “I don’t think people typically converse with their captors, Zuko.”

“Well, we used to be friends!” Crossing his arms with a huff, Zuko slumped against the cave wall. “I guess the key phrase is ‘used to be’, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, before breathing out a sigh. “I didn’t capture you to turn you in, we could… still be friends.”

Y/n took on a pensive expression. “Then why..?”

“Why did I capture you..?” Receiving a nod of confirmation, Zuko shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“You don’t… know..?”

“No! Okay?! I just-” Breathing out another annoyed breath, he dropped his head into his hands. “Why? Why did you leave? I thought… I thought we had each other's backs and… and you just up and leave?! Just like that?! No explanation, no nothing!? So why?!” Continuing to stay silent, Y/n grimaced internally at the rise in Zuko’s volume. The more he spoke, the louder he got. It was almost hard to imagine that this was the boy she grew up with.

Zuko scoffed, shaking his head slightly. “Fine then. It doesn’t matter anyways- You’ve chosen your path.” He let out a laugh, one edging on hysterical. “You know, I thought maybe I could sit here and convince you to come back, but I can see that isn’t going to work… The Avatar and his friends have won your favor.” He was silent for a moment, seemingly calming down from his outburst. “Uncle told me that I shouldn’t be mad at you, that I should respect your decision to find your own path. How can I do that when your so-called path is going against me?”

Before Zuko could continue, Aang came too, returning from the spirit world. Attention turned to the boy, when he started to struggle against his bonds. After a short moment of futile struggle, he sat up to face Zuko.

“Welcome back.”

“Good to be back.” Aang spoke with a threatening tone, blinding reaching around with his hands- which were tied behind his back -to try and find Y/n’s wrist. Once he was able to grab onto her wrist, he took in a deep breath and blew Zuko away from them while simultaneously shooting both him and Y/n out of the cave. The two landed in the snow outside, where Aang started to caterpillar crawl.

It didn’t take long for Zuko to get to them, grabbing Aang by the collar and lifting him in the air once he did. “That won’t be enough to escape.”

Suddenly, Appa appeared above them, before landing on the ground. Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief. Katara got off the bison, as Zuko dropped Aang back into the snow. “Here for a rematch?”

“Trust me, Zuko, it’s not going to be much of a match.”

Katara blocked a fireball Zuko shot at her, sending a wave of ice towards him. Once the ice reached him, she encased him in a pillar of ice that she raised high from the ground. When she dropped him, he fell to the ground unconscious.

Sokka jumped off of Appa, rushing over to Aang to cut his bonds. “Hey! This is some quality rope!” He commented, before moving to Y/n to free her as well.

“We need to get to the oasis! The spirits are in trouble!” Aang got up, and ran to Appa, while Sokka helped Y/n to her feet.

Everyone was on the bison, ready for take off, but Aang hesitated on leaving, looking towards Zuko’s knocked out form. “Wait, we can’t just leave him here.”

“Sure we can. Let’s go.”

Y/n shook her head softly. “No, Aang’s right, we can’t leave him. He could die.”

Aang jumped off Appa, and grabbed Zuko to bring him up onto the bison. Sokka watched him with a somewhat exasperated expression. “Yeah, this makes a lot of sense. Let’s bring the guy who’s constantly trying to kill us!”

As they started to fly back to the Spirit Oasis, the moon changed to a blood red, casting a red light over everything. This seemed to affect Yue, who held her head in pain, letting out a groan.

Sokka looked at her concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I feel faint.”

Aang, with a hand to his head, looked at the moon. “I feel it too. The Moon Spirit is in trouble.”

Yue glanced at the moon as well. “I owe the Moon Spirit my life.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka questioned.

“When I was born I was very sick and very weak. Most babies cry when they’re born… But I was born as if I were asleep. My eyes closed. Our healers did everything they could. They told my mother and father I was going to die. My father pleaded with the spirits to save me… that night, beneath the full moon, he brought me to the oasis and placed me in the pond. My dark hair turned white, I opened my eyes and began to cry- and they knew I would live. That’s why my mother named me Yue, for the moon.”

They neared the oasis as Yue finished her story, to find Zhao there- a bag in hand and Momo on his head trying to stop him from what he was doing. The group got off Appa when he landed, sans Yue and Zuko, ready to fight Zhao and the other Fire Nation soldiers in the oasis.

“Don’t bother!” Zhao held a knife to the bag he had, which must have had the Moon Spirit trapped inside.

Aang dropped his staff, raising his hands in surrender. “Zhao! Don’t!”

“It’s my destiny… to destroy the Moon… and the Water Tribe.”

Y/n glared at the man, resisting her urge to attack him. “You’re insane.”

“Destroying the moon won’t just hurt the Water Tribe. It will hurt everyone- including you. Without the moon, everything would fall out of balance. You have no idea what kind of chaos that would unleash on the world.” Aang tried to reason with him, but Y/n wasn’t sure words alone would stop the man.

“He is right, Zhao!” Heads turned to Iroh, as he approached.

“General Iroh, why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?” Zhao spoke in a bored tone.

Iroh lowered his hood. “I’m no traitor, Zhao, the Fire Nation needs the moon too. We all depend on the balance.”

Unsurprisingly, Zhao continued to hold his threat on the Moon Spirit, the knife he held at the bag it was captive in not dropping.

“Whatever you do to that spirit I’ll unleash on you ten-fold!” Iroh pointed a finger at Zhao, before taking on a firebending stance. “LET IT GO, NOW!”

After a moment of stillness, Zhao faltered, lowering the bag. He kneeled and released the fish of the Moon Spirit back into the pond. The red light casted from the moon returned back to normal.

Seeing something move in the corner of her eye, Y/n’s attention moved to the right, just in time for her to see a figure sneaking away. Careful not to draw attention to herself, she followed after them, noting that Zuko was missing from Appa’s saddle as she snuck by. He was taking the chance to sneak away, while everyone was focused on Zhao. If she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t be getting far.

In her pursuit, the moon fell dark, probably thanks to Zhao. It’s not a surprise that he would try and kill the moon spirit, even after letting it go. Keeping her distance and staying as hidden as she can, Y/n continued to follow Zuko- Only stopping when he did. Eyebrows furrowing together, she watched as he shot a blast of flames to a lower area from where they stood- Which was shot at Zhao.

The man stopped in his steps, looking up at Zuko incredulously. “You’re alive?”

“You tried to have me killed!”

He shot several more blasts at Zhao, which he was able to dodge. When he tried to run off in the other direction, Y/n moved quickly to grab her bow and an arrow, shooting it at the ground in front of him. Both Zhao and Zuko were shocked by this, not having noticed her before.

“You tried to have him killed?!”

Zhao’s gaze darted between the two, before primarily focusing on Zuko. “Yes, I did. You’re the Blue Spirit- and enemy of the Fire Nation! You freed the Avatar!” Pausing, he pointed to Y/n. “And her!” His words dripped with venom.

“I had no choice!”

Zuko fired several more attacks at Zhao, while Y/n readied an arrow- though she waited to shoot it until the right moment. Zhao avoided the attacks, removing and dropping his smoking cloak as they subsided. “You should have chosen to accept your failure- your disgrace! Then, at least you could have lived.”

Returning the fire, the two end up in a short exchange of attacks, before Zuko blasted Zhao in the chest, knocking him down. Having seemed to realize Y/n was waiting for the right moment for attack, Zuko glanced at her. “Now.”

Though she didn’t need his signal- In quick succession she fired two arrows at Zhao, one pinning his sleeve to the ground, the other pinning his pant leg. The two jumped down to the lower level Zhao was, landing on either side of him as he struggled to free his clothes from the arrows. Zuko took on a firebending stance, while Y/n pulled another arrow through her bow. They both waited to attack, watching the man carefully.

Finally wiggling the arrow free from his shirt sleeve, he scoffed, looking between the two. “Two traitors working together again, hm? I’m not surprised at this point.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes when the Admiral quit trying to wiggle the arrow pinning his pant leg down free, quickly pivoting on her heel at realization. Twisting to the side, she narrowly dodged the arrow when he threw it at her. This initiated the fight once again, Zuko sending a relentless stream of attacks. Realizing her bow wasn’t going to get her anywhere in a close range fight, Y/n hooked it away onto her quiver, running at Zhao while he traded fire blasts with Zuko. She grabbed onto his arm as he tried to send an attack at the prince, yanking it to the side so the blast shot to the right. He twisted his other arm to send a fireball right into her face, which she was able to duck away from as she released his arm. The momentary distraction gave Zuko the opening to shoot a powerful blast at Zhao, knocking him back a bit.

Unable to keep his attention on both of them at once, Y/n was able to swipe her leg at his ankles while he was focused on Zuko, knocking him down. Not relenting, Zhao shot a blast at Y/n, catching her off guard and knocking her down. She rolled out of the way of another blast, before Zuko helped her off the ground- While firing at Zhao. The two looked at each other briefly, sharing a nod.

Running at Zhao once again, Y/n twisted, ducked and dodged the attacks sent at her, while also giving room for Zuko to send his own blasts at the man. Once close enough, she started throwing punches at Zhao, taking his attention in the fight. The close proximity of the fight didn’t stop him from using his fire, leaving parts of her clothes to be singed. She ducked when he tried to punch her with a blazing fist, giving the opening for Zuko to send another powerful blast at Zhao, knocking him down once again.

He didn’t get up this time, rather looking past the two with a horror ridden expression. “It can’t be!”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/n turned to see what he was looking at- The moon. In the heat of the battle, she hadn’t noticed it started to shine bright once again.

Suddenly, water rose up coalescing around the bridge they were on, taking the form of a large fish like creature. It reached out and grabbed Zhao, pulling him off the bridge. He struggled against it, before Zuko reached out to him. “Take my hand!”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to grasp onto Zuko’s hand, but instead drew back- an expression of hate taking over his features. Zhao was taken under the surface of the water, disappearing. Crossing her arms, Y/n looked at the surface of the water in near disbelief.

Silence lingered in the air, it only being broken when Zuko quietly cleared his throat. Looking up from the surface of the water, she glanced over at him. He took a minute, before speaking up.

“Listen, Y/n… I’m… sorry. For everything. I- Ugh, what am I even trying to say here.”

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “That you’re sorry?”

“Yes- Wait, I already said that..” He breathed out a sigh, holding a hand to his forehead. Laughing softly, she held out her hand.

“Truce?”

He hesitated for a moment, before grasping onto her hand, a soft smile tugging up his lips. “Truce.”

Tugging him a step closer, Y/n put an arm around his neck, bringing him into a hug. Zuko tensed at the action, but returned it nonetheless.

“We can still be friends..” Mumbling quietly, she broke away from the hug. “But I need to get back to them.”

“I.. understand.” He paused. “Actually, no, I don’t. But… I won’t stop you.”

Offering a small smile, she slipped past him, intending to go back to the oasis. She stopped on the way there, however, seeing that her friends were gathered. Katara waved her over, inviting her into the group hug they were currently sharing. Running over, she joined them, a wide smile on her face.

---

Sea water gently splashed up against the sides of the boat, spraying past the railings. The more Y/n sat with her back against them, her head leaned back, the more the back of her shirt and her hair dampened from the water. Eyes closed, she took in a deep breath. With her terrible track record on boats, she didn’t know that being out at sea could be so… relaxing.

“Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head softly in response. “You can’t either?”

Sokka breathed out a quiet, somewhat tense, laugh. “No..” He paused for a short moment. “Do you mind?”

Opening her eyes to see that he was motioning to the space on the deck next to her, Y/n offered a soft smile. “Not at all.”

Muttering a small thanks, he gave a weak smile in return, before settling down next to her. He sat close enough for their shoulders to press together, the close proximity made her heart race.

Silence lingered over them for a long moment, before Y/n spoke up. “I heard what happened… With Yue.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, Sokka tilted his head back, looking up at the moon. “Yeah… I figured you would.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up but- I just wanted to say if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always right here.”

“Thanks..” He paused for a moment. “You know, I went to that shop you were working at once when you weren’t there. I was trying to catch you there, that… didn’t work out- Obviously.” He breathed out a quiet chuckle, digging into his coat pocket. “But I did meet that lady you worked for, and she asked me to make sure this got to you.” He held out a bracelet, the one she’d been looking at in the shop before she started working there.

Her eyes widened slightly. “I forgot about that.”

“That’s why she asked me to give it to you. Let me see your wrist.” He tied the bracelet around her wrist, once she held it out to him.

“Thanks.” She spoke with a smile, twisting her wrist slightly causing the stone to glint in the moonlight.

“It’s no problem.” Smirking, he took on a slightly teasing tone. “I didn’t expect you to be a jewelry person.”

Pressing a hand to her chest, she feigned an over exaggerated offence. “Just because I lived in a forest and can fight better than you doesn’t mean I can’t like girly things.”

He looked at her offended. “You cannot fight better than me!” She leaned a bit closer to him, raising an eyebrow. “You wanna test that theory?”

Falling silent, he gulped. “No, I think I’m good.”

They were both quiet, before breaking into a short fit of laughter. Leaning back against the boat's railing, Y/n hugged one of her knees to her chest.

Once again, silence fell over them. After a few moments, a sudden weight was on her shoulder. Tensing slightly, she looked to the side, to see that Sokka had fallen asleep- His head now leaning on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to wake him up, but stopped herself.

Something in her didn’t want to wake him up… The closeness was… Nice.

Letting her eyes fall closed, she leaned her head back, absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelet tied around her wrist. She felt so calm, but still her heart raced, and she wasn’t sure why.

With certain thoughts and memories coming to mind, however, the pieces started to fit together.

And it was in that moment, Y/n realized.

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

[darter-blue]

Beautiful Rage

Bucky/Zemo

Explicit - 18+ readers only

Helmut clenched his fists to control the shaking. He hadn't meant… hadn't meant to…

Well. That’s a lie.

He had absolutely meant to upset Bucky.

He should have meant to placate him, to twist him against Sam, to keep his leverage but give them enough information to keep them both on his side.

But there's something about the way Bucky holds his jaw. The way his eyes flash with unchecked emotion.

Something about the heat that radiates off of Bucky when he's angry.

Fires under Helmut's skin like a pulse.

And that little outburst, looming over Helmut, ripping the tea cup from his fingers and smashing it against the wall. The cold fury…

Helmut needs to shake it off. This is not what he's here for. This is not part of his plan…

Bucky's beautiful rage, the way it clouds Helmut's judgements, his fixation on bringing it to the surface, is only going to make it harder for him to finish what he started.

It takes almost no time at all for Helmut’s resolve to crumble.

It takes only as far as their next argument, with Sam gone to speak with his sister, to buy himself some small peace, and Helmut fresh from a hot bath, Buky has been sitting too long on his own. Left too long with his own thoughts.

A well placed attack at Bucky’s restlessness, his currently unfulfilled need to be useful, and Bucky is up and at him in a second.

This time with no one to pull him back.

‘What is it that you actually want from me,’ Bucky says, his face so close to Helmut’s face, Helmut can taste the cherry blossom tea on his breath.

He wants to reach up and taste it for real. He wants to bite at that taste, sink his teeth into it. Into Bucky.

He also doesn’t know how to answer that question.

He doesn’t want Bucky to know that, though he’s taken so long to answer, stared so long at Bucky’s mouth… he might not be able to hide it now.

‘You don’t even know? Do you?’

‘I want to finish what I started.’

‘Kill all of us?’ Bucky’s eyes are blazing. His lips are pursed, his jaw is clenched. It throws his whole face into the kind of chiseled righteous fury that Helmut craves.

He shouldn’t push… he can’t afford to push him too far. He needs Bucky to help him find the others. But he needs… he needs to feed off this rage.

'No good will come of allowing super soldiers to live,' Helmut whispers, and it's not a lie.

'And you? You've done so much good with your life?' Bucky asks, whispered just as quietly, not moving back, not giving an inch.

'I've done what was necessary.'

Bucky’s eyes narrow at that. But he doesn't move. Doesn't respond.

'At least I've always done what I thought was right,' he closes the distance between them, speaks the words right into Bucky’s ear, 'At least I've never rolled over and let my enemies enact their evil through me.'

Bucky’s reaction is beautiful. He flinches at the words as if they've struck him. Helmut can feel him shaking. With guilt, or anger, or fear, he isn't sure.

But if Helmut knows anything about Bucky, he knows it will be some combination of all three.

Bucky steps back but Helmut follows him, reaches up a hand to cup his face. 'Such a perfect weapon, Bucky,' he says, tracing a thumb across the stubbled divot of his chin, 'Do you honestly think you can ever be free? So much capacity for death and destruction.'

'I'm more than what they made me,' Bucky fires back, ripping his chin out of Helmut’s hand, 'I'm more than what you see in me.'

'You might think so-' Helmut starts but Bucky cuts him off, stalking forward and pushing Helmut back with the force of his chest, his expression, his power.

Bucky stalks Helmut all the way back into the wall.

‘You want me to be a weapon,’ Bucky says, sneering now, menacing, as he crowds Helmut into the rendered brick of the kitchen wall, ‘you need me to be a weapon,’ he puts his hands on either side of Helmut’s head, leans his face in close, ‘I’m not the only one of us who’s broken, Zemo, I see the way you look at me, the way you land your blows to hit me so right.’

Helmut can’t move, he can’t find any words to reply that won't betray the mess of his feelings right now.

His breath comes faster and faster, his heart pumping blood to all the wrong places. He needs his head, he needs his mind, he doesn’t need his dick to do his thinking.

He doesn’t need for Bucky to be able to feel how broken he is, that this is working. That Bucky has him cornered.

‘You need me to be nothing more than what they made me, because then you can play with me all you want. Isn’t that right? Then you can break me more, you can push me over the edge, and you don’t have to worry that you are becoming everything you hate.’

‘I am nothing like what they made you,’ Helmut says, breathing faster, harder, his chest rising and falling and pressing up against Bucky’s on every inhale.

‘No, you’re not like me,’ Bucky says, and he smiles. Shark-like. Fiercely stunning. ‘You’re like them. You’re just like Hydra.’

And that catches at something jagged in Helmut, something he knows and pretends isn't true.

‘I am nothing like them!’ he snarls, pushes up into Bucky’s face, their noses almost touching.

Bucky lets him.

He doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t pull away.

He takes his vibranium hand off the wall next to Helmut’s face and he runs it down Helmut’s chest. Then he pushes him back into the wall. Holds him there.

‘You know you are,’ Bucky says, still smiling, ‘and you want exactly what they wanted.’ Bucky leans in, ‘You want to use me,’ he takes his flesh hand off the wall, traces a finger down to Helmut’s waist, ‘want to control me,’ pushes his robe aside and trails his hand across bare skin, ‘you want to own me.’

Helmut lets his head fall back against the wall as Bucky’s hand slips down to his dick. Presses on it, wraps his fingers around it.

Helmut means to shake his head, means to deny it, to lie again. But he can’t.

He wants it so much.

‘You want to own me, don’t you.’ And Bucky bites down on Helmuts ear.

Helmut can’t help the breath that escapes him. The way it drags out like a sigh, like a prayer.

‘You want to fuck me open, make me yours.’

It’s not a question. Bucky knows. Helmut hasn’t hidden anything. Hasn’t manipulated anybody but himself.

And even so, Bucky pulls back to look him in the eye. Raises an eyebrow at him, looks for confirmation.

Because despite everything they’ve done to him, at his core, Bucky is a good man.

Helmut wants to burn that out of him.

It's terrifying how dangerous Bucky is. The raw power, not just from the poison in his blood, but the vibranium in his arm, the force of his rage.

It's terrifying and it's magnificent.

He can't let Bucky get the better of him, he needs to take back his control.

The victory here belongs to Helmut.

He tests Bucky by pushing against his weight, and at first Bucky pushes back, but then almost immediately he relents.

'You okay?' He asks, voice shaking.

And it rings in Helmut’s ears, that affectation, the way he has rattled Bucky. He uses his sudden leverage to press even further forward, and he looks up into Bucky’s beautiful face.

'I'm never going to be okay,' he says, voice calm, using every measurable unit of control in his body to keep still. To keep steady. 'You and your Avengers made sure of it.'

Bucky's face closes over, but his stance loosens further, his shoulders slump, and Helmut seizes the opportunity to push Bucky to his knees.

And Bucky lets him - be it sense memory or innate supplication, whatever the reason - Bucky lets Helmut push him to the ground.

Helmut ignores his hesitation, focuses instead on the storm in Bucky's eyes, the rise of his chin. The way Bucky has made this his choice, even now.

Helmut mimics his movements from earlier to cup Bucky under the chin, takes his other hand and runs it through his hair, grips it hard and pulls, snaps Bucky’s head back.

'Open your mouth for me, like the good little soldier you are.'

And Jesus, Helmut has to swallow down his moan at the way Bucky does exactly what he's told. At the way Bucky opens for him. Never dropping eye contact.

As if this is exactly what he wanted.

Helmut should take that, should let it stop him. Should pause now. Not give him what he wants. But it's too late.

He's too far gone.

And Helmut is already sliding his cock into that open mouth with delicious abandon.

The slick wet warmth, so tight, so sweet, it draws him forward. He yanks at his grip on Bucky’s hair, uses it like a stronghold to keep Bucky in place (though he could never; Bucky is so much stronger) to pull out and then slam all the way back in.

He looks down into those steel blue eyes and catches the fire there. And it spurs him on, to pull out and push back, to slam his hips forward. To fuck Bucky’s face, to own him, and be owned, and throw everything away on the power, and the powerlessness of this feeling.

Of the way Bucky hollows his cheeks to keep that wet heat deliciously tight, an action that only exacerbates the sharp cut of his cheekbones, only intensifies the beauty of his supplication.

Every thrust brings Helmut closer and closer to a complete loss of control. And every thrust feels more and more like tipping over the edge.

'You are mine,' Helmut says, as much to reinforce that idea to himself as to Bucky. 'I own you.'

Bucky doesn't move to agree or disagree. Only slides his hands up Helmut's thighs to pull him closer.

'Oh god,' Helmut cries out, throwing his head back as Bucky sucks harder, as Helmut’s cock pulses. 'So good,' he looks down, pulls tighter on Bucky's hair, 'my perfect little soldier,' and he means every word to be a barb, but they miss the mark so completely. Because he feels it too damn much.

And Bucky… Bucky knows it.

Bucky is smiling around Helmut’s cock as he draws it in, as he takes every thrust.

It's too much. The smile, the fire in his eyes, the warmth of his mouth, the way Helmut’s cock hits the back of Bucky's throat.

The way he can put all of his force into yanking Bucky's newly shorn hair, and Bucky just takes it like it’s a gift.

It's too much. He can't hold on.

He pulls out just in time to feel his orgasm wash over him, to spray come all over Bucky's lips and chin.

And Bucky...

Bucky happily opens his mouth to it. Closes his eyes and accepts it, rapturous.

He chases the mess on his lips with his tongue, wipes at it with a vibranium thumb and sucks it clean.

Helmut doesn't mean to run his hands through Bucky's hair. Doesn't mean to trace a finger down his face, let it linger across his swollen red lips.

'Such a good boy,' he says quietly. And then he bends down to pick up his robe, turns around. And walks away.

He doesn't feel victorious at all.

[blackknightgargiemoviephile]

How To Train Your Dragon Saga

In the beginning, I was never really interested in watching the movie and never even bothered to watch the trailer, since we thought it was one of those cliche failure movies (and Dreamworks hasn't really had a very good track record of good animated movies at the time), but after being bombarded with tons of Toothcup fanfics and fanarts and after very high recommendations by my friend Jello13 from dA, I finally got down to watching the movie. Boy, was I glad I took my friend's recommendation to watch this movie, and the subsequent sequels after that, because after 3, 4 friggin' times, I still fucking LOVE this movie!!!

Here's my findings of the saga:

Apparently this movie was based on a children's novel written by Cressida Cowell which focuses on the 2nd book in a 10-volume book franchise. There are certain deviations between the real Hiccup and Toothless and the storyline as a whole, but after reading the summary of the original story, I think I like the movie version better. In fact even the writer said so in her blog that she likes the deviation as the movie captured the core essence of her story and it was amazing to see her story to be interpreted this way.

The storyline and the pacing is very good, and the sarcastic humour and slight optimism of Hiccup despite people thinking he's anything BUT a Viking is very intriguing. I love his catchphrases like "I'm way too muscular for their tastes. They wouldn't know what to do with all...this" and "Thank you for summing that up" and his famous line "You just gestured to ALL of me!" is just some of the LOL-worthy lines the talented Jay Baruchel who voices Hiccup does.

I was totally shocked to find out that Gerard Butler plays the role of Stoick, Hiccup's old man! I have never expect him, who is known for his brawniness and action-packed persona, made famous in the movie 300, would actually play a voice-over for a cartoon character. After finding out, spotting his voice and hearing the familiarity was much, much easier.

And of course, the creme de la creme of the entire movie: TOOTHLESS!! He is just so, so, so, soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo uber cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute~~~~!!!!! When I read about him in fanfics and caught glimpses of him through fanarts, I was thinking, "Hey, this dragon is quite cute." Now amplify that feeling by a gajillion times more. That's how I feel about Toothless. He started off a little vicious with his snake-like slit for eyes, trying to act strong and tough like the dragon he was, but the moment he let his guard down a little, he got these pair of big doe eyes that is just so MOE and SQUEE-worthy. And of course I finally learn how he got his namesake: with retractable teeth that he can materialize at will

My most favourite scene of the entire movie would be this scene where Toothless finally was at peace with Hiccup and allowed him to touch him. The way Toothless tried to copy his drawing, and then growled whenever Hiccup stepped on his drawing, then Hiccup moved to avoid the lines in tune with the music until finally they were so close they were allowed to touch was just so AWW-worthy. And the music score was perfect too, especially the title of that score: Forbidden Friendship. Isn't that just sweet?

The part where Hiccup and Toothless slowly develop that bond while trying to get Toothless back on his flight feet again was also very interesting as they slowly worked together and forget each other's differences to reach a common goal, while at the same time trying to learn about each other, and Hiccup using that knowledge to good use (the eel and the scratching of the neck part was really epic), making him the life of the team, much to his crush, Astrid's chagrin.

I also love the part where Hiccup tries to convince everyone during the final exam of killing a dragon that dragons are not what they think they are, and tried to pacify the Monstrous Nightmare only to be interrupted by Stoick and having Toothless coming to the rescue (damsel in distress much, Hiccup? XD) and revealed their relationship. It felt really sad and my heart just broke when Hiccup shouted Toothless for him not to kill Stoick and Toothless looked at him with his doe eyes, then Hiccup tries in vain to stop everyone from hurting Toothless, and that argument which led to his disowning, and earning back his role as a son by proving his worth and Toothless' reputation, though a cost of his leg. I was wondering where would be the scene where he looses his leg, since I read that he had a prosthetic in fanfics, but turns out it happened in the near end of the movie, and literally mirrored Toothless' missing left tail fin.

Ending is a bit cliche where he gets the girl, he is lauded as a war hero and gained the respect of everyone including his father, the dragons made peace with humans and all that, but still it was a very heartwarming cliche scene. One that leaves a smile on your face and a sigh of contentment in your heart.

Speaking of Astrid, not really sure it's because of that yaoi in me, but I never really saw Astrid as a suitable pairing for Hiccup. I know, I'm not usually one for bestiality, but seriously, can't you just FEEL the love between Hiccup and Toothless to the point where you can consider them as lovers? Toothcup (Toothless/Hiccup) pairings are in the rage right now since the movie has been uber popularize, and you cannot deny that sort of relationship exist, right?

This one, personally I feel, is almost as par as the first one. Not better, not worse, but more or less par. Hiccup and Astrid are still together, but the Toothcup shipper in me just don't feel like they match somehow. Moreso, suddenly out of the blue, Snotlout and Fishlegs were heads over heels with Ruffnut, which I ABSOLUTELY have NO CHEMISTRY feel whatsoever! Even after I've watched their TV series that led to the second movie, I STILL don't get the vibe or the chemistry between those three people. It's like "Wait, what?" moment.

Although that moment when Ruffnut was just totally thirsty for Eret was absolutely hilarious though. I couldn't help laughing and cringing at the same time.

When the moment Hiccup's mom Valka showed up, I was not expecting her to be so... skinny. Stoick said that he made helmets out of Hiccup's mom's breast plate, and it seemed pretty big, but looking at her, she didn't look like someone who was close to being a big bosom woman, but what is continuity anyways? LOL Though Hiccup definitely has inherited her knack for dragons. Guess it's in the blood after all.

I teared up a little when Stoick died, and I felt so bad that their bromance was threatened by this, but thankfully Hiccup still loves Toothless and is willing to forgive him and try to bring him back to his side. Goes to show how deep their bond is, and Toothless ended up becoming the Alpha Dragon was one of the most epic moments in the whole movie.

It also kinda interesting that Hiccup has somehow became pretty hot in this movie. Was pretty surprised at how he transformed from the awkward tiny little runt of a boy to a strapping man LOL

Plot feels similar to the 2nd one, but the ending was so so SO bittersweet. A fitting ending, but sweet yet painful for me to watch.

My heart broke at the scene wen Hiccup was complaining about Toothless being in love n said "Am I not enough?" and I was like internally screaming "YES! U ARE ENOUGH!! U TWO ARE ENOUGH!! FUCK THAT LIGHT FURY!!"

Throughout the courtship scene btwn Toothless and the Light Fury i was like internally screaming "NO, SHE'S A TRAP! SHE'S A FUCKING TRAP! HICCUP, WHY ARE YOU OKAY WITH THIS?! I'M NOT HAPPY WITH THIS! I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS!!"

I cried like a fucking baby, especially at the end of the movie. It was like I knew it was happening, that they were gonna break up, but I was in denial, then when Toothless hugged Hiccup goodbye, I lost it, waterworks all over. In fact, waterworks all the way to the end at their final reunion ugly-cried like a fucking baby.

It did ended perfectly; perfectly bittersweet and perfectly heartbreaking and I was like "This is it. It's official. It's over. My Toothcup ship has fucking sank!!"

Fuck you, DreamWorks, you have killed my bromance!! Gahh!! I hate and love this movie at the same time!

Overall rating:

HTTYD: 9/10

HTTYD2: 7.5/10

HTTYD: 9/10

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 11)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

It's been years since I’ve been left with that much energy after a day at work. I have minimal oiliness on my face by the time I check my mirror in my car. I actually feel like I could run a mental marathon, which is good considering my next stop. Tonight, I’m seeing the flirtatious Mr.Jeon so he can finally give me the brief for the windmill house. I have to admit, I’ve kind of been looking forward to it, not only because the house is amazing, but also because I find some fun in declining his straightforward yet quite funny advances. I drive my Mini out of London, to the secluded green space where Mr.Jeon’s house is. I stifle a smile walking up the crackled stairs. I almost fell on it the first time I came here. I remember almost losing my shit when he caught me. I don’t think I’d be that phased if it were to happen today. I’ve had him way closer to me since then, and that has been something too.

I park my car at the end of the dirt road at the bottom of the hill, and hike up the stairs that lead to the house. When I get there, I notice a black wooden door with mouldings has been installed. It's better than the sad plank that was there before, and it actually kind of fits the architecture. I knock on the door, and a few moments later, Mr Jeon opens it.

“Miss Fair.” He greets, smiling at me, all grey suit and white shirt, his tie gone, three of his buttons undone. I stop my eyes from moving further down, not wanting to check him out too obviously.

“Good Evening, Mr.Jeon.” I murmur, returning the smile. He always looks so yummy.

“Good evening.” He replies, stepping aside to let me in. “Please, come in.”

Step into the house, the floorboards creaking under my heels as I make my way in, and he closes the door behind me. 

“How was your day?” He asks as I walk into the living room, myeyes immediately going to the immense, 3 to 4 meter high bookshelf  I saw last time. The house is as pretty as I remember it. 

“Busy.” I reply evasively, my eyes wandering up to the ceiling, and the dome where the roof opens up onto the sky.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, pulling my attention back to him. I turn to him, and he's leaning against the kitchen counter, hands shoved in his pockets. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Are you going to try and turn this into a date?” I ask warily. Of course he's trying to make this a dinner date. He chuckles ,taking a few steps towards me.

“I’m worried about your blood sugar.” He counters, and I roll my eyes to the heavens. My blood pressure is what is really worrying. 

“I am fine, thank you.” I decline politely. This is a business meeting, Maya. I turn back around, venturing further in the living space. The couches are still covered by white sheets, except for one old brown leather armchair that I will one hundred percent stay in the house.

“Where should we start?” He prompts as I set my bag down onto the pretty arm chair.

“We can go from room to room and you tell me whatever you want to be done." I explain, sliding my coat off of my shoulders. I set it down on the back rest of the chair and start gathering my equipment. "I can also give you my ideas. I’ll snap a few pictures so I can remember how everything looks.” I say, pulling my tablet, camera and notepad out of my bag. 

“Then, I’ll draw sketches and I’ll come back to you for your approval.”  I conclude.

“Okay.”

“I'll also need the blueprints of the house.” I add before I forget.

“I’ll send them to you.” 

“Okay.” I turn around , glancing at the stairs that lead up to the star-azing platform..

“I really want to start up there.” I informed him. I have been thinking about this part of the house ever sincethe first time I came here. The sun has set, and I'm not sure what I'll be able to see but I'm curious.

“Sure.” He concedes, walking me up to the stairs. He lets me go first while he stays down under the staircase to turn the crank that lifts the blinds from the roof.

On the platform there is what I'm guessing is a telescope covered by a white sheet pointed at the ceiling.

After he gets to work the panels slowly go up, unveiling a dark sky with a few sparkles, and an almost full moon clearly visible.

“Oh, wow.” I whisper. This isn't the starriest sky I've seen in my life, but it's pretty bright for something just 45 minutes away from London. I guess the light pollution doesn't hit as much here.

A few seconds later, Mr.Jeon climbs the stairs and comes up behind me. This  space has so much potential. It's so unique, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before. 

“So your grandfather designed this?” I ask him, unable to detach my eyes from the spectacle in front of me.

“Yes. I’d like to keep it like this of course, but I want this space to have seats.” He explains, pulling my attention back to the platform I'm standing on. The stairs and floor are metal, which gives it a very industrial feel, but doesn't match the warmth we're trying to give the house. Imagine laying on a comfy fatboy and just staring up at the sky for hours.

“Like a star-gazing station?” I ask him.

“Exactly.” He concurs. “I think it’d be nice if you were able to lay down too.”

“I agree.” I nod. 

"I think," Mr.Jeon trails off, stepping in front of me and reading the calendar stuck on the wall right next to the covered telescope. "Venus should be visible tonight." He says as he checks the time on his watch. Venus?

"Really?" My eyes widen in excitement as he uncovers the telescope. It's dark green and kind of rusty, defenitely an old piece of equipement. I bet this belonged to his gandfather. It's not dusty though, meaning he probably uses it frequently. 

"I mean it is visible during the day too, it's one of the brightest objects in the sky." He explains, unscewing the lense cover and the eye piece. Oh, I'm about to see a planet for the first time! I'm still surprised a man like him has this kind of interest. It's really not common.

"But it might be too low now." He muses, and I watch as he twists and turns the telescope that is almost his height, following an integrated compass with coordnates. He looks into the telescope in silence, and I'm fascinated by how easy he makes it look. This businessman has hobbies that don't consist in golf. 

"There she is." He says once he's found his target, and steps back from the telescope. "Take a look." He invites me. I take his place and look  through the lense, to see white bright disc in the center of my vision.

"It's so bright." I observe. I'm only seeing a bright disc of light, I wonder what it would look from up close.

"It's atmosphere is mainly thick clouds which makes it really reflective." I hear him explain behind me. 

"You sound so nerdy." I remark, turning around to look at him. He crosses his arms.

"I wouldn't be building rockets if I wasn't a nerd." He retorts. True. I take another look at the planet thoufh the telescope. It's amazing to see, but I'm really curious about how it would look if I were on the surface. It's kinda sad that I'll probably never know. 

"This is a really cool place to have in a house." I muse, looking back at him. He has his very own small scale observatory. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"It's pretty nice." He agrees. I pull out my camera and snap a few picturs of the space, and we move on with the rest of the tour. After coming back down into the livingroom, we both agree to keep the massive bookshelf. That was a given; this is another huge piece of the house that never in a million years I would have considered removing even if he asked me to.

He tells me his grandfather has read evey single one of the books in there, and has even written some of them. He throws some ideas for the arrangement of the space ,and I snap e few more pictures. Then we tour the rest of the house; the dinning room, the two bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom, and the backyard. It takes us almost an hour to complete, and we're back in the living room, where I put down all my tools and start to pack up.

“Wine?"

I turn around to find him behind the kitchen ocunter, holding an expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He's trying to make me drink again!  I give him a dissaproving stare.

“I bought this bottle for the occasion.” He tells me. 

“What occasion?”

"Any day I get to see you is worth celebrating to me.” He coos. Oh please!  “Considering how you’re always avoiding me.” He adds. Oh, I know where this is going. 

“I am not going to sleep with you tonight.” I articulate, trying to sound convinving despite my amused tone.

“I’m just offering you a drink.” 

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Maya, you’re way smarter than this.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Excuse me?” I mimick him, crossing my arms under my chest.

“You wouldn’t be here if you really thought I was going to try to take advantage of you like that.” He points out. True. But still. 

“It’s Italian wine.” He adds when I don't answer. “I think you’ll love it.”

How does he know what I like already?! 

“Just one glass.” I give in. One tiny glass. I'm driving anyways so I'm not about to go crazy tonight.

“Okay.” He agrees before pulling two wine glasses from under the counter. He pours me half a glass, before serving himself.

I thim and we clink our glasses before taking a sip each. An boy this man knows his wine. I love sweet reds. Before I can even comment on the taste, there's a loud knock on the front door.

"Just in time." He comments, droping his class and walking over to the door. Who is he expecting? I hear the door open.

"Thank you Jimin." Mr Jeon says. Jimin? Isn't that his assistant? I remember his name from the time I went to the purple mansion. The door closes and Mr.Jeon reappears.

“I hope you like sushi." He announces, holding two plastic bags in his hands. Sushi?

"You ordered food?" I gasp, my face a mix of confusion and glee. "I figured you wouldn't have had time to eat." He answers, walking over to me. I watch, mesmerised as he drops the food on the counter. My eyes follow as he pulls out one, then a second, then a third plate of colorful sushi. There’s makis too, salmon, tuna, sea breaam sushi- a lot f very good stuff. I’m salivating, my eyes hugging the food close. "Hungry?" I look up and see him smirking at me. I love sushi, and I don’t know if I can refuse this offer. This is better than sex. "Well, I wouldn't want to waste." I shrug a shoulder, making him chuckle. He then pulls out the sauces, disposable chopsticks and napkins.  Little white makis catch my attention. "What are these?" I ask, pointing at my first preys. "Cheese makis.” "Cheese?" I repeat. Has there been a kind I haven’t tried yet? It’s time to update the sushi-pedia. "Have bite.” Mr.Jeon proposes, splitting a pair of chopsticks. He picks one of the cheese sushi and brings it over to my face. At this moment, I don’t even feel like pointing out how inappropriate it is, this man just won’t stop. I bite the sushi off, surprised by the creaminess of the cheese. I hum appreciatively. Sushi can never go wrong, even with cheese in it. This is amazing. "Right?" He concurs, smiling softly. "It's good." I agree once I’ve swallowed. Mr. Jeon hands me another pair of chopsticks, and I dive into the colorful maki rolls. "I'm going to be honest," I trail off after the first two bites. "You have found my weak spot." I mumble. "Sushi?" He says, amused. I nod vigorously. I would have declined any other type of food he would have proposed, but not sushi. He was spot on, and I'm not ashamed for giving in. "Any physical weak spot you want to tell me about?" When I look back at him, he’s turned his body so he’s facing me. Elbow propped onto the counter, he’s giving me all his attention. Oh you wish, Mr.Hotbuttocks. "I'll let you in on a secret." I announce, twisting so I’m facing him as well. "I'm all ears."  He murmurs. Feeling brave, I lean closer to him, prompting him to bend his neck and quite literally give me his ear. A distant, unused and forbidden part of my brain wants to bite his earlobe just to see his reaction. But I refrain. "I'm not having sex with you." I whisper, making him chuckle. He pulls back, shaking his head at me. I catch another sushi. "There was a time when you wouldn't say that." He says to me, eyes playful. "I was drunk." I retort. "Just tipsy." He counters. Ha! "There's not much difference." I mumble. "Let me put it another way.” He prompts, and I don’t like the smirk he’s giving me. I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you attracted to me?" He asks, but I’m not sure it’s a question. He’s looking at me dead in the eyes, probably watching my pupils dilate. I don’t think I can ever say no to that question, now that Iiterally have drunk-dialed him asking for sex. But I’m not going to admit it either. "Does it really matter?" Is the best I come up with, and he laughs at me in a short snort. I know he knows that was a lame attempt, but he ignores it. "Well, you know the feeling is mutual." He murmurs, and it makes my insides fuzzy. Such a handsome man being attracted to me physically is a confidence booster, but I also know the fact that I don’t take shit from him also plays a role in it. He likes that I'm not giving in. "You're only attracted to me because I resist you." I reply. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that why you're resisting me? So you can have me chasing you?” He asks, leaning closer to me and propping his chin on his fist. I am more phased by his words than his proximity. Am I enjoying the chase? I mean the only reason I’m not throwing myself at him is because I know when he finally gets me it’ll be over. Is that what's stopping me? Knowing there probably won't be a second time? Or is it the fact that I'll just be another rebelious woman he'd managed to tame?

“No.” I shake my head after thinking about it for too long. I mimic him, resting my head on the palm of my hand, my elbow right next to his. “Well, I’m not attracted to you because you resist me." He murmurs, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Sure.” “Let me get to my point." He prompts. Oh, whatever. 

"You're submissive, right?" He asks out of the blue, taking me by surprise. Excuse me? Rude!

 I immediately feel exposed, because I know he knows the answer to that question. I feel my face heat up. Where is he going with this? "Maybe." I reply, trying my hardest not to betray my panic. But I can’t bring myself to lie looking into his eyes, so I look away, earning another heartfelt chuckle. "Maybe, alright." He repeats. He sees right through me .To be fair, I am not putting the best act. I'm too easily read. I blush, I frown, I fidget, I play with my hair - I have the most telling body language and it hasn't helped me once in life. “What is your point, Mr.Jeon?” I ask, wanting to end the torture. "So when you find someone attractive, you tend to let them take control and bring you pleasure." He trails off. I nod in agreement, still unsure where this is going.  "But it doesn't mean you're weak or dependent. You chose to be in that position because that's what brings you the most pleasure. In fact outside the bedroom you're a very opinionated woman and you get your way quite often." He adds. I'm still following at this point, but I know he's trying to get me somewhere I don't want to be. I repeat his words in my head a second time. I feel like I’m about to get tricked. "True." I agree reluctantly, knowing I probably shouldn't.  “See, you think I'm all about the challenge and keeping women who challenge me submissive and obedient, but I work differently." He explains. Oh, I’m sure he does. "Just like you being submissive doesn't mean you're dependent and passive, me wanting to pin you against a wall and do things to you has nothing to do with my respect for you or women in general." He murmurs. Pin me against a wall and do things to me?! I take a discreet but deep breath, watching as the corner of his mouth turns into a smirk when he realises I’m already imagining things. "What I'm trying to say is," He trails off, and I think I catch his pupils dilating as our eyes meet. "When I find someone attractive, I tend to hold down..." He says, his tone lower, his voice so seductive it sounds like a purr. "And bite..." He adds, bringing the tip of his index finger just under my ear. "And kiss..." I hold his gaze while he slowly runs it down the side of my neck, barely brushing my skin but letting me feel plenty. "And lick..." He stops at the  spot where my neck and shoulder connect, my hairs standing alert in the wake of his touch. His eyes don’t leave mine, intense and blazing. My libido is through the roof. I want him to do that again. Biting and kissing and licking... I’m not learning anything new here. I’ve always known this man was dominant and kinky. I’m not surprised, but he’s just so sexy. He oozes sex, he smells like sex, he looks like sex, it’s intoxicating. "Because that's what gives me the most pleasure." He adds, his voice feeling like butter. "But I also always have my partner's pleasure in mind. Sometimes more than my own." He says, barely hiding the promise in his words. He leans back as if to mark the ending of his monologue, and that’s when I realise I had stopped breathing. 

I feel dizzy and my cheeks are burning. "Well,”I sigh, reaching for my wine. “Your next conquest should consider herself lucky." I say, raising my glass in his honor, before throwing the entire thing back. I feel thirsty, and hot and bothered. "Yeah, you should." He retorts, making me splutter and almost choke on my wine. He laughs at me, his laugh loud and boyish, while I try not to spit wine all over myself. “You have no shame.” I say in wonder, shaking my head at his mirth. "What should I be ashamed of? Being attracted to you?" He retorts. "Being inappropriate." I reply, narrowing my eyes at him. What a tease. "You're smiling." He counters.  "It's better than you running from me." He murmurs, his words heavier than what he wants me to think. I don't think I'm running away as much as I used to. I went to dinner with him, and I'm here today. I'm still aware of the majo red flags he waved at me when we first met though. "You give me reasons to run." I argue. This man smells like trouble, and I'm hovering over a dangerous line but I'm confident in my capacity to protect myself. His gaze turns to playful to a little bit more serious. He looks pensive. "I was hoping it wasn't the case anymore." He says quietly, and he almost sounds disappointed by my answer. "I wouldn't be here if it was." I say to reassure him a little bit. "I'm glad to hear that." He smiles softly. Part of me doesn't want to make him too happy, but I guess I'll give him that.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He prompts, and I feel him getting even more serious than before.  

"We've never really talked about what happened with my brother." He trails off. Oh... 

Way to kill the mood. I feel myself stiffen instantly as the few memories I have of that night flash back to me.

"And again, I'm sorry for what happened." He says to me. He has told me before that his brother got the "wrong impression". And I would like, in order to start contemplating the idea of forgiving me, to know how in the hell he got that wrong impression. Because to me it is unjustifiable. Was it my dress? Nope. No matter how short it could have been, and it wasn't even short. My body language? Nah. The mere fact that we were drinking? Hell to the no.

"I have always wondered how he could possibly have thought I was going to have sex with him. That still doesn't sit right with me." I tell him honestly, because if he's asking me to forgive him for thinking anything I did led him on, I'll be gone before he even finishes his sentence. 

"He could tell I was attracted to you, and he knows I usually don't mind sharing." He explains to me. He doesn't mind sharing? Sharing women with his brother?!

 "And he was drunk." He adds while I try to precess this information. My face is a knot of confusion. He had threesomes with his brother? Why do I feel like there's something very incestuous about it? I'm effectively grossed out.

"You share your sexual partners with him?" I utter, unable to hide the judgment in my voice. He doesn't seem fazed by the horror on my face."If they both want each other I usually don't have a problem with it." He shurgs a shoulder. How is he so cool about this? Is it normal nowadays? Am I weird for finding it weird. I mean; obviously him and Eliott aren't blood brothers, and I don't think they have sex together per say, but they both participate in a sexual act at the same time! 

"So you-"

"Not threesomes, no." He cuts me off. Oh thank god! 

"Huh." I exhale.

Okay, so he just doesn't mind sleeping with the same woman as his brother. 

"So, hypothetically," I traill off. "If we were to sleep together- which we won't- you wouldn't -"

"I would be extremely possessive of you." He cuts me off, looking into my eyes with intent.

"Why?" I frown. He mimicks me, scrunching his eyebrows togetehr in a pensive manner. He's actually thinking about it.

"I'm not sure." He murmurs.  "I guess I just don't like the thought of anyone else bringing you pleasure." 

Okay? 

After processing this, a tiny part of my brain thinks this means something? That maybe I'm different? I shouldn't believe him that easily though, but if that's true, then I'm confused.

"Interesting..." I muse. I don't feel like elaborating on that. The implications are way too heavy for what I want this whole thing to be.

"But okay, let's say he thought you and I were having sex." I prompt, because his explaination isn't very satisfying yet. "What made him think I'd have sex with him?"

Mr.Jeon inhales deeply, visibly a little bit embarassed to speak. 

"His dumb ass thought bringing you over was what I meant by cheering him up after his breakup." He explains, and it dawns on me.

"He thought I was a bloody hooker." I conclude. He makes a face.

"Not quite. He did drink a lot before you came over too." He counters. Okay, his drunk ass thought I was a bloody hooker.

"Anyways. I hope you'll be able to forgive him one day. He's not a bad guy, just really dumb." He finishes. 

"Okay." I nod. I've heard him, but I don't knwo about forgiving his brother. Not because I'm still mad or anything, but because I can't this of an istance where I'll ever have too see him again. It's not liek he was about to become my brother-in-law.

"Thank you for explaining." I say before glancing at my wtach. I have been here for nearly two hours.

"But I do have to go now, Mr.Jeon." I declare. It's getting really late. “Oh, what a shame.” I hear him complain as I slide off my stool. "Thank you for the sushi." I murmur, looking up at him. "You're most welcome, Miss Fair." He replies, standing up I as well. I gather my stuff, putting my camera and sketchbook back in my bag and throwing my coat on. "I will make plans and sketches and get back to you to schedule another meeting." I explain to him once I'm ready to leave. "How long will that take?" "I think I'll be done in a week or two." "That's a long time without seeing each other." He mutters, scratching his chin in a pensive manner. I raise a curious eyebrow. "Now I'm thinking we're only doing this so you can talk me into sleeping with you." I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "Miss Fair, I would never." He gasps dramatically. Yes you would. I narrow my eyes at him. "No, seriously. This house means a lot to me, and I don't share this part of my life with that many people." He says more seriously, but I still think he could be doing this to get his dick wet. "Would you mind if I made you sign a contract, then?" I propose. He's all about NDA's and shit, right? "A contract?" "Yes." I concur. "So I'm guaranteed to get my fifteen percent." I explain. I don't want to dive into this and then leave the project like last time. If he ever fucks up to the point where I don't want to see him, we can still do everything via e-mail. Hott buttocks aside, this project is really exciting. He frowns down at me for a second, but is quick to shrug a shoulder. "As you wish." He concedes. "I should make you sign it before I actually start putting in the work." I muse. "I'll be out of town for a few days, I leave on Wednesday." He warns. "I'll e-mail it to you." "Or we could meet up and read it through together." He proposes. Of course he'd want that. "You're funny." I chuckle. "I'm not signing anything via e-mail." He declares. "Why?" I frown. "Don't know how that technology works." He shrugs. Now he's playing the age card? "How old are you?" I ask, realizing I still don't know how old he is. "I'm 21." He says. He keeps adding a year every time I ask him!  "But you build rockets." I deadpan. He smirks- fucking smirks at me. He's so handsome it's angering. "Then I'm not designing anything for you." I retort. "Is seeing me that much of a torture?" He asks with feigned disappointment. I take a moment to think. "Not anymore." I reply. "Not anymore?" He repeats, eyebrows meeting his hairline. "But still." "But still?" He frowns, looking offended. I giggle at his reaction. "I can throw food in the mix, we can meet during our lunch break." He proposes. "Our offices are very close." Oh, god. "I'll see what I'll do tomorrow." I concede, feeling like a straight no would be too mean of me. And I actually don't know I want to say no or not. I enjoy his company. "Just remember you have the power to make a man's day by saying yes." He murmurs, stepping closer to me, hands in his pockets. He looks yummy. "I'll keep that in mind." I murmur, looking up at him. "Good." He says quietly, holding my gaze. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in alert. Why am I still wearing clothes again? "Let me walk you back." He proposes after a beat. I accept, and Mr. Jeon escorts me out of the house. "We'll have to fix these stairs as well." I mumble, looking out for any rogue piece of rock about to make me fall. "You have carte blanche for the outside. I trust you." He replies. I don't think the outside -or at least the pathway, needs a lot of work. Just some brand new steps and green grass.

"Can't wait to get to it." I reply. He walks me down the stairs and back to my car.

"Thank you for your time, Ms Fair." He says as I stand next to my Mini, ready to unlock it.

"It was a pleasure." I reply, smiling at him. I open my door and slide into my seat.

"I'll be waiting for your text." He says, leaning down to my window, eyes small and playful. I giggle.

"I'm sure you will." I tease. "Goodbye, Mr. Jeon." 

"Goodbye, Miss.Fair."

[playinonaloop]

Chapter 4: Save us

Warning throughout the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

A warm wind blew onto Daniels ‘s face as he ran out into the garden. He blew out air through his nose while he crouched down. To torture you was one thing, but to kill you? Daniel knew that only would bring death and destruction to his family. His body became hot as the world started to spin around him. Daniel’s heart started to race, blood pounding in his ears. He sat down and tried to grab the small stones of the gravel path beneath him.

Thoughts were spinning through his head; his mother had really gone mad. She was really planning to kill you, for something as simple as money. Daniel knew that there was more to it than just money. He knew his family was tied up into something bigger than he could ever imagine. Why did you get left behind? Was this a way to get underneath the skin of his parents? Why didn’t they leave Joey? Were you something your family thought of as less, just as his family did?

Everybody in the Ricciardo family knew that his sister, Michelle, was going to be the next one to lead the family. Her being older, and perhaps more twisted, aided to that. She fitted right into the way his family portrayed themselves. Daniel didn’t use drugs like they did, he didn’t drink alcohol. He didn’t enjoy torturing like they did. In every aspect he was different than them. Joe, his dad, was in many ways like him but, because he married Grace, he changed to her liking. And with that, Joe didn’t hold her back in the things she did.

Daniels ‘s breath slowed down again as he got a grip of the stones beneath him. He threw them away from him as he took deep breaths to calm down again. After a short moment, he stood up and turned around to take a look at the house. His brown eyes scanned the house, taking it in. The big windows, balconies with lounge sets on them. A curtain that blew out of a window. Daniel walked back a bit to see the enormous roof with some small towers on top of it. He knew that it wasn’t normal to live in such a mansion. With that thought on his mind, he walked back inside.

--

Soft whimpers left your mouth as the pain became unbearable. The sun was now high up in the sky which meant that Daniels ‘s visit had been a few hours ago. You hadn’t had food or something to drink in a while now, in combination with being tortured it made you feel awful. The smell of dried blood was starting to make your head spin. As you looked down you saw that your jeans were drenched in blood. This made you close your eyes shortly; you knew you had lost a lot of blood.

When you opened your eyes, you knew you had slipped out of consciousness for a bit. The sun was starting to set. It marked the end of day four, making it almost five days since you saw your family. God, you hated this situation. A frustrated groan left your mouth as you thought about the last moments before you went on this stupid mission. Eating breakfast with your parents and Joey, giving your dog Katy a last cuddle before leaving. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You knew that you were going to die here if your family didn’t show up tomorrow. As a family you had mutually decided that, if there wasn’t an option to save one of them within the first five days of being kidnapped or left behind, you didn’t get saved. It took too much risk to come and save someone who might actually be dead due to starvation, torture or even murder. Yes, it was a very hard choice to accept. But it had to be done, to save the family.

The door behind you opened. It made you sit up, hoping someone came to bring you something to eat and drink. You realized that it wasn't a food delivery by the way the person moved through the room. Another set of footsteps joined.

"We're giving you another chance to 'fess up"

Michelle her voice cut through the air, a shiver running up your spine as Grace walked towards the windows. You quickly saw the gun she was carrying. It made you realize this could end in two different ways. You could either tell them or die. A smile played your mouth as another idea popped up in your mind.

"Okay"

"Okay?"

It made Michelle walk towards you, Grace turned around with a frown on her face.

"Yeah, I'm dying either way"

Grace scoffed and smiled. She let go of the gun.

"Clever girl..."

You told them this big story, how your parents decided they would legalize weed as they grew it on the farm back north of Queensland. To what degree they went to flood the now legal market. How they profited of it, making them become wealthier than they had ever been. You told them in detail where the farm was, Michelle left the room to send an investigator up there. Grace just stared at you. In dismay.

“I can’t believe you would betray your family like that.”

“Well, they left me here to die. Didn’t they?”

Hatred fueled your eyes, and they believed your story.

“I’ll make sure they get your regards”

Grace left. You took a deep breath in, shaking your fear out of you. The farm you talked about was an empty shell. Your family didn’t use it, as it used to be an old family home. It was completely empty. A giggle left your mouth, it was all a lie. The Ricciardo’s weren’t going to win in any way. You were going to die anyway, now or in 80 years.

You looked out of the window, staring into the abyss as a few hours passed by. It turned completely dark outside. The door behind you opened but you were too tired to respond.

It was Daniel that sat in front of you. A knife in his hands. You knew it was time. A tear slipped out of your eye, making you nudge your shoulder to your cheek. He didn't look at you.

"So ironic that you are the one to..." You scoffed softly.

Daniel looked up at you. Your eyes met and it was electrifying. Now that he was sitting here in front of you, you had time to take him in. Thinking that he would be the last thing you would see because you weren't sure if there was anything like an afterlife, your eyes slid over his head. You could see how messy his curls were, almost identical to how they were this morning. A number of curls had slumped to the side, as if they were too heavy to hold. You would always remember his sun-tanned head, that's how he used to look. The wrinkles around his eyes that no doubt came from laughing all the time. The beard that made him look older than he was. You looked further down. A muscular body, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Daniel didn't wear socks, also something he never did. You now saw the rose on his hand, you recognized it from somewhere.

"How long do you have that rose?"

"I don't know, since 2018 I think, why?"

"No, it's nothing, thought I recognized it"

"Oh"

The silence came back, and it became unbearable.

"If you aren't going to kill me, just do it"

He stood up, playing with the knife. Daniel looked back and forth between you and the door. It made you want to cry, because he made your ending so much longer than it needed to be. That also made you angry. You could feel death lingering over you, his hands were playing with the knife as if it was a lego block, something as innocent as that.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“Well how am I supposed to go on then?!” You looked up at him, despair in your eyes. This was the moment that would break or make your or his family.

Drawing blood from his hands as he twists the knife in his hands and looked away at the closed door.

You were starting to get annoyed with him. He was prolonging your life for what?

"Daniel, look at me damn it!"

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes weren't blank anymore. Instead, you saw something you didn't recognize.

"I remember swimming with you and your brother, you know. Almost every summer behind the cliffs where we used to ride to from your house."

You raised an eyebrow as he started talking about something from the past. He continued.

"I remember playing hide and seek while our parents had meetings together. I recall sitting with you on the swing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"A few years ago, I had the most wonderful night. It was a night out with friends. After a few drinks I decided to get on the dance floor. The club played the greatest hits but also a few from the past. While dancing, I saw the prettiest girl. High heels, a sleeveless dress, just up to my liking. Long legs, long hair and smelled like freshly cut watermelon with a hint of smoke but it didn't overwhelm me. "

You knew where this was going. Daniel was now face to face with you, close. Now you recognized the smell, sweet like a candy shop but also the saltiness from the sea.

"We danced for quite a bit, my hands roaming her body freely. Kissing her neck. She grabbed my hand, where I had a rose. A rose just like this one."

He shows you his hand. Not too close to your face to make sure he didn't cut you with the knife he held.

"It was a fake tattoo at the time, you know, some a temporary tattoo that you stick on with a wet cloth."

Daniel smiled as he bent down.

"My friend whispered to me that I was dancing with the devil."

A chuckle left his mouth. He sat on the floor in front of you.

"I was dancing with you, he had seen your face and made me leave. Again I was disturbed in being who I wanted to be. I wanted to be carefree, to live without the responsibility of being a member of the fucking maffia!"

His hand drove the knife into the wooden floor. It cracked. You tried to shuffle your chair backwards, afraid he would drive the knife in your leg next. Daniel looked up at you.

"My parents do not find me important enough to take me with them in most of the family meetings. They take Michelle. But in the last few days I've realized something. It's okay that they don't. Because I do not want to be like them."

Daniel pulled the knife out of the floor.

"I. Want. Out!"

He spoke through gritted teeth, moving the knife towards your leg.

"So, this is the plan. I will act like I killed you but obviously will not kill you. Then I will wrap the blanket, that's laying by the door, around you and I will carry you to the car. I'll go back inside to tell my parents that I am going to dispose of your body. I'll show them a picture of you in the blanket. In my car I have two fake passports, because we need to talk."

Daniel cut all the ropes around your feet, body and wrists. You were speechless to say the least. He walked to get the blanket and grabbed another bottle of something.

"Can you lay on top of it, I've got some fake blood I will put on your chest and onto the knife and then some on the blanket so it will be realistic."

You just looked at him, rubbing your wrists. The wounds on your stomach hurt.

"Why are you saving me?"

"Because, I reckon, you want out too. Now lay down, we don't have much time"

Daniel put a hand on your shoulder and softly pushed you towards the blanket. You sat and laid down carefully. He put some fake blood on your chest and on the knife. A little pool of blood was quickly created, but it was mixed with your own. Some of the cuts on your stomach opened, making you groan.

"Okay, okay, eyes closed; just a second."

He took the photo and put it in his back pocket.

"So just lay there for a minute. I've got some medical stuff to help you with the.. duh.."

Daniel looked visibly distressed.

"You don't have to talk about it"

Your voice was soft, making him look at you instead of the cuts. He grabbed Betadine and some bandages.

"It might hurt"

"Just do it, the proces of making them hurt even worse"

He looked hurt at the way you snapped at him.

"Sorry"

"No, it's okay"

Daniel gave you his hand before he put the Betadine on. You squeezed it hard, making you clench your jaws as he cleaned it a bit. He then bandaged it.

"I'm now going to wrap you up and carry you to the car"

Before you knew you were in the trunk of the car. It was dark, cold and to be quite frank; scary. You laid there for a bit, refueling yourself with small bites of the sandwich Daniel made and drinking a bit of water. The car started to drive away, making you grip the flooring of the trunk to hold on. You rest your head against the bag that laid in the trunk too. After a while, you slipped into a nap.

"Hey, you still with me?"

You opened your eyes and met Daniel who was very close to your face. It made you shuffle backwards. "Sorry, I'm just glad you're awake. Shall I help you get out?" "Yes, uh, please." Daniel grabbed your hands and helped you up. He briefly shielded your head as you came up and nearly hit the edge of the trunk. "I brought you some clothes to put on, because what you're wearing now can't be called clothes anymore." He handed you a bag and then walked away to the lookout point where we were parked. You looked around briefly before opening the bag. The bag was full of clothes, short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, jeans, sweatpants. You name it or it was in there. The cold had now crept into your bones, so you opted for layers. A short-sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. Jeans with a sweater over it. Daniel had even thought of clean underwear.

"You can turn around now, I'm dressed."

Daniel turned back to you and took you in.

His face showed signs of complete horror. "I'm so sorry." A tear rolled down his cheek. He collapsed, causing you to walk right up to him. He cried. Tears also slowly streamed down your cheeks. He put his arms around you. You cried together. After a while the tears were gone.

"What now?" "I need to let my parents know that I'm fine and that I'm free." "And after that?" "After that we'll see what we're going to do"

He smiled at you, it made you smile back. You were free, you were safe. Daniel saved you and himself in the proces.

"Can I suggest one thing we can do?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

His voice was soft and nervous. Daniel kept smiling a little, with a little blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah"

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

"Okay"

Daniel stepped closer to you, the space between you now almost non existent. His hot breath fanned over your face. He looked down at you, scanning your eyes again. You took in that rich smell of cologne that he wore. It was as if the night at the club continued. But then in silent. His eyes looked into yours. They seemed lighter in color in the moonlight. The dark ring around his iris was a great contrast to the amber color inside. His pupils were large because of the lack of light in the area. Daniel surprised you by letting his lips gently touch yours. His hand found its place on your cheek, he gently rubbed it with his thumb. He tasted fresh, almost like he just brushed his teeth. It made you realized he had a mint before. Daniel had planned everything which made you giggle against his lips.