#Kindly take the Hint and leave me alone.

[usercookie2008]

Yk there's a reason why I block, called keeping a sense of mind and oh yk a kindly STOP INTERACTING, I chose my path and you're going down your's

I blocked you all across Every platform for a reason, give us both a piece of mind cause I knew you'd fucking react that way, I probably missed a couple of you and I know that but I'm not going to waste my energy talking, There was that chance but honestly fucking good riddance You unknowingly Drove me further apart from you guys, You're fucking assholes whether you wanna believe that or not and I feel a hundred times better away from you guys than I ever did trying to fit into that little group of yours, like wow I really felt welcome there even before I actually even started thinking about it.

Edit: ( Except you Arr, you were actually nice, I'm sorry that I cut you off like that but yk I doubt you'd want to be associated with me anymore too, saved us both a Painful Conversation)

You claimed to be my friend and flattered me with your words but still in the end you hardly ever Included me even when I tried so hard to include everyone and make them feel welcome, but fucking no one else did for me so I left!

And yk first time I left wasn't because of me being Proship', no It was because you ALL made me feel I wasn't welcome and constantly belittled me I mean who the fuck calls someone a "Devils advocate" (yes I'm still fucking salty about it) When someone's just trying to actually ask Clarifying Questions??? I wasn't trying to start shit I was actually trying to have a fucking conversation

Second and when I actually left was because then I chose to be a welcoming space fuckin regardless of what type of fiction, I do Not I REPEAT DO NOT ENDORSE THESE IRL, NOR WILL I EVER. But yk I'm not going to be apart of a Group who'll actively Dox, Harass, Threaten, and say absolutely fucking horrible things to people just because their taste in FICTION is darker than yours or Different in a way you don't like.

Antis will Never be welcome in my space, regardless if you 'like my work' or whatever

I don't even care if you're an "Anti who doesn't do that"

The moment you put that Antiship, Anti, Fucking whatever in your Bio, You're actively advocating Bullying and harassment and you are not welcome here.

Now if you don't fucking mind I'm going to continue on my Tuesday and continue to pretend you don't exist, because to me, you really don't anymore.

I'm going to go calm down cause fucking- take a hint. Just fucking take a hint and Leave. Don't try to persuade me, don't. Just fucking don't.

[constantvariations]

My scavenge for screenshots that I might use in an upcoming video essay led me to Lilith Fairen’s blog where, lo and behold, she apparently saw this post of mine and decided she had to talk about it

That’s an interesting way to say “the blog has me blocked, so I can’t reblog the OG post.” Fairen, you know what a block means, right? It means I don’t consent to you being on my damn blog. So either you don’t understand what boundaries are or you think it’s okay to ignore them so long as it’s the right kind of person you’re invading. Neither of which reflect well on you

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife # 8- Drama Queen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Can be read with others in series or alone

Warnings: allusions to sex, mostly fluff and comedy

- - - -

Its been a pretty quiet evening, and with you home, thats saying something. Joel's minding his business watching Tv when you come plopping down next to him on the couch. He doesn't acknowledge you.

So you scoot over and sigh heavily. Still No reaction from the male.

You feint a yawn and snuggle your head on his shoulder. He smiles a little, but doesn't look at you. You rub affectionately like a kitten.

Nothing.

Take the hint, you stupid hunk.

Your pretty manicured hand creeps on his thigh, stroking up and down senually with delicate fingertips.

He knows where this is going, but he won't entertain you. He coughs a little, bored, and continues scrolling channels. Wants to see how far you'll go to get what you want.

As if on cue, you persist. Wrapping your arm over his broad shoulders, hitching your knee awkwardly on his thigh despite the baby in your belly squirming at the uncomfortable angle. You playfully boop his nose, giggling like a flirt. He purses his lips, but nothing else.

You stare at his profile, that unique Joel Miller look of concentration. Handsome and stoic—that little shithead.

You're teasingly rubbing your fingers through his scruff, twisting gently as a massage.

You bring your lips and kiss him kindly on the cheek. Something sweet. Innocent. Then again, but a little longer. Then some more, peppered down his jaw, along his pulse. Heated and wetter. Growing more needy and nipping his ear, making little happy moans as your hand continues to wander over his legs, tip toeing to his crotch.

Joel sighs, finally looking at you. "There a reason you're trying to get me turned on, ma'am?"

"Mmm," you hum, biting your lip and staring his plump ones. You crawl closer, breasts smashed against his bicep as you lick your lips, tongue peaking out with lusty eyes trying to put him under your best charm. Yesyesyes give it to me, Fucker!

"I want a Big—" you kiss his nose "—Messy—" teeth nip at his lower lip "—Hot—" you peck him teasingly, sucking his flesh in your mouth so he knows you mean business. Then you stare down at him with your serious eyes, foreheads pressing,

"—Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with extra Rainbow Sprinkles from Clyde's Creamery."

Yeah. He knew exactly this is where this was going.

He cracks a warm smile, cupping your jaw and parting your lips with his thumb. You suck it into your mouth, hoping to please him. Just as hes about to kiss you, he leans in and says, "No. Its 11pm. Bedtime."

You get off his lap with a cold shoulder and a scoff, proceeding to ignore him for the rest of the night.

Hes evens surprised when you go to bed still silent, facing away from him without a kiss goodnight when you turn off your lamp.

Until it's 2am when he's startled awake by the sound of the the front door opening. He's storming downstairs trying not to trip, and haphazardly throwing a shirt on backwards while in his boxers, only to see you with a packed bag, hand dramatically caressing  your bump with fake ass tears down your cheek going outside to the car.

"Where the FUCK are you going??" He asks, rubbing his eyes. Aggravation and rough exhaustion evident in his tone.

"You said you didn't love me, so I'm leaving," you huff. There's no hint of a joke in your words. Genuine pain. Hurt. Quiet and walking away. You dont wait to see his reaction and without another word, you turn to leave.

Hes so whiplashed, wracking his brain trying to remember any time he even remotely could have said something like that and you interpret it—

"I SAID YOU COULDN'T HAVE A HOT FUDGE COOKIE DOUGH CHOCOLATE GOOEY FANTASY MILKSHAKE because it was FUCKING 11PM AND CLOSED! Now get your fat beautiful ass and our baby back in here and dont ever pull this stupid stunt again!"

You scowl at him, preventing any physical reaction of your internal swooning he thinks my ass is pretty. You hold your ground and refuse to move from your position, defiant, in flip flops and a long nightgown on the front porch at 2am.

Joel furrows his brows and closes his eyes, soothing over the wrinkles you've caused to grow on his forehead.  "Fuck. I'll get you one tomorrow morning for breakfast. Okay?"

You smile giddily and skip back inside "Okie!" You step past him drop your shit on the couch, kissing him on the cheek. "Dont forget the extra rainbow sprinkles."

He grunts, glad that it's dark enough in the house you can't see how exhausted and annoyed he is.

"Oh and close the door, Joel! You'll wake the neighbors with your unnecessary shouting bit. Dramatic much?" You scoff, and waddle up the stairs and right to bed like nothing happened.

-

Tommy also has access to your ring camera notifications and sees Joel and you out there and the whole conversation, and he's laughing so hard when he watches the playback. He teases grumpy exhausted Joel the next morning, conveniently with a to-go milkshake in his hand at 8am.

"Softy for your girl?"

"Shut up."

"And when you have the baby, then there's gonna be two of her!" Tommy wheezes.

Joel's saggy and wrinkled eyes manage to open wider than ever as that particular horror sets over him.

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

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[jamdoughnutmagician]

Boobies!

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary:Your Stevie gets to spend some quality time with you and his girls.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Steve Harrington is a boobs guy, Titfucking, Mentions of pornography, nothing else that I can think of (unless you think there’s something I missed, in which case; shoot me a message so I can tag it)

Word Count: 1521

Author's Note:I had this idea bouncing around my head for a while, and so I thought I’d get round to actually writing it. 

Simply put, Steve Harrington was a boob kind of guy. In his eyes, all boobs were good boobs. Big, or small, it didn't matter to him. 

You suspected as much to be true, because anytime you'd fallen asleep with him, he would end up spooned so close to you, holding you safe in his arms, his hand finding their places to settle over your boobs. Just feeling the soft weight of your tits in his palms was somewhat relaxing for him.

You also had your suspicions confirmed last summer, where you had decided to wear a tank top, to avoid wearing any unnecessary layers. That was the day that you had to fight for your boyfriend’s attention almost anytime you wanted to talk to him. His brown eyes cast down, towards your chest, eyeing the exposed cleavage, and enjoying the subtle bounce and jiggle of your boobs anytime you talked excitedly about anything.

It was on a lazy Sunday evening, on the rare occasion that you weren’t working at the movie theatre, and Steve had a day off working in Family Video. You were laying closely pressed together on his bed. 

More often than not, the free time you spent alone with Steve was in his house. He’d told you many times that it was very rare for his parents to be home for any length of time. Whilst the thought of Steve’s parents being happy enough to leave that boy in that big house all by himself, made your heart ache, you were glad of the privacy it afforded you. It was so much better than the alternative. That time where Steve had been hanging out with you in your bedroom, and your Stevie couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The sudden knock and opening of the door by your mother startled you both enough to quickly pull away from your impromptu makeout session. It wasn’t that your mother didn’t like or approve of your relationship with Steve, oh no it was quite the opposite actually, she adored how kindly he seemed to treat her daughter. However, she wasn’t quite ready to see her daughter and her boyfriend in such a compromising position. Between seeing your slightly out-of-breath state, and Steve’s ruffled hair and glazed over expression, it didn’t take a genius to piece together what had just been happening. After that awkward encounter, it just seemed better that you spent your time at Steve's place.

You were laying on your back, whilst Steve laid down over you, his arm wrapped protectively over your waist, his head resting gently on top of your chest whilst your fingers ran softly through his mess of shaggy hair. 

“...Mmm your boobs are soft..” he mumbles against your chest “..and so pretty too..” 

That’s when you suddenly feel the tugging of Steve’s hands at the hem of your oversized t-shirt (technically it was his shirt, but after he told you how much he enjoyed seeing you in his shirts, you took it upon yourself to wear his stuff more often.) His eager fingertips try to work the shirt off your body to have access to your naked tits, knowing you didn’t ever wear a bra if you were home.

Taking the hint, you sat up to arch your arms up and take off your t-shirt, flinging it off to the corner of Steve’s room. 

Steve seized this moment to begin to leave kisses over your tits. His pink lips, pecking all over the soft exposed skin. His kisses begin to inch closer to your nipple, before he wraps his lips around it, bringing it into the warm wet heat of his mouth, sucking it gently before releasing it from his mouth with a pop. Then his lips lead a trail of sweet kisses from one breast to the other, making sure to give equal attention to the other nipple.

All the while you let him indulge in his love affair with your tits, your fingertips scratch and tug at the soft brown strands of hair at his scalp.

That's when the idea struck him. Remembering something he saw in one of the x-rated tapes from the adult section at the back of Family Video that he'd taken home with him after a particularly long shift. Footage of a man sliding his dick through the softness of some girls' boobs. That evening Steve came harder than he ever had before. His cum dripped over the knuckles of his closed fist, and the only thoughts on his mind was of how he wanted to try that with you.

“Hey…Uh.. Honey?” Steve spoke up, tilting his head up to look at you.

“Yes, my love?” 

“There’s something I wanna try with you, would you be down for trying something new?” he started, the idea of how to go about asking you formulating in his mind.

“Well what is it, Stevie?” you teased gently.

“I wanna fuck your tits” he blurted out, thinking it  would better if he just came out with it, rather than skirt around the subject.

“Okay, I’m down, how do you want me?”

“H-how do I want you?” the fact you were even entertaining this idea had his head spinning and all the blood rushing straight to his dick.

“Yeah like, would you rather I sit up and you like..thrust between them? Or I can lay on my back and you can straddle my chest and then I can push my boobs together.” You explained brazenly. 

“Can I straddle your chest please?” he asked sheepishly.

“Sure!” you said as you got yourself comfortable, laying back on Steve’s bed.

Steve pulled off his sweatpants, his semi-hard dick bobbing slightly. 

Steve spat into his palm, and dropped his hand down to give his cock a few firm strokes, pumping his fist over the length of himself till he was fully hard.

He reached over to his bedside drawer where he kept a small bottle of lube, exactly where he’d left it from back when he’d watched that damn video.

He uncapped the bottle with a click, warning you how it would probably be cold on your skin, before he squeezed a generous amount between the valley of your breasts. He didn’t miss the way your body shivered as the cold gel hit your skin.  

 He also squeezed out some into his hand, thrusting into his hand a few times to cover his dick too.

Hovering over you with his cock in his hand, he leans forward, placing his cock between the valley of your breasts. He takes each one of your breasts in his large hands and gently squeezes them together. You notice his hesitancy and so you place your hands over his and to reassure him that you’re more than willing to do this, and to push your boobs together tighter around his steadily leaking cock.

Then he starts thrusting his hips forward. It’s different to what he was expecting, not a bad different certainly, the softness of your skin, slick with lube, feels so nice. His thumbs find themselves rubbing over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks. 

“F-fuck…” Steve stutters out with a moan, his head swimming with lust as he watched his cock slide between your breasts. 

“I wanna taste you, Stevie” you say as you stick out your tongue, just enough so it catches on the tip of his cock as it pops through the top of your cleavage. Your tongue lapping the beading drop of pre-cum gathering at his sensitive tip.

“God..Honey.. Fuck..that’s feels so good..your’re so good for me” Steve groans out above you, his hips continuing to thrust between your breasts. “Love your tits…they’re so soft..you look so gorgeous like this, honey”

His thrusts start to become sloppier and as he chases his high.

“Babe.. I’m so close… ” his breath coming out in ragged pants.  

“Cum on my tits, Stevie…please..” you whine for him, squishing your boobs tighter around him and using them to help jerk him off.

With a few more thrusts, and the soft weight of your boobs working against his sensitive cock, Steve comes with a deep guttural moan, painting your collarbones with his spend. 

Steve carefully swings his body to come and lie next to you, his own chest heaving with gasps, and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his cock softening against his stomach.

You take this opportunity to swipe your finger through the cum Steve spilled on your chest Popping your finger in your mouth, you moan at the taste, sucking your finger clean.

Steve who had been trying to catch his breath, watched you with lust-glazed eyes

“Honey, you can’t just do that..s’not fair, you’ll get me going again” he chuckles dryly.

“What? Too tired, Harrington?” you tease playfully.

“Never. For you I’ve got all the time in the world” he smirks as he makes his way down your body, settling in between your thighs.

“Now... Let me return the favour” He says with a cheeky wink, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Oh. You were in for it now.

[peetaslefttoe]

Can you write a smut fic about like... a megahorny Peeta "using" the reader (consensually ofc) thanks sorry im very embarassed to be sending this in lol

warnings: Peeta “using” fem! reader, rough smut, angry smut, bdsm, consensual violence TW‼️‼️‼️

summary: request above 🫶

author’s note: omg don’t be embarrassed this is such a good idea 😫 this lowkey descended into bdsm so… warning you now 😘

Masterlist Pinned xx

You and Peeta stormed into the bedroom bickering loudly.

“Are you kidding me? How is this my fault?” you gasped.

“You weren’t even trying back there!” Peeta spit back.

“God damn you, I was trying as hard as I could Peeta, fuck-,” you groaned.

“And what if we’re not good enough Y/N? Then what? You’re gonna “try” your best to fucking survive in the arena!?” he yells, running his hands through his sweaty hair.

“Fuck you! You think I don’t want to survive this Peeta!? It’s not my fault that the other contestants are better than us in training,” you growl, glaring at him.

“Fuck! We’re so screwed,” he sighed loudly, rubbing his hands across his face in anguish. You felt you angry begin to clear, like a rain cloud hit by rays of sunlight. You stepped slowly closer to him, feeling embarrassed at the suddenly wetness between your legs. He was so hot when he screamed at you. Was that a normal thing to be feeling? You didn’t think so.

“Just, just leave me alone okay?” Peeta said lowly, his arms crossed.

“Let me help you Peeta, we can’t go back out there tomorrow this angry,” you said calmly, placing a tentative hand on his flexed bicep. He glared down at you, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Yeah, you’re right, we can’t win if we’re screaming at each other,” a hint of a smile danced across his lips before disappearing with a glint in his dark eyes.

“Use me Peeta,” you whispered, finding his scanning eyes harder to ignore than usual. He was taken aback by your remark, looking at you in shock.

“What?” he breathed out finally.

“Use me. You’re angry, pent up, use me Peeta, make yourself feel better,” you egged him on, running your hands up his shoulders.

“This is your last chance to leave this and go to bed,” he warned, his eyes darkening threateningly.

“Take me Peeta,” you whispered, gripping his hair tightly. Suddenly he swung you around, shoving you face first onto the bed.

“You’re so pathetic, failing me in training and now you’re begging for me to bend you over like a slut?” he spat angrily. You felt the pool between you legs grow and your stomach fluttered at his cruelness. He held you down and yanked your spandex shorts and panties down, tossing them to the side. He smacked your ass, before kissing the red spot, soothing the sting he left behind. He spread your cheeks, revealing your glistening heat to him.

“God, you’re such a whore, you love it when I yell at you don’t you? You weak bitch,” he grabbed your hair, tugging you back and looking into your eyes. “Answer me honey,” he smirked at your limp body.

“Yes- I love it when you scream at me Peeta, please use my pussy,” you whined, surprised at your own pathetic response. He turned you into your back, pulling your tank top over your head. The cold air hit your nipples, you felt them harden as he watched you with a cold stare. You nearly screamed in shock when he smacked you across the face before taking your lips in his. You parted your lips as his tongue danced in your mouth, your hot mouths gasping for air. You knew it was almost laughable how much you needed Peeta, but you couldn’t help it as your legs clenched together.

“Come on baby, spread your legs for me,” he said almost kindly as he ran his hands along your bare skin. You saw the switch in his eyes as you opened your thighs, he looked at you intensely as you shuddered under his gaze. He pulled his painfully hard cock from his shorts and ran his dripping crown along your slit. You bucked your into his shaft as he grinder against you. His hands pushed your hips into the mattress, holding you still.

“Last chance, are you gonna take my cock like the slut you are?” he whispered menacingly, kissing your cheek. You nodded.

“Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you senseless Y/N,” the way he said your name had you soaking the duvet.

“Please fuck me, use me to get yourself off,” you rambled. “If i’d known how big you were I would’ve started this a long time ago, gonna stretch me so fucking wide Peeta,” you moaned, grinding against nothing in an attempt for some pleasure.

“Aw poor baby, not gonna be able to take my cock?” he said innocently. He threw your legs over his strong shoulders and tugged your hips to his. He lined his veiny shaft up with your soaked hole and plunged into you. Your eyes rolled back as he sunk deeper into you, your pussy swallowing each inch he gave.

“I’m gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be limping into training tomorrow you stupid girl,” Peeta gave you less than a second to adjust before he began ramming you onto his cock. You lay unable to move in his grasp, shuddering with each brush against your walls.

“Fuck- taking me so well, making me feel better already,” he groaned, his heavy sack hitting your ass with each thrust. You moaned his name loudly, cling to his back as he bounced your cunt on his dick.

“Shut up, you fucking wanted this, take it,” he nearly shouted, his jaw tense with built up frustration. You felt the knot in your stomach grow at his harsh behaviour as he fucked you mercilessly.

“Peeta,” you whined, you sore hole clenching around him.

“Such a good fuck toy, your tight cunt is suffocating me, gonna use you ever time I want to, aren’t I? You’d let me wouldn’t you? Such a whore for me,” he growled, sinking his nails into the flesh of your ass.

“Yes! Use me Peeta, I’m just a worthless hole for you,” you whimpered, your walls beginning to flutter. He raised a hand from your hips and struck your face again, stinging and throwing you into your orgasm. You felt your pussy throb, gushing onto his thick cock. He bit down on your bare shoulder as he came, continuing to ram your overused hole full of his seed. His thrusts slowed and he looked down at you with blown out pupils.

“You squirted all over me you filthy girl,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he shuddered with the last few ropes of cum painting your insides. He pulled out slowly, pressing a sloppy kiss to your abused pussy. He disappeared from your view, as you lay helplessly on the bed.

“Peeta?” you whimpered, starting to feel the weight of the moment.

“Shh, I’m right here baby,” he stroked your hair from your eyes, and brought a warm washcloth to your thighs. Wiping your combined juices from your legs and heat. He leaned down lapping at your burning hole leaking his cum. You whined, your body oversensitive as he sucked his seed from you.

“That’s a good girl,” he said softly, kissing you gently. You tasted his salty cum on his tongue, moaning softly. He helped you under the covers, laying to face you. He pecked you on the nose sweetly before cupping your face in his hands.

“You okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?” he asked, worry flashing in his angelic face.

“No, I love seeing you like that,” you smiled sheepishly. He pulled you into him letting you feel the rise and fall of his chest and the soft beat of his heart. You buried your cheek into his side, smiling to yourself as he gently stroked your back.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!

This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 1,372

Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.

Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.

Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.

On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.

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

You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.

Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."

Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"

"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.

"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."

"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."

Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."

Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."

Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."

Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."

Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"

You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."

"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.

You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."

Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.

So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.

"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.

Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[nfwmybaby]

to be alone (with you)

_↷pairing: andrew x reader (tried my best to make reader as gender neutral as possible) ˎˊ˗

_↷word count: 1.3k ˎˊ˗

_↷warnings: cigarettes, making out ? ˎˊ˗

♡┊͙thinking about sharing a cigarette with him!! first fic pls go easy on me 😭

“I love you too, Andrew. And I love being alone with you as well.” You take a hit of the cigarette you stole from Andy’s right hand. You don’t know how long you stayed in that position for. How long the soft shake of the trees and the quiet of your heart beating played a soundtrack fond to Andrew. He could die, then and there, and he would not care if heaven and hell existed afterwards, because he’d already experienced something greater than heaven— you.

The sound of music and conversations surrounded the house. It carried itself through every hall, every room, only to be let out by the opened windows, and even then you could hear it from a mile away. Thank goodness Andrew’s house was miles away from the rest of civilization.

“Y/N!” A person calls for you, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Andy went to hide away in one of the rooms again!”

Christ sake.

Why had you even accepted the invitation to the outing knowing you would just be put on Andy-watch? As the constant chatter of people were starting to make your skin crawl, you were albeit a little thankful to be given the perfect chance to crawl away. You understood why he would leave his own party, some people started getting way too much. Still, couldn’t he have told you as to where he was going?

“Alright I’ll go find him.”

“Thank you! And tell him Alex is one minute away from leaving if he’s unattached from Andrew any more.”

You joke, “Fucking boyfriends” And with that you walk away, grabbing a plate of brownies before pulling out your phone to open Andrew’s contact up.

The people are looking for you

Are they sending you to look for me again?

Yes.

I come alone.

Baring peace and some brownies, if you let me

🧐

Is it the brownies I like best?

If you mean the ones I make, yes!

Peace offer accepted.

I’m technically outside.

Have fun trying to find me <3

Oh my god you hate to see me

Quite the contrary, I love to see you, especially when you’re all annoyed

I hate you, Andrew John Hozier-Byrne.

Yeah, Y/N M/N L/N, sure you do.

*message disliked by Y/N*

Good god. You were going crazy looking for him with only his vague ass hint. With the opening of his bedroom you were instantly greeted by the smell of cigarettes and a glass slide door revealing the balcony. There sat the person you had just been looking for, his back facing you. As he turned his face to meet you, a sly smirk grew, bringing the cigarette that rested on his left hand to his mouth,

“15 minutes! You had me waiting for you for 15 agonizing minutes.” He pats the empty chair to the right of him, gesturing for you to sit. You oblige, making your way towards him,

“It’s not my fault you didn’t tell me where you were. ‘I’m technically outside’ had me lost and confused.” You rested your brownies next of the ashtray on the table in front of you both,

“Where’s the fun in that? Plus. I am technically outside. And this is, quite literally, my bedroom. Why would I be anywhere else?” He teases.

You scrunch your face, getting more annoyed with him with every breath he takes, “You know, maybe downstairs, at the party you decided to host? You’re so lucky you’re pretty”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty.” He tried to cover it up, but he couldn't, the paleness of his skin was immediately greeted with a soft blush when the words left your mouth.

“Shush now, Andrew. May I please have a hit of your cigarette?”

He thought for a minute, his eyes darting between the cigarette and the soft pleads of your eyes, “You ask so kindly, but I don’t want to share till you confirm you think I’m pretty, you pure feek.” He takes another hit off his cigarette, but before he can exhale away from you, your body finds itself moving without much thought. Your hand softly guides his head back towards you, a shaky exhale being forced out of him as you lean in close enough to practically feel him exhale. The smoke fills the distance between you two, and without breaking eye contact with him (despite his eyes being glued to your lips at this point) you inhale the smoke he exhaled from his last hit.

“I think you’re a total ride.” You say as you guide the hand with the cigarette to your lips.

“Y/N.” The desperation seeped out of the call of your name like a plea. His hand takes back its control despite it unknowingly still on eachother.

You blow out the smoke, “Andrew.”

He watches you closely as you inhale and exhale, “Christ. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I know, quite romantic, isn't it?”

He laughs, that intoxicating sound that could have fooled you for a siren, “Death by your hand. Put it on my gravestone.”

You two laugh at the thought for a minute, but when the laughter subsided, you’ve come back to the realization his hand still held yours. It felt nice, right, even, like that's where it should always belong. Or maybe it was just the prior drinks you took a short while ago finally catching up and making you crazy. Either way. His hands were soft, a stark difference to the vast amount of guitarists you’ve met with rougher hands. They were also long and slender, cuppings yours with no problem. He must’ve noticed you staring as he switched the hand that held the cigarette to the other. With his now open left hand, it found its way to your waist, tugging you only soft enough to get the message to you. You happily oblige to his unspoken ask. You stood up slowly, taking a step or two before reaching Andrew's chair and then straddling him beneath you, his hand hadn’t left your waist for a second. Even sitting down he was still taller than you.

“You look divine like this, my love. As close to me as can be. Away from the rest of the folks.” He grins that stupid smile you fell in love with long ago. You shake your head at that, leaning in to kiss him. He happily leans towards to meet you halfway. “I love being alone with you. I love you.” He pulls away and buries himself in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too Andrew. And I love being alone with you as well.” You take a hit of the cigarette you stole from Andy’s right hand. You don’t know how long you stayed in that position for. How long the soft shake of the trees and the quiet of your heart beating played a soundtrack fond to Andrew. He could die, then and there, and he would not care if heaven and hell existed afterwards, because he’d already experienced something greater than heaven— you. The sound of your voice had pulled him out of his thoughts like new music to his worn ears, “Andrew. Your stomach was rumbling.” Oh. When had it done that? He wonders. “Here. The brownies I made for you.”

He smiles and thanks you before immediately eating the plate full. Had he been this hungry and hadn’t known it? Oops. Guess he was too distracted by you. You took the last hits of the cigarette as it reached its end, putting it down on the ashtray, returning back to watch Andrew finish the brownies. You place your hand against his cheek and rub the crumbs off the corners of his mouth. His eyes turn soft with a small pleading look on them as your thumb stayed still on his lip. Placing a delicate kiss on your thumb, "Kiss me, please baby?"

You giggle, happily agreeing and leaning in to kiss him. The grip he had on you tightened. Even more when you went to pull away, “As much as I love being alone with you, Alex threatened to leave if he wasn't reattached to you.” You place a small pecks on the corners of his lips. He smiles at what you had said and done, loosening his grip just a bit,

“Can you promise me I have you the rest of the night?” He burrows his head back into your neck.

“I promise you I won’t leave your side.” You reassure him as your hands play with the curls of his hair.

You hadn't thought it was possible, but he had melted more into you, "Thank you for everything you do for me, Y/N" He murmurs softly into the skin of where your neck and collarbone met.

"You know you don't have to thank me for anything, Andy." He starts to slowly rock you both from the left to right, his arms around your waist, tight to make sure you don't loose balance and fall. And because he wanted to be in the comfort of your arms for longer, milking the feeling as much as possible.

"No. I'll spend the rest of our lives thanking you for everything you do. I'll love you for anything and everything." He finally leaves the comfort of your neck, pulling you in to kiss you again. You could feel him pour every emotion out to you in that minute.

You understood him. He understood you. That’s how well you two worked, words left unspoken could be heard, and words that were let out were messages received, no matter the phrasing. He wasn’t too happy about rejoining the crowd, but that didn’t matter, not when you kissed him so softly as a promise to what you had said earlier, and especially not when his hand was holding yours. He couldn’t care less as to where he was as long as it was next to you. Though he much preferred being alone with you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Hope you guys enjoyed !! Please lmk what you think ☻

Also inspired by this version of To Be Alone ^^

[lifeisabiscuit]

It will never not bother me how people are like Elain doesn't owe Lucien anything, she doesn't want him, he should take a hint, leave her alone and stop stalking her (even though he moved to the human lands and only comes when requested and doesnt even see her everytime hes there or at solstice where he kindly brings gifts for her and Feyre and she barely acknowledges it. Like, no girl the gifts don't make him entitled to your affections but aren't you supposed to be the kind sister? He hasn't done anything wrong). Even in canon, Feyre barely tries to meddle in their relationship (or lack thereof) and even questions why not give Elain and Azriel a bond instead. They never clear up that he was not the reason they were taken (and neither was Tamlin but of course they would let them keep blaming him instead of taking responsibility for their part), they just dangle her in front of him to make him compliant and keep doing things for them (sounds a lot like what they did to his brother with Nesta).

But then, when Nesta clearly makes it known she wants nothing to do with Cassian (like Elain has about Lucien), they let him follow her around and lock her in a house with him. Don't even get me started on the bonus chapter where he cornered a human woman and asked about her virginity. No matter what Nesta wanted, Cassian wanted Nesta so they had to be together, ignoring every thing she's said and every sign she's made that she wanted him to leave her alone. No, let's lock them up together instead and force proximity. I don't care if deep deep down she wanted him too, she told him to leave her alone. He found glee in locking her up with him where she could not go anywhere without him. And so many people think this is romantic and goals? They think Nesta deserved to have her wants ignored because Cassian wanted her.

I don't believe the problem was that Nesta was sleeping around, but because she wasn't sleeping with Cassian and he was throwing a pity party. Because as soon as she started sleeping with him even though that was another of her vices, all of a sudden no one had an issue with it.

Like, it seems like just another way to punish Lucien for 'not helping Feyre' against a high lord (something everyone excuses Cassian from because Rhys is his high lord) and punish Nesta for being a child "letting" her sister hunt (even though Feyre made her mom a promise and was never going to listen to Nesta whether she told her not to anyways).

Cassian didn't even really want Nesta more than physically, they had to break her to make her more what he wanted and then he never even said he loved her. He wanted a mate, Nesta wanted Cassian. And the thing is, I don't even have a preferred Elain ship, I just want Lucien to stop being toyed with. But I don't think Lucien even wants a mate, so I could see him actually falling for Elain for who she is, not just her beauty. If anyone would give him a chance. Like, even if she still wants to break the bond, at least talk to him.

I dunno, The double standard between how people treat the sisters is annoying.

[princessbrunette]

i'd just like to say a violent jayj threatening to rip someone's face off or anything of that sort would make me wet. thank u. - 🍓

⊹ . ⁺ 🍦🤍⋅˚₊𐙚

you knew the random ass kook at the beach bar was in trouble the second he’d started talking to you.

jj had stepped away for a moment, just a moment — to take a call from john b, always feeling the need to answer just incase the boy had gotten himself into another inescapable shenanigan that he needed jj to dig him out of. you were leaning your elbows against the bar under the warm outdoor lighting, skin balmy and glowy as you take your time reading the menu stapled to the counter top, wondering what cocktail you’d go for.

“you seem like a cosmo kind of girl.” the kook slides up beside you, blinding white teeth and a polo shirt — the kook side of the islands very own uniform. you chuckle politely, diverting your eyes back to the menu attempting to kindly show your disinterest.

“oh, maybe.” you shrug evasively — hoping he’d get the hint and wander off to bother someone else. he didn’t.

“wait no, let me guess. something stronger? on second glance you kind of strike me as a party girl.” the man grins and you have to hold back a sigh. you were always on the shyer side unlike your boyfriend, never having the nerve to tell people to cut it out or leave you alone the way he would. jj tried to teach you, put his hands on your shoulders, look you in the eyes and say ‘if anyone ever bothers you, you look ‘em in the face and tell them that your boyfriend stays strapped. alright?’ of course, that didn’t seem appropriate. or like a good idea in general.

“nope.” your lips press together with a smile that begged him to leave you be, head even swivelling around theatrically to look for jj who had wandered off to take the call somewhere more quiet, now nowhere to be seen.

“c’mon, you think i don’t know your type? you seem all cold now, but get a couple of drinks in you and you’re ready to go. here, lemme get it for you.” he pulls out his card and nudges right up next to you, a hand sliding over your lower back. you shudder, pulling away— trying hard to be stern despite your shyness.

“really, i’m okay.” you frown, heart thundering when his expression drops, irritation reaching his eyes. he goes to speak, but a familiar voice immediately spawns from behind you.

“yeah i think she said she was okay, so you can walk away now.” jj shrugs, giving this guy a chance. the kooks eyes, narrow in on the blonde and scoffs, unimpressed.

“and who the hell are you? her knight in shining armor?” he glares, the malicious grin on jj’s face not faltering. from knowing jj, you knew this grin in itself was a threat. the calm before the storm. you brace for the chaos, moving back behind your boyfriend.

“try boyfriend, and i’m actually doin’ you a solid here brother. i really suggest you just walk away, right now.”

“or what?” the kook challenges, and jj’s venomous grin melted into merely having his teeth grit, bared like a dog as his patience runs thin.

“or i’ll rip your fuckin’ face off for talking to my girl. walk,” he shoves him back by the chest. “away, dude.” and once again, the man stumbling a little as a few eyes draw to the scene. locking stares with the security guard, the kook decides it’s better off he doesn’t get his ass beat, or get kicked out of the beach bar — so he trips over, walking away.

“you’re a psycho, pogue.” he accuses as he disappears and jj shakes himself off, blowing out an exhale as he turns back to you, fixing his hat.

“thats what i thought.” he rolls his shoulders before attending to you. “hey, i— i know you wanted just a chill night. i probably shouldn’t have caused a scene, just didn’t want him disrespecting my girl, you know?” his face falls, misreading the dazed expression on your face.

you glance around, looking for any remaining eyes on you and you move closer, whispering to him pathetically.

“i’m wet.” it comes out so quiet, he thinks he’s making it up.

“you’re — what now?” his head bobs forward in disbelief, eyes wide.

“i’m wet, jayj. take me home?” you mewl and he blinks a couple of times.

“from… that? me like… defending your honour n’shit?”

“yeah.” you giggle and a slow grin fades onto his once angry expression.

“oh you’re crazy. you’re my kind of crazy though — let’s go.” he grabs your hand, leading you briskly away.

⊹ . ⁺ 🍦🤍⋅˚₊𐙚

[fanaticsnail]

WHATS UPP, so I read the dreaming of you oneshot thingy on your page (Koby, smoker AND HELMEPPO) so I was wondering if you would be able to make something more of helmeppo. I read your request page and I know you might not write it but i was just curious. I’m not picky at all but since it’s helmeppo i figured it could be something like enemies to lovers.. (DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT IM FINE WITH ANYTHING!!) I’ve never requested anything on tumblr so sorry if I’m doing it wrong btw. I have a playlist if you’d like that for ideas 😼 (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0q63LD9Kt49EDxlOxCCQ7m?si=cWh4kWT-SR-x2evxlXn97Q&pi=u-vige6yADR-Oe) SORRY ITS A LONG LINK 😨

Hi there! I love how enthusiastic you are about Helmeppo. Not gonna lie, I definitely felt the need to write him a one-shot after that one. I love your playlist!

Bound to the Enemy

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,100+

Synopsis: Engaged in a heated battle between pirates and marines on neutral ground had the locals enact a punishment befitting the crime. Bound back to back with a marine, you come up with a plan to work together to break out of the trap and return to your crew.

Themes: Helmeppo x reader, enemies to lovers, mutual loathing, mutual pining, peril and dread, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst, bittersweet farewells.

Notes: Chef-Husband has been making me watch MacGyver. I apologise if this wasn't exactly what you were looking for, but I did have a lot of fun with it.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Slowly bobbing your head from side to side, you hummed a merry tune from your childhood to reverberate and ricochet within the damp cavern walls. Drops of water from the pointed stalactites dripped onto your head, drenching your already soaked clothes with further murkiness from the oceanic roof.

The ropes gripping your shoulders and wrists burned with a crude jolt from your companion behind you, causing you to yelp mid-word with your song. In light of his tugging, you simply laughed and sang louder. 

“The sails lay flat, the wind in her back; the ropes lay in a bind,” you yelled your tune, the echo of your voice calling back at you in a taunting mockery, “The women did wail, as the sailors set sail, leaving their seed behind-.”

“-Are you quite finished?!” His aggravated tone cut your voice off, tugging the ropes and prompting you to lull your head behind you on his shoulder. “It’s bad enough being bound to a damn pirate, let alone one that doesn’t shut up!” You laughed from your position, back to back and tied to the enemy while sitting atop a large rock and awaiting death. 

“Aww, pretty marine,” you coo at him behind you, nuzzling almost affectionately against his shoulder with a hint of teasing, “I thought my singing would bring such joy as we await our imminent doom.” He shrugged away from your head, prompting you to laugh harder as he burned you with the intensity of your ties. 

Both of your hands were bound to each other at the wrists, your companion wriggling and attempting to free himself the moment he awoke from behind you. Your crews arrived at this strange island at the same time, immediately engaging in a heated battle filled with bloodshed and chaos. The locals did not take kindly to the ruckus and immediately implored you to stick to their stance with neutrality. 

Both your crew and the marine crew surrendered and awaited adequate punishment for tainting the shore with battle and bloodshed. The punishment chosen for you was to select a member of each crew, bind them together in ropes, and place them in a cave mouth to await the tide to enter. If you managed to escape before the water choked you with its salty embrace, the marines and the pirates would be permitted to leave. If you drowned, both crews would live out the days on the island and serve the queen as her loyal slaves. 

Before your captain or the pink-haired marine captain could react and volunteer themselves, both you and the blondie stepped forward and gave yourselves up. Without further warning, both of you were injected with a local toxin to cause you to fall into a deep slumber, likely to make the journey more difficult to return to your crews. 

“These ropes are strong,” he growled, thrusting his chest forward and prompting you to arch your back up into him, “I can’t get the damn thing loose.” You simply offer him a condescending “Mm-hmm, that’s the point,” and let him keep moving your body around to wriggle free. 

“When you’re quite ready,” you offer him, wincing as he leaned forward, “I have a blade hidden in my back pocket. I can reach it, but I will need you to stop wriggling so I can get to it.” He huffed out an exasperated breath and you felt him shake his head in agitation. 

“And why are you telling me this now, pirate?” he growled at you, attempting to look at you over his shoulder to no avail, “You could’ve cut us out the whole time, and neglected to mention it?” You laughed, feeling his hands go limp to allow you to search through your pockets without a struggle. 

“You were too busy being a grumpy marine to use your mind,” you shrugged, feeling the handle of the blade with your fingertips, “Always underestimating your opponents and too hot headed to exercise your brain along with your other muscles.” You use your index and middle fingers to draw the blade closer to you, finally clutching it in your hands. 

The seaspray began to rise, the cave mouth starting to fill with the swell of water just as you readied the small knife to cut your bonds. 

“If I nick you with the blade,” you smirk, beginning to cut through the fibers, “I’m not sorry.” The man behind you began to growl at you, holding still and allowing you to work at the ropes with ease. The first few strands came loose, giving your wrists enough room to wriggle a little easier to get enough momentum to cut easier. 

“What’s your name, anyway, marine?” you asked him suddenly, feeling a little bolder and at ease now that your bonds were turning loose. He inhaled a soft breath, uttering quietly to you in response. 

“Helmeppo,” he confessed his name with a soft nod, “And you, pirate?” You giggle in response, uttering your name hastily before rolling his title over on your tongue to sample the flavor. 

“And who are you to your captain, Helmeppo?” you ask him, humming the same tune from earlier, a little quieter as you worked. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, “I am his first mate and swordsman. You?” 

“I am the navigator and blade thrower,” you nod along, the tune never ceasing as you feel one of your wrists finally come loose. You raise it to your side and give it a soft shake and breathe slowly while stretching the limb. 

Making quick work on the other side now that your wrist was free, you reach up and begin to saw at the bonds around your chest and shoulders, noticing the ties are a little more complex than you assumed they were initially. Cutting through the strands, you finally feel them come loose enough to wriggle free. 

“Well now,” you sighed in relief, beginning to stand on the large rock and look down to the icy depths of the sea, “Can you swim, first-mate? Not a devil-fruit user by any chance, are you?” You looked to the blonde man beside you as he shook his head.

“I’m not the best swimmer, unfortunately,” he confessed, looking down at the sea rising up the rock, “Not a user, though. I can stay afloat just fine.” You nod along, looking at the cave mouth and angling your chin to the side with narrow eyes. 

“That doesn’t look right to me,” you nod your forehead to the mouth of the cave, “The light is all wrong, and the swell in water is too rapid. I think it's a false entrance.” He looked to the mouth and nodded his head along. 

“You’re the navigator,” he nodded to you, testing your knowledge beneath his staring gaze, “I am electing to trust you with this. Where do you think we should start?” You hummed in thought, gazing up at the roof and narrowing your eyes at the sight of the luminescent lights surrounding the stalactites. 

“Not a swimmer, but are you a climber?” you asked him, reaching for his chin with your index finger and thumb before turning his attention to the ceiling, “We need to go up there.” He allowed you to move his face and look at the small opening in the roof wall. He sighed another huff of exasperated breath and shook his head.

“If I had my sword, it would be far easier to scale the walls,” he nodded, looking around the rock you were standing on. The surface was like an island in comparison to the other rocks surrounding the room, no way off the surface without swimming, and no way up without reaching the spherical sides to the rocky room. 

You hummed, tucking your blade back behind you and looked down into the water, noticing a faint light coming from the center beneath the rock. Widening your eyes, you stared more intentionally beneath the water, noticing the light began to travel towards you both. 

“Helmeppo?” you ask him with a small hint of panic, backing away from the water below, “I don’t think we’re alone in here.” You held onto his arm and dragged him to the center of the rock, looking up at the tiny hole in the roof before looking at your blonde, apprehensive companion. 

Darting his eyes down to the depths below, he noticed the same scaly visage beneath the surface, swirling in a circle around the rock you were marooned on. He darted his eyes back to you and drifted his eyes frantically around your features. 

“A sea beast?” He asked in a low tone, prompting you to nod in confirmation. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and looked up to the small hole above you, “We’re going to need to find some type of raft to have us go through the water towards the walls, and pray the beast doesn’t consume us. Then climb to the top of the cave with nothing but our knuckles, aren’t we?”

You look up at the ceiling before looking at the fraying strands of rope you hacked at moments prior. Cursing under your breath, you dropped to your knees and began reweaving the strands that you cut with your dagger. 

“Fuck,” you bark at yourself, grimacing as you hastily rotate the strands and coil them back together. He looked down to your position and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what was occurring. Sniffing back your stupidity, the water continued racing in from the false cave mouth and elevating the water level higher. 

“Can you fix it before the water reaches us?” He looked to the ropes before looking towards the rapidly rising sea water. You growled, balling your hands into fists and continuing to coil the strands around each other.

“It’ll get done,” you assure him with a rumbly growl in your tone, “But it’s not going to be reinforced enough to hold both of our weight at once.” He cocked his head to the side, a perplexed expression drifting over his face. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, kneeling beside you and searching your face for hidden intentions. You huff out a shaky breath, gesturing to your back pocket and to the ends of the rope. 

“I’m going to attach the rope to the blade, throw it through the hole and wind against a stalactite,” you nod upwards, refusing to turn your eyes away from your busy hands. “Then we're going to climb through the hole and reach the surface,” you admit, finally looking up at him, “But we can’t both go at the same time. The rope is too frail and fragile.” 

His eyes widened, searching your eyes for dishonesty and ill intent. Upon finding none, he growled beneath his breath. 

“So, what then?” he huffed out, a small scoff underlying in his tone, “One of us climbs up and then the other begins the climb up after? Is that what you’re suggesting-.”

“-That’s precisely what I’m suggesting,” you cut him off with a soft snarl, “One of us will have to wait and trust the other from their position above.” You continued coiling and twisting the ropes, your hands shaking in a soft rage and lip quivering in reaction to the fear of what’s to come. 

After a soft moment of silence, you concluded your twisting and looked up at the blonde-haired marine beside you. 

“I have impeccable aim,” you reassure him, fastening the end to your blade after you retracted it from your rear pocket, “Hold the end of the rope and let me aim, please. In silence.” He nodded, eagerly taking your orders and you breathed through your concerns as the water rose over the soft edge. 

The fins of a large creature slowly flew above the surface, Helmeppo’s eyes widening as he witnessed the scaly spine of the Sea Beast below the surface. You refused to tear away your eyes from the target ahead, exhaling slowly as you aimed at the wall within the hole. 

In a swift thrust, you threw the blade within the air and the rope began to soar through the barely illuminated dome towards the stalactites. Embedding with a swift thud, the end of the rope was hanging limply within Helmeppo’s hands as he continued to search the water for the approaching beast circling below. 

Turning to him and noticing his look, you breathed out a melancholy breath of air. Hardening your resolve, you gently reached up and squeezed his shoulder to draw his attention back to you.

“Right then,” you nodded with a hasty sniff of steely determination, “Off you go. Quickly.” He turned to you, looking down in shock as you gestured for him to begin the climb. He began to speak, prompting you to shake your head and halt his thoughts. 

“Helmeppo,” you reassured him, squeezing him once more, “This is how it has to be. I am a pirate, a blade thrower and a navigator. You are the first-mate to a marine captain and a swordsman. I would not be able to help you with the rope once I got up there, if anything goes awry,” you confess, softly giving him a pat to spur him on, “You would likely not trust me to aid you anyway, and I feel like you would do the right thing if given the opportunity to do so.” 

His shock deepened, the rope feeling hot in his hands the longer he held it between his fingers. 

“Go, Helmeppo,” you tapped him once more to break him out of his frantically racing thoughts. He gave you a soft nod, gulping back his nerves and beginning a hasty climb up the ropes. He tested his weight, tugging firmly twice before throwing his entire weight into his ascension. 

You had no choice but to watch on as the rope began to bend under the strain of his weight. Looking to the water, the levels began gently rising in soft, taunting ripples as the tide began to come in. A call of your name from the blonde swordsman above the ropes redrew your attention to Helmeppo above you.

“Distract yourself,” he ordered you, straining as his arms and thighs curled around the hanging rope. “Sing your silly songs to me, talk to me about your crew, tell me anything you want.” He growled, gritting his teeth and tugging his body above the rope. You gulped back your fear and inhaled a deep lungful of air.

“I have only ever known a life of piracy,” you confessed, nodding your confirmation and solidifying your words, “Born and raised on the sea, reading the stars and charting my course.” 

Helmeppo grunted on the ropes, continuing his slow climb as the water rose around you. You continued thinking about the circumstances that brought you here to this moment. Smiling a soft smile, you look down at your toes and reminisce about your life. 

“I learned to read the stars from my mother,” you nod slowly, laughing a soft chuckle as you add, “I look like her, too. The crew says she and I are nothing alike, but I like to think we're similar. She was a noble.” You admit, looking back up to Helmeppo as he nearly reached the top. 

He huffs and pants, finally drawing his fingers up to the coarse wall and reaching for a sturdy rock to grip. Reflecting on your words, he thinks over your confessions with interest but remains too preoccupied in his task to ask you any questions. 

The water rises closer to your toes, two beady eyes glaring at you beneath the surface and waiting for the water to lap at your ankles before making its move. You pay the eyes no mind, looking up and reassuring Helmeppo as he attempts to grip the walls for a third time to no avail. 

“You're doing well,” you offer him with no malice or sarcasm in your tone, “Take your time, I'll be right here.” He scoffed out a soft laugh at your response, wedging the rope between his thighs and using your blade attached to the top to pull himself closer to the wall. 

The water caresses your toes with a soft propulsion, your heels not faring better as the water continues to rise to the peak of the small, rocky island within the damp dome. You scrunch your eyes shut, thinking about the outcome should you both fail this task. Both crews would perish on this island in servitude for the locals, your crews would mourn for you, and you would be good for the beast below the surface. 

“You can do this, Helmeppo,” you again reassure him, gulping back your shaking fear and propelling confidence in your tone. “You are a swordsman, a first-mate to your captain. You have worked hard to earn those titles, just like you're working hard now. You can do this.” 

Hearing your encouragement, his hands finally find purchase on the walls, anchoring himself against the hole in the surface and beginning his climb up. Just as he finally leans up, the dagger in the wall comes loose, the rope falling limp between his thighs and held up by his body alone. 

Your eyes widen, your shock and his igniting desperation in your pulse. He grunted through the adrenaline, groaning as he lifted himself above the hole and braced himself against the walls. The rope began to slip, his hands darting out and grasping it before it fell back down below. 

“I-I'm-...” He panted, attempting to catch his breath. Shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, he inhaled deeply and focussed his breath, “...I'm going to have to pull you up.” His voice quivered, his lips shaking as he was overcome from momentary exhaustion at the swift climb. 

“We-...” You began, feeling your shoes begin to dampen with the rise in water lapping at your boot heels, “...We’ll wait until you're ready. Take your time.” Helmeppo looked down, noticing the sea beast had begun to circle around the slowly disappearing island and exhaled a shaky breath. 

Before he had joined the marines officially, he would've wanted nothing more than to leave you down there to drown. He would've cowered in his own fear and scampered up the hole without second thought.

But as he stared down at you, looking at the smile you had on your lips as you gazed up at him, the enemy, he was compelled to remember all he learnt from Bogard and Garp. He was a marine, a swordsman, and now the first-mate to his superior and best friend. He was no longer his father's son, a sniveling asshole with no marks on his resume to back up his superiority complex. 

He was Helmeppo: first mate to Captain Koby, and a superior sword fighter on a journey to becoming the best. 

Anchoring a few coils of rope around his waist, he gestures for you to do the same. You follow his directions, tying your hips together and wedging the strands between your legs as a makeshift harness. He extends his legs, parting his thighs and bending his knees to brace himself within the opening beneath the moonlight. Taking the rope in fistfuls, he begins to slowly draw hand after hand of rope and pool the hefty coils over his palm and elbow. 

“K-Keep talking to me,” he uttered, wincing as he felt the overexertion of his muscles burning under the weight. “Keep t-talking. Anchor your weight and tell me about yourself.” His breath hitched, his brows furrowing as he grit his teeth. 

You choose not to look down, opting only to grant him your smile as he lifts your body higher above the doom lurking below. 

“Before I left my home,” you laughed, bracing your arms against the ropes with your forearms, “I was meant to settle down and have an army of children,” you both chuckled at the notion, his hands crawling along the strands and coiling them up higher. 

“That something you want for yourself?” He winced through the strain of the ordeal, looking beneath you and noticing the rocky island was completely engulfed in water. The eyes continued to observe the two of you with interest, the creature lingering beneath the depths smiling its toothy grin.  

“Absolutely not,” you confess with a laugh, gripping the ropes further and clambering up alongside his cooking advances, “I only want the open sea, the wind in the sails, and the stars to point me to my next destination.” He snickered down, growling as his limbs began to burn. 

“T-Truly?” he responded with a taught snicker, “No desire to settle down and retire one day?” He continued tugging the rope and lifting you through the final threshold of the journey. 

“Not in my plan, no,” you retorted, finally lifting yourself between his thighs by grasping his hips and hoisting you with your arms extended. Anchoring your heels at the wall behind you, you had no choice but to fall into his chest upon ascension. 

His eyes never left your face, floating over your features and gazing up at you. Falling flat on his chest, you wriggled between his legs and drew yourself up through the partition in his thighs. You furrowed your brows as you found purchase on the wall beyond his shoulders, his eyes darting between yours and his lips parted and panting. 

“Sorry,” you muffled your apologies, leaning back and gazing into his eyes. Your breath hitched, looking over his features and finally taking a moment to breathe him in. He was handsome, one of the most handsome men you had seen in some time: almost pretty. 

His eyes focussed on your lips, momentarily forgetting the doom lingering below and taking you in for all that you were. You were beautiful, even for a pirate. 

“We-...” he began, offering his hand out to you and aiding you between his legs, “...we should begin the climb. Can't-...” his eyes darted down to your lips and lingered there a moment longer, “-We can't leave them waiting, and the water is rising.”

You looked at his face, smiling as you hastily pushed yourself up the walls and looked down at the marine first-mate beneath you. 

“Better hurry up then, blondie,” you sneered down at him before scampering throughout the walls and hovering up the small opening. He chuckled, taking a moment to catch his breath before following up the hole after you. 

The water rises further below you two, your anxieties both propelling you to use each other as anchor points to propel you further up the hole towards the surface. 

“Try to keep up, marine,” you teased him in soft snickers, his own laugh joining yours the longer you teased him. 

“Speak for yourself, pirate,” he responded in kind, his eyes staring at your body the further up the chasm you clambered. The water began to swell further beneath you, both of you praying in gratitude that you understood the false entry that drew in the tide. 

The starlight welcomed you into the night, you hoisted your torso up through the birthpoint and your eyes both met the cloudless sky above. As you exited the hole, you reached down and offered Helmeppo your arm to grip and raise through the tunnel mouth. 

With a soft smirk, he clasped his hand over your forearm and used your arm to draw himself up through the small opening. Before falling onto his back and panting, he assessed the surroundings and noticed there truly was no entry to the cave from below. You were right, and he was ever grateful you noticed the trap lingering below. 

Lying flat on your backs either side of the hole and catching your breath, you looked to the constellations and began searching through your mind for any direction towards your crewmates. 

While you were distracted by charting the stars, Helmeppo began untying the bonds circling his waist and carefully coiling the ropes for later purpose. He wound the fibers into a neat pile beside him, before crawling on his hands and knees towards you and beginning to draw his fingers against your flesh as you muttered stars to yourself. 

“The Marina Comet besides Genfry’s Belt,” you whispered, barely processing the fingers dancing over your skin and loosening the knots surrounding your pelvis. “Which means the anchor point for our vessel should be beside the Sialin Dip and Hogir Spear.” Your whispers earned you a chuckle from your blonde-haired companion as he loosened the knots of rope girdling your waist.

After uttering your final vantage point, you began to giggle. The laughter became almost overbearing as the adrenaline teetered off and lay in wake to the lethargy you were both experiencing.

The physical trial between the two of you amongst sea beasts, bondage, and trickery had each breath you took feeling like a gift to the senses. Upon loosening the final knot, Helmeppo flopped to the position beside you and chuckled into the stars. You joined him, your rambunctious laughter serenading him as you did a few hours prior with your shanties of old. 

“Any-... Any thoughts on where our crews are right now?” he offered with teetered laughter. You rolled onto your side and placed your hand on his chest and gave him a soft pat in response. 

“We have about a forty minute trek through the jungle before we reach the shore,” you giggled, leaning over him and gazing into his eyes, “And then it’ll be about an hour after that to make it to our ships.” You reached up, brushing his blonde hair from his face and gently caressing his cheek. 

His breath hitched as his eyes met with yours, wide and shocked to receive such affection from the enemy. Conflicting emotions swirled in his mind the moment his gray orbs met your half-lidded gaze. Before he could speak, you spoke for him in a soft endearing tone. 

“You know, you’re really quite pretty,” you speak as if your words contained a soft secret within. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva and parted his quivering lips up to you. Giggling at his response, you go to draw yourself away from his embrace, only to have your wrist collected in his hand. 

As you knit your brows up in confusion, he immediately sat up and drew your body close to himself. His unoccupied hand cradled the back of your head in a firm grip and drew your lips up to collide with his in a soft kiss. A squeak fled your lips in shock as your eyes remained wide and staring into the furrowed brow of your enemy.

His golden hair stuck to his face in stringy, damp strands from the salty drips from the cavern roof. The stars illuminated his pale skin and allowed you to take a glimpse at the rosy blush rising against his cheeks. You finally hum into his lips, circling his waist with your unclasped wrist, and rising to sit in his lap on the grassy patch beside the hole leading down to your prior prison. 

You take his kiss as an expression of relief in reclaiming freedom, his joy at being alive and making it through the trial laid out below. Returning his kiss, you allow yourself to give in to your own relief in making it through the trial and rotate your chin to deepen the oscillation. His heart shot to this throat as he released your wrist to circle his arm around your shoulders and hold you close. 

Finally and firmly breaking you away from his lips, he gazed up at you with adoration and an unspoken fondness for you. His lips were bruised by the intensity of your kiss which prompted your hands to raise to his cheeks and run your thumb over his bottom lip. Smiling down at Helmeppo, you softly offer him a small tease in your tone.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you narrow your eyes and scrunch up your nose with your smile, “Let’s go free our crews and get off this forsaken island.” He panted slowly caressing your hair and pressed his forehead against yours briefly. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, pirate,” he smiled in his tone, briefly closing his eyes. He broke away contact from your forehead and aided you to your feet. Returning your dagger to you, he hooked the coil of rope over his shoulder and let it lay circling his hip. 

“After all we’ve been through? I wouldn’t dream of it,” you smile in response, placing your dagger in your back pocket and readjusting your clothes, “But do try to keep up, lover. You may be strong, but I’m faster.” You began to set an easy and hasty pace trekking through the jungle towards the coastline where your crews were waiting for you.

Aiding each other through the uneven jungle floor, and sneaking in subtle touches and holds to brace each other in support, your affection for the marine swordsman only grew. His eyes only ever left your body and face to briefly glance ahead to brush away a wandering branch from blocking your path. His chivalry was a welcome change to the bruising affection you and your crew displayed to one another. 

His thoughts and emotions clouded his judgment, finally giving in to the emotion he was attempting to stifle. He was smitten with the enemy, and he knew you were likely to never see each other again after this adventure. Willing to take any touch you were permitting him to press you with, he committed the feel of your hands on his skin to memory. 

He was in love, and you were feeling much the same. You both laughed at the true tragedy of the rising emotions the moment your crews came into view with the local government. Without much thinking, you hastily press a soft kiss to his cheek before sprinting to your captain on the sandy shore without further words. 

Eyes shut and hands rose in front of him, he bid you a wordless farewell. Opening his eyes and watching your hair bounce behind you, he felt a piece of his heart leave him and join with your own. Sparing him a look over your shoulder, you shot him a soft wink and giggled in glee at witnessing his eyes still firmly fixed on your retreat. 

You were smitten with your marine swordsman, something that the crew would likely tease you about for the whole duration of your journey out to the sea. You looked to the marine ship, your hands splayed on the wooden rail as you met the gaze of Helmeppo aboard his vessel. Gifting him a soft wave and a broad grin, he returned the gesture with a bashful smile and eyes left wanting. 

Taking a mental note of the stars, you prayed that one day their soft illuminance would guide you two to meet again. 

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 6: At Your Worst

series masterlist

Jail is a lot more different on the inside when you aren’t the one locked in a cage.

You make your way through the county jail, the air heavy with an oppressive atmosphere. The walls are grey and grimy, the sound of footsteps and quiet chatter filling the air.

There's a sense of unease within you, being surrounded by so many cops, their eyes sizing you up with suspicion. You're led down a long, narrow hallway, the fluorescent lighting making the place even more unsettling.

The officer leads you to a door, pulling out a key to unlock it. As he opens the door, you're hit with the sight of the visitation room. A line of people sat on metal chairs, wired phones in hand as they speak to the inmates on the other side of a glass partition. The air is filled with the sound of murmured voices, a mixture of frustration, sorrow, and determination. Behind the glass, you see the inmates seated on plastic chairs, their faces weary and resigned.

The officer leads you to an empty stall, gesturing for you to sit down. He gives you a curt nod, saying, "you can wait here. The inmate will be brought in shortly." The tone of his voice is professional, but there's a hint of curiosity as he observes you.

You nod once, settling into the hard chair. You can’t help the whirlwind of emotions rushing through you - fear, anticipation, dread, defiance. There's a sense of finality to this moment.

You’ve chosen your path and there's no going back now, not that you ever would. The officer leaves you alone with your thoughts, the room feeling suddenly more stark, the silence pressing in.

It doesn’t take them long to bring him in.

You watch intently as the door opens, Weeks walking through, clad in a jumpsuit and bound with cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His eyes sweep the room, settling on your face as he's led to the stall.

There's a tired defiance in his expression, though he can't completely hide the flicker of disdain and fury that passes over his features as he’s pushed down into the seat across from you.

His face is a mix of anger and resentment, his eyes fixed on you with such intensity that it almost feels like the glass separating you two isn’t even there. You can practically feel the tension, the electricity in the air as his thoughts and emotions crackle like a storm.

He’s a caged animal, his movements stiff and deliberate due to the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. It’s clear he’s itching to say something, to lash out, but for now he holds himself back with what seems like a monumental effort.

There's a coolness in your demeanor as you pick up the phone on your side, gesturing for him to do the same. There's a stark difference in how you both operate – you're in control now, your composure in contrast to his barely restrained anger. You wait patiently as he aggressively picks up his own phone, his handcuffed wrists struggling with the task.

He explodes, his face turning red with rage as he slams his free hand against the glass, spitting out the words. "MY OWN WIFE?!"

The veins in his neck standing out as his anger boils over. The impact of his hand against the glass causes a loud bang, echoing throughout the room. He looks like he’d try break through the glass just to wrap his hand around your throat if he could, his anger a tidal wave that he can barely control.

You purse your lips, your heart hammering so loudly that you can almost hear it over the static of the phone. You adjust your hold on the phone with a firm grip, maintaining a steel exterior, refusing to let him see any sign of weakness or hesitation. Despite the tension and his anger, you manage to keep your voice steady, replying with a coolness that belies the chaos within you.

Your voice is level, but there's a hint of satisfaction as you say, "did you think I wouldn't? She's my family too, as you so kindly reminded me." The words seem to spark a deeper rage within him, like throwing gasoline onto a fire. His face morphs further into anger, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to contain himself, the cuffs on his wrists clinking against the phone. He looks like he wants to explode all over again, but you've hit a nerve and he seems at a loss for words for a moment.

You continue, your casual indifference only serving to rile him further. You lean back in your chair, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your words. "Even she admitted you haven't been the same man she fell in love with since drugs got involved," you say, your voice matter-of-fact. The words clearly hit home, a flicker of pain passing across his face before it's quickly replaced with more fury. He opens his mouth to protest, but your claim has struck a chord and he can't find the right words to deny you.

His voice breaks with emotion when he does finally speak, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the phone that his knuckles are turning white. His eyes seem to burn with anger and desperation as he practically seethes the words at you, "Marky is dead. Paulie is dead. You sold us out, and for what?" The weight of those deaths hangs thick in the air, a painful reminder of the choices you made. Your heart feels heavy, but you keep your face stoic as you meet his gaze.

You take a moment to reflect on the last three days' events, the shock still somewhat fresh in your mind. Mr. Eldridge's unexpected turn of events, the news of Weeks being reprimanded by the authorities, all the raids – it was so surreal. Your mind races with thoughts, but you force yourself to remain focused, knowing there's more to unpack in this conversation.

Your face twists with emotion as you relay the events to him, your voice faltering momentarily before you continue. "Ray Eldridge, Tom’s father. He was coming for you, but when he found out you'd been arrested, he took out who was left and turned himself in” you say, the words hanging heavily in the air. There's a hint of pain and resignation in your voice, but you keep it steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you completely unravel.

Weeks' expression is a mix of anger, disbelief, and shock at this revelation. The news seems to have hit him like a freight train, and he struggles to process it for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth as he tries to wrap his head around the situation.

His anger dissipates for a moment, replaced by a resigned acceptance. He almost seems to deflate, the fight leaving his body.

"I knew it wasn't you," he says, his voice holding a note of certainty. "I knew you couldn't have killed Marky. He really did love you, y'know” there's a hint of sadness in his tone, a touch of the past peeking through the hardened shell he's become.

“He would’ve let me die years ago, if it weren’t for you, we both know that”.

You remain stoic, expression cold. You continue through gritted teeth, your voice leaving no room for doubt. "I didn't come here to make amends," you say, tone firm. "I came to tell you to sleep with one eye open since Ray Eldridge will be your bunk mate soon."

There's a dangerous edge in your voice as you deliver the warning, making it clear you're not here to make small talk or offer any kindness.

You add a final, menacing twist to your warning, your eyes locking onto his. “It’d be a damn shame if he finished the job,” you say, emphasizing the point. The threat hangs heavy in the air as the full weight of your words sinks in. The warning is loud and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He scoffs and calls your bluff, a hint of defiance in his voice. "Bullshit," he spits out. "You and me, we're all that's left now that Marky is gone. Marky would be rolling in his grave if he saw us like this” his words are laced with a mixture of anger and resignation, a hint of the man you use to know creeping into the present.

Your stomach twists uncomfortably as you see a glimpse of the man you remember. A mix of disappointment and nostalgia fills your voice as you ask, "what happened to you? Why did you let things get this bad?"

There's a hint of the old, genuine concern you once had for him, a flicker of sadness at the transformation he's gone through the last few years.

You use to admire him, look up to him, now he’s just a monster.

His expression hardens as he replies, his voice quiet but firm. "I did what I had to do to keep our family afloat," he says, "so did you, so did Marky."

There's a cold detachment to his words now, a stark contrast to the familiar loyalty you knew him for. You can almost see the layers of callousness, the choices he’s made, weighing heavy upon him.

You deny his attempts to justify his actions, the anger growing within you. "You promised me a better life when I came to you," you snap, your voice raising a bit, "but instead you ruined it."

There's a mix of pain, betrayal, and frustration in your tone as you call him out, each word a bitter reminder of the promises he never kept.

He attempts to apologize, but you can see the insincerity behind his words. "I failed you," he begins, putting on a facade of remorse.

“You’re right, I should’ve done better by you, you’re my Lucky charm after all” his tone is hollow, the old nickname falling flat as the weight of his actions hangs between you.

Your face twists into a bitter expression as you speak, the weight of everything pushing back on you like a physical force.

"No, I’m not, that name was never yours to abuse" you say firmly, your voice final “not anymore, goodbye Pete."

The words feel like a weight lifted off your chest as you sever the connection between the two of you by hanging the phone on its hook in the stall.

You stand and force your eyes away from him, turning towards the door, ready to walk away.

He abruptly jumps to his feet, restraints clattering together, his voice muffled by the glass but still clear enough to understand. His anger is palpable as he slams his cuffed hands against the glass, his voice rising to a furious yell.

"I'M YOUR BROTHER," he roars, his eyes burning with a mix of pain and anger. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? TO MARKY? LOOK AT ME!" the raw emotion in his voice is undeniable, the weight of your actions apparent in his pained expression.

Your steps don't falter, even as every fiber of your being screams at you to look back, to turn around. Despite the pain coursing through you and the tears threatening to spill, you forge ahead, resolute in your decision.

As you walk away, a million thoughts race through your mind – pain, regret, doubt, hope for a better future. But the certainty in your heart, the knowledge that this is the right choice, gives you strength to keep moving forward.

You don't look back as you’re ushered out of the room, your stride even and determined as you leave him behind.

There was no saving him, even your sister-in-law Rachel knew that, which is why you’d gone to her first before you went to law enforcement with everything you had.

You’d gone to the police later that day with three demands: immunity for you and your people, the Finestkind, and then to clear your record for a chance at a fresh start.

And in return? Weeks, a list of names, and every location to every warehouse you knew of. More than plenty to knock the operation down to a point of no possible recovery.

Now it’s for certain, with Weeks out of commission indefinitely.

The officer silently leads you through the narrow corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the gray, grimy walls. As you finally exit the building, the world outside doesn’t seem as suffocating.

You step out into the new reality of your life, the sunlight hitting your eyes, the sounds and smells of the shore nearby hitting you like a wave. For a moment you stand there, taking it all in, before you start walking – your stride purposeful, determined, unbroken.

For the first time in your life, you feel free.

Your thoughts fade away as you look up, spotting Mabel leaned against her red car a few yards away, watching you intently as you exit the building.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of her– a sense of comfort and familiarity, her presence like a touchstone in this chaotic world.

She’s waiting for you, just like she said she would.

You approach her with a nod, a slight tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. She squints her eyes a bit from the sunlight beating down above before tilting her head slightly, studying your face quietly. There's a moment of silent assessment as she seems to gauge how you're coping.

As you come to a halt in front of her, you take in her lip now scabbed over, the dark bruises that have begun to fade now that they’ve had time to heal.

Don’t worry her more than you already have, you’ve put her through enough as it is.

You try to shrug it off with a casual, "it's good, I’m good." But Mabel, in her perceptive ways, sees right through your attempt. She’s known you long enough to see the hidden emotions behind your words, the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. Her eyes meet yours, a slight frown on her face, clearly not buying your dismissal.

She says nothing, but the expression on her face speaks volumes. She knows you're putting up a front, hiding your pain behind false bravado. Her concern is evident, silently inviting you to drop the act, to let her in, to lean on her for support.

You feel the weight of her gaze, the weight of her silence, and it's almost unbearable. The facade you had carefully constructed starts to crack, the pain and the turmoil threatening to spill out. But you don’t break, not yet. You try to keep up the act, struggling to hold on to that mask of toughness, of strength.

And that's when Mabel finally breaks for you both, shoving her own pride and feelings aside for a moment. She grabs the front of your shirt with a surprising amount of force, pulling you towards her until you're enveloped in her embrace.

Despite the height difference, Mabel stubbornly pulls you down to her, her tippy toes barely doing the job. You’re caught off guard for a moment, but that facade you’ve been fighting to maintain finally breaks. The dam holding back your thoughts and emotions crumbles, and for a moment, you just give in.

You sink into the embrace, allowing yourself the comfort of her presence. Her warm body against yours, her familiar scent in your nose, it all feels so grounding. For a few seconds, everything else fades away, and you just focus on the feeling of being held and supported.

She tightens her grip around you, her voice a soft whisper in your ear. "You need to stop being so afraid of vulnerability," she says, her words echoing with a hint of admonishment. There’s a firm yet gentle tone to her voice as she adds "you have too big of a heart to pretend that you don’t”.

The situation is a mixed bag of emotions. You're painfully aware that you still love her, but you struggle with the conflicted feelings within you.

On one hand, you want nothing more than to take the chance and try to fix things with her. But on the other hand, you know that she dreams of leaving this small town behind, and you can’t imagine how such a relationship could possibly work.

You’re left feeling uncertain, torn between wanting to be with her and not wanting to hold her back from the life she desires.

The life she deserves. The one she’s worked too hard for to throw away.

You look at her as you pull back from the embrace, your gaze unwavering as you speak, confessing your insecurities.

"For the longest time, all I ever saw myself as was a bad person,” you hesitate for a moment, your gaze locked with hers.

Then, you continue, your voice filled with genuine gratitude, "you have no idea how much it meant to me, when you looked at me and all you could see was the good”.

Mabel’s eyes glisten with unfallen tears as she listens to your words, clearly touched by your confession. Her thumb continues to caress your cheek, the familiar gesture making your heart constrict.

Her voice quivers slightly as she speaks, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. "I’ll always see the good in you," she whispers, her words filled with a mix of determination and affection.

"You may have done bad things, but underneath all that, you’re a good person. I have, and always will see that”.

Her eyes impulsively flicker down to your lips, a magnetic pull threatening to draw you closer. But at the last moment, as you notice the subtle action, a pang of realization washes over you.

You can’t, you won’t.

You grasp her wrist gently, pulling it away from your face and preventing her from acting on the impulse. With an affectionate yet serious look in your eyes, it’s your turn to give her a stern yet tender ‘don’t you dare’ look.

The air between you is thick with tension and unspoken words, each of you acutely aware of the depth of your emotions. It’d be so easy to give into that longing, to close the space between you and let everything you feel for each other unfold.

But you both know that it’s not the right time, not yet. The unsaid words hang in the air like a tangible thing, a mutual understanding of the pain and desire that fills the space between you.

Someday, maybe, but not today.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before gently reassuring her, "it’s okay," you say, your voice steady despite the internal conflict. "You need to go. I don’t want to hold you back. So please go, follow your dreams, and get the hell out of here."

You try to sound resolute, but beneath the words there's a hint of uncertainty, an unshakable sense that you'll always wonder ‘what if.’

But you can’t think about that right now, because for once, you aren’t going to be selfish.

For once, she’s the one trying to stay and you’re the one telling her to go.

She’s on the verge of protesting, her mouth parted for a rebuttal, but you don’t give her a chance. You cut her off gently, your tone firm yet soft.

"Charlie can get you where you need to go, don’t walk away from that” you reiterate, a final insistence in your words. You swallow the lump in your throat as you maintain eye contact, hoping your expression conveys the depth of your feelings better than your words can.

“Don’t do this-“ she tries to protest again, her eyes pleading with you to change your mind, but you cut her off gently.

"Charlie can get you where you need to go," you repeat, your tone firm but gentle. "So go. Don’t stay here for me. I can’t hold you back, not when you have so much potential."

You know deep down that letting her go is the right thing to do. You don’t have much going for you right now– no car, no prospects– and holding her back would only lead to regret and resentment.

If she stayed, and you both tried again, it would only fall apart.

But even she, who once seemed so eager to leave this town and this life behind, now appears reluctant to let go. Her expression, her demeanor, it’s all a stark contrast to her usual independent spirit.

You take her hand in yours, pulling her slightly closer, your forehead gently resting against hers. Your voice is soft, a whisper filled with knowing and acceptance. "Mabel, it's okay,” you say, your words gentle and soothing. "I know. I know you, and I know what you want. So go. You know where I’ll be”.

The gesture itself is intimate, a quiet moment between you both that speaks volumes about your relationship and the depths of your understanding of each other.

You almost say it, but you hold back the words, the three words that have gone unsaid between you two for far too long on the tip of your tongue.

But you don’t, because you know if you do, she’ll never go.

Her eyes well up with tears, a subtle crack appearing in her typically composed exterior. She struggles to hold your gaze, her voice wavering as she speaks.

"Your nature is to love, not hate. Don't forget that," she says, her words both a plea and a reminder. It’s a side of her you rarely see, vulnerable and pleading, yet still filled with a deep affection and admiration for you.

The heaviness of the moment hangs in the air, the raw emotions almost palpable. You nod, silently acknowledging the weight of her words, before trying to lightening the mood.

"I’ll do my best," you crack a gentle but humorous joke, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But we both know I’m prone for acting now and asking questions later".

She laughs, a sound that has a hint of both mirth and sadness to it. She playfully swats at your chest, seemingly trying to hold on to the moment just a little longer. But even as the laughter fills the air, the reality of the situation begins to set in, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Her eyes lock with yours, a look of profound longing in them. For a moment, she seems to falter, as if she wants to say something.

But she takes a deep breath, composes herself, and her expression schools back into her usual aloofness.

Then, with a hint of her usual attitude, she barks, "get your ass in the car," and proceeds to round the vehicle to the driver’s side.

Despite the sadness and the uncertainty, a small smile grows on your lips. The weight on your chest lifts a bit, but your fidelity to her weighs heavily on your shoulders.

You can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, whatever you say sunshine" you reply, your voice carrying a mix of resignation and fondness. You climb into the passenger seat, settling into the familiar space, the scent of her car almost nostalgic to you.

But life is a funny thing, isn't it?

It's composed of moments just like this, moments we never want to end. But here you are, still moving forward, experiencing new and beautiful things.

The journey may continue, but the essence of those precious times remain within us.

Life is too short to worry about making sense of everything anyways.

____________________________________________

You’d think for being ten years old, your brothers would know better than to ditch you at the town’s annual carnival, left to wander around like a lost puppy.

Your brothers, older and arguably wiser, seem to have vanished into thin air, leaving you stranded in the midst of a sea of strangers and noise.

You weave through the crowd, the sights and sounds of the carnival assaulting your senses, but your brothers are nowhere to be found. Frustration mixes with the slight pang of being forgotten, as you continue your search through the maze of people and rides.

A distant flash of light and a faint noise catches your attention, drawing your gaze just beyond the borders of the carnival. There, in the distance, fireworks light up the sky, and the realization sets in – if your brothers are about enjoying themselves, you might as well go enjoy the spectacle while you’re stuck here.

You make your way out of the carnival grounds, dodging through the parking lot and ignoring the perplexed looks you receive from adults. They clearly question what a lone kid is doing out here by yourself, but the fireworks beckon, and you search for the perfect spot to watch the colorful display.

And that’s when spot her in the distance, a girl around your age with soft brown hair perched on top of a truck roof.

At first, you’re astonished by her bravery, because that’s up fairly high.

Her gaze is fixed on the fireworks, a look of wonder in her expression as the colorful explosions paint the sky. Curiosity sparks within you, and you pause in your tracks, studying her from afar.

For a moment, you watch her watching the fireworks, unsure whether to approach her or not. There’s something about her that seems both exciting and intriguing to you, a mystery waiting to be solved.

But before you can decide, she looks down, as if sensing your stare. Her gaze locks onto you, and a flicker of surprise crosses her face.

You keep some distance as you tentatively approach the vehicle, your gaze slowly wandering upwards to her small frame perched atop the vehicle, which makes her seem taller than you in this moment.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You meet her gaze, a hint of boldness in your own defiant demeanor as you mimic her question, your response almost automatic, "what are you doing out here alone?"

The sky erupts in vibrant colors as more fireworks explode overhead, drawing your attention away from her and towards the spectacle above.

The bursts of light bathe everything in various hues, casting shadows and creating a mesmerizing dance across the stars.

But after a few moments, your gaze is inexorably drawn back to her. You notice how the different hues light up her features, casting a euphoric glow across her face.

Her very being seems to glow with a soft, radiant beauty, making it impossible to look away.

The fireworks might be captivating, but the sight of her watching them, her features lit up in a kaleidoscope of colors is even more so.

Just as you’re starting to wonder if your brothers will bother looking for you, she looks down and breaks the silence.

"Do you live around here?" Her tone is friendly, but there’s a hint of curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to tell her the truth or not. After all, you just met this random girl, and you don’t need her to think you’re some kind of lost kid.

Even if she is a kid herself, you feel the need to not look utterly helpless to her.

You decide to be honest, despite your initial hesitation. You shrug nonchalantly and reply, "no, I'm just here for the summer to visit my brothers, they’re here somewhere”.

You try to sound casual, like it’s no big deal that you’re out here alone, but something tells you that she might see right through your bravado.

She smiles, gentle and warm, causing a flutter of butterflies to stir in your belly. She then motions to the empty spot next to her on the truck roof with a pat, silently offering you a place to watch the fireworks beside her.

It’s high, and you’re a little nervous, but you buck up because you are not about to look like a wimp in front of this pretty girl.

There’s a certain tranquility and ease about the invitation, so you make your way to the tail bed and climb up.

You settle next to her, the metal of the truck cool against your skin, creaking softly as you settle into the spot next to her.

Huh. Not as scary as you thought.

The space is just big enough for the both of you, and you’re acutely aware of the proximity, although it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. There’s a sort of serenity sitting here, silently watching the fireworks together.

The fireworks continue to explode overhead, each burst of color and light adding to the surreal situation. You glance over at her, the glow of the explosions dancing across her face, making her look even more ethereal and angelic.

She keeps her gaze fixed on the fireworks, watching the sky dance in brilliant colors as she murmurs, "you should consider yourself lucky."

There’s a hint of something in her voice, a mixture of envy and understanding, and it’s clear she’s referring to your comment about not living around here. The lights from the fireworks reflect in her dark brown eyes, adding another touch of mystery to her gaze.

It's clear you're enjoying the moment, the fireworks almost secondary to her company. As the fireworks continue to burst overhead, you find yourself not really watching them, instead you're studying her profile, captivated by the way the colors dance across her features.

You take her words literally, and reply with playful nonchalance, "maybe I will, it does have a nice ring to it” your grin widens, a hint of mischief in your expression.

The unexpected reply causes her to turn towards you and laugh a fully, genuine, open sound that makes her seem even more pretty in the multicolored glow of the fireworks. Her laughter carries a hint of amusement, combined with a touch of disbelief.

That is the beauty of it, of course.

Because even though it doesn’t make sense to her now, someday it will.

previous, next

AN: thank you all for following along with this story! Once again, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, and a privilege.

[lolishdes]

✧A/N: An idea just fucking ERUPTED IN ME CHRIST HAHAHA hope you all enjoy this. I actually did this pretty quick, did some proof reading though hehe.

✧Warning/s: SMUT— LITERALLY SMUT GALORE BABES, though Diluc is very sweet and gentle, kissing, clit slapping, praises, mentions of spanking.

Minors kindly don't interact!

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

Hear me out. 

Diluc and you have been married for quite  some time and now in your forties. However on days when you feel insecure about yourself, Diluc has such a perverted way of making you feel better again. 

So whenever you're both socializing during parties as his hand is resting right on your hip, his attention towards you as he is listening attentively. And one of the noble ladies compliments your look for the night you wave a hand at them dismissively "Oh my, you flatter me my dear however I couldn't possibly accept that, an old hag like me is far from beautiful." The noble lady laughs and insists that she is telling the truth. When you're busy conversing you don't notice Diluc's hip on you as it got tighter. And his eyes looked down on you, a hint of darkness to them as he has plans for later when you're both alone. 

Love making with Diluc has always been gentle and passionate. And his punishment for you tonight will be no different— Well, maybe a bit more different. He plans on making you take back what you said in the party after all, and what better way than to use sweet sweet pleasure to torture you. 

"Ahh— my love, please..." 

"Mm, do you know how ravishing you sound right now, dear?" 

You were about to moan out again however Diluc dives in for another hungry kiss. His hips were at an agonizingly slow pace yet his thrusts were deep. One of his hands rubs on your clit, making sure to trigger jolts of pleasure throughout your body. He continues to kiss all over you, not leaving a single place untouched. " 'Luc, oh archons mm!" You would only blabber a few words, pleading but never specifying what, but your lovely husband knows better. He would tell you to hush as he whispers a few 'I knows' and 'I got yous'

And he is doing all of these while you're facing the mirror that he so conveniently places in front of the bed. Strategically placing it there so that you would see how beautiful and breathtaking you actually are. While still thrusting inside of you he grabs on your child gently and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. "See? Look how gorgeous you are—"

He plants a kiss on your cheek, and a thrust follows. "—The most beautiful lady out there," a kiss again. "—my  darling wife~" a whine comes out of you as tears start to fall down, the pleasure was getting too much! 

With a full view of your husband pleasuring you, you moaned at the sight. It's honestly very naughty and perverted, yet you liked it. He leans in near your ear and whispers, "Now tell me, are you my gorgeous wife?"  You nodded and this made him smirk. "Mm that's better." 

Out of nowhere he slaps your clit. hard. You jolt from this sudden action as you could only grip the bed sheets harder. You tried getting away from him out of instinct, it was getting tortuous by the second. And he could only chuckle slowly at your pathetic attempt. "Don't run away, we're not done here."

Hours were spent making you feel good as you could only cry out in pleasure. You got spanked a couple of times, your holes creamed and filled, even licked and sucked in many different places. By the time you guys were done Diluc stared down at you lovingly as he is proud of what he has done. He wants nothing more than to see his wife satisfied and fucked out. He kisses your body a few more times as you whine, still sensitive for his touch. 

"My precious starlight, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

[1004tyun-archive]

❥ territorial

✿ pairing: taehyun x noona!reader

✿ summary: someone from your past shows up when you least expect it and taehyun doesn't take too kindly to the way they talk to you, so he takes you home with the intention of showing both you and the world just who you belong to

» this is an informal sequel to late bloomer ♪

✿ genres: non-idol au, established relationship, smut

✿ warnings: possessive taehyun, soft dom! taehyun, daddy kink (NOT ddlg, don't get it twisted), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation

✿ word count: 2.5k words

✿ a/n: hello everyone! ^_^ with how well late bloomer has been received, i figured i would make a nice little contained sequel-ish fic! i hope you enjoy~ ♡

It’s another romantic date weekend. This time you’re seated in one of the restaurants you’ve always wanted to go to, but could never afford. So of course, Taehyun decided to book a reservation as soon as he heard you mention it once in passing.

The dark ambiance is soothing and sensual, but as you and Taehyun play footsies underneath the table like lovesick teenagers and exchange playful glances, you want nothing more than to get the check and get him alone.

“Was it everything you expected?” Taehyun asks, taking another sip of wine.

“Everything and more,” you respond, chin resting on your palm. “I think I love it even more because you’re here.”

Taehyun smiles at you, shy and boyish and butterflies fill your stomach.

You can’t get out of this crowded, overpriced restaurant soon enough.

The moment you step outside, you’re greeted by the warm, summer evening air. You revel in the happiness you feel whenever you’re with Taehyun. All you’re doing is walking to your car while linking pinkies and yet, the butterflies won’t stop.

“Y/N?”

Your heart stops and those butterflies come to a screeching halt.

You know that grating voice anywhere and the last place you wanted to hear it was during a date. You can feel your mood quickly souring.

“Hi, Youngjae,” you say unenthusiastically.

“I hardly recognized you. You don’t usually look so… sexy.”

The older man looks you up and down and you can already see where this is going. You don’t hesitate to grab Taehyun’s hand and pull him toward the car.

“If I knew you had a body like that, I would’ve smashed a long time ago,” he yells after you.

Taehyun whips his head around, his grip on your hand loosening as he stomps towards the other man.

“Excuse me?” he says.

“Come on, let’s go,” you grab Taehyun’s hand and continue to the car. The air in the car is nothing short of tense and suffocating.

“Who was that?” Taehyun asks.

You sigh, “An old co-worker. We used to work the night shift together, and he’d always say the stupidest shit to get a rise out of me. Don’t bother getting angry about him, he’s just a weirdo.”

“He’s more than a weirdo,” Taehyun says tersely. “Did you hear the way he was talking about you?”

“Ignoring him is a lot easier than playing into whatever stupid jokes he’s telling.”

Taehyun looks doubtful, but you’re not sure how else to convince him.

“Tae, we don’t even work together anymore. The chances of me running into him again are slim to none.”

“That’s not the problem. It’s the fact that he thought that was okay to say to you in the first place. That guy has no concept of boundaries.”

The rest of the drive back to Taehyun’s place is silent. You’re definitely not going to hear the end of this when you get back.

An hour passes and you can just feel Taehyun stewing in his own irritation even as you sit on opposite sides of the couch together in your pajamas. He has the habit of sucking the air out of a room whenever something bothers him.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset,” you sigh.

“How could I not be? You’re taking this a lot better than I am. How long has he been saying things like that to you? Can’t he take a hint?”

“Tae, just leave it. I don’t wanna think about that creep anymore. Let’s enjoy the rest of our night. Please?”

You jump on Taehyun’s lap and hug him and he wraps his arms around your waist. He starts to succumb to you, no puppy eyes required this time around.

“Fine,” he says, softness in his voice. “He was right about one thing, though. You do look sexy,” he says, hands traveling up your waist as he kisses you.

You sigh as you feel his tongue and his teeth graze your skin. He lightly bites your neck and leaves a few hickies in his wake.

You yelp when Taehyun suddenly gets you on your back and hovers over you. He pauses to look at you for a moment, taking in your form.

“He doesn’t get to see you like this,” he leans down to kiss your neck. “Or kiss you like this,” he kisses your inner thigh, trailing kisses all the way up to your panties. He hooks his fingers underneath the fabric, pulls your panties to the side, and licks a long strip against your folds. “Or taste you like this.”

You gasp as he lightly tugs at your lips with his teeth and kisses your pussy.

Your fingers thread through his hair as he continues to lick and kiss your folds.

“Tastes so good,” he moans and your heart skips a beat. You’ve been in this same position before, same location and everything, but something about him saying that makes your heart swell.

He hand slides under your slip dress and over your bare stomach to squeeze your breast and pinch your nipple between his fingers. You decide to play with the other breast, pinching your nipple and watching as Taehyun devours you. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hips buck upward when he sucks your pussy.

“Oh, fuck…!” you moan. You can feel Taehyun smirk against your skin. He must feel like he’s hit the jackpot because he continues to do it, sucking your folds and licking your core in long strokes.

He pulls away from your core and, for a moment, you think he’s done with you, but your eyes widen when you watch him spit on your pussy, the saliva leaving his lips in a thick string and falling right onto your already dripping core.

He returns to your pussy, the flat of his tongue gliding against your folds and flicking against your clit. You’re seeing stars and you can barely form words as he devours your pussy so sloppily, so noisily. The living room is full of the sounds of him licking and sucking your pussy, and the salacious moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

He moans against your skin like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you, pressure building in your hips to the point where it’s painful.

Before you can even warn him of your approaching orgasm, you come undone, back arching off of the couch and your grip on his hair tightening.

Taehyun is relentless on your pussy, flicking his tongue against your clit as you writhe through the waves of pleasure, unable to escape the bruising grip he has on your hips. He latches his lips to your clit and sucks on it as you cum, sending another successive orgasm ripping through you.

He takes his time lapping up every drop of your arousal as you come down from your high. He lifts his head up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and licks his lips.

“Can you make it to the bed?” he asks. You’re a little jarred at him asking so soon, but you slowly stand up, wobbling as you do so.

“Sure. My legs feel like they’re made of jelly though,” you laugh, then scream when Taehyun suddenly scoops you up into a bridal carry.

“I got you,” he says with a confident smile. Your heart is hammering away in your chest as you cling to him.

You fall onto the bed and watch Taehyun peel his shirt off. By the time his shirt hits the floor, he’s on the bed and his lips are already on yours. He orders you to lift your hips up and you do exactly that, heat rising in your cheeks as he rolls your panties off of your body.

He’s quick to return to your lips, kissing you deeply. You’re squeezing your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. Taehyun takes notice of this and rubs his fingers against your core. You break from the kiss, panting as a string of saliva cascading from your lips.

“Taehyun,” you whine. “I-It’s not enough. I need more…”

“More? What do you mean?” Taehyun tilts his head and you feel yourself get embarrassed. He knows exactly what you mean, both you and him know this, but he loves to get you to say exactly what you want.

“I need you…”

“What do you need from me, princess?” he slides his fingers up and down against your folds, you jolt when the pads of his fingers graze past your swollen clit.

“I need your cock inside me,” you whine. “Please, baby.”

“So needy…” Taehyun says softly, suppressing a smile. He retracts his fingers from your core and you notice them glistening with your arousal. He licks his fingers clean and gets you on your back, surrounded by soft pillows and supported by the softness of his mattress.

Taehyun aligns the tip of his already leaking cock against your core and you suck in a breath. He isn’t even inside you yet but you feel like you’re finally being put out of your misery.

He slips the tip into you, and that’s enough to send chills down your spine. He pulls out and pushes the tip back in over and over, relishing in your wetness and the way your pussy clenches around him and sucks him in. You moan in frustration and he holds back a smile.

“Taehyun, please…” you whine.

“Hm, not yet,” he says. “I wanna play with you a little longer. You’re a big girl, Y/N. You can take it, can’t you?”

You nod, tears already brimming your eyes. You’re not sure you can take this teasing any longer, but the sooner you feel him inside you, the better.

He pushes a little further past his tip and you feel a familiar pressure in your hips.

You whimper, “P-Please, daddy!”

Taehyun sits back and suddenly, it’s like something in him changes. Like a fire has been ignited inside him.

“Oh, you want daddy’s cock?”

You nod, tears spilling from your eyes. Taehyun slides his cock against your folds, covering himself in your wetness. You throb as he grabs the backs of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest.

“Good girl, so patient,” he coos, before finally pushing his entire length into you. You scramble for purchase, your nails digging into Taehyun’s strong forearms. Your body feels like it’s engulfed in burning white hot pleasure.

“Does daddy make you feel full?” he breathes.

“Mhm, d-daddy’s cock makes me feel so full,” you say and you feel Taehyun’s cock twitch hard inside you.

He pistons in and out of you, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips.

“I’m the best you’ll ever have, aren’t I, princess?” he whispers as he pounds into you.

“M-Mhm, you’re… th-the best,” you babble.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you this good, aren’t I?”

You can barely form words, pleasure overtaking every cell in your body and turning your brain to mush.

“Poor baby can hardly speak,” he says in a such a sweet, yet mocking tone. “Is daddy making you feel that good?”

He thrusts faster and you can feel your orgasm coming at you like a speeding train. You dig your nails into Taehyun’s forearms, leaving crescent indents in his skin. A string of curse words spill from your lips as you come undone all over his cock.

You’re given but a moment’s reprieve before you’re suddenly shifted from your back to your side. Taehyun props your knee up on his shoulder. Your pussy clenches hard around his cock, and you bury your face in the nearest pillow.

You expect him to slow down for you, but you’re immediately proven wrong when he pushes into you and bottoms out. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as Taehyun starts to move, you feel that familiar coil tighten in the pit of your stomach.

“I-I can’t…!” you cry.

“You can do it. Come on, give it to me,” Taehyun pants and you squeak as his firm hand smacks your thigh. You flinch at the stinging impact of his hand on your flesh, but it only adds to the overwhelming, dizzying pleasure.

“Want me to cum inside?”

You frantically nod, it’s all you have the brain power to do at this point.

“Beg for it, then. Beg for me to paint your pretty walls with my cum, princess.”

“P-Please, daddy,” you sputter. “Please give me your cum, please fill me up, please! I need it!”

“Anything for you,” you can’t see him but you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. His tempo increases and you can feel his hips stutter against you.

“So damn pretty when you cry, baby,” he says with a moan. “You’re— mm, so cute. I want to see my pretty baby cry on my cock.”

You turn you head so that Taehyun can see your entire face, tears running down your face. You grip the sheets so tightly, crying as the pressure builds in your lower stomach. Your body stills as the last of your energy is sapped from you. In the dizziness of your orgasm, you feel Taehyun’s cum fill you up.

Despite being spent, you still feel a little sad when you feel Taehyun pull out.

“Princess, you got the bed all wet,” he admonishes you so softly. You know he doesn’t mean it by the way his eyes glitter.

“My messy princess…” he whispers, sliding his fingers against your wet folds. You shrink into yourself and shut your legs, completely embarrassed. Taehyun doesn’t let you shy away, opening your legs back up and playing with your pussy. You shudder under his touch and turn away.

“Don’t be shy, you know I like to look at you,” he says, which only serves to make you more flustered. “Do you have any idea how lucky I feel? I’m the only one who gets to see this.”

You can’t imagine you look super good right now with mascara running down your cheeks. But Taehyun leans down to kiss you on the cheek anyway and lovingly cups your face.

“You did so well,” he says. He falls beside you on the bed, immediately searching for your hand and holding it in his. “You’ve never called me daddy before. I think I like it.”

“I like it too,” you say with a sigh. “But you know what I like even more?”

“What?”

“Being able to feel my legs.”

Taehyun chuckles, “I went a little overboard, huh?”

“Eh, just a little,” you snuggle into Taehyun’s side and he pulls you closer.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How does a bath sound? We can have the plum liquor you brought last week too.”

“Sounds perfect… daddy.”

🌹 taglist: @shampgyu @banggyu0308 @rencarnationofangel @cherrypeaking 🌹

[neoarchipelago]

Soul link (part 6)

A/N: this... It's almost done hehehe... (It's about damn time I got to many project)

Warning: S*Xu*l harassment.

It was a forest fire. The news spread like an ember on autumn leaves. The looks and the whispers. It was embarrassing. But the worst, was the hungry looks of some soul links that wanted to see 'how the bunny hops'. You had run to Price to ask for a day off. He was understanding and gave you a full few days, making sure the hype died down. You remained in your room, only coming out to grab snacks, not bothering to go to the cafeteria. 

On the third day a soft knock at the door was heard. You frowned, walking slowly to it before opening it slowly just a bit. Behind, a mohawk man and a soft smiling cap boy stood. You could smell their soul links, making you on edge. 

"It's ok, it's ok…" the cap boy said. 

"Don't worry lass. I'm Sergeant McTavish, or Soap." 

"And I'm Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz." 

You nodded with a tiny smile. The rest of the squad 141. 

"LT asked us-" 

Soap was elbowed in the ribs by Gaz as he cleared his throat. 

"Price asked us to bring you some food. He didn't see you at the cafeteria and… he was…" 

"Worried." Soap added with a shit eating grin. 

You blinked, now looking at the tray and the bag in the boy's arms. 

"Oh… thank you." You finally managed to mutter, opening the door fully. 

Right behind the sergeant's, a recruit walked by, hungry eyes locking on your frame. Soap immediately noticed. 

"Continue your path, recruit." He snarked loudly. 

"Matter of fact, scratch that, get down and start pushing." Gaz corrected. 

You blushed, eyes wide. You didn't last long in your shock as Soap pushed you softly further inside, closing the door behind him, leaving Gaz and the poor recruit outside. 

"So, here's a super good steak we ate at lunch, and here you got a whole bunch of-"  Soap trailed. 

You smiled, eyes watering a bit. He froze, a mix of shock and worry. 

"Are you alright?! Sorry ! I-" he quickly spoke. 

You shook your head, a little chuckle escaping you. 

"It's ok… just… a bit emotional." You chuckled again. 

The weight of the last days events and reactions of everyone on base had been more exhausting than expected. It had been a safe haven to remain in your dorms but, the loneliness and lack of kindness had made you slowly suffocate. 

"Please don't cry… Lt-.. hum.." he cleared his throat. "Cap' will kill me…" he smiled. 

You shook your head again, smiling as you sniffled and brushed away the few tears that had fallen down your cheeks. 

A few minutes later, Gaz walked in as you munched on the food they had brought. He smiled warmly, a hint of happiness to see you eat. 

"How about you come to our dorms, huh? Play some cards with us?" Soap asked. 

You bit your lip, wondering how you'll be able to kindly refuse when Gaz stopped Soap. 

"Let the poor girl rest." He cut before turning to you. "However, you'll always truly be welcome at the dorms. If you feel alone or unsafe, just come to us. Really." He comforted. 

You felt the tears prickle at your eyes again, the boys looking horrified. 

"You're making her cry again!" Soap scolded. 

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! SHIT-" 

"He's going to kill us-" 

"Shut UP -" 

The whole interaction made you erupt in laughter. You had a small doubt Captain Price would actually hurt them for it. But something inside you wondered if it was truly him or maybe a masked man that they feared. You tried not to get lost in a hope that would only hurt. 

The boys stayed a bit longer, exchanging numbers with you and sharing funny stories of some of their missions. When they left, you felt relieved and much lighter. They had managed to lift up your mood and take your mind off of the current situation. 

It took a few more days, and running out of snacks, to push you to get out of the dorms. You had shared texts with Gaz and Soap in a group chat that the boys had created. You decided to finally take up on their offer and make your way to their dorms to have a game night. 

You tried to avoid crowded hallways on your way, hiding in shadows and little corners. It was when you were almost there that the creeping feeling of being followed sent shivers down your spine and quickened your pace. You were probably being paranoid. Yes. That's it. But it didn't matter, you were almost there. You could see the door right there. You can reach for the doorknob. 

But the hand reaching for you was quicker. Pulling you back and spinning you around to push you against the door. Hungry eyes stared down at you, the man clearly excited to see you. The soul link was strong, dominant and territorial smell that was usually intoxicating if you were in heat… And not as terrified. Now it only makes you nauseous. 

"Where are you going little bunny huh?" He smirked. "Such a cute little thing, why don't you show me your cute little ears?" He growled. 

You frowned, gritting your teeth. 

"No." You said firmly. 

He gripped your waist, squeezing painfully, the sudden pain and touch making you yelp and pop your ears and tail out. 

"There we go… god even the rosy cheeks? Shit." He chuckled darkly. 

"Let me go!" You hissed. 

"Aww honey we're just talking. Nothing wrong. Let's get to know each other." He cooed sickeningly. 

"I don't want to get to know you, you dickhead… get away from me." You snapped, your ears plastering back as you glared at the man. 

"Tsk tsk tsk… such a naughty bunny. Someone ought to teach you how to behave." 

He pressed himself into you, his obvious erection against your stomach that only made your nausea grow. 

"Stop!" You cried out. 

The door swung open, making fall back. A strong wall stopped you from falling to the ground as a large arm flung towards the man, pushing him away with such force that he fell to the floor. Your heart was stammering, fingers shaking slightly. 

"What do you think you're doing Sergeant?" 

The rumble in your ears made you gasp. Ghost. The anger and warning in his voice was dripping like burning melted iron. 

"Lieutenant… I-" the man tried. 

The tattooed arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, making you gasp again. He leaned down, his other hand bracing himself against the doorway. The feeling of his breath against your neck made you shiver. He growled. Loudly. 

"I didn't.. know-" the man tried again, scurrying to his feet. 

You heard footsteps behind you, Ghost pulling you back with him to step inside the room. Gaz and Soap showed on each side of you, stepping closer to the doorway. 

"Sergeant. Let's go to my office." 

Your fingers wrapped around Ghost's arm at the sound of your Captain's voice. Soap turned to you, throwing a soft smile before nodding towards the man who held you tightly in his arms. You watched the three men exit the room, closing the door behind them. Silence fell and tension rose. You remained in the big arms of the man, heart trying to beat out of your chest. Was he angry? You haven't seen him since the new year accident, when you had kissed him. Should you leave? Yes. Let's leave. 

"I… I'm sorry lieutenant… I'll go back to my dorm-" you said trying to wiggle out of his hold. He only tightened his arms around you, stepping back more, almost making you stumble unto him. He pushed you down with him as he sat back on a couch, pulling you into his lap. You were still slightly shaking when he made you curl up against him, your head under his chin. 

You were in total shock, wondering exactly what was going on. And when you thought nothing more could shock you even more, he started purring against you. You felt the way it almost instantly made the tension in your body leave. You felt yourself wanting to cry again. The feeling of being safe and taken care of came back, exactly like that night, in the archives room. You whined, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying as you wrapped your arms around his torso, letting him hold you to him. He only purred louder, whispering little reassuring words.

"Shhh… you're safe… you're ok… I'm here."

[behindthesoul]

The Rainy Night - Bi-Han

Masterlist

Characters - Bi-Han, Tomas (Smoke), Kuai Liang, Bi-Han’s parents

Summary - Bi-Han dozes off and dreams about his childhood while his father lays there, dying.

Word Count - 2017

Warnings - Angst, minor character death, sibling jealousy, ED hints, grief, descriptions of dying,

A/N - Wrote this for a good friend of mine. It did not turn out the way I had planned, but I guess that's the beauty of writing, yeah?

If Bi-Han were to think back on his childhood, a majority of his memories would involve his father. Being the eldest son and future Lin Kuei grandmaster meant his father always had a major presence in his life, more so than his younger brothers. Saying every memory was a positive one would be an absolute lie; screaming matches and hidden, frustrated tears - tension only increasing as he entered his teenage and adult years. Hell, even if Bi-Han recalled a moment his father wasn’t physically in, his looming presence affected his daily life and personal relationships.

“Bi-Han!” a childlike voice calls out to him. He turns around to see Tomas entering his bedroom. Tomas looked younger, with soft, relaxed eyes that kindly look at his brother; a shorter stature that Bi-Han teased would never grow taller; but a face that was so unlike his and Kuai Liang’s it frustrated him. Bi-Han never knew the true reason his father took in the young boy and made him a - false, as he would argue - Lin Kuei, but it often brought out an insecurity he would never admit existed. Were he and Kuai Liang not the type of sons to be proud of? Did he think Bi-Han would be a poor grandmaster, and was Tomas secretly being groomed to take the throne?

Bi-Han can rationalize, saying that his father and Tomas have no underlying intent, but it doesn’t make looking at the boy’s smiling face any easier. He glances in a small mirror across the room. Soft is the layer of baby fat that plumps his face. It melted away with age, revealing his hardened and stern expression. But now? He feels fifteen again. Tomas soon regains his attention as he starts speaking.

“Kuai Liang and I haven’t seen you in ages. We would be grateful if you ate lunch with us,” he smiles. That fucking smile that never fails to make Bi-Han feel guilty.

Bi-Han just scoffs. “There are ways I could better spend my time.”

“But, brother, I never saw you at breakfast this morning. You must be hungry,” he smiles again.

“Your concern is wasted, leave me.”

Bi-Han is now a bit irritated. Why can’t he just take no for an answer? Maybe the better question would be: why couldn’t he just say a quick no thank you? Why was communication so difficult?

“Father is there too, I believe he wishes to speak to you, brother.”

Great. The last person he wanted to talk to. Now he definitely doesn’t want to go. Why won’t he just leave him alone?

“Father will be concerned if you don’t go,” Tomas says. The way his face twists into one of concern is annoying. It takes everything to not roll his eyes.

“Then tell him I am ill.”

“But Father-”

“You share not one drop of blood with him,” he finally snaps, his eyes narrowing at Tomas, “he is not your father, nor am I your brother.”

The room is silent, and the air is polluted with tension. Tomas’ face is bright red; out of sadness or out of anger, Bi-Han doesn’t know. What he does know is that his lashing out was very unnecessary. His irritation shouldn’t have been taken out on Tomas, it’s unfortunate that the words ‘I’m sorry’ are too foreign to fall from his lips. Not a word is uttered as Tomas walks out the room, his footsteps are heavy and the sound pounds in Bi-Han’s ears.

Once again, Bi-Han is left alone with his thoughts. The silence would deafen him if it wasn't for his mind constantly berating him for this moment and every other mistake he’s ever made. He collapses on his bed and further berates himself for the tears that start to burn his eyes, Pathetic. Just pathetic. Bi-Han begs the tears to not fall, not today please.

But they do.

Gentle rain slowly rolls down his face, the only difference is that now he feels younger. Quiet sobbing is somehow picked up by Bi-Han. Call it a sixth sense, if you will - one that was taught through many months of training. His head snaps in the direction of the barely audible sound. Bi-Han’s eyes soften to see Kuai Liang crying into his hand, choking back sobs that threaten to expose his sadness. His face is tiny, red, and wet, unlike the tall and strong man that he would soon grow into. His body is sprawled on the ground, too distraught to even stand. A wave of brotherly protectiveness washes over Bi-Han. Who dared to bring pain to his brother? If only Bi-Han could remember what exactly this memory is, then he’d be able to dish out some vengeance. He tries to remember, but everything feels hazy and spotty.

Suddenly, Kuai Liang notices Bi-Han’s presence and drags his body over to his brother, collapsing into him, and bringing the man - well, boy - to the ground. Bi-Han stiffens as Kuai Liang cries into his shoulder. Emotions have never been his strong suit. Their mother was alway the strong, comforting shoulder to cry on. Maybe their mother could help Kuai Liang. Just where is she?

“Mother is gone…I can’t believe she is truly gone,” Kuai Liang wails.

Oh, oh.

She’s dead.

That’s why his brother is crying. That’s why Bi-Han has been fighting to stop the tears that continue to fall down his face. Bi-Han’s body feels tense and limp at the same time. Why was his brain choosing to relive the absolute worst day of his life? His breath begins to quicken. He wants out. He doesn’t know what to do. How is Bi-Han supposed to comfort Kuai Liang? Bi-Han thinks back to what his mother would do. She was warm, inviting, and quick to wrap her sons in her arms, whispering sweet words to calm them down. Soft words have no chance at spilling out his mouth, so a hand would have to do. He slings an arm around his brother’s back, noticing the momentary freeze in Kuai Liang. The quiet gesture of comfort doesn’t feel natural to either boy, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t appreciated. Bi-Han just hopes that his brother will calm down sooner or later. By now his shoulder and neck are soaked to hell. The air touches the area and makes him feel cold and uncomfortable. But Bi-Han refuses to move a single inch, not wanting to disturb his brother’s rush of emotions.

Suddenly, Bi-Han remembers he’s supposed to be training with his father. His blood chills as he thinks of the possible consequences for skipping or even just being late to training. Would his father be graceful and let him miss a day? He, too, should be grieving the death of their mother, the grandmaster’s wife. It’s too risky to even find out.

As gently as he can, Bi-Han maneuvers Kuai Liang off his body and stands.

“Come, training will take your mind off the situation,” he says, stretching his hand out. He doesn’t get the reaction he was hoping for. Kuai Liang just glares at him with teary, glossy eyes.

“Even in death, even in her death that is all you think about!” Kuai Liang’s voice is shaky as he forces his body to produce the words he so desperately wants to say. “Even in her death, that is all you care about.”

“It is a distraction,” comes Bi-Han’s voice, starting to drip with bitterness; angry at what he feels is an accusation. No lie was told, Bi-Han spent many days working off his frustration by training with other Lin Kuei. “Father requires it of us.”

Kuai Liang scoffs and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes. He stands, ignoring Bi-Han’s still outstretched hand, and walks off to the training facility. Bi-Han’s own heart is obviously heavy with the loss of his mother. It weighs more and more with each step Kuai Liang takes. A mix of guilt and helplessness gnaws at his chest. Did he just fail at his job as a big brother? Did he misread something he needed to pick up on? He tries to shake off the feeling and he makes his way down the hall, following his brother. However, the further he goes, the fuzzier the world gets. It’s too blurry to see, and it feels like everything is fading…

Bi-Han wakes with a jolt. His body is on guard for a few moments as he takes in his surroundings, only relaxing once he realizes he was in the Grandmaster’s chambers, a place he seldom visited after his mother’s death. His chest burned with any and all thoughts of his mother, so it only made sense to never be in the room where she slept. Until now.

On the large bed, adorned with an expensive sapphire and silver frame, lay his father; thin and frail with sunken in eyes, practically lifeless. It’s as if he was a corpse playing a cruel trick on this living, trying to convince that he was one of them. He doesn’t know if his father is awake or asleep, and he can’t bring himself to check. A wet, crackling sound escapes from the back of the Grandmaster’s throat which amplifies with each breath. It is called a death rattle, a Lin Kuei medic explained to him earlier that day, while it may sound concerning, it is a normal, natural end of life process.

It felt like a cruel and deceptive lie. That inhuman sound that perverted his father’s image was nothing but abnormal. The Lin Kuei grandmaster, a man who represented the Lin Kuei’s commanding strength, was reduced to having sickly, almost zombie-like skin, and too weak to clear the fluid building up in his throat. It didn’t have to come to this. The right medicine was there to save him but Father is dooming the Lin Kuei to lifelong mediocrity it felt pointless to prolong what was inevitable. It hurts to see his father in such a decomposing state, his chest feels a bit tight. He has no right to even be here. The Grandmaster could’ve been well on the road to recovery had he not intervened.

He thinks about his brothers, Tomas and Kuai Liang. How would they feel if they found out he’s letting their father pass? What would they do? Would Tomas’ face turn beet red as he refuses to speak? Would Kuai Liang sob into his hand then scoff when Bi-Han says something foolish? He doesn’t know. They’re all adults now and Bi-Han hasn’t seen his brothers show such emotion since. Maybe it’s Tomas who cries, and Kuai Liang’s face that heats up. Or maybe they both lash out in anger.

Bi-Han looks at his father, boring holes through the dying man’s skull. It’s his fault. It’s the Grandmaster’s fault Bi-Han lashed out at Tomas, it’s the Grandmaster’s fault that Bi-Han couldn’t comfort Kuai Liang properly. It’s his fault that Bi-Han failed to be the brother Tomas and Kuai Liang needed. Bi-Han understands it's foolish to blame another for his actions, but blaming something barely moving is easier.

It’s time to go. Bi-Han needs to prepare for his duties as future grandmaster. His father's soul shouldn't linger much longer in his failing body. Perhaps Bi-Han should start funeral preparations first. He gets out of his chair, slightly stretching his muscles that were angry at being dormant for too long. His footsteps echo as he walks to the door of the room. Bi-Han takes one last look at his father, feeling grateful his brothers weren’t around to witness the distressing sight.

Bi-Han leaves the room and closes the door behind him. He feels like less of a man for not having the guts to at least be there for his father while the man drew his last breath, but Bi-Han knows he’d have to fight back a tear or two - he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Instead, he promises that he will lead the Lin Kuei to a stronger, better future. One unlike any past iteration. No one would be fool enough to mess with the Lin Kuei under his watchful eye.

A/N - Hopefully this is in character. I really struggle with writing Bi-Han because I personally feel like he's a lot more...soft (for lack of a better term) than he is usually depicted. When I say soft I don't mean uwu squeeeee soft, I mean I don't believe he's as hardened as some say. Please let me know your thoughts.

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (9) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst city babyyyy

Summary: Zemo has a revelation in store for the Stark siblings, and suffice it to say neither of them takes very kindly to being betrayed by someone they had once trusted with their life.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Canon Typical Violence, Accident?

a/n: My writing speed is that of a fucking turtle.

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (8) | Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (10) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself,” she hears Tony’s voice ring out somewhere ahead.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” she can hear Steve’s desperation for truce in his response. 

Y/n can glitch in right now. She’s at the end of the corridor, a couple of steps and she’ll be with them. But not yet. She’s desperate for there to be a solid sign of the truce. She isn’t sure she can watch her brother and the man she loves with her body and soul fight any more. It’s been tearing her apart. 

The truce—even a temporary one—is all she can hope for. And apparently good things come to those who wait.

“It's good to see you, Tony.” Steve adds finally.

“You too, Cap.” Tony responds. A smile breaks out on her face. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop the…” she hears Tony say and she knows that is the right moment.

Sergeant Barnes lowers his weapon and the moment he does, she miscalculates by an inch and glitches in just behind him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The progression of Sergeant Barnes’ gun changes instantly. It’s aimed at her within the second. The response time on the man is beyond absurd. She’d go as far as to say it’s impressive if she weren’t, you know? Whatever, you get it.

Her hands fly up. “Easy there, Sergeant!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony asks from where he’s standing down the stairs, in front of Steve.

Slowly, with her hands still up, she descends down the stairs to stand between the two most important men in her life. “What the fuck does that even mean? You thought I was going to leave you two alone after the shit you’ve been pulling in the last 72 hours?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve adds, with a hint of hope in his words. If she were looking his way, she’s sure she could spot the curve of his lips forming the most subtle smile. She absolutely loves seeing that smile… but she doesn’t really wanna look his way, in the general direction of the man right behind Steve.

“I wish I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a gun pointed at me,” she retorts, eyes straight ahead, staring at the slimy gray walls of the HYDRA facility.

“Are you—” Tony takes a step closer to her, “Are you trying not to make eye-contact with Barnes?”

Her hands are still up as she’s facing Tony, “Yeah, no. I’m trying not to even look in his general direction. I’m still pretty scared of him.” She turns to the Sergeant but her eyes are locked on a spot on the floor that seems particularly interesting right now. “I’m extremely sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I mean no offense by this,” she looks to Steve, “but can you please make him put the gun down, it’s really not helping.”

“Bucky,” is all Steve has to say and instantly the gun’s down. It’s like whatever trance the Sergeant was in has broken. .

“I really am sorry,” she tries to tell him, looking vaguely in his direction. “It’s purely instinctual. It’ll fade… eventually. But for now…”

“I—” Sergeant Barnes tries but she cuts him off.

“We’ll talk about this, but not here and definitely not now.” Sergeant Barnes just nods slowly. Satisfied, she looks back at her brother and her boyfriend, “Let’s focus on stopping Zemo for now, rest we can figure out when time comes.”

With that sorted, all four of them begin making their way slowly down the corridor.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony comments.

“How many?” Steve asks.

“Uh, one,” Tony offers after a moment of consideration.

That makes Y/n halt her steps. Something’s off. She can feel something off. There’s a presence she can’t put her finger on. Not Zemo. Something else.

“What’s wrong?” Sergeant Barnes asks her.

She thinks it over for a second and then, “Nothing.”

As they walk into the vast chamber the lights come on. There are capsules in front of them, attached to the wall each one containing an enhanced soldier from the 1991 experiments. Hazy, yellow mist descends within the capsules. However, the bullet holes on the glass enclosures is what scares the shit out of her.

“They’re… They’re dead,” Y/n notes.

There’s a short crackle and a voice sounds out from the speakers. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” It’s Zemo. Her eyes fly from Tony to Steve who seem to be having the same realization. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell?” Sergeant Barnes questions under her breath.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” Zemo appears in a control room.

Before Y/n can warn him against it, Steve hurls his shield at him but it ricochets easily against the chamber and comes flying back to Steve. 

“Please, Captain,” Zemo’s voice is laced with a smirk. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorts, walking closer.

“Oh, I’m sure you could Mr. Stark… Given time,” Zemo taunts. “But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questions Zemo from across the glass window of the chamber.

Zemo, fucking, smirks.

It should terrify her, and to some extent it does. But there’s something in his eyes, something so familiar to her that she can’t believe she’s seeing it reflected back. She’s seen that look in her own eyes in the mirror for decades.

It’s fire. It’s fire and it’s rage and it’s as personal as it can get.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” Zemo notes, and fuck if that doesn’t creep the shit out of her. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve notes. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No.” Zemo dismisses the assessment so easily, so carelessly, it’s making all the damn alarm bells go off in her system. “I'm here because I made a promise.”

Steve studies Zemo for a second and then,, “You lost someone?” 

His eyes darken.

Y/n knows that feeling, this feeling. She knows it through and through.

Zemo clicks his tongue, then, “I lose everyone. And so will you.” He presses something on the console to his right. Instantly the computer on Steve’s right lights up. Something flashes on screen, Y/n can’t help herself, getting more curious by every passing word of the conversation, she walks over to Steve, to the computer. 

16 Декабрь 1991

She… she’s not sure how to…

What’s happening?

This isn’t—this isn’t…

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead…” Zemo’s words are dangerous.

“Anthony,” is all that Y/n can choke out. It’s probably her tone, and the use of his full name that brings Tony rushing over to her side.

She reaches for his hand. Instinctually, Tony disassembles his armor from his hand so he can hold hers.

When Tony looks at the freeze frame of a secluded road and the date on the tape, December 16 1991, his eyes rove with anxiety. “I know that road. What is this?”

As the tape begins to play, the horror unfolds in front of her eyes. She watches unable to breathe with an iron grip on the Iron Man. 

She watches the car crash, she watches Howard Stark plead only to be shocked at the face of his assailant. She watches as her bloodied-up best friend, the person who saved her, the person who gave her a home—the person who gave her a family—is struck in the head with a metal arm. She watches on as Howard’s body slumps, falling to the ground lifelessly. His corpse is then dragged back and placed in the driver’s seat of the car.

Then the assailant moves on to the next target, the collateral damage, Maria. He walks over to the passenger seat of the car where Maria is calling for Howard. She watches Maria plead for help but help doesn’t arrive. Instead, expressionless, the assailant chokes the life out of her. Maria Stark dies. The kindest woman she’s ever known in her life is drained of her life and left like trash at the corner of an unnamed road.

The Winter Soldier then walks up and aims the gun at the surveillance camera and shoots it.

The screen goes black.

Y/n had some semblance of an idea that perhaps yes, Howard and Maria Stark’s death wasn’t an ordinary accident. She’d desperately begged Peggy to look into it, with Thompson and Souza. They had and gave it the all clear.

But in this moment, she thinks—she realizes, perhaps she always knew the truth and was too afraid to look into it. Because if not then, why didn’t she investigate it herself? Back then she’d given herself the excuse that Tony needed her more than the investigation. She’d told herself that she’d be too biased to conduct a sound inquiry. Her feelings would’ve gotten the entire thing too muddled up and messy. She told herself it was the smarter thing to maintain distance. 

That was all horseshit.

She was a scared little kid on the streets of Madripoor once again. She’d lost her family and was walking around without a place to call home and the thought of having to fight HYDRA on top of that would’ve been too much. She’d looked the other way, let things slide, let the murder of her only family slide on account of being a fucking pussy.

And now, she has to confront the truth.

“Did you know?” Tony asks Steve somewhere behind her.

She can’t take her eyes off the now black screen.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Steve answers.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?” 

There’s silence for a few seconds, a long, long few seconds, and then, “Yes.”

That—now that makes Y/n turn.

She only catches Steve’s eyes for a second, before Tony’s punching Steve and reengaging the Iron Man helmet. 

More things happen, the fight’s broken out, she’s sure more shit goes down but something just pricked her in the back of her neck and she’s feeling a little dizzy. Everything feels… so fucking heavy. 

Y/n can still hear the commotion from the fight between the men but it seems distant.

“My apologies, Miss Stark, you imbalance the scales too much,” Zemo’s voice rings out on the speaker. “You’ll be back in the game in just a little while.”

“You ever plan on opening your eyes, sleeping beauty?

“What have you got against my happiness, you cruel, cruel man?”

“I’m not the one who wanted to do this, remember?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?” She dragged herself out of the passenger seat of the car. Stretching to unfold her joints, she shoved the man next to her just for the fun of it. 

“I’ve got a list of ‘em under my bed, you want to be the latest addition?” He threw back with a smile. Say what you will about the man, but no one can ever deny that Howard Stark had a killed smile. 

“Smart ass,” she chided him without much heat.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new,” he retorted, hand waved in dismissal. “You ever gonna tell me why we’re here? As far as I recall, I was promised the best bachelor party known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t promise jackshit, dickwad. I told you we were going to Atlantic City, the rest you made up all in your head, all by your lonesome.”

“What’s a man supposed to think when his best friend tells him that the bachelor party road trip is going to be to Atlantic City?” He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

They were leaning on their broken down car, parked on the beach—parked, however would be a generous term. They’d pushed it off the highway onto the beach as a makeshift camp site. The sun was setting ahead of them, slowly being swallowed up by the waves. The wind blew in their faces, as the cars passed by behind them. It made the shit-show of a road trip seem almost worth it… if you didn’t include their car breaking down in the middle and having to push it for a couple miles. Yeah, pretty worth it apart from that one slight glitch.

“I’m your best friend?” She asked, absolutely confused.

Howard just looked at her once before breaking out in maniac laughter. “What sorta question is that?”

“A genuine one,” she told him, serious as ever. “Howie, you serious? I’m your best friend?”

“Yeah, Stark! Obviously you’re my best friend, who else?” He replied, still laughing his ass off. 

“Any fucking body, man. Even Jarvis seems like a more likely option than… me,” she answered.

“That’s some horse shit, Stark and you know it! We live together, we work together, we shit together, eat together. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone’s face as much as I’ve seen yours in the last couple years. You’ve got my last name, damn it. Who the fuck else would be my best friend?” He was looking at her then, genuinely concerned. He seemed like she was asking him if the moon truly revolved around the Earth.

“I… I thought all that—all that’s shit you have to live through cause Peggy dumped me on you,” she provided meekly.

That apparently irked him some. “You think I do all that shit with you cause of Peggy?” He asked. 

She nodded in a simple reply.

That apparently was not the right move. 

He threw the cigarette to the ground, quite angry now, “Why the fuck would I? I’m not a saint and you know it. I never have been. You could count all my good deeds on one hand and all of them had a selfish reason behind it.” He began to pace.

“What was the reason behind this one?”

He looked at her, eyes wide in astonished fury. “The reason behind letting you into my life was that you are by far the only person who understands me. You are the only person I have ever met who’s never asked me to mold myself into something I’m not, while simultaneously encouraging me to be better. You’ve been in my corner, without hesitation and you’ve ripped me a new one when I’ve been wrong. You, Stark, are the only person I’ve ever met who is able to make me believe I am a good man, and understand that I can be better!” He seemed like he was about to blow a gasket. “People see me, see an ass and let me be. You are probably the only person who looks at me and sees the complexities, the entire picture of me as a man. No one gets me, Stark, not even me… Not like you do. 

“At the end of the day, sharing a beer with you, working on cars with you, bitching about S.H.I.E.L.D. with you, that shit keeps me sane. Part of me’s so fucking glad you quit, cause now you’re not gone for days on end for stupid fucking missions. Cause then I get to sit with you and chat about absolutely nothing.” He was still pacing. “You really thought I did all that out of the goodness of my heart? You think I gave you my name cause Peggy asked me to?”

She nodded again, which again was apparently not the right call.

“FUCK, Stark! If I were such a giver I would’ve joined the fucking Red Cross! I gave you my name cause you are my family, damn it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh?!” He raged, not pacing anymore. Facing her, he asked, “That’s all you got?”

She thought for a second, looked over at the man who was standing in front of her, wearing a t-shirt and jeans like any normal dude. The last time she saw the man without a suit and tie was a long time ago, he looked much less of a dick this way. 

“We came here for, i don’t know, for something like a… a last hurrah. I found a place downtown. That and—” she was cut off.

“What?” Howard Stark looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. 

“I found a place downtown,” she told him. “Gimme a week or so, I’ll be out before the wedding.”

“What?”

She hesitated, “I’d be out sooner but I don’t really own… furniture?”

“WHAT?”

She didn’t know how to respond to this line of questioning anymore. “What do you mean what?”

“Is this about what happened? If you’re mad at me, which you have every right to be, let’s fight it out. Punch me if you want, Stark. I’ll take it!” He looked so desperate, it threw her for a spin.

“No! No, this isn’t about that,” she told him, because it’s not.

“Then why else would you talk about moving out?” He didn’t let her answer. He took a couple steps towards her. He fumbled with his words, going back and forth before he looked at her and said, “Look, I understand what I did… I wa—I was way out of line. But I am truly sorry, Stark. I promise you, it will never happen again. I… My head wasn’t in the right place. I thought if I found something—no I don’t know. I thought I could help. You were struggling with controlling your powers, so I thought maybe I could find something to help you with it. I thought I’d tell you if I found something, and if I didn’t then… Then no harm done, right?” He seemed beyond desperate.

“It’s not about that, Howie.”

“Come on! I know you’re pissed at me! Just say it!”

She walked past him, with her back to him and her face to the ocean ahead, she replied, “I am not pissed at you, Howie…”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m hurt, not pissed.”

“Is that why you want to move out?” He asked, his voice small.

She turned to him then, “What? No! You’re my best friend, dickwad. I ain’t ditching you cause you did something profoundly stupid?” 

“I’m your best friend?” Howard asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, asshat.”

He took a step towards her. “No, seriously. I thought, after what I pulled…”

“You were an ass, yes. It was a breach of trust and like I said, I am… I’m pretty hurt… But that’s got nothing to do with any of this.”

“Then?”

“You’re getting married, man. I can’t keep crashing on your couch once your wife’s around,” she explained. “How is she gonna feel?”

“Elated,” he answered easily. Before she could argue, continued, “I think Maria is more excited about sharing the place with you than me. Something about you being a better cook or whatever.” He leaned on the car again, pulling out a fresh cigarette, he lit it.

“Oh so it’ll be you, your wife and the freeloader on the couch? One big happy family?” She was frankly really confused about the entire arrangement.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never bought groceries a day in my life, and yet the fridge is always stocked. You’re the farthest thing from a freeloader, Stark. And besides, I’m not as big a dumbass as you think I am, you know? I’m not gonna make her move into my room that shares a wall with yours.”

“Then?” She asked, motioning him to pass the cigarette to her. She took a drag.

“I live in a mansion, you idiot. We’ll move into the master-bedroom, like God fucking intended I’ll turn my old room into my lab, which let’s be honest is already my lab, and we’ll be fine and dandy!” He took the offered cigarette from her hand and took a drag himself.

“Oh…”

“You really didn’t think I had a plan?” He asked with the smirk audible in his words.

She shook her head, “I thought moving out would be the kinder, smarter thing to do.”

“How?”

“I’d be done burdening you and it’d be less humiliating than you finding me a place as a way of politely telling me to fuck off,” she offered.

He looked at her again, “If after all these years you don’t already know that place is your home, then I have been doing something seriously wrong.” 

Somewhere behind them, up the hill on the road, a car was parked as the two passengers were yelling out their names from inside it. It was Jarvis and Maria, calling out to them. She and Howard had called them asking for help once they knew their car couldn’t be saved even with the joint acumen of both friends. 

They both turned at their names being yelled out. Looking back at the site of Maria waving at them, Howard’s head fell. “I really have been doing it wrong, haven’t I?”

She motioned for both of them to park the car and join them on the beach before turning to Howard. “You’ve been doing just fine.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you about the experiments,” he stood up straighter. “If you want to move out because of all that shit, I understand. I’ll get you a place in New York, not too close but not too far either. And you don’t gotta worry about any furniture or any of that shit. I’ll get it sorted.” He turned over to Jarvis and Maria who were walking down the hill to them. “Hey Jarvis, what was the name of my realtor?” He shouted.

She punched him on the shoulder, hard.

“OWW! What was that for?”

“For betraying my trust and conducting experiments on my blood without my consent,” she told him, his face sobered instantly. So she punched him again.

“FUCK ME! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

“Thinking I cared for you so little that betraying me would change the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“What in God’s name are the two of you doing?” Maria asked as she and Jarvis finally came to stand in front of them.

“Oh I was just about to ask Stark if I can punch for thinking you and I were going to kick her out,” Howard told Maria while looking at her with a smirk.

“You’re welcome to try.” She told him.

But Maria intervened, “What kind of nonsense is that? Why the hell would you move out?” Her tone is so stern it throws her off. “You’re family.”

And just like that, it was settled.

Y/n was a Stark.

When she wakes up, all she can hear is Steve’s voice ringing in her ears.

‘Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?’

‘Yes’

Her eyes couldn’t focus. Try as she might, her head is too heavy for her vision to be anything but blurry. Everything’s too heavy. She tries to stand, but the weight of her bones seem so foreign, she can barely flip herself onto her stomach.

But then, she hears something. The sound of a metal clashing into metal.

And a yelp. Tony’s yelp.

That’s a war cry. 

With whatever little strength she can muster up, she pushes herself off the ground. Stumbling across the hall, struggling to make her way through the  broken pieces of concrete, she gets to the end of the corridor, to the sight of her brother, on his knees, being tag teamed by Sergeant Barnes and Steve Rogers.

Suffice it, all hell breaks loose.

Her armor is up within the second.

Instantly she glitches in front of Tony, between the two super soldiers. Punching Barnes in the throat, her focus lands on Steve.

“Y/n,” Steve tries, stumbling back.

“Steve,” she speaks evenly, as she takes a step towards him.

“Y/n, he didn’t know,” his words are haphazard, confused. He keeps stepping back, trying to put distance between himself and her.

She’s not going to let him go that easily. “Uh-huh.”

“HYDRA had brainwashed him,” Steve says.

Her fists clench. 

“You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

And that—well, he shouldn’t have said that.

The first punch she throws lands straight on his jaw. She even hears it crack.

“Y/n,” he tries again, stumbling back.

“Talking part’s over, Rogers.” The second hit lands directly to his gut. He falls to his knees, she grabs his collar, dragging him upright, she hits him, and then hits him again, and again. As she’s going for another hit, a metal arm wraps around her wrist—halting her in the process.

Turning she faces Barnes. Knees him in the side, waits for him to recoil, for the hurt and lands a gorgeous uppercut. She grabs him by his shirt to keep him from falling. Pulling him back, she knees his other side, elbows him right to the face, once, twice, thrice before he blocks her.

He tries to land a hit to her side but she dodges easily. He’s using his right arm, instead of the metal one. It’s Barnes fighting her right now, not The Winter Soldier. She aims a kick to his temple but is blocked by Steve before she can land it. He pulls her by her leg, ready to throw her to the other side of the room only to get her off Barnes. He thinks she’s targeting him, that Barnes is her focus, the main subject of her anger.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Mid motion of Steve yanking her off, she glitches out of his hand easily. She glitches in, less than a second later, only a couple steps ahead of him.

He yelps, shaking off his hand. The contact of his hand on her leg sent a bolt of electricity through his hand. She’s brimming with so much power right now, she’s kind of impressed with him still standing. He eyes her. She can see a confusion of determination and.. Fear.

It makes her a little cocky.

With a clenched jaw and a slight tilt of her head, she challenges both men to do their worst.

Steve attacks her from the left side, while Barnes takes her on from the right. It’s hubris at its best. Steve Rogers is holding back because he believes he’s stronger, he believes he might hurt her. Sergeant Barnes is afraid to even have the fight, he’s only fighting to protect his best friend. But otherwise, he’s ridden with guilt—guilt of killing Howard and Maria, guilt of all the people he killed when he was brainwashed by HYDRA, the guilt of torturing her relentlessly under HYDRA’s mind control. Barnes is fighting with his heart, not his head.

Both men have made the crucial and substantial error of pissing her off.

She reads their attacks easily, dodging most and letting Barnes hit Steve by just moving out of the way or using Steve’s momentum to land a punch on Barnes. Their fight pattern is old and boring, just like them. Barnes manages to land a hit to her leg, she gives it back to him two folds by wrapping her thighs around his throat and throwing him through the ground. Steve on the other hand barely manages to land a hit to her gut.

“Ugh!” She yells out, and the man halts instantly.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, more out of habit than anything else.

Fucking idiot, she thinks, before kicking him straight in the chest. He stumbles back and falls on his ass. Furious at his naivete, he’s back on his feat instantly. With Barnes in toe, they jump back in on her.

But she sees them coming a mile away every single time—that’s the curse of fighting with your heart. It makes you predictable… if you know the person you’re up against.

There’s a hold, Steve’s shield against her punches, while the other hand’s occupied dodging attacks from Barnes. Steve looks at her then, right in the eyes before speaking between her punches, “Never thought you’d use it against me when I taught it to you.”

Belatedly, and only once the words leave Steve’s mouth does she realize that the move was his, he taught it to her on a sweet summery evening. They were covered in sweat and it felt sweeter than sin when one thing led to another and he’d tackled her to the ground for a completely different purpose altogether. She can practically feel her blood run cold.

The irony is, she would look back on this moment later and realise, that right now she’s doing the same fucking thing as the boys—fighting with her heart, with all the fire that’s burning inside of that small fragile little organ that her head doesn’t have a fucking chance against it. And unfortunately she doesn’t realize it until she makes the mistake of ignoring Barnes’ left arm. The metal arm.

Barnes lands blow right to her chest, the force of his super strength along with the metal fucking arm courtesy of HYDRA, sends her flying across the room. Her head hits the wall before she falls to the ground.

Her consciousness comes and goes, but she can swear she can hear Tony cursing at what she presumes are the offending party, Barnes and Rogers. But she can’t be too sure, the world seems to be slipping from her, like sand through her fingers.

“I know you always do, but I’ll say it just for my peace of mind—look out for Tony, will you?” Maria asked with such trepidation that one would think she genuinely was afraid the answer could ever possibly be anything except yes… AS IF. 

But Y/n just nodded.

Maria nodded as well and then looking back she placed a kiss on Tony’s cheek.  

“We’ll back by Monday morning,” Howard informed her, a little hesitant.

“Enjoy the fucking Bahamas,” Y/n had replied with a substantial amount of bitterness. She never appreciated it when they—more pointedly Howard—left Tony behind, so the bitterness came quite easily. And somehow it became the last thing she ever said to the two people who (along with Tony) constituted her entire family.

Her eyes open because of the sheer brightness of it. Her concussed brain cannot fathom what could possibly be radiating so much light. Until her eyes focus, then she sees it. Tony’s blast against Steve’s shield.

It breaks her heart. 

Then they’re fighting again. Steve’s falling heavy on Tony. With emotions running so high, she’s sure Tony’s not quite focused on his training. He’s probably relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y. to examine his fight patterns. She wants to help, but her head feels heavy, like there’s a leak in it. Stretching a hand with all her might, she touches the offending leak on the back of her head and apparently it really is a leak, because when she brings her hand back in front of her, it’s covered in red.

She looks around for Barnes then, suddenly very worried for Tony’s safety. She can’t protect him from both of them if she’s injured. But when she spots him lying on the ground, left shoulder armless and in ruins, all her fear fades away and she’s only left with pity.

When she looks back at Tony, he’s turned the tides. Steve’s on the floor on his knees in front of him.

“He's my friend,” she hears Steve say in between heavy breaths. But even on his feet with Tony looming over him, Steve Rogers sounds nothing but determined.

“So was I,” Tony replies… heartbroken.

Tony punches him again, then again and then throws him off to the side. “Stay down. Final warning,” he warns, blasters pointed at Steve.

Steve struggles to his feet, his face bloody and his gate weary. He raises his fists and stares Tony down, “I can do this all day.”

Iron man raises his left palm ready to fire. Bucky grabs his leg and Tony spins, kicking him in the face. Steve grabs Iron Man and lifts him over his head, then throws him down, punches him and bashes his mask off with his shield before striking down hard on the suit's core.Tony looks horrified and glowers fearfully at Steve who pants for breath. Both have blood spattered across their faces. Steve looks back at Tony then shuts his eyes and slumps down.

Later, much much later she’ll realize Steve had slammed the shield onto the arc reactor at the center of Tony’s suit on purpose. She doesn’t know that right now. Right now it’s too late, she sees red.

Slowly and then all at once the ground begins to shake. All three men are confused for a second until it clicks, for Barnes before either of her two favorite men in her life. Barnes is the one who looks to her for an explanation for what could very easily be a natural calamity. The other two follow eventually.

“Y/n,” Steve tries.

But like she’s already pointed out, it’s too fucking late. She’s radiating power, too much of it. Only when the men begin covering their eyes does she realize she’s radiating light, too much of it. She’s on her feet, levitating, inches above the ground.

“Doll,” Steve tries again. He shouldn’t have.

Her hands clench and the building begins shaking.

Steve takes a few steps towards her, with something akin to love in his eyes perhaps but she doesn’t much care for it now. “Doll, you gotta hear me out.”

“No…” she thinks aloud, “No I don’t.” She lets her hands go free, there’s a wave of energy that explodes from her, it's bright and it’s pink and it’s pure unadulterated power. The walls begin to crack, pieces of the structure begin to fall and all she can do is relish the horror in Steve’s eyes as the realization of her strength dawns on him.

The sky above them becomes more visible as the building and its miscellaneous parts fall away, and the sky is a soft shade of pink. She’s moving each and every part of their surroundings, even the clouds. They’re rubbing against each other, thunder crackling above them. There’s heat in her power, just as much as there is inside her. She’s burning with it, she wants to burn Steve with it as well.

How fucking dare he raise that shield against Tony? Against Howard’s son? After everything he did for Steve? After everything Tony did for Steve? After everything she did for him… after all her love?

How fucking dare he?

Her armor is up in a second and she hits the ground. Before Steve can even comprehend what’s happening, she manifests her blade, before he can register it, she’s shoving away Barnes who had stepped in to protect his best friend, before he can even react, her blade is glowing bright and pink inches from his eyes, already at his throat.

“Y/n,” Tony calls out, and his voice is the only thing between her and the death of Captain America at her hands.

It takes everything in her to not give in, to not slide her blade a little further, it’s already cutting in, drawing a drop of blood. She watches it trickle down onto his uniform. It breaks her heart, it breaks her apart. She loved this man, she loves this man, body and soul. She is his, even now. She doesn’t know how to not be his. She doesn’t know how to stop loving him, she is not sure she wants to, even now. But this is the cost of betrayal.

Barnes tries to step in, but he’s quite broken already. Moreover, he’s not her sinner. She glitches away with Steve only a couple steps away. Barnes is about to try again when she presses the blade further in, only by a millimeter but it draws more blood and Barnes backs down immediately. He looks to Tony, hopelessly.

“Y/n,” Tony begins. “Let him go.” His voice is broken and strained as it takes everything in him to get back on his feet. 

“Why?” She challenges. She’s raging, there’s so much inside her, so much brimming just under her skin, she’s electrified by it. The ground beneath her feet is shaking well enough that it’s cracking. They should be running, all of them should be running. Outside they can hear the structure crumbling to the ground, pieces of the building are falling all around them too.

“Because you love him, Y/n,” he tells her easily. There is no urgency in his voice, there is no fear either. He’s not worried about getting buried under the rubble, he’s not particularly worried about Steve either, she thinks. He’s speaking as if he’s just stating a fact, and a fact it is. “You love him so damn much.”

“So?” She watches Steve wince at her response, which wouldn’t throw her off all that much but he hadn’t even flinched when she’d first placed the blade against his throat. 

“So?” Tony throws back, his voice rumbling alongside the thundering clouds. It’ll begin raining any second now. “So it’ll kill you to kill him.”

“He deserves it,” she tells Tony, because he fucking does.

“I know,” Tony acquiesce. “But you don’t. It’ll break you, Y/n. And I can’t… I can’t lose you too….”

She knows he’s right. If she kills him right here, right now, and she could, she really fucking could, Tony would lose her because she well and truly loves this man more than she needs air to breathe. Because with every one of her responses she watches his heart break and while it felt like vengeance, her heart is aching knowing that she caused it.

What the fuck does that even mean? She wants him to hurt, like he’s hurt her but causing him pain hurts her more than it harms him so what even is the fucking point?

What in the fuck is the motherfucking point?

“Fuck!” She curses. 

She looks at Tony, covered in wounds and blood, who, just like her, is raging with anger only kept at bay out of reverence for her. He shakes his head. 

“FUCK!” She yells out, another wave of power pulsing out of her, breaking the entire foundation of the building at once. And then swiftly, she pushes Steve away and rushes over to her brother, shouldering his weight. 

Behind her, she hears Steve take a step towards her, but is stopped in his tracks when an entire staircase falls in front of him, blocking his path. It’s for the best. “Get out,” Tony tells him. “Get the fuck out of our lives, Rogers.” She doesn’t turn to look at Steve’s face at his words. She doesn’t want to know. 

Steve begins leaving, helping Barnes up and shouldering his weight. 

There’s rubble falling all around them when Tony calls out one last time. “That shield doesn't belong to you. My father made that shield!”

“You don't deserve it,” she says it only as a whisper but she knows he can hear it clear as day. 

Steve stops, raises his chin, then drops the shield and walks away with Bucky's arm around his shoulder.

Before the entire thing can collapse on their heads, Y/n glitches Tony and herself outside, near his jet.

It begins raining. It’s not supposed to rain this time of year in Siberia, but with the amount of energy Y/n has let escape into the sky, the clouds had very little say on the matter.

They sit there on the snow, under the rain and watch as the building crumbles to the ground. It’s a fucking mess. 

It’s silent but the animosity in the air is clear.

She knows he hates her right now and she can’t blame him all that much to be honest.

“You should have let me kill him,” she tells him.

Tony scoffs. “You should have let me kill Barnes.”

“Wasn’t his fucking fault he was brainwashed. He probably didn’t even remember till Zemo showed him the fucking tape. But Steve… he knew, and he lied to us.”

“You got great taste in men.”

Her jaw clenched, “You should have let me kill him then.”

“What would be the point?”

She doesn’t know the answer. But the terse tone of his voice is proof enough that a part of him blames her for it too. And well, he should. She could’ve done so much more about it all but instead she chose to fall for the man who lied to them about the death of their family. Of course he hates her. She hates herself.

Her phone chimes. Reluctantly she checks it. “Fuck,” she curses.

“Let me guess, in another 5 minutes I’m about to get a text from dear old Theadore about how he’s on his way ready to rain down hellfire?” Tony questions, clearly rhetorically. When she doesn’t respond, Tony clenches his jaw and says, “Get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony,” she tries.

“Get out of here, Y/n!” Is all he says as he gets up and begins making his way inside his jet.

She stands there for a second, soaking in the rain, letting the snow beneath her feet burn her cold. And then she glitches away.

Read the next part here, Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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