#almost (he thinks) as a way to study his enemy and see how full of shit he may or may not actually be about such things

[13eyond13]

I think the moment Light's crush on L first smacked him in the manga (like when it finally rooted and started blooming in his guts) was when L was like "you're my first ever friend" whilst smirking into his teacup. And not because Light fully believed he was being sincere about being friends, but because he KNEW L was slyly teasing him and speaking to him on more than one level at once. Nothing more unexpected funny flattering and intriguing than that for him right then

[dksfml]

Love 119 [Part Three]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one] [part two]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: enemies at work, lovers at home. secret dating. jungwon is just doing his duties, suggestive, submissive jungwon, fluff (only in the start lol) summary: you celebrate your first anniversary with jungwon’s mouth on another woman, so you remind him what yours tastes like. word count: 7.4k author's note: the third part of this seriess!! i swear it's just getting freakier and longer every after part. i hope you enjoy this one! reply or request if you want to be part of the taglist<333

You stir awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to you like a warm blanket. The soft morning light filters through the blinds, painting streaks of gold across the sheets. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant exhaustion lingering from the chaos of yesterday’s shift—and maybe something more.

As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is Jungwon. He’s lying on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his head to prop himself up. His bare torso is on full display, lean muscle and smooth skin catching the light in a way that almost makes you think you’re still dreaming.

He’s watching you with a lazy smile, his hair slightly messy, the boyish charm of his grin blending effortlessly with the undeniable allure of his half-dressed state. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, one that only grows when your gaze meets his.

The soft chill of the morning air seeps into your skin, prompting you to burrow deeper into the covers. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you mumble, “I’m cold,” the words slipping out unconsciously.

Jungwon pauses, his gaze softening as he studies your half-asleep form. Without saying a word, he shifts closer, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin briefly, sending a small, unintentional shiver through you.

“Better?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, laced with a hint of amusement. But before you can respond, he leans back into his original position, his torso stretching in the process.

The motion draws your attention as he props himself up on one elbow again. The sunlight dances across his skin, accentuating the subtle lines of his muscles. A groan escapes him as he adjusts his weight, breaking the momentary silence.

“This position makes my abs hurt, you know,” he says, his tone casual but tinged with playful teasing, as if daring you to react.

Your eyes flick down, almost involuntarily, to his stomach, and the sight before you is enough to make your pulse stutter. His defined abs contract as he adjusts himself, every line of muscle taut and perfectly framed. The blanket rests low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

You immediately snap your gaze back up, your cheeks warming. “Then why lie down like that?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably.

Jungwon tilts his head, his smile growing softer. “Because I love watching you like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words settling over you like a gentle embrace.

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t quite know how to respond. You’re not used to this side of him—unapologetically tender, his teasing stripped down to something raw and sincere.

“Watching me drool in my sleep?” you finally say, hoping to lighten the moment and mask the warmth spreading through your chest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Not quite,” he replies, leaning in slightly, his face just a breath away from yours. “More like admiring how peaceful you look when you’re not yelling at me about work rules or rolling your eyes at my jokes.”

His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart flutter in a way you’re definitely not prepared for.

“Speaking of plans,” Jungwon starts, his tone a little quieter now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “You remember what we said we’d do for our one-year anniversary?”

You blink at him, your brain still catching up. “Anniversary?”

“The beach trip,” he reminds you, his lips curving into a smile that’s unfairly charming. “You know, the one we’ve been talking about forever but never actually made happen because someone—” he gently pokes your side, earning a surprised squeak from you, “—is married to their job.”

“Excuse me!” you protest, sitting up slightly. “You’re the one who never takes a day off, Mr. Heroic Paramedic.”

“Touché,” he laughs, his hand still holding yours. “But I’m serious this time. No pagers, no alarms, no emergencies. Just us, the waves, and maybe some terrible sunscreen tan lines.”

The mention of the trip makes your chest tighten with a rush of emotions. You’d tucked that dream away, figuring it would never happen between the chaos of your lives. But now, hearing him bring it up so earnestly, you feel your cheeks heat with unexpected joy.

“You remembered,” you whisper, your voice soft and a little awed.

“Of course I remembered,” he says, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been looking forward to it. Haven’t you?”

Your lips part, and for a second, all you can do is nod, feeling ridiculously shy under his gaze. “I—yeah, I have,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long… with you.”

His grin spreads, slow and wickedly boyish. “With me, huh? You sound kind of obsessed.”

“Oh my God, Jungwon!” You groan, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your hand easily, laughing as he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teases, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you bury your face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent. He chuckles, the sound reverberating through you like a warm hug, as his free hand drifts to gently trace over the fading hickey on your neck—the one he left just last night.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice full of mischief as his fingers lazily skim your skin, “this might be my best work yet.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

“And yet, you love me,” he replies smoothly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Which is why we’re going to that beach, no matter what. I already started looking at places. A little beach house, just us. What do you think?”

You peek up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “You mean it?”

“Do I ever joke about stuff like this?” he asks, and when you hesitate, he adds with mock offense, “Don’t answer that.”

You giggle despite yourself, the sound spilling out of you before you can stop it. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you seriously this time.”

“Good,” he says, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you even closer. “Because I’m picturing us on the sand, soaking up the sun, maybe arguing over how much sunscreen you forgot to put on.”

“Excuse me, I’m very responsible with sunscreen!” you say, sitting up straight to glare at him, though the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at your lips.

“Sure you are,” he says, his grin teasing as he leans in. “But you know what? Even if you turned into a lobster, I’d still think you’re the cutest thing on the beach.”

You groan, shoving at him again, but this time he topples backward, taking you with him. You land in a tangled heap, his laughter mixing with your protests as he wraps you in his arms.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“And you’re mine,” he replies easily, his voice softer now as he looks up at you. “One year down, and we’re only getting started.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, and for a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you say softly, resting your forehead against his. “We are.”

And as you lie there, tangled up in him with the morning sun streaming in, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this dream of yours is finally within reach.

The day had been long, the kind where you couldn’t wait to jump in your bed, let alone entertain the idea of more teasing from your coworkers. It was the end of the shift, and as you packed up your things, you couldn’t help but hear the familiar whispers that had been circulating throughout the day. They’d been subtly, yet persistently, questioning your sudden decision to file leave for next week. And when you’d dropped the bomb that you’d be taking three days off, your coworkers had practically pounced on you.

"Going on a date?" one of them asked, grinning, clearly enjoying the moment.

You gave a half-smile, but played it cool, keeping the details about your time off to yourself. "Maybe?" you replied with a teasing tilt of your head, your voice casual but with just enough of a playful edge to keep them guessing.

“Oh, so it’s a date date?” another one chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just going for a spontaneous adventure?"

You bit back a smile, holding your ground. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

But your coworkers weren’t quite done yet. They shared a conspiratorial look, the kind that only happens when they think they’ve caught something juicy. "Funny," one of them said, leaning in, "Riki also filed for leave next week. Guess it’s the week to go on a getaway. What are you two up to, hmm?"

Your eyes widened just a bit, but you didn’t let it show. Not Riki. Your colleagues’ eyes twinkled with mischief as they continued their teasing. "Could it be that you and Riki are planning some... romantic getaway?"

You could see Riki in the corner of your eye, standing by the supply closet, looking thoroughly confused as he overheard the conversation. He was always the innocent one in this mess. You glanced at him, barely able to keep from laughing at how flustered he looked already.

"Oh, no," you said with a mischievous glint, your voice light but professional as you turned to Riki, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Riki’s just off to his sister’s graduation. Nothing more to see here, folks."

Riki blinked, completely unaware of the teasing in the air. “Right! I’m just going for my sister’s graduation,” he said with a completely straight face, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation.

Your coworkers, however, were having none of it. "Sure, Riki," one of them teased with a smirk, "A sister’s graduation. How convenient." They shared a laugh, clearly enjoying Riki's obliviousness, while you tried your best to stay professional, even though you were fighting a smile.

Riki just looked around, still confused by the attention. “What?” he asked, genuinely lost, not picking up on the implications. “It really is just that.”

Another coworker, not missing a beat, chimed in. “Well, if you’re both taking leave at the same time, I guess we’ll call it a ‘coincidence.’”

You fixed them all with a calm but firm gaze, your voice cutting through the banter. “Alright, enough,” you said, your tone brokering no argument. “I’m taking time off for personal reasons, Riki is attending his sister’s graduation—no more assumptions. Now, unless you want me to start assigning extra shifts, I suggest we all get back to work. We've got patients to care for, don’t we?”

The teasing immediately ceased, and your coworkers scattered, murmuring apologies as they returned to their stations. Riki, still trying to piece everything together, gave you a nod, grateful for the quick save.

"Riki, here," you said, walking up to him with a small, knowing smile. "I borrowed your coat yesterday, and I figured I should return it."

His face immediately softened with relief at the change of subject. "Oh, right," he said, taking the coat from you. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he took it, and he fumbled slightly, his gaze darting to the side. "Thanks for bringing it back so quickly."

“No problem,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. "You need it for your shift tomorrow, right?"

Riki nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours, but there was a curious hesitation there, a flicker of something else that caught your attention. "So..." he began slowly, almost as if testing the waters. "I, uh, was meaning to ask you earlier. Are you... actually dating someone?"

Your eyes softened slightly at the question. You could sense the genuine curiosity in his voice, and you appreciated that he was asking out of sincerity, not to add fuel to the teasing.

You hesitated for just a moment, not out of uncertainty, but more because you didn’t want to spill all the details. “Yes,” you answered sincerely, offering a smile. "I’m in a relationship. It’s been a while now."

Riki blinked at your response, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his tone now quieter, almost as if the reality of your answer had settled in.

“Oh,” he said, simply. His face remained neutral, but there was something about the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly that hinted at a tinge of disappointment, or maybe just confusion. It was hard to read, but you noticed it.

You couldn't help but soften your gaze at him. It wasn’t as though you’d been hiding the fact that you were in a relationship, but there was something about the way Riki asked that made it seem more... personal, more significant. His question wasn’t casual—there was an underlying sincerity to it.

“So… you don’t want to know more details?” you teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood, though you couldn't quite suppress the small, almost wistful smile on your face.

Riki blinked again, seemingly caught off guard by the question. He shook his head quickly, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Uh, no,” he said, though his voice had a touch of sheepishness to it. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, since... well, I didn’t want to be awkward or anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Awkward?" You leaned against the counter casually, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but still enjoying the rare moment of candidness between the two of you. “There’s no need for that. It’s just... I’m in a relationship. That’s all there is to it."

Riki nodded quickly, though there was an almost imperceptible sigh that escaped him. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, as if trying to connect the dots, but didn't push any further.

"So, uh, how long have you two been together?" His question came out a bit more suddenly, like he was trying to switch gears in a way that would make the situation feel less charged.

You met his gaze again, taking in the subtle shift in his demeanor, how his face seemed a little more relaxed now, as though the weight of the conversation had lightened. You thought about Jungwon for a moment—his presence always felt like a quiet reassurance, even when you weren’t with him.

“Quite a while,” you answered, the corner of your lips lifting into a small smile. “It’s been long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about all the small stuff. We’re... past the uncertainty.”

Riki gave a slow nod, the light in his eyes shifting to something a bit warmer, as if the idea of you and Jungwon being comfortable together made more sense to him. "That’s... really nice," he said, his voice steady, though there was a soft sincerity that added an unexpected weight to the words. "I’m glad you found someone."

There was an odd kind of quiet between you two, the office noise continuing around you, but it felt like this little bubble of conversation had shut it all out for a moment.

You could see that Riki was still processing everything, but the awkwardness that initially lingered between you two was gone. There was something more genuine now, a mutual respect, even if you hadn’t shared every detail. The conversation felt like an end to one chapter of your relationship with him and the beginning of another—a little less guarded, a little more human.

“Thanks, Riki,” you said, smiling warmly at him. “I appreciate that.”

Riki gave you a small, shy smile in return, still holding onto the coat you’d returned to him. "No problem. And, uh, if you ever want to talk... about anything... I’m here," he offered, clearly trying to be supportive in the only way he knew how.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice soft, but professional.

You glanced back at him with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go. We’ve got no time for distractions.”

The day you had been waiting for had finally arrived—the getaway to the beach that you and Jungwon had planned so carefully, and now, as you both stepped out of the car, the salty breeze kissed your skin and the sound of waves lapping at the shore greeted you.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow across the beach as you and Jungwon walked along the shore, the sound of the waves gently crashing in the background. The air was warm, carrying a light breeze that tousled your hair and wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was the perfect end to the day, but there was something else in the atmosphere—something more intimate, a traction you could almost touch.

You could feel his presence beside you, just close enough for his warmth to seep into you, yet distant enough that the space between you felt charged with possibility. His hand brushed against yours, and you didn’t pull away, instead letting your fingers gently touch, then intertwine. The simple contact sent a rush of heat through your body, and for a moment, everything else faded away—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean.

“Feels like a dream, doesn’t it?” Jungwon murmured, his voice soft and laced with an emotion that caught you off guard. You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Yeah, it does," you agreed, the words tasting sweeter than usual. You didn’t want to break the magic, the feeling of being alone in this perfect little bubble, just the two of you.

He gave you a small smile, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to say something without words. The way he looked at you—so soft, yet full of desire—made your heart race.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “you’re even more beautiful out here, with the sun on your skin.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little distracted.”

You blinked, the unexpected compliment pulling a soft laugh from your lips. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

He laughed quietly, but the teasing edge in his voice was absent, replaced by something more sincere. “I’m always full of surprises,” he said, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your hand. The moment felt more intimate than you expected, your heart beating a little faster as the weight of his gaze settled on you. “But I mean it. You really are.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply smiled, your fingers tightening around his, silently acknowledging the connection between you. It was enough.

After a long pause, Jungwon turned toward the towel he had spread out earlier, the one you’d been lounging on, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, the cool plastic in stark contrast to the hot air around you. You glanced down at your shoulders and realized with a jolt that you had completely forgotten to apply any sunscreen.

You winced a little, already feeling the heat beginning to build under your skin. “Uh, looks like I forgot something,” you said, half-laughing at your own oversight, trying to keep the mood light.

Jungwon caught your eye and smirked, clearly noticing your discomfort. “Need some help with that?” His eyebrow arched, the playful teasing in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow in return, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Actually,” you replied, glancing down at his bare, tanned shoulders and realizing you could use his help as much as he needed yours, “I think you need some help. You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, his lips curling into a smile. “Fair enough. I’ll take care of you, then,” he said, his voice low, almost too smooth as he unscrewed the cap and poured some lotion into his hand. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an energy that made your breath catch.

He reached out, a slow, deliberate move as he gently applied the sunscreen to your shoulders. His touch was light, but the heat from his skin made the lotion feel almost like an intimate caress. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the cooling sensation, but the intimacy of the moment—his hands gliding over your skin—made your pulse race.

"Don’t want you turning into a lobster," Jungwon teased, his fingers brushing your collarbone. The touch was light but electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coolness of the sunscreen.

He moved to the other side, his fingers grazing your shoulder, the sensation soft but deliberate, as if savoring the contact. When his thumb brushed the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, the subtle pressure making your skin tingle.

For a brief moment, you both stayed still, the air thick with something unspoken. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he didn’t want to pull away. “All done,” he murmured, his voice low, his hands still resting on your skin. The tension between you lingered, leaving your heart racing.

“Thanks,” you managed, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended. You met his gaze, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

Jungwon chuckled again, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in just slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’d better.”

You stepped forward, taking the bottle of lotion from him and squeezing out a generous amount. The cool lotion met your warm skin as you applied it to his shoulders, your fingers smoothing the cream in slow, careful circles. His body tensed slightly beneath your touch, but not in discomfort—more in anticipation. You could feel the muscles under his skin shift as you worked your way down his back, your touch lingering longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch out between you.

“Hmm,” Jungwon muttered, his voice quiet as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. “That feels good. Almost like you’re trying to spoil me.”

You laughed softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe I am,” you teased. But your voice softened again as your hands continued to move over his skin, now reaching his lower back, your fingers gliding over the soft expanse. The simple touch was intimate in a way that left you both a little breathless.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the contact. “You’ve got good hands,” he said, his voice low, the words almost a compliment, though there was something else beneath them—a quiet, simmering desire that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud.

“Glad you think so,” you murmured, your own heart beating faster. The space between you was thick with unspoken tension, the air charged, both of you aware of how close you were, how every touch seemed to ignite something deeper within.

When you finished applying the lotion to his back, Jungwon turned to face you, his eyes dark with an intensity that matched the warmth of the beach around you. He didn’t speak at first, but his gaze lingered on your lips before moving back up to meet your eyes.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. The sound of the waves and the rustling of the wind seemed to fade, and all that was left was you and him, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But just as your heart began to race, just as the tension between you reached a boiling point, a voice pierced the air.

“Help! Help!” It was a shout from the water, distant but desperate. Someone was in trouble.

Jungwon immediately tensed, the playful atmosphere gone in an instant. Without a word, he dropped his hands, his gaze locking on the water. His expression shifted, his focus narrowing, and in the blink of an eye, he was already moving toward the water, his body agile and sure.

“Stay here,” he said, his tone firm yet soft. “I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but the urgency in his tone left no room for discussion. You hesitated for only a moment before you found yourself trailing behind him, your own heart pounding in your chest as you reached the water's edge. Jungwon was already plunging into the surf, swimming with the grace of someone who had trained for moments like these. The crowd had gathered now, watching with wide eyes, as the seconds ticked by.

He reached the woman, hauling her out of the water with impressive strength. Her body was limp, but Jungwon handled her with care as he placed her gently onto the sand. The crowd murmured in concern, but Jungwon was in his element, focused, calm. His hands moved over the woman’s body as he checked for injuries, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Someone get a first aid kit! We need help over here!” he called out, his voice steady but urgent.

People around him seemed to freeze, waiting for someone else to act, but no one stepped forward.

You didn’t hesitate. You immediately pulled out your phone, dialing the local authorities. “We need medical assistance at the beach,” you said quickly, your voice crisp, the professional tone taking over. “A woman is unresponsive. She was pulled from the water. We need help immediately.” You gave them the location and hung up, your pulse still racing from the adrenaline.

You hung up quickly, but your eyes never left Jungwon.

He was already beginning chest compressions, his hands pressing firmly against the woman’s sternum, rhythmically pushing. His expression was intense, his jaw tight with concentration. There was no trace of hesitation in his actions. Every movement was measured, calculated to save her life.

You stood frozen for a moment, watching him work—each press of his hands against her chest a reminder of just how much control he had over a situation. His face was hard with focus, his brow furrowed, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he checked the woman’s pulse again. His gaze flickered to you briefly, but he said nothing. There was no need for words between you two now. You both knew what needed to be done.

The woman’s chest still wasn’t rising. Jungwon didn’t stop, his hands never faltering, never speeding up or slowing down. He checked her airway, tilting her head back gently before pinching her nose, his lips pressing firmly against hers to deliver breaths.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him perform the life-saving technique, his mouth pressed against hers with the kind of urgency you rarely saw outside of medical emergencies. You hadn’t expected the flutter of something strange, a cold weight that settled in your chest.

You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the rawness of what he was doing, or maybe it was the way his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. You forced your attention to the woman, checking her pulse at her neck—thready and weak, but there.

You could feel the tension in your chest tightening, but you couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. You tried to focus, to push aside the rush of emotions. But the sight of Jungwon so effortlessly confident, so completely in control—it stirred something inside you. You knew this was part of his job, that he had done this countless times before. And yet, there was something intimate about the way he worked, something raw that made your pulse quicken.

The woman wasn’t responding. Jungwon paused to breathe again, his movements fluid and methodical. “Come on…” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

As if on cue, you could hear the distant hum of sirens growing louder. Medical help was on the way. But there was still time. Jungwon didn’t let up. His hands moved with precision, and when he performed another round of compressions, his face set in grim determination, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally, the woman gasped, her body jerking, and her chest rose with a shallow breath. A collective sigh of relief swept over the crowd. Jungwon didn’t stop, though—he kept checking her vitals, his brow furrowed as he worked. But there was a flicker of relief in his expression now.

Still, he wasn’t finished. “Where’s her guardian?” he asked sharply, scanning the crowd, his tone commanding. No one stepped forward.

Jungwon didn’t let the uncertainty slow him down. He checked her airway again, adjusting her position slightly, as he continued to monitor her pulse. “Stay with us,” he muttered under his breath, giving her another round of compressions, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The crowd around you seemed to dissipate, but you didn’t move. You stood there, watching Jungwon, your chest tight with some indescribable feeling—something you didn’t want to name, but couldn’t ignore.

As the woman’s pulse started to stabilize, Jungwon looked at you again, his gaze briefly meeting yours, filled with an intensity you didn’t know how to process. There was no time for anything else, though. Medical personnel were almost here, and Jungwon was already back in control, handling the situation with such ease and authority that it left you breathless.

You were grateful for him, for everything he was doing, but a part of you still felt that odd ache in your chest, the feeling lingering long after the danger had passed.

The day had been overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions that drained every ounce of energy from both of you. By the time you arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion clung to your bones, as if the weight of the beach’s chaos had followed you in the humid air that seemed to cling to your skin. The usual buzz of life had quieted, leaving only the raw, lingering tension that neither of you had addressed.

Jungwon, ever perceptive, had noticed the change in you. From the moment he’d pulled that woman from the water and worked tirelessly to save her, he’d seen the way your expression had shifted, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself. He knew you—too well, sometimes—and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time you’d witnessed him perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. That alone would have been enough to make anyone feel uneasy, but on top of that, it was a woman around your age. Jungwon couldn't help but wonder if the situation had stirred up feelings in you he couldn’t fully understand.

He had been silent during the walk back, his mind swirling with thoughts. The usual back-and-forth between you was absent, replaced with a heavy quiet that hung between you both. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that came with shared moments, but a thick, uneasy one. Jungwon glanced at you more than once, his eyes searching for some sign, something that would reassure him everything was okay, but your expression was unreadable. You seemed distant—far away in a way that he hadn’t seen before.

He had seen you work through chaos countless times, both at the hospital and in life. He’d witnessed you maintain your composure under pressure, handling emergencies with an ice-cold focus. But this, seeing you react to him performing CPR on another woman, was different. He could tell. You had always been the kind of person who didn’t let emotions cloud your judgment. But now, there was something behind your eyes—a shift in the air, something unsaid that made him feel unsure.

The woman on the beach was alive because of him, because of both of you, but he couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, your quietness was born out of something deeper. He knew how you felt about professionalism, how you held both your relationships and your work close, but this... this felt like something more. The fact that you had watched him perform a life-saving act on a stranger, a woman, with such intensity—it seemed to have carved a small divide between you and him.

Jungwon wasn’t sure what to do with this new silence. The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than the hot air around you both. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared, but the words eluded him. So he stayed quiet, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t quite piece together.

As you arrived at the hotel, Jungwon opened the door for you, his usual warmth nowhere to be found. He watched as you walked past him without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed in the silence, and he slumped against the nearest wall, uncertain of what to do next. He was acutely aware of the tension in the room, how heavy it felt now, like any wrong move would break something fragile between you.

He sat on the bed, fingers running through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He knew you well enough to understand that you were internalizing everything—probably more than you let on. You never showed your hand too clearly, and he respected that. But right now, as you were in the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the day, Jungwon felt like he was stepping on eggshells. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, to make things worse.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, your face was still wet from the towel you’d used to wash away the salty residue of the day. The door opened softly, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. There was a new heaviness in the air now, something between you both that neither of you could ignore.

Jungwon sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, waiting for you to make the first move. Your eyes never left his as you walked toward him. The distance between you was small, but it felt infinite, both of you suspended in an unspoken understanding of what had transpired. He could feel the electricity in the air, thick and undeniable.

When you finally reached him, you paused, just inches away. The traction between you two crackled in the silence. Then, slowly, you raised your hand, fingers brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the softness of your touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into it instinctively, seeking comfort in the small, intimate gesture. He didn’t know what this moment meant, but he couldn’t deny the pull between you.

When your fingers reached his lips, the weight of everything left unspoken seemed to paralyze Jungwon, as if his entire body was caught between restraint and desire. His pulse quickened, a soft tremor running through him as you wiped the remnants of the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation off his lips with the towel. He stayed still, breath shallow, allowing you to guide the moment. There was something in the way your touch lingered, in how you moved with such control, that left him unable to do anything but wait—wait for your next move, for the next shift in the tension that was thickening the air between you.

His body hummed with need, his eyes closed as he absorbed the soft, deliberate stroke of the towel, every inch of his skin aching for more. Your proximity was intoxicating, your movements deliberate, yet so gentle. It wasn’t just the physical touch, but the unspoken invitation—the way you held him in place with nothing but your presence.

As you pulled the towel away, his lips were left lingering with the memory of your touch, and for a moment, he hesitated. But the hesitation didn’t last long. His instinct to close the distance between you overpowered his restraint, and before either of you could think, his lips pressed urgently against yours, claiming you in a kiss that was both desperate and hungry.

The kiss was electric. His hand cupped your face, fingers trembling slightly as he kissed you like he couldn’t catch his breath. You could feel the heat of his desire, but there was also something else—something submissive in how he let you lead. He responded fiercely, yes, but there was an unmistakable trust in how he followed your lead, how he let you guide the rhythm of the kiss, the intensity of it. He didn’t try to dominate; instead, he surrendered to you completely.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you needed to be closer, as if the kiss was the only way to erase the tension that had been building since the beach. It was messy, heated—your control evident in the way you commanded the kiss, but it was equally filled with urgency, a shared need for release, for connection.

Jungwon’s hands roamed to your back, fingers pressing you against him, but there was a carefulness to his touch. He wasn’t forceful. There was a tenderness, almost like he was waiting for you to take control. He wanted to feel you, wanted to have all of you, but in a way that was patient, as if he was afraid of breaking something in the moment.

You pulled away just briefly, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, but you didn’t let it linger. You tilted your head, studying his face, searching for something—answers, maybe, or perhaps reassurance. You were in control now, and it was clear from the way he looked at you that he would follow wherever you led.

Before you could even process the thought, your hands gripped the front of Jungwon’s shirt, pulling him with you as you leaned back. His breath hitched in surprise, but there was no resistance from him—just a quiet, willing surrender. Without breaking the kiss, you guided him backward, pushing him gently onto the bed with a sense of urgency. The soft creak of the mattress under his weight only fueled the tension between you both, the air thick with the electric pull of desire.

You hovered over him, your body just inches away from his, feeling the heat radiating off him in waves. His hands, which had been holding you so gently, now rested on the bed, palms flat as he watched you with an intensity that mirrored your own. His eyes were dark, full of something raw and unspoken, but he didn’t try to close the distance. He was letting you take control now, his body still beneath you, and you could feel the subtle way he was surrendering to you, leaving himself at your mercy.

The weight of the moment pressed on your chest, but you didn’t break away. Your gaze held his, unwavering, as you let the silence stretch between you, charged with something deeper. You could see it in the way his breath quickened, in the subtle flex of his muscles beneath you as he awaited your next move.

And then, without saying a word, you lowered yourself further, bringing your lips to his once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss was deep, intense—full of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. Jungwon’s hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, but even in his need, he let you guide him, letting you set the rhythm, the pace.

You pulled away slightly, your lips lingering just above his, feeling the tension in the air thicken as you gazed down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, chest rising and falling beneath you, but you could still see the sharp edge of something in his gaze. It wasn’t just the intensity of the moment—it was that subtle wariness, the same one you’d seen earlier, when he had saved that woman on the beach.

"You were pretty focused on saving her, weren’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter, but with a teasing edge.

Jungwon let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. "I had to. It’s part of the job," he said, his voice still heavy with the remnants of the adrenaline that had coursed through him earlier. He was trying to downplay it, but you saw right through him. "Besides, she was drowning. It’s not like I can just leave her in the water."

"You really looked like you were about to save her from everything," you quipped, arching an eyebrow. "A woman your age, no less. What was that? Was there some kind of... connection?"

Jungwon's eyes flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing through them before he masked it with a half-smile. "Well, you know, it's hard not to connect with someone who’s in trouble." He shifted underneath you, his voice a bit more serious now. "You’re not mad, are you?"

You smiled softly, the weight of the moment returning. "Mad? No. Just trying to get used to the idea of you saving women... right in front of me." You leaned down, your lips brushing his again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. You could feel the sharpness in his breath as he leaned into it, his hands gripping your back tighter.

"I guess it’s a good thing I’m saving you now, huh?" Jungwon’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it, like he was trying to regain some sense of control.

“You're going to save me from what, exactly?” You pulled back slightly, your hands on his chest, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath your fingertips. Your gaze never left his, unwavering.

Jungwon’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. "From getting lost in your head," he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of something more serious. "And from overthinking things."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the traction between you both momentarily easing. "Yeah? I guess you’ve got a lot of practice in saving people, huh?" You leaned down to kiss him again, this time with more purpose, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as you deepened the kiss.

He responded just as fiercely, his hands pulling you closer, his body shifting under yours. But even in his urgency, he still let you take the lead, his grip softening just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

As the kiss broke, you both breathed heavily, faces just inches apart, the silence between you charged once again.

"Just don’t get any ideas, Jungwon," you muttered, your lips curling into a sly smile. "I’m the one in control here."

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with something almost mischievous. “Oh, I know,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, tightening briefly before letting go. "I’m all yours."

The words lingered in the air, both playful and charged with a deeper meaning. Your heart raced, a warmth spreading through you as you met his gaze. There was a comfort in the way he held you, in the way he knew exactly how to push and pull you at the same time.

Jungwon’s smile softened, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your ear. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

You leaned in close, your breath barely a whisper against his skin. “Oh, I give up,” you said with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. Your fingers lightly traced his chest as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Do a mouth-to-mouth CPR on me now.”

[part one] [part two]

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[marysdonuts]

Tom and Jerry

school clown!Hoshi x top student!reader

Synopsis: After transferring schools the attention seeker Soonyoung keeps getting on your nerves. Fortunately it is way too easy to make fun of his somewhat lacking intellect. One day you take your snarky comments too far and Hoshi is all fun and games, until he wasn't

Warnings: smut, enemies to lovers, high IQ (f.) x low IQ (m.), slight angst, school setting, classmates, public sex, revenge sex, dirty talk, crack, spanking, fingering, penetration, inferiority complex, questionable fashion choices

WC: 1.4K

Status: part 1 (ongoing), part 2

a/n: join my taglist to get notified about new chapters

Changing schools was easier than you thought it would be. You were halfway through your senior year of high school at the crisp age of 17. The family had to move to different city for work. Making new friends was effortless - you were intelligent, good looking and fun to be around. Of course, big part of your popularity was thanks to the charm of the next new thing which always attracted many admirers. You were getting straight A's, enjoyed busy social life, everything seemed perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

If it wasn't for Hoshi Kwon. The school's appointed clown, now pushing 19 years old, he failed his senior year twice. Pathetic, how could somebody be so stupid? You hated him the moment he showed up on the first day of school - in purple suit, tiger print on the collar with matching hat. Cane in hand. Kicking the door open while singing Sherlock from Shinee he danced can-can. His legs flying up to the rhythm of - I'm so curious yeah! Everybody loved the performance. Everybody except you. The fuck? Where did he even get that ugly ass outfit and apparently his real name was not Hoshi but Soonyoung. Who the hell calls themselves Hoshi? Does he think he is a celebrity? Stupid ass name.

After the teacher assigned him as your desk-mate he made it his mission to annoy you. Teacher's reasoning being - he might calm down sitting next to the top student. Such a nonsense. Isn't it their job to know how to control the kids? You weren't getting paid enough for this. In fact, weren't getting paid at all!!

//

On Friday he arrived to class more excited than usual.

"Look at my fit!" kicking his foot proudly on the wooden desk in front of you. Before you had time to push him off he continued

"Do you like my new shoes?" expecting compliments

"I haven't seen uglier shoes in my entire life." you responded with no emotions what so ever

"What do you mean ugly" his already small eyes squinting into straight lines, eyebrows frowning comically

You couldn't help but laugh. He looked like cartoon character

"Now you laughing at me too?!" Stomping the foot that was still resting on your desk " They are Balenciaga!" still stomping

"They look like boats," lazily resting your chin on the top of you hand "if refugees used these," pointing at the monstrosity "instead of those tiny motor boats, their survival rate would be 100%"

You could hear an audible *gasp* leaving his mouth and muffled laughs from the classmates sitting behind you.

"You are the worst!" he cried out "Do you even know how expensive they were.." tear forming at the corner of his cartoony eyes

"Probably as expensive as the donations your parents must be sending to the school each year to keep you studying here" your voice full of disdain

"wow a kick under the belt now, huh?" you could see the wheels in his little hamster brain spinning at full speed

"You will regret this" was all he could come up with in the moment

"I don't think so" smirk on your face beamed with satisfaction but the sudden dark shadow crossing Soonyoung's usually friendly face put a knot in your stomach

//

Much later that day, after your extra-curricular classes finished, you are standing in the dimly lit locker room reorganising the mess compiled after busy week. School was already empty and you loved the silence. The long halls full of lockers did look a bit spooky now but it wasn't your first time being there alone.

Squeeky steps approaching from behind you. Sounded like one of those Crocs.

"Anybody there?" you were sure it was just your imagination, simply asking the ghosts a rhetorical question

"What if there is.." vibrations of low growl echoed thru your ear sending shivers down the spine

"The hell..?" catching a glimpse of Hoshi in your peripheral vision. Why is he here this late? You knew damn well he ain't taking any extra classes.

"I was waiting for you..." his voice even closer now, hot breath touching the exposed skin of your neck. He was so close to you. You could hear his heart beating. Du dum. Du dum. Du dum. Stable. Confident. In control. Yours on the other hand reaching high frequency of dudududududum.

"What do you think you are doing, Kwon?" forced annoyance in your tone trying to mask something that was hiding a bit deeper. Panic perhaps?

"You tell me," he laughed but it sounded more like a threat "aren't you the one who knows it all?" Pressing the weight of his athletic body on yours, something hard forcing itself against your bottom made you gasp

"h-hey what's your problem.." you tried to sound intimidating, voice betraying you suddenly, only producing shattered whine

"You" not waisting one more second Soonyoung licked the curve of your neck completely sandwiching you between his throbbing heat and your cold locker. Kissing your sensitive skin as if he was waiting for it for so long. Wet kisses quickly becoming possessive bites leaving marks as his signature.

"oh fu-" was all that managed to escape your quivering lips as his hand spanked your ass with such force, it took your breathe away. You didn't want to admit it, but this situation? It was making you so incredibly wet.

Yes, you did hate him. Yes, he was annoying and loud. Always wanting to be the centre of attention. Apart from that you couldn't deny how good looking he actually was. Only person in school who could pull off blond hair and those horrendous outfits.Oh and how the lean muscles played on his body during P.E. class..? Except for his personality, he was 10/10

"You don't have any smart comeback now, do you?" Slapping you once more. Making you loose your breath - again.

"You look much nicer like this" the hand on your bottom started to move lower. Pushing your legs apart with his knee, making a way for his long fingers. Lightly tracing the center of your soaked panties

"stupid uniform-" you cursed. Why the hell did boys wear trousers but they made girls wear skirts? The last line of defence has been crossed.

"Oh?" rubbing the wet fabric "you are dripping all over your pretty panties" the strokes becoming spirals, combining your folds and the textile into unified mess

"I-I'm not..!" knees weakening into his skilful movements

"Mmm, I thought top students are not allowed to lie" forcing two fingers inside of you without warning. Deliciously thrusting into your pool of need.

"shut up-" already moaning. What the fuck am I doing? Now pushing your ass to meet his motion.

"If you are going to fuck me, at least do it right" another push against him "or are you too stupid even for that?" you mocked him, taking at least a bit of your power back

All you could hear was Hoshi's sinful laugh and clinking of metal as his jeans came undone collapsing on the tiled floor. His throbbing member now on your clit soaking in the wetness you produced. Gliding teasingly over it

"What if I don't want to?" rubbing in painfully slow rhythm, making you see stars

Hoshi was very much enjoying this moment. Moment of having upper hand on somebody he couldn't challenge intellectually, on somebody who always knew what to say, somebody who was making him feel and look small. Crushing his ego on everyday basis. Fortunately you were just his type.

"P-please..?" heard yourself saying. Almost as surprised as he was. But fuck it, his dick felt so good on you pussy and it was long time since you had any intimacy. It made you uncharacteristically needy. What's wrong with little steamy sex in the locker room? Nothing. Yeah.

"Please Soonyoung, I want to feel you inside of me. I can't take it anymore. You win."

Grin from ear to ear Hoshi finally entered you with such an enthusiasm like a kid getting the toy he really wanted.

Holding you by the wrists you were hanging off in empty air. Slapping the balls against your needy pussy he was pounding you mercilessly. Waves of pleasure running thru every inch of your body. You didn't notice it before but now you could feel it clearly. His dick had a curve to it and it felt fucking good. On every thrust the tip hitting you exactly where you wanted. You were full of him.

Why is it always these good for nothing guys who fuck the best? Or maybe you were just too harsh on him? You pondered as the following thrust almost took you over the edge, making your head fall forward.

And down there between your trembling legs pair of hideous Balenciaga sneakers

[hueningstar]

Beneath the Thorny Vines

Summary : You and Yeonjun go from bickering rivals to sharing charged, intimate moments during a late-night study session, where unspoken tension turns into undeniable attraction.

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A/N : Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions. Your support means the world ! <3 Alsoo,requests are open🙃 And about my 2 reqs that I got..school is starting and I really need to do my hw and study but I promise that in a few days you WILL get them☺️

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Pairing : Yeonjun × reader

Genre : Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, College AU

Warnings : nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it)

MDNI

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The first time you met Choi Yeonjun, he was leaning casually against the doorframe of your lecture hall, a smug smirk plastered on his face like he owned the place. And maybe he did, judging by the way everyone’s eyes flitted to him as though he were a magnet pulling their attention.

You hated him instantly.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “Looks like you’re in my spot.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked up from your notebook. The lecture hall wasn’t even half full, yet he had the audacity to claim ownership of the seat you’d chosen near the window.

“I don’t see your name on it.” you shot back, folding your arms.

Instead of being deterred, he chuckled—a sound that irritated you more than it should have. “Well, I usually sit here. But if you want to fight about it, we can flip a coin.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your things and moved a few seats down, muttering under your breath about entitlement. You thought that would be the end of it, just another annoying encounter in a sea of college chaos.

You were wrong.

From that day forward, Yeonjun seemed to make it his mission to get under your skin. Whether it was cutting you off in class discussions, conveniently signing up for the same group projects, or flashing that infuriating grin every time he passed you in the halls, he was always there.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” you snapped one afternoon after he’d turned in another half-hearted attempt at a group project. You’d spent hours perfecting your section, only for him to barely skim the surface of his.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Relax, it’s not like it’s the final grade. Besides, I figured you’d overachieve enough for the both of us.”

Your jaw clenched. “Unbelievable.”

“You say that a lot,” he teased, his voice light. “I’m starting to think you actually enjoy arguing with me.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

As the semester dragged on, your interactions with Yeonjun became a strange routine. He’d rile you up, you’d bite back, and somewhere in between the tension, there were moments where his charm almost—almost—made you forget how infuriating he was.

Like the time he caught you struggling to carry a stack of library books and, without a word, took half of them from your arms.

“Don’t get used to this,” he said, smirking as he walked beside you.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you replied, though your tone lacked its usual bite.

Or the time he stayed behind after class to help you clean up spilled coffee, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a paper towel. For a split second, you saw something softer in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

The turning point came during a campus fundraiser. You’d been assigned to work the same booth as Yeonjun—selling homemade baked goods to raise money for the art department.

“Try not to scare off the customers.” you said, eyeing him as he lounged lazily behind the table.

“And miss out on the chance to charm everyone who walks by?” He grinned, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

“You’re supposed to sell those, not eat them.” you scolded, swatting at his hand.

“What, you think people won’t buy them if one’s missing? Watch and learn.”

To your surprise (and mild annoyance), Yeonjun’s charm worked wonders. Within an hour, he’d managed to sell more cookies than you thought possible, effortlessly chatting up every passerby.

“See? I’m not completely useless,” he said, leaning closer with a playful glint in his eyes.

You hated the way your heart skipped a beat.

As the weeks turned into months, the sharp edges of your rivalry began to blur. You still bickered—some things never changed—but there was a new undercurrent to your interactions, a warmth that neither of you acknowledged but both felt.

One evening, as you sat alone, frantically typing away at an essay due the next day, Yeonjun appeared out of nowhere and slid into the seat across from you.

“Need help?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically genuine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why would you offer to help me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I don’t hate you as much as you think.”

For the first time, you allowed yourself to smile back.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t hate him as much as you thought, either.

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with that ever-present smirk. For once, though, it didn’t feel condescending—it felt… softer.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh, sliding your laptop toward him. “But if you mess this up, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal.” He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing forearms that were unfairly distracting. Settling in, he scanned the notes on your screen, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You tried to focus on anything but him: the sound of the clock ticking, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the scratch of your pen on paper. But your eyes kept drifting back to Yeonjun, to the way his lips pressed together as he read, to the faint strand of hair falling into his face.

“Your formatting’s all wrong,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

He grinned, tapping at your keyboard. “Relax, I fixed it. See?”

You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you followed his gesture. He smelled faintly of something clean and woodsy, and you were suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were.

“Uh, thanks.” you mumbled, your voice quieter than intended.

“Don’t mention it.” he replied, but his tone had shifted, too. When you glanced up, you found him looking at you—really looking.

The smirk was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made the air between you feel heavier.

“Why do you do that?” you asked softly, your heart pounding.

“Do what?” His voice was just as quiet, his gaze locked on yours.

“Act like you don’t care about anything.”

He tilted his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him. “And why do you act like you care about everything?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could think of something, Yeonjun leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Maybe we’re not so different, after all.”

The tension crackled like static electricity. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed yours, lingering for a moment too long. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, as if he were testing the waters.

“Yeonjun…” you started, your voice wavering.

“Shh,” he murmured, a teasing edge returning to his tone. “I’m just helping you with your essay, remember?”

But the way his hand lingered on yours said otherwise.

As Yeonjun's fingers intertwined with yours, he slowly pulled you closer. His other hand reached up to cup your face gently, tilting it up to meet his gaze. He looked at your lips, then back into your eyes, asking a silent question.

His thumb caressed your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. "You're so..." he murmured, seemingly at a loss for words. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something deeper. "...annoying. And frustrating. And..."

He paused, his forehead resting against yours now. "And so infuriatingly kissable." he finally whispered, his warm breath fanning across your face. His hand on your face tightened, pulling you into a gentle, tentative kiss. His lips were soft, questioning, almost unsure.

His kiss was gentle but demanding, contradictory in the best way. One hand remained on your face while the other moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip, you couldn't help but melt against him. "Mmm..."

A soft groan rumbled in his chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in. His kiss turned more urgent, more passionate. He explored your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste and feel of you. His hand on your back slid down to grip your hip, pressing you flush against him.

The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity, stealing your breath and your thoughts. When Yeonjun finally broke the kiss, you were both left panting, your hearts racing in sync. He rested his forehead against yours once more, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes dark with desire. A slow, almost lazy smirk spread across his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

Without warning, he lifted you up and placed you on the desk, pushing the books and papers to the side with a careless swipe of his arm. He stepped between your legs, forcing them apart to make room for him.

He leaned in to claim your lips again, more forceful this time. One hand slid up your thigh while the other tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. You could feel his growing hardness pressing against your center as he moved closer.

His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, exposing your lacy bra underneath. He paused, admiring the view, before hooking a finger under the strap and pulling it down, baring more skin.

"Fucking hell." he breathed against your neck, his lips and teeth tracing a path down to your collarbone. His hand snaked around to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before lowering his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it, eliciting a gasp from you. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

His mouth moved back to yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his hands made quick work of your pants and underwear, pushing them down your legs. He stepped back just enough to remove his own shirt, revealing his toned chest.

He reached for his belt, unbuckling it and lowering his zipper. You watched, mesmerized, as he pulled out his hard, throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, spreading pre-cum along the length before reaching for your legs and spreading them wider.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he growled, positioning himself at your entrance. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a heady mix of desire and affection. "And I'm not going to be gentle."

He thrust into you suddenly, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, feeling like you might be split in two as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped your legs around his waist, angling you for even deeper penetration. "You're so tight."

He hissed through gritted teeth, his arms trembling as he held you up. He pounded into you, over and over, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. You were screaming, but he muffled the sound with his mouth, kissing you brutally as he took you.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any harder or faster, he reached between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, sending sparks flying through your entire being. You came with a scream, your inner walls clamping down on his cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

He followed soon after, pulsing deep inside you with a fierce 'fuck' against your neck. His entire body shook as he emptied himself, then suddenly pulled out, spinning you around and bending you over the desk. His hand came down hard on your ass, making you jump.

He didn't give you a moment to catch your breath before slamming back into you, his hips cracking against your cheeks with each brutal thrust. You were crying now, your face buried in the papers on the desk as he used you like a fucking animal. His balls slapped against your thighs with each stroke.

He snatched a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he hissed in your ear, "This is what you needed, wasn't it?" His other hand found your clit again, pinching and rubbing mercilessly as he continued his relentless assault on your ass.

A shudder ran through your body as his dirty talk mixed with the brutal stimulation, pushing you swiftly towards another orgasm. Your fingers clenched the edges of the desk, knuckles white from gripping so tightly. "Yes!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate, "Fuck me harder!"

He snarled in response, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked you with all his might. The desk creaked and shook beneath you, papers flying everywhere. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling so hard it stung, but only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through you.

Just as your orgasm hit, he released your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your waist to lift and turn you to face him. Kneeling, his mouth found yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue claimed your mouth as thoroughly as his cock had claimed your pussy.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as he thrust up into you with increasing urgency. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal rhythm that drove him closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you and held you in place as his cock pulsed and spasmed, filling your pussy with his hot, thick cum. You could feel it overflowing, coating your inner thighs as he emptied himself completely inside you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Damn, you always make me forget everything else," he murmured contentedly. His hands roamed over your sides possessively. "I need to get back to work, though. Can you..."

He gently shifted you off him, watching as cum dripped from your still-sensitive pussy. "Dirty girl," he whispered appreciatively, pulling his tie to clean you up slightly. "Be a good girl and clean my desk while I'm gone. And maybe then I'll consider bending you over it again later."

You nodded obediently, still trembling from the intensity of your climax. He winked at you before striding out, leaving you sprawled naked on the couch, his cum leaking from you and a trail of papers scattered across the hardwood. Slowly, you pushed yourself up, glancing at the messy desk.

You spent the next hour meticulously cleaning his desk, organizing the scattered papers and dusting the surface. As you worked, you couldn't help but replay the intense encounter in your head, your body still tingling from his touch. Just as you finished, you heard the door open behind you.

He stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning the neatly organized desk. He looked at you, standing there naked and covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the cleaning, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Good girl." he murmured, locking the door behind him.

Moving swiftly towards you, he pinned you against the freshly cleaned desk, his strong hands gripping your hips. "I suppose only one thing is left to do now," he growled playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief and lust.

────୨ৎ────

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "Operation Strix" (part 2)

(part 1 here)

As Twilight tries, very unsuccessfully, to convince Anya to study for the entrance exam, we get Twilight eyes.

He still approaches it from a spy point of view. It's interesting that up to now he's only used his "Loid eyes" once for Anya, to try to make her stop crying by luring her with peanuts. It's probably a combination of him not knowing how kids work and of his own distancing from his emotions and childhood memories, that makes him think acting cold and calculating with a child will work.

It's interesting, however, to see how even with "Twilight eyes", he can still subtly express emotions.

Investigative eyes in the manga, full-face Twilight eyes in the anime.

I assume this was a choice in the anime, since in the manga there's a small panel of his face as he first notices the barricade was moved, then a panel of the trace the barricade left on the floor, then a focus on his eyes. Instead, in the anime, we see the traces on the floor at first, and then we see Twilight notice them as well and react to them. Manga can afford a narrow panel that focuses on something very specific. Anime needs to use the entire 16:9 screen almost constantly, so they utilize animation to draw our attention to the thing they want us to notice.

And something super interesting from the manga: Along the way, we'll get to see many moments that focus on his eyes, as I already mentioned, either through "sad eyes" or "investigative eyes".

Here, where his first instinct is to go find Anya, and he immediately flips back to "No, I've got to get to safety, fuck them kids"... we don't see his eyes.

Not only is the focus purposefully on a close-up that doesn't really show us his eyes (the window to the soul and all that), in the next panel his eyes are covered in shadows by his hair.

It makes a lot of sense when you realize that he actually ended up waltzing straight into enemy territory just to save Anya. The spy rule to protect his cover at all costs became a hindrance when the cost was the safety of a child. He'd been working dutifully as a spy for so long that his first plan was to ignore his instinct, but then he switched back to following his instinct anyway.

What I'm trying to say is that abandoning Anya in danger was not his true self.

Full-on, almost exaggerated Twilight eyes as he considers starting over and leaving Anya to her fate (interestingly enough, he bends to pick up Mr. Chimera in the anime).

Twilight eyes under and through the mask...

And then, interestingly enough, in his most vulnerable moment in the episode, and one of his most vulnerable moments in the entire story up to where the anime has adapted, we don't get to see his face. We see it through Nguyen's mask as he reacts to Anya crying and he realizes why it upsets him.

This vulnerable, hurt side of him is not something the audience will be allowed to see yet.

Passing onto that, the manga doesn't show his young self's eyes from up close. It's something hidden within his memories, something he doesn't want to face himself.

I'm sure it would look awkward in the anime, to only show half his face - there's different ways to portray tragedy as this in static art and in animation - so they zoomed out, censored some violence, and used animation to make the portrayal impactful.

Another interesting addition from the anime: his face, with Twilight eyes, superimposed over the image of masked Twilight leading Anya into safety, as he reminds himself what his original purpose for becoming a spy was.

Yet, we don't see his face as his internal monologue reaches that part. It's still a vulnerable part the audience won't get to see yet.

A rare case of elusive nightmare eyes as he faces Edgar and his goons...

Although the anime omits the first and shows the second with Twilight eyes, only turning into nightmare eyes when he outright threatens Karen's life.

I guess that was a choice of tension escalation.

A new expression with real eyes, as he notices Anya stayed behind.

Twilight, best spy of Westalis™, caught off-guard by a five-year-old.

Jump to Loid eyes as he tries to convince Anya he just happened to be here! What a coincidence, huh!

Two expressions in the manga as Anya tells him she wants to go back home with him...

but three in the anime.

An additional expression of surprise in the middle.

All visibly different from the "Twilight eyes", and the scene closes with a last shot of sad eyes.

After they see Anya passed her written exams, we get an outburst of emotion, wide open real eyes expressing happiness he probably doesn't realize he's experiencing.

Finally, is there a better way to force a character to show their real face than when they're asleep?

Calm, relaxed eyelids, and a hint of a blush. It's the one time he's vulnerable, open, real... and that's the reason he's mortified at the fact that he fell asleep even in Anya's presence. Can't have that!

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [1] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 12.6k+

A/N: so, i decided to divide the fic into two just to give you guys the option to read it here as well since i feel like a lot of ppl are more comfortable with just reading it on tumblr sksksks but you also still do have the option to read it on AO3 if you want. will be posting part 2 tomorrow around the same time. it will be linked at the end. i hope you enjoy!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some said first impressions have a lasting impact, that it might even be a crucial pillar of any relationship. Others would vouch that it could be a bit misleading, that everybody deserves a second chance, that getting to know someone on a deeper level was far more important. After all, people were good at pretending, wearing masks for different occasions, putting on a façade depending on who they were standing in front of.

Bucky's first impression of you was that you were downright rude.

You definitely were not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a confident aura surrounding your graceful form as you entered the conference room. You definitely didn't capture his attention easily, didn't make his heart skip a couple of beats when he briefly caught your piercing gaze, eyes a beautiful shade that he wanted to look closer to see if there were any variations or they were as perfect and pure in color at first glance. You didn't make his breath nervously hitch when your head tilted ever so slightly, almost scrutinizingly as you studied him with your pretty lips pursed.

He definitely didn't linger there for a second or two, either.

Nope.

All he could think about was how cold and arrogant you seemed to be, head held high as Steve introduced you to the team one by one, settling for formal handshakes and a barely-there smile.

Bucky definitely was not thinking about how you were able to keep your features impassive yet stay so gorgeous in his eyes. He definitely wasn't intrigued about the slight gray of cautiousness tinting your irises, definitely not curious to know more of your quiet and reserved nature. He wasn'tat all itching to peel back your layers with such tenderness and care, to know more about you—light, darkness and demons alike.

Who knew lying to yourself could be so easy?

"And this is Bucky Barnes," Steve said, patting his shoulder, smiling excitedly for some reason he knew nothing of. "You know, the one I kept telling you about."

Bucky glared at his best friend curiously before turning to you, keeping a straight face as he held his hand out.

"I read your file."

That was Bucky's first words to you.

A second after they left his mouth, his stomach churned as he watched your face harden, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. You glanced at his outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring it as you crossed your arms over your chest. Chin up, you looked at him dead straight in the eyes, a certain fire flickering over yours, a brow raised in challenge.

You didn't say a word.

Bucky only got a curt nod before you turned back to Steve.

"My room?" you asked the blonde, features softening.

"Come on," Natasha interjected, nodding towards the door.

Bucky felt a sudden surge of jealousy at the cordial way you regarded the two. He felt envious when you returned Nat's grin with a small smile of your own as you followed her lead. It was faint enough to not be noticeable if you weren't particularly observant but definitely better than the scowl you wore when looking at him.

He ignored the way the redhead shot him a look over her shoulder as she guided you out of the conference room.

It was safe to say that as far as first impressions went, both of yours definitely weren't the best.

"What?" Bucky sighed when he caught the way his best friend was looking at him.

"Really?" Steve scolded, hands on his hips. "'I read your file' is not a conversation starter, Buck."

Fine. Maybe that wasn't the best—nor appropriate—thing to say to you first. But it was exactly because of that file that he was wary of you.

You were a spy, an assassin, trained in the Red Room only to get traded to HYDRA after some negotiations. They probably saw your potential—took you under their wing before you could even graduate so you didn't class as one of the Black Widows. Still, that didn't mean you didn't have the abilities of one, especially when you started young like most did. Now, adding the brutality and mercilessness HYDRA taught their killing machines?

You were one deadly mix.

The file said you were enhanced in some way. It didn't have the specifics as to what but it did state what wasn't. No superpowers, nothing magic-related, not even a case of superhuman abilities. But since these were organizations known for their hunger to experiment and enhance individuals, he had an inkling that you weren't just human, either.

Bucky didn't understand what level of consciousness you were in when you were doing their bidding. All he knew was that newer technology was involved, something to do with a microchip embedded on the back of your neck, connected right into your brain stem that any attempt at removing it carelessly would lead to your death.

He didn't know the extent of what that chip could do, didn't know if it was roughly the same as his programming where his mind was wiped and then controlled. It was possibly different yet similar—two sides of the same coin.

That part of the file was redacted, and Steve was adamant about staying quiet with that side of your story when asked. It was understandable, he supposed. It was nobody's place to tell but yours.

But judging from those alone, Bucky could guess it wasn't a lovely walk through the fields.

You were free from that now—thanks to Shuri, of course—but you could never be too cautious.

Just because Natasha saw you as a long lost sister, or how Steve was quick to trust you enough to escort you to Wakanda himself, and for both to vouch for you to join the team, didn't mean Bucky had to follow in their footsteps of plain blind faith.

It definitely had nothing to do with how nervous he suddenly got when you were standing right in front of him, or the way his heart picked up the pace when you were in the vicinity, let alone, glanced his way.

But with all the lies he'd been keen on feeding himself, Bucky had to admit, you were mesmerizingly and gorgeously terrifying.

There was just something about the way you carry yourself that even as simple as you walking down the hallway had everyone parting out of your way like the Red Sea.

Your reputation preceded you—Frost, a name most people feared to cross, belonging to a list of the most feared assassins who were still alive, of those who roamed free.

Whether that was second, equal, or better than The Winter Soldier…well, it depended on who you asked.

It somehow conjured this unspoken competition throughout the entire facility.

Who was more menacing?

Who was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat?

Who had the best death glare?

Who wielded the knife better?

Who had the better murder strut?

Who was the better assassin?

Who would win in a staring contest?

Who was grumpier, colder, the deadlier killer—The Winter or Frost?

Even the core Avengers team was silently in on it. The bets were mundane but they were there. An extra pizza slice, a dollar or two, who gets to go on the next coffee run, who gets to do whose laundry—they were thoroughly entertained by it.

Even Sam commented how you made Bucky's glare look like puppy eyes.

He honestly felt a little offended.

Probably because the truth sucked since, hell, even Bucky felt intimidated by you—in more ways than one.

Nobody intimidated him, not until you.

Bucky hated it.

If you asked his ego and pride, they'd tell you it was because the comparisons were insulting. He was the best in his field, he had decades of experience under his belt—he was a goddamn super soldier for crying out loud. A newbie, someone who didn't even reach half of what he'd been through, wasn't going to be better than him, even with similar skill sets.

But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

If he were to truthfully answer those questions that circled the compound, he would be biased, subjective, completely and utterly infatuated because his answer was you.

In Bucky's rose-tinted eyes, you win anything because he would wholeheartedly give you everything.

That was another thing he was entirely terrified and intimidated by.

Never had he ever felt this strong pull before, an intrigue and need to be closer to someone, let alone someone he just met. It was new territory, something unfamiliar, especially in the last couple of decades.

Bucky hated not being able to understand what he was feeling, hated not being in control of the way his thoughts sprinted in all directions, fast and unrelenting to match the beating of his heart. He hated the way you made him feel a plethora of overwhelming yet warm emotions all from a simple look, a complicated concoction of admiration, fear, infatuation, lust and everything in between.

He hated the way you threw his whole world off its axis when he'd been doing good so far at gradually understanding his mind, his heart, his whole self.

Now, he was confused, terrified, captivated by you in so little time and he hated it.

And like Pavlov's dog and the Theory of Classical Conditioning—

Bucky hated you.

•••

As it turned out, you hated him too.

You weren't verbal about it for the first few months you lived in the compound. But then again, you had been keeping to yourself most of the time.

People barely saw you roaming around. You didn't sit with the team during meals, you even skipped over movie nights or any other 'team-bonding' exercise the rest came up with. The only other person who saw you more frequently than most was Natasha. But given that you two were floormates, that was to be expected.

Bucky would sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the gym during the early hours, dancing around punching bags like a graceful ballerina but with a forceful punch and kick that would rival the best and the greats—ruthless just like how you were trained to be.

It was the same time he usually went down, hoping to let off steam when he couldn't shake a particular nightmare. But when you got there first, he opted to go for an early run outside instead, giving you the space to yourself.

He had a feeling you needed it more.

Other than that, you were like a ghost in the compound. There was no physical evidence or any lingering traces of you in the common spaces.

But if and when you were around, your presence alone was palpable—quietly minding your business in a corner, but everyone was aware that you were there. It was that commanding and powerful aura you exuded.

It definitely reminded him of how a certain someone acted when he first got into the compound.

So he didn't take your indifference, borderline coldness to heart at the start since you weren't overly friendly to everyone.

But as weeks turned to months and the atmosphere around you began to shift, the contrast between your attitudes suddenly became more apparent.

There was a difference between how you acted around the team and how you behaved around him.

Bucky was quick to realize that you were definitely colder and much more judgemental when it came to him.

From your deathly glares during meetings, pointed eye rolls with each question he asked about letting you join on missions, audible enough scoffs to every comment he made, to completely turning away from him with a disapproving shake of your head, cursing him out in Russian under your breath as if he wasn't fluent in the language, as if he wouldn't catch you with superhuman hearing.

Your dislike towards him was excessively obvious.

Even more so as you began to acclimate in the compound, feeling more and more comfortable around fellow Avengers as you came out of your hard shell—you were now present during game nights and movie nights, you'd sat in the dining hall with the team during dinners, and willingly joining in when it was time for training. You'd even become fast friends with Wanda and Sam.

You were now a little less menacing towards acquaintances and agents, too. Most were still scared of you, and rightfully so. You always wore that impassive expression that never gave a hint whether you liked the person or not. You barely even smile, at those you didn't know anyway—well, unless you wanted to make a point.

Like that one time you knocked an agent off his feet during a spar, clean and swift when he told you, 'You would look prettier when you smile.' You towered over the heaving man on the floor, eyeing his bleeding nose with a grin, wide and sarcastic.

Other than that, you'd learned to be somewhat cordial—consisting of curt nods, to tight-lipped smiles and less glaring—with everyone else.

Well, everyone except him.

Oh you hated him.

Bucky could feel it searing on his skin just from one simple look, rattling deep in his bones with every scoff of disdain.

As a matter of fact, everyone could feel the simmering tension in the air when you both were in the same room, quietly bubbling like magma under the earth, waiting for that small opening to finally burst into chaos.

It didn't take long for the first shift to happen, a crack between each other's resolve, the slight change between you both.

Bucky couldn't say it was for the better.

After all, going from silent glares and unspoken distaste to petty comments and loud arguments wasn't exactly classified as an improvement.

•••

"I don't trust her, Steve."

"You haven't even given her a chance."

"She's an ex-HYDRA assassin," Bucky pressed, his scowl deepening when his best friend brushed him off. "They can never be trusted."

"Takes one to know one."

Bucky's heart stopped at the sound of your voice, body freezing momentarily once he saw you sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking aimlessly as you read a book.

You looked innocent—so fucking cute, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that—like you could never do any harm. But he knew better. Which was why he couldn't stop his stomach from churning solely from the fact that you heard what he said.

And without even lifting your eyes from the page, you still were able to get a read on him.

It was frustrating how good you were.

"What?" you scoffed, taking a bite of the plum he was sure was taken from his stash. He was the only one who constantly brought them into the team. Finally looking at him, you raised a brow, pouting at him tauntingly. "Too scared to say it to my face?"

"I don't like people who keep secrets," Bucky huffed, arms crossed over his chest with a sharp glare as he looked you straight in the eye. "It was never mentioned how they found you, and we usually don't pick up strays off the street."

"Buck," Steve warned.

You closed your book with a harsh snap, hopping off the counter swiftly before walking towards him with a blank face. Taking another bite of the plum, you never broke eye contact, the fire in your gaze flickering the second you were standing right in front of him.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, his skin prickling with heat as you pointedly scanned him from head to toe, arms over your chest to mirror his stance, your head tilted in that annoyingly adorable way.

Yet the smallest adoration he held was quickly replaced by pure animosity the moment you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Rich coming from HYDRA's favorite lost and found pet," you said, face calm, voice just as much with a touch of being cold. The only other hint that showed your emotion was the fire that kept growing in those gorgeous eyes. Brow raised, you added, "At least I don't look homeless."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Bucky snarled, taking a challenging step forward, towering over you with fists clenched at his sides.

You pouted, seeming innocent as you hummed, "You know, they say lice make people irritable. You should get that checked."

His vibranium arm whirred, nostrils flaring as a growl rumbled in his chest.

You did nothing but smirk.

Before he could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, Steve was quick to get between you both.

"Alright, knock it off," he sighed, hand firm on Bucky's chest as he shot him a silent warning before turning to you. "There's a quick undercover op in Palermo, Sicily. Nothing more than a quick recon mission. Fly in, attend a party, gather intel, interrogate if necessary, fly out. And I want you two to be partners in it."

"When is this?" you asked, turning to Steve with brows furrowed in curiosity.

"In two days."

"Okay."

Bucky blinked.

He was surprised at how quick you were to agree. He expected you to argue against it, whine and complain about how you didn't want to go with him, list a bunch of things where he wasn't capable enough or just downright say you didn't trust him.

As if reading his mind—or perhaps he really needed to work on his poker face—you shrugged, adding, "It's a job at the end of the day. I can work with anyone and be professional about it."

You definitely did that on purpose to make him look bad.

Fucking kiss-ass.

"Good," Steve said with a smile which you irritatingly returned. "I'll have FRIDAY send you the file."

"Rogers that, Captain," you snorted at your own joke, waving your hand at Bucky before turning on your heel, your voice echoing down the hallway as you called out, "Just make sure he washes his hair! I don't want whatever's living in there to inhabit mine!"

Once you were gone, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh when Steve gave him that I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.

Again.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he griped.

"I'm not taking any sides." Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "But, I mean, you called her unreliable behind her back, basically told her you didn't like her to her face, and then called her a stray which was unnecessary and uncalled for. You were kinda asking for it."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a few deep breaths before grumbling, "Is there really no one else available for this mission?"

"Well, I'll see if Liam—"

No.

Liam was an arrogant piece of shit agent who stared at you for far too long during training to be considered appropriate. It was obvious enough, how he saw you as a prize to be won, proof of being 'the ultimate alpha male who could tame the lioness.' Those were the exact words Bucky overheard in the gym showers and it took everything in his power not to break a jaw or two.

That idiot would bottle the whole op trying to get your attention. And judging from what Bucky knew about him, it wasn't difficult to assume that he would end up thinking with the wrong head. He'd be more of a burden to you than an actual help.

Bucky was already filled in on what the mission was about, including what you were going to be pretending as. It was one of the many reasons why he was having doubts about you two being partners in this.

After all, for the mission to be a success, you had to sell the cover first. When you both couldn't be in the same room without showing utter disdain, when all of your conversations—the rare moments that you did have one—were more or less an argument, when you didn't even like each other, how on earth would you manage to convince everyone else that you two were happily and lovingly married?

It was impossible.

So you couldn't really blame him for being doubtful.

And no, it had nothing to do with how his whole body tingled with anticipation—and maybe excitement—nor the way his heart stuttered at the thought of being your husband.

But with all that said, he would be caught dead first before he'd allow Liam to take full advantage of it and see this mission as an opportunity rather than something to be taken seriously.

"Liam is incompetent. He'll only slow her down, compromise her and end up blowing their cover. It's obvious he's going to be distracted with all the fancy shit to not do his job at all. Someone's going to get hurt because he's fucking full of himself and—" Bucky stopped when he caught the way the blond was looking at him.

Steve was smirking, proud and all-knowing, wriggling his brows as if he got the exact reaction he wanted.

It was obvious Bucky fell right into his trap.

The consequence of having a best friend who knows you too well.

"I fucking hate you, Rogers," he growled, shoulder-checking Steve as he made his way back to the elevator.

It only made the punk laugh.

"I'll see you at the briefing, buddy!"

•••

Bucky rolled his eyes when he saw the audience waiting on the tarmac two days later.

The whole team was practically present, obviously wanting to see what would happen during your first mission together with him.

It was ridiculous.

They somewhat made this whole thing between you two as a source of entertainment. It was harmless enough since they never really did anything to provoke reactions. It was wholeheartedly both your own doing. But that didn't make it less annoying.

His scowl deepened when Sam took one look at him before bursting out into rambunctious laughter. He also didn't miss the way Nat and Wanda were trying their best to hold back their giggles.

"Looks good on you." Clint nodded, grinning.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, instinctively running his fingers through his newly cropped hair.

It was closer to how he used to wear it back in the 40s. The long cut was starting to get in the way, even during simple, everyday errands. It was also to help him look less recognizable for this undercover mission, paired nicely with the flesh camouflage Bruce had temporarily installed on his metal arm.

Other than that, Bucky figured it was time for a change. And what better way to mark a new chapter in his life than by getting a haircut?

It definitely wasn't because a small part of him was craving your approval.

"Oh," Steve said when he reached the tarmac, blinking a few times before smiling. "It looks good, Buck."

"Why is everyone making a big deal out of my haircut?" he grumbled exasperatedly.

"It's not about the haircut," Natasha butted in, the corner of her lips curved up. "It's why you got it."

"I didn't think you'd take what she said seriously," Steve chuckled.

"First of all, I got this haircut because I wanted a haircut. That's it. Second—" Bucky glared at his best friend. "—did you tell everyone about the lice insult?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" he defended, hands in the air. "I swear!"

"He didn't. Frosty was ranting to Nat and Wanda and I just happened to overhear the best parts," Sam snickered. "But God, you need her attention so bad."

"I don't need her attention," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I very much enjoy it if it's elsewhere."

"Whatever you say, Buckaroo."

Speaking of the beauty that was the devil, you walked out of the building with Tony, his hands gesticulating wildly, probably explaining the enhancement on the outfit you were currently wearing.

A newly improved tactical suit.

Bucky cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his gear as he tried not to stare.

But fuck it was hard.

How could he not look when the combination of Kevlar and lycra hugged your body in all the right places? At first glance, it was all black from head to toe, but underneath the light, the color would shift. There was a bluish tinge to it, the straps and belts a deep silver-blue, the combination of colors representing the likes of dark ice and frost. He couldn't see the lower half of your face, your signature mask only showing off those menacing eyes. And show them off they did because not only did the half-mask make you look even more threatening, it also made your eyes even more beautiful. The dark fabric definitely brought more attention to them, a twinkle in your irises especially when the sunlight would hit them just right.

You definitely brought two different meanings to the phrase 'If looks could kill.'

One, your death glare was definitely promising, and two Bucky had never seen someone be so beautiful, so gorgeously deadly that his heart felt like it might take him out.

He didn't realize that he was actively staring until Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damn. You're more pathetic than I thought."

Bucky shot him a glare, landing a very soft punch to his stomach before storming into the Quinjet, quickly settling into the pilot's seat. He was done dealing with the team's antics, and he knew they'd only get rowdier when you're close. 

"Why is everyone here?" you said, and he could almost picture you rolling your eyes. "Why are you guys acting like you're sending your kids to boarding school?"

"Well, with how you and Terminator behave, it's not that different," Tony quipped. You must've glared at him because he was quick to add, "I'm kidding! You two are very mature adults."

"You guys are ridiculous," you snorted, boots hitting metal echoing around the space as you made your way inside.

"Have fun you two!"

"Not too much fun! I want that jet spotless when it gets back!"

"Please don't kill each other on the way!"

"Oh they grow up so fast."

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the latch once you finally settled yourself right beside him.

Your reasoning for the choice, he had no idea. You honestly could've picked every other available seat which was plenty. He decided not to dwell on it, stopping his mind from wandering too far into presumptuous thoughts.

But he definitely didn't miss the way you glanced at his hair.

He also didn't miss the way you were trying not to smirk.

"Stop gawking and put your goddamn seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the jet before shrugging. "Or don't."

"You're so full of yourself," you scoffed, yet did as he said without any more protest.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"M'just glad to know you actually listen to me, much less, take my advice."

"Now, who's full of themselves?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "My haircut has nothing to do with you."

You were quiet for a moment. But he should've known better. It was something he learned lately, how you always felt the need to have the last word.

"Whatever pacifies your ego, Barnes."

Bucky could only growl in response.

•••

"Can you hurry up!" he called out after glancing at his watch for the fifth time.

He was fully dressed, in a suit and tie this time instead of his tactical gear. He'd already double-checked his weapons twice, a variety of them hidden underneath his jacket for ease of access.

And you still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Bucky was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the bed, glaring at the dark wood separating you from him as if it would help you be quicker with whatever it was you were doing in there.

He was about to call out again when the door slammed open, harsh and quick that it bounced off the wall.

Bucky's breath was sucked out of his lungs once he saw you in your long and fitted black dress, the silk fabric complementing your figure, a very high slit exposing your thigh, straps thin on your shoulders they might as well be non-existent and a deep V neckline to match.

He suddenly felt hot when he saw that the dress was unzipped, exposing your back from the nape of your neck all the way down, stopping just above the swell of your—

He blinked out of his haze when you ignored him completely and marched towards the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Your scowl was deep, irritation obvious in your demeanor as you looked for something, your back facing the mirror as you glared at your reflection over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill Natasha for picking this dress," you mumbled under your breath, so obviously talking to yourself but without taking into account his enhanced hearing. "Who puts a zipper this goddamn small you can't even find it."

"Jesus—" Bucky rolled his eyes, standing up from his place and stalking towards you. "Turn around."

Your eyes snapped up to his, glare deadly as you hissed, "I don't need your help—"

"Get over yourself will you?" he scoffed. "We're going to be late."

"Fine," you gritted, turning around abruptly and crossing your arms. "Since you so badly want to make yourself feel useful."

Your quip went in one ear and out the other. Not because he was done with your shit—which he was—but because he was rendered speechless by what he was seeing.

There was a temptation to trace the path from the small of your back up to your spine, to feel your warm and naked skin underneath his fingertips.

But his attention was captured by something else entirely.

His lips curled into a frown as he scanned the nape of your neck. Now that he was closer, he could see the way your delicate skin was littered with scars, ones that weren't his nor was his infliction, but were familiar to him it made his chest ache.

Absentmindedly, his fingers hovered over it, close and featherlight to feel a prickle of electricity, but not enough for it to fully touch. He circled the smallest yet deepest one, right in the middle where he assumed the chip was embedded. His frown deepened as he traced the various jagged lines that started from the center, crawling down like roots and stopping just at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Bucky ignored the goosebumps that rose from your skin, heavily fighting the urge to kiss it.

You cleared your throat, looking at him through your periphery. "What, you've never seen scars before?"

"Those are scratch marks," he stated as a fact, voice coming out rougher than he'd intended to.

Bucky knew because he had similar-looking ones that covered his left shoulder.

Like someone was trying to claw it out of their skin.

"Yeah, well," you grumbled, shifting in your black heels. "It's not like I wanted that chip in me."

Almost instinctively, he leaned closer, lips parted, your body shivering as his breath brushed over your skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hurriedly yet carefully zipping up your dress before walking towards the door.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said before closing it behind him without looking back.

Bucky paced up and down the hall in hopes that it would help shake the absolute rage he felt.

Not at you, but for you.

It was sudden yet burning, the anger in his blood at the simple thought of what those fucking assholes did to you. It didn't help in the slightest that he was so familiar with their methods.

It made him want to burn every person who laid a hand on you alive.

If the world managed to catch fire during that, then so fucking be it.

Bucky didn't know where it came from, the sense of protectiveness over you. It was so strong and unrelenting that it blatantly showed the second you stepped into the ballroom. From the way he'd held you closer by his side, arm secured around your waist as you mingled with guests, to his sharp glare aimed at any man who lingered too close and stared at you far too inappropriately.

He was telling himself it was part of the ruse, to sell this fake marriage to a viable audience so you could get the intel—gathering names that were connected to the Mafia, and when you're attending the birthday party of the Don, it wasn't difficult to do so—that you needed. He was watching your back like how any good partner should during missions. Even though he hated you, he wasn't cruel enough to let you get hurt. You could never know who was harmlessly flirting with you, and who was there with ulterior motives. It was better safe than sorry.

It definitely was not anything personal for him.

Despite everything, the mission went surprisingly well—smoothly even. It was impressive, borderline uncanny, the way you matched each other as if you'd been partners for years instead of this being the first.

It was easy, reading the signal you gave before Bucky made his way toward the elevators. The few moments he left you alone were enough for you to do what was needed, tempt and seduce. It was easy, a slimy yet important capo immediately taking the bait. Not that Bucky could blame him either. Nobody stood a chance when you were the one luring.

And just as the metal doors opened with a soft ding, Bucky stepped aside, letting you and the unsuspecting, inebriated man stumble in, slurring obscenities about 'getting some' as he clung to you, grumbling about 'showing you a better time than your husband.'

Bucky didn't even hide his scowl as he followed, fist slamming harshly on the button of your hotel floor. He wasn't gentle either as he injected the guy with a drug Bruce had concocted, one that made someone drunk to a point that they wouldn't remember what happened the next day while they were under the influence. Something about brain chemicals and whatnot.

Once you reached your shared room, he let you take the reins, sitting in a corner with a glass of whiskey as he watched. He wanted to see just how immersed you got when you were in your element.

And Bucky was impressed.

The way you circled that tied man, unhurried yet calculating, fingers trailing, taunting him, making him shiver in anticipation as to what you'd do next. Your voice was sickly sweet yet never less threatening as you asked questions that even Bucky had a whiplash listening to you talk.

You were like a poisonous wild berry, sweet, alluring, tempting on the outside, but downright deadly if you take a bite.

He also found it extremely hot but he wasn't going to talk about that.

It didn't take long for the man to spew out valuable information. But when he was being particularly difficult in some cases, Bucky stalked closer, shrugging his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves, and turning the flesh camouflage off. When the lamp on the bedside reflected on his metal forearm, it was enough to make the captive talk more.

Bucky took the liberty of doing cleanup once you got all the information you needed while you changed out of your dress in the bathroom. You were adamant about not needing his help with the zipper this time. He didn't bother to insist.

He stripped the unconscious man down to his boxers, tucking him to bed to make it seem like a one-night stand and nothing more. It wasn't like the idiot would remember much in the morning, anyway. He also made sure there was no trace of any of you in the room, checking twice to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Once everything was cleared and his bag was packed, you emerged out of the bathroom, now back in your tactical suit. You wordlessly made your way out of the hotel, Bucky right on your tail.

Neither of you spoke a word as you flew back home that same night.

The air was tense in the Quinjet.

And as much as people could argue that it was always like that whenever you and Bucky were in the same room, this time, it felt different.

Bucky couldn't just pinpoint as to why exactly that was.

The only thing he could clearly see was that you were even more guarded than before. Yet as hardened as your face was, your eyes were telling a different story. There was a distant look in them as if you were in a different place right this second.

Even as you got back to the compound and sat in one of the conference rooms for a debrief with Steve, there was still something off about you. You were quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken to. You even rushed to leave the room before Steve could fully wrap things up.

The blonde had shot him a questioning—almost accusing—look, probably also noticing your uncanny behavior. But all Bucky could do was shrug because even he wasn't quite sure as to what was on your mind that undeniably put you off.

Was it the moment in front of the mirror when he'd traced your scar? Or was it everything that transpired in the ballroom?

Having his arm around your waist, pulling you so close to his side he could practically feel your body heat through the layers of his suit, moments where he'd lean down to whisper in your ear, you masking it with a giggle as if the intel was the funniest thing he'd ever told you.

It was without a doubt the closest you two have ever been physically, pretending to be husband and wife, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were in love.

That was quite a lot for people who hated each other.

Or was that just him?

And even though Bucky was tired after the mission, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

It wasn't from nightmares this time though—well, not his anyway.

Laying in his bed, staring at the random design engrained on the ceiling, Bucky couldn't stop thinking about what horrors you went through while you were under HYDRA's influence.

He wished his imagination was way worse than reality, that his head was making every situation far more gruesome and cruel than it truly was.

But Bucky knew better.

He knew that his imagination couldn't even come close to what truly transpired. And in this line of work, reality was always much worse.

Besides, he did live through it himself.

But knowing you had gone through something similar, somehow, it felt much more…hurtful.

Maybe this was the whole not wishing it on your worst enemies type of thing. Maybe it was an understanding. Maybe it was simply empathy. Maybe it was the culmination of everything mentioned all at once.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

•••

"I didn't think I'd see the day where someone would actually challenge his staring problem."

"She doesn't look phased, though."

"He's definitely losing."

"I can hear you," Bucky said, loud enough for Sam and Wanda to hear but never taking his eyes off you even for a second.

"Good morning, Frosted Flakes." Sam walked over to you with a pat on the head.

You looked away from Bucky then, swatting Wilson's hand away, nose scrunched adorably with a snort, "What happened to 'Frosty'?"

"Oh no, your nickname is still Frosty," Sam chuckled. "Just sprinkling some spice every once and a while."

Bucky's grip on his mug tightened when he saw you flash Sam a genuine smile.

It's been a week since your mission together and you were back to your usual self—friendly to the team and absolutely loathing him still. As a matter of fact, you'd been acting as if the mission didn't happen at all, fully putting it behind you like a closed case.

Bucky wasn't quite sure if he was relieved or annoyed about it.

Fine.

He was annoyed because how could you be so nonchalant about the whole thing when he hadn't been able to think of anything else since?

It was infuriating seeing you so unaffected while he was still losing sleep, remembering how your warm body felt pressed up against his and the way your breath tickled the skin just below his ear whenever you whispered some information to him.

Then came the thoughts about your scars—what ifs and I hope not's with what happened to you in that facility. His chest would ache every time he closed his eyes and the image of your hurt skin would flash in his mind.

Or he'd find himself blushing like a schoolboy, wondering how things would've played out if he didn't hesitate, if he actually tried kissing it better—

"I never got to know why your alias is Frost," Wanda asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Cold-blooded killer, stone-cold heart, grew up and was trained in a cold climate, pretty basic actually. And, well," you paused, raising a brow his way. "Winter was taken."

"Can never trust someone who still goes by their name as a killer," he scoffed.

The way your whole face turned cold as you looked at him was so impressive it made Bucky's heart sting with longing.

Still, he didn't shy away from your glare.

It was only during these moments that he could shamelessly look into your gorgeous eyes, after all.

"I'm reclaiming it as my own. You give the name they gave you power, they still have control over you. Now, when I take back that power, the only one who has control over me, is me." You crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as you added, "I think you can learn a thing or two about that, Soldat."

The chair screeched as Bucky stood from his seat, stalking towards you with a low growl. You simply turned to look at him, letting him tower over you with no ounce of fear in your demeanor. His fists clenched, vibranium arm whirring when you dared to smirk at him. 

You raised a brow, chin raised high and cocky, so defiant, so bratty, it makes him want to—

"Case and point," you whispered proudly.

Before Bucky could even come up with a comeback, Steve's voice interrupted,

"Break it off." The captain walked into the room with his shoulders slumped as if he was tired of dealing with the same shit every day.

Bucky almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Do you have a radar for when we start fighting?" you snorted.

"Maybe," he said, brow raised at you. "Nat's been waiting for you in the training room."

"I don't need any more training," you grumbled, and with Bucky still standing quite close to you, he could almost see you pouting.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

"There's no such a thing as too much training," Steve said in that 'captain voice' of his. "Besides, you need to learn how to hold back your punches."

"So, you're saying…" you sighed. "You don't trust me not to kill anyone?"

Bucky has never seen Steve turn bright red so quickly in his life.

"No! That's not—"

You giggled.

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did in his chest.

You walked over to the blushing blonde, patting his chest with a bright smile. "Just messing with you, Steve."

He wasn't sure if he was jealous of the casual affection you were able to give to Steve, or the fact that his best friend got along so well with you that you might as well have known each other all your life.

Yet either thought was pushed to the back of his head as he watched you walk away in those goddamn leggings. There was always a certain sway to your hips whenever you moved, a confidence he couldn't help but be captivated by. But those goddamn gray leggings, for reasons he couldn't explain, were somehow accentuating everything that much more. From your hips to your thighs and that ass—

"Get out of my head, Maximoff," Bucky grumbled, cheeks burning when he caught the way the redhead was quietly smirking in the corner. 

"I wasn't even in your head," Wanda laughed, still honoring the promise she made to him to always respect his boundaries when it came to his mind, which he was grateful for. "It's all over your face."

"You look hungry as hell, man," Sam added, grinning. 

"Well, if you want to ogle more," Steve teased, smiling amusedly. "Don't you have your recruits to train?"

Bucky could only flip them off as he walked towards the elevator.

•••

Fists hitting against bags, punches blocked with precision, hisses and groans as bones met muscle, bodies landing on padded floors with low grunts, and the occasional cheers and hollers from the opposite side of where he stood.

There was quite a crowd at the training room—and by room he meant a whole floor—at this time of day. After all, it was mostly everyone's schedule for it.

It was hectic, and for someone with enhanced senses, it can be overstimulating. But Bucky had grown to learn how to focus the amount of input his brain took. Right now, it wasn't on the young boy he was currently sparring with.

Oh no.

It was over at the mats where a crowd had formed. It was like fight night, a challenge born out of pure pride and ego as to who could land even just one blow on the current victor.

You.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched you dance around a man who was more or less a foot taller than you. It was graceful, the way you jumped onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his neck before you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip the agent onto his back, tightening your thighs around his neck before he rapidly started tapping on the mat.

You barely even broke a sweat.

Bucky swiftly raised his right arm, blocking a high kick from the recruit. It was a valiant effort but it simply wasn't quick enough to surpass his enhanced senses.

"Good thinking to use a moment's distraction to your advantage," he commended, grabbing his ankle and flinging the kid over his shoulder. "But never underestimate your opponent."

He looked around his group, fresh graduates and all looking properly beaten and tired, and not just physically. None of them had ever won a spar with him. But, well, not to sound egotistical, but it was never a fair fight to begin with.

He was a supersoldier for crying out loud.

As their trainer, he could keep going. There were no breaks out there in a real fight. But then again, he has to remember that his blood was fueled differently compared to them.

Besides, his attention was most definitely elsewhere, and he kinda wants to watch a different session instead.

Was he slacking on the job? Maybe.

But hey, let's say he was simply trying not to drain the life out of the newbies.

"Great job today," Bucky said with a curt nod. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

Relief rolled over the group like a wave, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. As they all left one by one, Bucky remained at his station, leisurely sipping on his water as he watched the commotion across him.

"Do I really need to keep doing this?" you sighed at Steve after you pinned down yet another recruit who was definitely a few sizes bigger than you, swift and hard to disorient them but not enough to cause any real damage. Properly learning how to hold back your punches. "Aren't I supposed to be showing what I'm truly capable of?"

"You're getting cocky," Nat chuckled, throwing an M&M in her mouth.

"I'm not," you shrugged, yet your smirk said otherwise. You stood up, dusting your shoulder to make a show out of it. "I just want a challenge for once."

"Okay," Steve hummed, scanning the room before his eyes met his, gesturing for him to come over. "Hey, Buck!"

Here we go.

With a sigh, Bucky walked over to your group.

"Really? You want me to hold back on him?"

You couldn't have toned down your disdain even if you tried.

"Bold of you to assume you can lay a finger on me," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You wanted a challenge so, go ahead," Steve hummed. "No holding back this time. I'm sure Buck can take it."

"I feel insulted that he's the standard," you grumbled, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at him. "But if you're telling me not to hold back I might end up killing him."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Cute."

"Let's see if it's cute if I've got a knife down your throat."

"Jesus—" Steve ran a hand over his face before shooting you both a look. "I didn't say kill each other."

"Fine," you sighed dejectedly. "I'll try not to."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky hummed, smirking. "I'll go easy on her."

You were the first to attack.

Bucky expected you to go for the chest. With the short moment he observed you, that was usually what you went for when an opponent had a much larger stature than you. But surprisingly, you slid through his legs, kicking the back of his knee to make them buckle, causing him to fall forward. Catching himself on both hands, he rolled to the right just as your foot landed on where his head had been.

Is she actually trying to kill me?

He grabbed your ankle then, pulling it so rapidly that it had you landing on your chest with a cough. Before Bucky could even blink, you twisted, your leg hitting the side of his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving you enough time to get back on your feet.

With deep breaths, you glared at each other from your places on the mat, bodies at the ready for another round.

Bucky attacked.

From the outside looking in, you two might as well have been doing a choreographed routine. You were dancing around each other, blocking some punches, landing a few kicks, and just when you thought that one had locked the other down, they'd immediately slipped from their grasp.

And this went on and on and on and on.

Nobody could decipher as to who would win this fight.

It was mesmerizing.

Bucky was impressed at the way you could keep up with him. He wasn't counting the time, but your stamina never seemed to waver. You didn't seem to have any need to catch your breath. You were definitely better than any of the agents, and dare he say it, any of the Avengers he'd sparred with.

Then again, your skills were a mixture of a Black Widow and HYDRA. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you were simply that good.

But Bucky was better.

He was also at an advantage since The Winter Soldier's fighting style was so clearly the blueprint for your training. That was one of the things he always noticed when it came to HYDRA. When one thing was a success, they were going to run that program to the ground.

If Bucky hadn't known any better, he might as well have trained you himself.

He was able to predict your next move quite easily, already knowing what his counterattack would be before you could even land a blow.

It was making you frustrated.

Bucky couldn't help but be cocky about it.

"Killing me, huh?" he whispered against your ear once he had you in a chokehold.

Again. 

"Don't tempt me to do it," you hissed, head thrown back abruptly to catch his nose.

Once his grip loosened even the slightest bit, you pushed his arm and dropped to the ground in a crouching position, spinning with one leg out to sweep him off his feet. He stumbled but didn't fall. In an attempt to keep the momentum, you tried to go for a handstand kickup, but Bucky caught your ankle before you could even complete your move, tossing you over his shoulder with little effort.

Quickly, you were back on your feet. Sweat covered your body as you heaved. There was a cut on your brow to match his bleeding nose, the bruise on your lip was looking quite similar to his, too.

Still, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But even with your fists up, seemingly ready to go again, Bucky could see your strength waning by the second, and your frustration wasn't helping you one bit.

That was always aweakness.

You will lose if you let your emotions come into play, no matter how well trained you were.

"That all you got?" Bucky taunted, arms out as he tilted his head with a pout. "He told you not to hold back, принцесса."

He hadn't meant to taunt the nickname in Russian. It just slipped out, like it somehow felt right to say it that way.

Yet the fire that lit your eyes was screaming at him otherwise—a look so raw and unnerving it made Bucky break out into nervous sweats.

It all happened so fast.

Bucky was caught off-guard when you ran to him at full speed with a growl, your knee hitting his chest with such force it knocked him onto his back. He hissed when he felt your knee dig into his rib, putting all your weight on it to hold him down. His head tilted up once he felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck.

In his periphery, he saw Nat patting herself down, eyes flickering over to the knife you were holding against Bucky's throat, her eyes wide in shock. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, one of the world's best and deadliest assassins, didn't even notice you taking a knife from her belt.

That was how fast it happened.

"Call me принцесса again and see what happens," you said, low and menacing. You were so close, your warm breath was tickling his lips but Bucky could only focus on your eyes.

There were so many emotions swimming in them, yet the sadness was what intrigued him the most.

But before he could get a proper read, you were gone.

The next thing he knew there was a dagger flying past his head, embedding itself on the mat. He felt something warm trickle down his ear. Bucky didn't need to see to know that you'd managed to graze his skin enough to draw some blood.

A warning.

He wasn't even given the time to collect himself before you were already leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Blinking twice, only then did Bucky realize that you had managed to gather quite the audience, all of which were silenced as to what just happened.

"What'd he call her?" Sam asked, holding a packet of Skittles in one hand.

"Printsessa. It's Russian for princess," Nat explained, shaking her head disappointedly before rushing to follow you.

Bucky was confused. 

He thought it was quite an overreaction to calling someone an innocent nickname.

"Right! The show's over!" Steve's 'captain voice' boomed. "Everyone back to their duties!"

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face before taking the outstretched hand Steve was offering him.

"I don't get it," the blonde murmured once he helped him up and offered him tissues.

"What?" Bucky asked, wiping the blood off his skin. 

"You and Y/N," Steve elaborated. "I really thought you two would get along so well."

Bucky frowned. "What made you think that?"

"You're basically two peas in the same pod," Steve said as if it was obvious enough.

"We're nothing alike," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"What's all this?"

It was never common to see Steve Rogers hauling boxes out of his room on a random Thursday morning. And one glance at his open door, the space was completely empty.

"You're leaving?" Bucky pressed worriedly.

"No," Steve chuckled. "Just moving floors."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you—"

The blonde was cut off when the elevator dinged. It was more stacks of boxes being rolled into the space. But then a figure stepped into view. Steve turned to him with a shit-eating grin.

"—are getting a new floormate."

Bucky has never wanted to punch him so badly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Rogers."

His so-called best friend only smirked at him.

To most, Steve Rogers was the golden boy, America's greatest hero.

To Bucky? He was just an annoying little shit.

"Y/N," Steve greeted once you crossed paths in the living room.

"Steven," you responded, moving aside to let him and his stuff into the elevator.

"Try and don't kill each other please," he said, raising his brow knowingly.

You shrugged. "No promises."

"Be nice!" was the punk's last words before the elevator doors closed.

You didn't even spare Bucky a glance.

Instead, you just started bringing the boxes you brought with you into Steve's—well, your room.

Bucky, with no desire to help, casually leaned against the wall. He simply watched you make the repeating journey, taking box after box with you.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked after a minute.

"Because I'm a good fucking friend, Barnes."

"What did Natasha bribe you with?"

"Fuck's sake," you groaned, dropping the box only to shoot him a glare. "Are favors for friends a new concept to you?"

"Favor? What favor?" he pushed. "Having Steve as a floormate?"

You ignored him, continuing with your task at hand.

"Why would she want Rogers to be next to her room—" Realization hit Bucky like a flying red white and blue shield. "Oh."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I knew you were dense but I was hoping Steve would've at least filled you in."

Bucky always knew that there was a little something between those two but he wasn't buying it as the only reason why Steve suddenly switched floors with you. They probably thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. Nat and Steve were the number one duo who had been trying to push the two of you to get along.

And when the tension only grew that much more after that incident in the training room, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this whole floormate switch-up had something to do with their pursuit of making you act at least civil with one another.

"Don't worry," you said, placing the last box on the floor before meeting his eyes. "You won't even notice that you have a neighbor to begin with."

You slammed the door shut.

For the rest of the day, your statement remained true. Bucky barely heard from you at all, despite staying in his room given that it was his day off.

You were back to your ghostly ways, he supposed, keeping to yourself for the most part. But then again, it was only day one.

Unfortunately, your statement was immediately proven wrong that very same night.

Bucky was woken up by the faint whimpering he could hear through the wall. 

They weren't exactly thin, but they weren't soundproof either. There was a feature to cancel out the noise and prevent it from going out, but you had to enable it through FRIDAY.

You must've forgotten to turn it on.

He bolted out of bed when he heard you scream.

Bucky was outside your door in seconds, chest heaving as he pressed his palm flat against the surface.

He couldn't bring himself to knock.

Bucky simply didn't know if rushing inside your room was going to help you, or make things worse.

So he stood there, right outside your door, eyes screwed shut as pain clawed at his chest, listening as your screams turned to heart aching sobs.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, ears on high alert as he listened to every shaky breath you let out. He only went back to his room once you had gotten calmer.

Yet he didn't quite get some sleep that night.

Bucky—unbeknownst to you and him—had grown even more protective of you.

It was an unconscious act on his part, one he didn't even realize he was doing until Sam pointed it out.

It was always him who pointed things out, unfortunately.

"Since when did you become her guard dog?" Wilson had teased him once, right as they got back to the compound after a morning run.

His actions came to him in flashes. Whether that was immediately clocking any HYDRA agent coming your way and taking them out of the equation before you could even notice, taking extra precautions on missions for your behalf, or simply glaring at any agent who even did as much as look at you the wrong way. And if they actually said something, best believe Bucky didn't make it easy for them when it came to training.

But he never acknowledged Sam's words or outwardly showed that they affected him.

He only walked past Sam with a soft punch on the arm.

•••

Living on the same floor as you was…something.

For the first two weeks, it felt like Bucky was truly alone and that nobody lived in the room next door.

But as weeks turned to a month, traces of you were slowly integrating themselves around the common area, little things that made him know more about you.

You had a few cat-shaped mugs in the cupboard that made Bucky think you were a cat person. But then on a random day, he saw an orange one which looked like a dog, its face on one side and its butt on the other. He deduced that you simply liked animal mugs altogether because he saw a raccoon one, too. 

Then there was a knitted throw blanket on the sofa that smelled so much like you. It didn't take long for that to get followed by a fluffy pillow or two. All of them were one specific color but Bucky didn't know if that was your favorite one, or you simply liked to keep things coordinated. Maybe it was both.

Whether that was random knick knacks around the shelves, a DVD set by the TV, a well-loved book on the coffee table, the breadcrumbs of him having you as a floormate were starting to become apparent.

Besides that, he never truly felt like there was someone else on the same floor as him because rarely did you end up in your shared space at the same time.

If you did, you two always bickered to no end.

But as the sky turned from a shade of blue to the deep black of the night, Bucky was reminded that you were there right next to his room.

He wasn't overly fond of how the reminder was given.

Your nightmares didn't happen as frequently as he was prepared for them to be. But every other night was still a lot for one person to handle.

Bucky was yet to gain the courage to knock on the door.

It might have been creepy to just stand outside, it might as well have been cruel to do nothing while you were in distress.

But he was scared.

Not for him, but for you.

He honestly couldn't decipher whether he would be of any help or not if he just burst into your room unannounced. Because as confusing as living with you was, one thing remained clear.

You definitely still hated him.

"Can you fucking pick up after yourself?" you complained.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's one fucking spoon."

"Then put it in the sink!"

"Jesus fucking Christ what has that spoon ever done to you?"

"It's dirty and you're leaving it on the counter!"

"And?"

"You've got milk and cereal all over it!"

"I'm not asking you to clean it."

"But it's fucking annoying, you fucking slob!"

"Stop acting like you own this whole fucking place, printsessa."

It was truly impressive, how fast you had him pushed against the fridge with a goddamn bread knife against his throat.

It also stirred something in him but he wasn't ready to unpack that.

Bucky was holding his breath because if he did as much as relax, he knew the blade would nick his skin.

Who was he kidding, that definitely wasn't the reason he was holding his breath. He was a super soldier for crying out loud. He healed fast. A menial scrape wouldn't do much harm.

But you had just finished showering after your morning run and Bucky could smell your shampoo. Vanilla. Simple and sweet, a stark contrast to your fiery glare and the way you were holding a knife to his throat.

It was driving him insane.

"What did I say about calling me that," you said lowly.

"You know, you act so tough in front of everyone," he said, eyes defiantly glaring back at you. "But a meaningless nickname scares you this much?"

"Ne ispytyvay udachu, Soldat," you growled, pressing the knife that little bit harder.

Don't push your luck, Soldier.

Such a simple sentence yet it threw Bucky into an emotional rollercoaster.

He didn't know if it was the threat in itself, the way you spoke another language in that deep growl, or the fact that you were holding a knife down his throat but he felt scared there for a moment.

You were terrifying when you were angry.

And maybe this was such a fucked up thing to say but why was he turned on by it?

Bucky was grateful that you quickly left him alone after that. Once you were out of his enhanced earshot, he dropped his head and sighed, hoping and goddamn praying that you didn't notice the tent that had grown in his workout shorts.

It would've been so humiliating otherwise.

Shaking his head, Bucky could almost hear Sam's voice. 

"Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

•••

The mission was a bust.

One of the most important HYDRA scientists got away and managed to take with him the files they needed to track down other facilities.

The Avengers were gathered around the forest where the Quinjet was hidden. But instead of getting aboard and being on their way home, everyone was watching a screaming match instead.

Whenever a mission would go awry, everyone would regroup in the jet to try and discuss what went wrong and how to improve it on the next mission. There were never fingers thrown around as to whose fault it was because it was never anyone's fault.

But right now, you decided to blame it on him.

"What the fuck is your problem!" You all but marched up to Bucky, shoving him hard on the chest, making him stumble back in surprise. "Do you always get a kick at sabotaging my part of the mission?"

"Sabotage?" Bucky laughed humorlessly. "I don't care about you enough to do that."

However, if someone had seen what happened beforehand, they absolutely would call him a liar right to his face.

"Oh really?" you argued, shoving him again. The action was really riling him up. "Then why are you so fucking hell-bent on meddling with what I'm doing!"

"Because I don't fucking trust you!" Bucky gritted, aggressive with no ounce of truth as he took a step towards you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you let him get away. Sure as hell looked like you recognized him."

"Wow." You shook your head, scoffing, "So we're going to pretend like I'm the only one who used to work for HYDRA here?"

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

"You shoved me away!" you yelled, hands balling into fists. "I fucking had him!"

"You were being careless!" he stated the obvious, growling when you decided to shove him out of spite. Again. "You were about to get shot!"

"So fucking what!"

That only angered him more.

"Well, I'm sorry for fucking saving your life then!"

"How was I supposed to know someone was behind me? I don't have eyes on the back of my fucking head!" you countered, shoving a finger at the Captain without taking your eyes off Bucky. "And no, Steve, my partner didn't say a fucking thing even though he was supposed to watch my back!"

Bucky will throw his hands up and admit that you were right. But he didn't get a chance to warn you about it because he admittedly got distracted by nothing else but you.

For some reason, Steve found it helpful to partner you and Bucky during missions from time to time, said it was to build up the team chemistry. He had no qualms over it the first couple few, since you two did work quite well together despite your personal animosity.

But something about today's mission threw him off—specifically, the second you managed to get a hold of that scientist whose name he was yet to learn.

Yet it was clear as day that you recognized this man.

It was the first time Bucky truly saw this darker side of you. The pure and unbridled anger that captured your whole being was mesmerizing, the low drawl of your voice akin to a siren, captivating and that much more deadly.

And your eyes.

You didn't have superpowers but they honestly looked like they were starting to catch fire as you examined the man, as if thinking about all the ways you could make him suffer, turn him inside out with as much pain as you could muster.

During that moment, Bucky realized that he would've let you scorch the earth if it meant finally getting that revenge over the people who'd made you endure years of torture.

He would've stood by your side proudly.

It both aroused and scared him.

Embarrassingly so.

By then, Bucky didn't notice the HYDRA agent until they were already too close. All that was needed was one pull of the trigger.

So in a moment of panic, he ran, straight at you and shoved you out of the way.

It was either a slight bruise on your side or a bullet to the back of your head.

Bucky didn't take any chances.

Unable to control his strength, he pushed you across the room and knocked the breath out of you. And when he finished off the agent and you still hadn't gotten up, Bucky panicked. He honestly thought he might've killed you. And as he stood there in shock, only breathing again once you let out a sharp cough, the scientist already used that slim time to get away.

Yet despite the fear he felt during that moment, and the utter shame he was harboring because he failed as your partner on the field, his ego right this second couldn't even begin to admit that it was all his fault. So, he matched your glare.

"What's the point of saying something if you won't even fucking listen?"

"You know what, sure," you threw your hands up, so clearly exasperated. "Nothing of sense comes out of that mouth anyway,"

"Maybe I should've just let you take that bullet," he seethed, anger boiling over. Your defiance and absolute lack of fear as you squared up to him didn't help by one bit. "Finally get rid of the pain in my ass."

"As if you don't like getting pegged."

"Walk away you two," Steve commanded, voice stern and void of any patience. He gave Bucky's shoulder a push. You turned on your heel then.

But Bucky was just so angry that he couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath in Russian. 

"Useless bitch."

He didn't mean it.

But you heard.

Oh you heard it loud and clear.

Bucky was sure of it because the next thing he saw was a gun pointed right in between his eyes.

"Maybe a bullet to the head will finally heal that blended brain of yours," you said, voice scarily calm, your face hardened and void of any emotion as you stared at him dead in the eye. "Or at least give justice to those innocent lives you took."

"Y/N!" Steve scolded, attempting to get you two to break it off.

But neither of you budged.

Everyone was on edge now, not entirely sure what to do next in case one wrong move would set either of you off.

"Rich, coming from you. But go ahead," he challenged, taking a step until the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his forehead. "Besides, it won't be too hard for you since you don't really discriminate against who you kill, do you? I mean, this wouldn't be the first time you killed your own teammate."

Tilting his head tauntingly, Bucky pouted. "Or was that your boyfriend?"

"Bucky!" Natasha gasped.

It wasn't the firm push of Steve's hand nor his tall stature standing in the middle that sobered Bucky up.

Oh no.

His anger left his body way before that.

The way your hand began to shake, the tremble on your lips, and the look of pure pain in your eyes was like a bucket of ice cold water.

Bucky knew that look.

He'd seen it through the mirror when a memory would replay itself in his head and there was nothing he could do except watch—the light leaving their eyes, the echo of screams, a gunshot, a body falling on the floor.

It was a look that was too familiar that Bucky felt the guilt clogging his throat because he knew he'd just managed to make you relive that specific moment over and over.

"That's enough!" Steve said firmly. "Both of you."

Bucky tried to meet your eyes, tried to immediately take back what he just said. But Natasha was already guiding you towards the jet, your head down with your arms around yourself.

"Don't," he sighed when Steve shot him a disappointed look. "I know."

Bucky followed the rest of the team after that.

The silence hung in the Quinjet during the journey home, a touch awkward but thick with tension.

You both have been forced to sit on opposite ends, as far from each other as possible. Well, forced wasn't the right word. You willingly put as much distance as you could from him, as if breathing the same air as him was out of the question.

Still, the jet felt as cramped as ever.

Rotting in his own guilt and self-pity, Bucky couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

There was a harsh tug on his heartstrings when he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your tactical suit, flinching at the slightest turbulence or even the softest of sound. You'd never looked up once the second you sat there.

You were anxious.

He had never seen you like this before.

Mission reports could only tell so much, and when yours had been mostly redacted, Bucky knew nothing about what truly went down. Yet despite not being stated on the pages, he had an inkling that whatever your bond was with your aforementioned partner, it went far deeper than just a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He didn't even know if it was given that label to begin with.

The worst of it all, Bucky knew that during that circumstance, you did the right thing.

And you paid a heavy price.

PART 2

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[clubforfrogs]

Something That Will Last (James Potter x Reader)

Heyyy so it’s been over a week… whoopsie. This fic took so incredibly long for no reason. Send in requests if you got em!

Kind of an enemies to lovers type beat, except the reader just hates James at first.

3.7K words - enjoy!

•

You moved swiftly down the halls of Hogwarts, your robes catching air behind you. You walked quickly, with purpose, and watched with satisfaction as scared first years scrambled to get out of your way. Now, you weren’t actually angry, in fact, you were in a great mood. But you had built up a bit of a reputation for yourself during your time at Hogwarts. You were a terrifying Slytherin, who chose to not align herself with anyone.

Everyone had receive your message: Stay away from me and I’ll leave you alone. If not, watch out. Well, almost everyone. The only exception? James fucking Potter. He was the only person who seemed to find your taunts empty, funny even.

James delighted in pushing your buttons and winding you up. It started in your second year when Slytherin and Gryffindor had potions together. He’d taunt you by shouting borderline declarations of love at you. It was disgusting, and you’ve loathed him ever since. It also seemed as though the universe loathed you, because James was in almost every single one of your classes. The only peace in your day was Muggle Studies. Absolutely boring class, but there was no James Potter making snide or flirtatious comments in your ear, so it became your favorite.

You were daydreaming about that very class as you walked into History of Magic. You took your usual seat in the back of the class, and James smiled widely at you as he took his usual seat right in front of you. You rolled your eyes as you took an inkwell and parchment from your bag, preparing to ignore him and focus on your notes for the rest of class. That’s when the professor decided to announce something that made your heart sink, “Alright students, we’re going to be partnering up for a project. Choose carefully, this will be a significant part of your grade.”

You quickly turned to look at Remus Lupin. Although he was associated with James, he was kind and smart, and your go-to partner. At least he was. You saw Remus already buddied up with Sirius. Both boys shot you a satisfied look, and you saw James waltz up to you, “Seems like we’re the only two not partnered up yet, a dazzling coincidence if I ever did see one.” You realized that Sirius and Remus definitely set the both of you up for this, or more likely, James told them to do this. You mouthed the words, traitors to the boys across the room, and they shrugged innocently and looked away to get started.

You rolled your eyes and sat back down at your desk. James sat in the seat next to you happily. “Sooo, partner, how do you want to do this thing?” You gave James an annoyed look, “I think we’re going to have to wait and figure that out after the professor explains what this project is about.”

James’ happy look didn’t falter, instead, his eyes brightened, “Right you are! Wow, I’m so lucky to have the most brilliant partner!” You rolled your eyes so hard you were sure they were going to come rolling out of your head, “Stop taking the piss, Potter.” You turned back the front of the classroom where the professor had started to explain your project. Each pair was going to be assigned an important magical figure from one of the lessons you had learned previously. Then, you would have to make a presentation about their life, and explain their contributions to magic. You and James were assigned Godric Gryffindor himself, much to your chagrin.

“Ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you for who knows how long, learning all about a guy that built a house full of James Potters.” You complained. “Oh don’t pretend you don’t love this. I know I do.” Instead of replying to his jokes anymore, you decided that the most painless way of getting through this project would be putting your head down and getting the work done. “I’ll start researching into his life from birth into early adulthood. You go from adulthood to death. Got it? Good.” James looked a bit stunned at your sudden change in attitude and pouted at you. “Alright, meet in the library at 7:00 tonight. We’ll get more done if we work together.” Before you could argue at his illogical and utterly idiotic words, the bell rung. He shoved all his belongings into his bag haphazardly and shouted as he left the room, “It’s a date!”

Walking to the library, you did realize that you had the choice not to go. You almost turned around and walked back to the Slytherin common room, but you decided that remaining somewhat civil with James would go a long way for this project. You spotted James not long after entering the library, sitting at a table and scribbling hurriedly in a book. You wondered briefly what he was writing, but then decided you didn’t care. You could have no distractions while working on this project; everything had to be done promptly. This would assure that the least amount of time possible was spent with James.

James didn’t notice you until you sat down next to him. He looked up from his book at you with his usual enthusiasm, “Ah, I was wondering when my beautiful little ball of sunshine would join me!” You glared at him, “Fuck off, Potter.” Well, there goes your civility, not a great start. Either way, your words did nothing to deter him, in fact, he seemed to like this “game” the two of you were playing, “Poetic as always, my dear.”

You scoffed and opened a book about the history of Hogwarts that you’d bought in your second year. It had plenty of information about all the house founders, perfect for this project. James had also seemingly found a book to gather his information from. The two of you worked silently for a bit, until the hushed voice of Sirius spoke from behind, “James! We’ve been looking all over for you!” You jumped in your seat, nearly falling over. James reached out and grabbed your waist, effectively stopping your descent. You felt yourself flush when James kept his hand around your waist as he spoke to Sirius.

Apparently, the marauders were supposed to go out and pull some stupid prank that night, and James had forgotten. You honestly weren’t paying much attention. Instead exchanging a desperate look with Remus, who glanced back at you amusedly due to your situation. You tuned back in when you heard Sirius say your name, “You don’t mind if we steal James, do you Y/n?”

You definitely weren’t going to object to that, “By all means, take him. Just make sure he starts on our project tonight.” James looked at you with a pout, then turned to Sirius, “She clearly doesn’t mean that. She’ll be devastated to be left here alone!” Sirius rolled his eyes and was about to respond, when Remus spoke up, “You know Pads, working on our project as well wouldn’t be the worst idea. What if we joined these two?”

James and Sirius made various sounds of dismay, as you excitedly squealed, “Yes! Study date!” James looked scandalized by your proclamation. “Oh, so NOW it’s a study date? You adamantly refused to say it earlier, but now that Padfoot and Moony are here…”

It was almost comical how the roles reversed as James (sort of) fake pouted, and you beamed at him, “Exactly, my two favorite people are here now, Sirius and Remus!”

That made James cross his arms and look squarely away from you. Sirius let out a laugh and cooed at James, “Aw cmon James, I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” The aforementioned boy looked at you with a coy look of hope in his eyes. You scoffed, but before you could say anything, Remus pinched your arm. “Be nice,” he warned. You scoffed, rubbing your arm, “I’m always nice, dickhead.”

You turned back to your book, hoping to get some real work done. Remus seemed to get the hint, but you couldn’t say the same for the other two boys. James and Sirius luckily only seemed to want to annoy each other. Shoving each other randomly than looking away as if you or Remus had done it was their go-to move. After the tenth time they’d done it, you looked up at the two of them, gave them your hardest glare, then pointed towards two books. The two of them looked terrified, and quickly picked up their respective books.

Much to your astonishment, they didn’t immediately go back to their tomfoolery. You had actually gotten a decent amount of work down the next time you heard James speak. “Y/nnn,” James groaned, dragging out the last syllable of your name. You glanced up at him, which he took as a sigh to keep taking. “Why don’t we call it a night? It’s Friday, and Gryffindor’s got a great party planned. Why don’t you come with us?”

The invitation caught you off guard- you had never really enjoyed the party seen, and to be honest, this seemed like a pity invite. “Oh I’m alright, I’ll just keep working on our project.” You said dismissively, expecting that to be the end of it. Instead, you were met with Sirius and Remus on either side of you, both whining out, “Pleaseeeee.” You looked back and forth at them while raising an eyebrow at their behavior. “I’ve got a lot of work left to finish, besides you guys will still have a great time without me.”

You finally turned your back to them, but didn’t hear any footsteps walking away. As you turned to investigate why this was, a strong set of arms lifted you up and slung you on their shoulder. “James Potter put me down this instant!” you whisper-yelled. Sirius and Remus giggled at the two of you like school girls. You sent them a withering glare, but their laughter only increase in volume.

Once James exited the library into the empty hall, you pounded on his back, “You big oaf, put me down!” He did nothing but keep walking calmly, as if he had no care in the world. “No can do, darling. You never come to our parties, and you’re practically working yourself to death!” You rolled your eyes, only James Potter would consider finishing an assignment a near-death experience. He continued, “You’re coming for a night out with the Gryffindors, and you’re going to have an amazing time.” His tone of voice was surprisingly firm.

The longer that James had you over his shoulder, the more you appreciated your situation. You had an amazing view of his… assets, and you could feel his hands on your thighs, though he was low enough to be respectful. Sirius had apparently noticed your wondering gaze, and snapped playfully, “Oi! Keep your eyes up. Prongs isn’t just a piece of meat for you to lick your chops at!” You snapped your eyes up after getting caught. You felt James’ shoulders shake as he chuckled, “I don’t mind, I know what I got going on back there.” His sheer confidence made you blush madly, and you said nothing. Luckily, the Gryffindor common room was now in sight. James set you down as you reached the portrait, and you half considered making a break for the Slytherin common room. Unfortunately for you, Sirius and Remus blocked your way and smiled innocently as you grumbled and crawled through the portrait.

You were quickly ushered up to the boys’ dorm, where Sirius sat you down on his bed and started throwing various items of clothing at you. “Sirius what the hell-“ your protest was cut short by a shirt being thrown at you, thus covering your head. You peeled the shirt off and heard the stifled laughter of James and Remus. Sirius chose not to acknowledge your displeasure, and instead started holding up various shirts, as if trying to picture you in each one. “Ok Sirius, what are you doing?” The boy just tutted at you. “Just let him do his thing,” Remus said from his own bed, where he sat with James. You grumbled , not wanting to be left out of the loop, but soon Sirius threw a few clothing items at you. He pushed you toward the bathroom while saying, “Go now, put that on and show me my genius.”

You gave him an almost worried look, but chose to appease him and change. Sirius had given you an old pair of jeans (presumably his) and a cropped t shirt of some muggle band. You looked at your self in the mirror, and were shocked at how flattering the outfit was. It was definitely simple, but the combination just worked. You walked out of the bathroom and spun around once. You were met with a chorus of praise from the boys. A grin spread out on your face as Sirius commented, “Oh Merlin have mercy, I’ve done it again!”

James let out a quiet “Wow,” that made your heart flutter in your chest. That confused you. You had never liked James, he had always been a nuisance to you. Yeah, that’s all he was. Nothing more, nothing less. You chose to focus on Sirius who was wiping away fake tears, “Sometimes I just can’t believe my own genius.” You pushed him playfully and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. When is this party starting. I need firewhiskey stat.”

Remus wordlessly handed you a flask, and you shrugged, taking a generous sip. It was James who answered your question, “The party should be in full swing now, but I think Remus and Sirius still need to get ready. I can take you down if you’d like.” Sirius looked as if he was about to butt in and complain about the falsities of James’ statement, but Remus put a hand on his shoulder, “Yeah we’ll be down in a bit.”

You gave them a questioning look, butsighed and looked at James. “Yeah I suppose that will work.” James looked thrilled, and offered you his arm, “M’lady.” You couldn’t help but grin at his antics. You took his arm and replied in the same posh accent he had put on, “What a gentleman!” As the two of you made your way down the stairs, you realized that maybe your disliking for James had been a bit unfair.

Yes, he was annoying. But he was also really sweet, and funny, and you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous. You decided right then and there that maybe you’d start giving him a bit easier of a time. The music got louder and louder as reached the main common area. It was already full of students from various houses. They were all either drinking, dancing, or talking. A new song came on, and you gasped, looking at James.

“Holy shit I love this song!” You dragged James by his arm to this dance floor, failing to notice the deep red hue of his cheeks.

You started twirling and moving your body with the music. James did the same. Your exaggerated movements garnered a bit of attention, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. James grabbed your hand and spun you, before dipping you low. You giggled and blushed a bright pink. He smirked at you as he picked you back up with ease and continued dancing. This went on for a few more songs, until you noticed Remus and Sirius walking down the stairs. The pair of you walked off of the dance floor, and waved them over to where you stood.

“Moony! Padfoot! Over here!” James called. Remus spotted you two first with his higher vantage point, and made his way over, Sirius trailing slightly behind. Once they reached you, you spoke, “None of you lot told me how good of a dancer James is.” James blushed and pushed you gently, “Oh sod off, now you’re just making fun of me.” You looked up at him with genuine eyes, “No I’m not! Do you know how many guys would have been afraid of looking silly while dancing with a girl? You didn’t care and it made everything so much more fun!” A smile spread across his face, he looked as if he was going to say something, but Sirius got to it first, “Oh! A game of truth or dare is starting, let’s go join!”

All four of you walked over and joined the small circle. Already in it were Barty, Lilly, Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, and Regulus. You knew all of them from various classes, and they already seemed well acquainted with the marauders. You walked over to Barty whom you were partnered with in Herbology. “Hey! Can we join?” Barty smiled up at you and gestured for you to sit next to him, “C’mere N/n! There’s always room for a few more.” James also walked over and sat on the opposite side of the circle.

The game started pretty mellow. Sirius dared Lilly to dance with a random fourth year, Remus made Marlene recount the harrowing tale of her first kiss, and innocent things such as that. Evan had just gotten done listing his too three people he’d want to date at Hogwarts (Sirius was offended he didn’t make the list), but then he turned his sights to you. “L/n! You haven’t been asked yet, so: truth or dare?” You considered playing it safe, but that seemed far too boring. So you made direct eye contact with Barty as you said, “Dare.”

There was a chorus of “oohs” heard from around the circle as Barty thought about what to say. He pondered for a moment before smirking at you. You felt a little nervous, knowing that the boy had about zero shame. “Kiss the person you find most attractive in this circle.” You wanted to scream. Daring someone to kiss someone else? It was so cliche. But, you didn’t want to be that person, the one who ruins the game for everyone else. You took a deep breath, and looked straight at James.

James’ expression was confused. He didn’t want to get excited, think that you were looking at him because you were going to kiss him, and then becoming heartbroken as you kissed Sirius or something. He held his breath as you slowly got up and walked in his direction. You got closer and closer, while James tuned everyone out but you. You eventually stopped right in front of him, and leaned down. James’ heart was pounding in his chest, and yours was doing the same.

You started to close the distance between the two of you, but James decided he couldn’t wait even a fraction of a second longer. His lips surged to meet yours. You let out a surprised sound, but wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. There was the faintest taste of alcohol of his lips, and you were desperate to taste more. The kiss definitely lasted longer than would be appropriate for a game of truth or dare, but that didn’t bother you. Not right now, not when the lips of James Potter were all over yours.

The two of you would have been content staying that way for the entire night, but a loud cough brought you back to reality. You pulled back, with a sheepish look, and saw that everyone else in the circle was grinning wildly. You started to get up, but James gently pulled you down and sat you next to him. Remus leaned into you and whispered in your ear, “I gather that you’ve gotten over your little hatred for Prongs then?” You shoved him into Regulus, who looked utterly offended at the action.

The game continued on, and your thoughts were running rampant. Did you just screw up your shaky friendship? James seemed like he was into it, but what if he just didn’t want to embarrass you? A large hand gently placed itself on your thigh. You looked to find James looking ahead, laughing at Sirius having to give Barty a lap dance. (The latter was absolutely loving it, but the same could not be said for the former.) There were only a few more dates before you decided to call it a night. Despite all of the signs he was giving you, you still didn’t want to let yourself believe James might like you back.

You excused yourself from the group, and slowly started to make your way out of the Gryffindor common room. Just as you were about to reach the portrait, a gentle hand came and grabbed hold of your wrist. You were about to slap some sense into whoever thought they could touch you without permission, but you were met with the nervous face of James. “Why did you decide to head out so early? Did I make you uncomfortable? Oh Merlin I did! I’m so sorry. Look I’ll leave the game and you can go back in and join. I really don’t mi-“

“James.” Your interruption made his rambling come to a halt. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I’m just a little tired. Parties aren’t really my scene anyways.” You decided to settle on a half lie. James really didn’t make you uncomfortable, but you were leaving because your own head told you he didn’t like you. James somehow seemed to detect that you weren’t telling the whole truth, “You’re lying. Why are you really leaving. Was I that bad of a kisser?”

His fake pout that accompanied his question made you giggle. The tension between the two of you eased slightly, and you decided to just tell him. If he seemed mortified, then you would hop through the portrait and drop out of Hogwarts. That seemed pretty reasonable to you. Before your courage had the chance to disappear, you laid it all out, “James, I really like you, and I really liked the kiss. Probably more than I should have. I don’t expect you to reciprocate this, so I’ll just leave. I can finish our project and everything don’t even wor-“

This time it was James who cut you off. His lips met yours softly, almost hesitant. You once again heard the hooting and hollering of your friends, who definitely hadn’t been watching the two of you since James walked off. You shrugged off all of the worry that had been mounting on your shoulders. He leaned into you more, and let out a slight groan. You smiled into the kiss, before parting. “So I take it you might like me back?” James smiled right back at you, “Yeah maybe just a little.” Your lips met again, and you knew that this could last.

[straycalamities]

Hello, how are you

Why do you Like Entre and Swag?

i’ve been sick almost the entire past week but i think im getting better

do you mean as a relationship? ho boy. well, first of all, seeing as a lot of ships ive gotten into after it end up sharing a lot of similarities, i think its safe to say it became one of my favorite ship dynamics period

this got long fast

enemies/rivals-to-lovers isn’t anything new for me seeing as i dedicated, on-and-off, 8+ years to naruto and sasuke as one of my first hardcore ships that i still enjoy

and in general i just really like ships between characters who bicker and banter a lot (vash and wolfwood from trigun being a perfect example of this) but still being something more significant to each other than either of them truly realize until it sinks in either slowly or forcefully

and especially as i’ve grown older, i’ve gotten more and more and more interested in the intricacies and complications of having two very…hmmm damaged? i guess? personalities trying to find something that works because they need it to

which the other two ships have as well, but in a more “toxic yaoi” way, ya feel? LMAO like! hannibal and will graham from the hit show :) which that came after swagtre but it still stands as it got me to appreciate that aspect of their relationship even more than i did

swagtre is in no way synonymous to hannigram. hannigram is on a different level of delicious toxic yaoi, BUT it goes to show what ive opened up my ship palate to voraciously

even so, that’s moreso the early stage of their relationship, which is fun! but also not the whole story

i guess the main thing that initially drew me in was that i’ve always had a weakness for characters like swag. he’s so full of bravado, performative self-interest, defusing every little thing with a joke, and all the while coming off as a destructive idiotic selfish little brat. meanwhile the truth that resides is much deeper than that. that he does care, he just doesn’t know how, so he does his best which…is easily overlooked because he’s uncomfortable with being seen for being genuine in any way because it makes him feel vulnerable and blah blah this ain’t a swag study

but anyways truffula flu made me like him a normal amount! :)

then there’s entre who wears his heart on his sleeve moreso. he’s always been more honestly reactive, that’s why his mainverse it’s so fun to pick on him, and it didn’t get numbed by the apocalypse all that much. entres also a guy who takes things for face value at first. then there’s also the fact he used to have such a hero/senpai-crush on swag before the whole thing even happened and they’d even became pretty friendly acquaintances

and now he’s having to wrestle with the fact everyone who used to like him, hates him, except dave and bitter. and anyone else that might? probably dead. and of course! why wouldn’t they? his big mistake that cost the world

and swag is the loudest reminder of them all. forcibly inching and digging and clawing his way into entres psyche and mind until he finds himself using all of swags same words at himself during moments of self-hatred. self-hatred that’s been there all his life but now it has a burning world to reference. and swags voice mingling with his mother’s.

and entre may get defensive and bite back and try to turn things around on swag, but he can never truly say swags wrong. because he’s not! entre fucked up everyone else’s lives over a deeply selfish and shallowly thought-through decision. and even if swag is also a capitalist self-serving asshole, well he only destroyed his own environment, he didn’t end civilization as they know it

and that just makes it worse than the preachy “hippie” types that used to nag at him before. someone who’s in his same ilk is now berating him

and while entres never Not risen to rage-bait. he absolutely never took the phrase “don’t feed the trolls” to heart, he also has deeper reasons why with swag he always throws himself at the opportunity to try and defend or twist things, because it’s hitting him so much harder than everyone else (besides 72)

so yes, when swag keeps saying entres obsessed with him, he’s actually right! entre IS and has been since swag forced the jester hat on him and paraded him around camp as a spectacle. one that he can never truly deny that he deserves

i also think we should go back to entres pre-apocalypse feelings about swag because it’s important to note that entre wanted to Be swag. he looked at swag and saw the man he wanted to grow into. maybe less childish and gross, but the charisma behind it all, the way that even despite that, he had so many wrapped around his finger and every word

and the thing with early entre, is he always directly compared himself with other oncelers. sizing himself up against them and like…really it just makes sense right? to him, they were all iterations of himself, achieving and accomplishing or even failing different things. and even if at first the multiverse unnerved him, he started to use it to his advantage. i mean he got 72 to mentor him, he was lifting tips n tricks off others like swag, and he was directly taking notes on how Not to be off others (One, Bitter, Strangecase, Stone (sorry man ilu) and more bc this list is longer than the idol list LMAO)

so thats just more to really hammer in how intrinsic to entres identity swag became and it became more palpable in the worst way in truffula flu

this is all as an aside to the crushing guilt of his giant mistake itself but we all know how he feels abt that

and for swag, i mean don’t take my word here as word of god because i don’t THINK my theory here is confirmed to be canon, but im pretty sure he saw himself in entre as well. like it went both ways. and swag felt fear AND i guess relief? if that makes sense that it was entre instead of him. like this guy is very much Like him and any of them coulda done this, but it was entre, not swag. and that’s why swag is very insistent on not letting entre forget it, because deep down he’s terrified that it could’ve been him if entre hadn’t done it first

and so he looks down on him and beats him even further down as a way to kinda uhhh make himself feel better? except it doesnt. it never makes him feel better but it DOES make him feel not as worse as he could, or thinks he could if he just let the guy go after daring to make such a fool of himself in front of everyone

i think, as much as entre sees himself and how he wants himself to be in swag, swag sees himself in entre and what he doesn't want to be. and entre changes it to him seeing all the stuff he doesn't like about swag, the pieces of him he doesn't want to mimic because he refuses to continue to admit to himself that he still envies and looks up to the man swag is, because even at the end of the world, he's one of the few who seems to have something figured out that works for him. he actually seems to enjoy himself in this hell. he seems to feel free to find happiness and entre couldnt be more envious of that

but then as more and more people crowd into their camp, and they get to a baseline and learn the uhhh capabilities of their survival companions, they also learn to realize that they operate on the same wavelength the most even if neither of them admit it. obviously everyone wants out of this hell, but i dont think any of them tenaciously chase after that ambition as much as swag and entre do, for their own reasons

most of the rest of the camp has taken a sort of acceptance to the situation either in a pragmatic or pessimistic way. and of course nobody wants this to stay the way it is, but they don't have that sort of...all-encompassing fire to find a way to reverse their situations as much as swag and entre. i mean we did have bitter's optimism for a bit there, but he was doomed so like...what other option did he have other than believing in entre, but it was absolutely rooted in nothing. even entre knew that.entre especially knew that. bitter was deteriorating the fastest he'd ever seen it and if he hadn't been able to find a way to slow it down in the other ppl who took weeks to turn, then what was he going to do for the guy taking days?

so all bitter's optimism did was make entre feel sicker with guilt for everything and completely drove the little grip he had on hope into the ground. especially by making him take his first un-turned life. especially because, i think we have to address this here to fully understand why entre goes the way he does afterwards: bitter was never truly bitter to entre. bitter was himself. bitter was the likely future entre saw himself walking towards. out of every other onceler further ahead along from him, successful or aftermath or otherwise, bitter felt the most real for him

bitter was always his own failure even before it happened literally and live right before his eyes. that's always what he meant to entre even in mainverse/pre-truffula flu. that's why he made such a dedication to trying to butt his way into bitter's life. that's why he spoiled him and wormed his way into his heart, because he was trying to put that energy out there that one day, if this were to become literally his fate, someone would do this for him as well. or maybe he'd put enough good karma out there with doing this for bitter, that this wouldn't even become him at all!

that is exactly why entre was so stricken after his death. that's why it hurt and broke him so hard. he didn't know bitter long enough for his cries of "he's my best friend!" to fully be true. if anyone was entre's best friend at the time, it was 72, or dave, or his own mother. it was not bitter, bitter was his pet project. bitter was the poisoned dart that seared in striking him, and slowly ate at him after he was gone. bitter was him fully being unable to run from the consequences and culpability of his own actions. because now this was something that was clearly, unignorably, happening right in front of his eyes and now the blood was directly on his hands

bitter was his future self and his sealed demise that came with it. bitter was his destroyed future. bitter was his own mortality.

entre does come to realize something akin to this later on, but i guess i didn't make it understandable enough because i think a lot of people missed that this was the true narrative going on underneath the surface. which is my bad and on me, i could've done a better job, but ya. this was always my intention and it's a very key part in understanding why entre is the way he becomes and does what he does afterwards

which, back to swag, is his doing to entre. because swag does strong-arm him into and making him believe there was no alternative to entre killing bitter who swag DID, as anyone else did at the time, believe entre's statement that entre saw him as his best friend, but that also meant that was even more entre's problem to solve to him. and it's something entre finds hard to forgive swag for for a while after, even as his own guilt berates him for his own involvement in creating this fate for bitter, there's always that part of him that blames swag for forcing him to actually face the consequences of his actions. because, as most oncelers, entre doesnt like that very much LMAO

and yet despite it all, it still, in its own twisted way, makes him feel the most seen by swag. if that makes sense?? especially as 72 made it abundantly clear he was disappointed in him and didn't even seem to know who entre really was anymore. the survival needs and guilt had warped entre towards a vitriolic survivalist away from that bright eyed young man that he had taken in.

and then of course, nobody else really seemed to want to push a deeper connection with him at the time for this or that reason. so he had dave, who he personally saw as still just an employee so of course dave was with him and on his side, he had that employee loyalty. dave became his right hand, but that also meant that entre felt that he couldnt confide as much in dave because it's hard to explain but it's like...since dave was working FOR him, he didn't want to muddle it up with personal feelings to keep dave sharp. that's what entre thought at the time anyways

and so, for better or worse (mainly worse) who stuck around and kept nosing endlessly into entre's business and his life and burying himself in his side like a thorn he couldnt remove and absolutely couldnt forget. well that was swag.

in this sort of fucked up whirlwind...swag became the most emotionally significant person in entre's life. especially as swag started to show that he DID gave at least half a shit. and after their shouting matches that got swag to admit this little tip of the iceberg or that. entre did get to wondering what else there was going on underneath that. it became something he wanted to dig at to find out.

despite how they bickered and butted heads, entre always felt more comfy telling swag things he wouldnt or would no longer tell anyone else. swag's little bits of sympathy or lightheartedness became little crumbs of something that entre subsisted off of to keep going, because, despite everything, he still looked up to him. he still admired him and what he was capable of and what he could do. and how he didnt seem to let anything that was going on bring him down. he kept his shine.

and for swag (again not word of god here) i think he liked that entre DID butt against him. obviously he had fun with rocky and one. but (and this IS word of god/confirmed canon) they weren't as much his friends as he touted they were. swag struggles creating (and especially maintaining) close relationships. they make him vulnerable and they come with stakes and things to lose. so swag always kept his relationships fair-weathered and shallow. (aside from just not knowing how to be genuinely real and vulnerable with people in a way that COULD cultivate a close relationship) he sure did say and shallowly BELIEVED they were deeper than what they were, but deep down...he had an idea that were push come to shove...he wouldnt mourn anyone as much as your normal guy would mourn his true friends and he felt that it was mutual.

so as much as he ran away from it, swag felt very alone. swag always has issues with loneliness and that's why he throws himself from person to person and has to be the loudest and brightest and funniest in the room. and hey even if you hate what youre hearing and seeing, he's still got your attention. and that can be good enough when it comes down to it. (end of word of god/confirmed canon swag stuff)

but yeah i think that...not that rocky or one were yes-men or anything, but i mean they kinda just worked with his antics and like okay yeah here we go, swag stuff again yay(or nay) but entre always was fighting it. he didnt just accept swag entirely for this way or that, he was always critiquing, always challenging, always prodding back as strongly as swag prodded him. and i think that change of pace is what kept swag coming back over and over beyond the other stuff i said earlier

and like...as the guy at the center of it all, i think even swag said it himself at some point, if anyone knew how to get them back out of this mess it was him. and as swag said: he saw entre as a way better leader than him. even if it personally irked and annoyed him, himself when it happened to him. entre clearly had figured out his stuff and what he'd say had merit (just not with swag who always knew better for himself)

so if entre saw swag as the better leader for his charisma and weird optimism, then swag saw entre as the better one for his pragmatism and his knack for staying rational most of the time. i think that's also why entre's slip in lucidity bothered swag a whole lot because...if entre couldn't be the rational one, they were screwed. he'd gotten used to entre being a kinda...logical pillar to bounce off of, so if he was losing his touch with reality, that was going to doom the lot of them (even him). it's also with (word of god) swag's deep deep fear of abandonment so...if entre abandons his own senses, he's abandoning Swag and that Cannot Happen

this is a whole lot but its really hard for me to explain the why FULLY without dragging out all the nuances and complexities to their relationship because THAT'S WHY!!! it's SOOO complex and there's so many layers and nuances to everything that had to keep working in a certain way to go in a positive direction or else it all fell apart, as we saw, over and over

they both have so many issues that hold them back in ways and then theyre both so damn stubborn that it ended up making them even getting along as FRIENDS a damn slow-burn (and i am, always, a sucker for a slow-burn. one of my main weaknesses in a ship)

you can see they both end up wanting that, even if neither of them would admit it. but they both, as businessmen, saw their cooperation as fruitful for the success of themselves and the camp. it was just all this other baggage going on making it hard

so then we get the hospital. where rocky gets his harsh taste of the reality of their situation and he gets HIS humble pie of his own mortality, pushing him away from swag who remains reckless. and then entre, feeling ostracized from literally everyone and even having a hard conversation with 72 in the elevator, when it all comes down to it, and they seem doomed. he lets himself be weak and falls a bit into swag. and this is where it changes a lot of things for entre. this moment of weakness he was pushed into by fearing it was this or never.

because obviously they get saved and then it's swag losing his foot or getting left behind for zombie-chow and OBVIOUSLY the latter isnt an option so...entre makes that call and then cant go through with it because swag's fear is shaking him to his core in a way he never thought would happen. like he let himself get weak and it's immediately striking him in a soft spot that changes him for the rest of the story

i think it's here where he gets that kinda "oh..." deep deep down. that wow. yeah. swag is much more significant to him than previously believed. that leads into the hardware store where slowly and surely, swag becomes his precious possession. swag's the only one that believes in him. swag's the only one that understands him. swag's the only one he wants to be around. nobody can touch or harm swag but him. swag is his responsibility. swag is his, his, his.

and this is very very poisoned by entre's deteriorating state of mind and emotional health. the man is a long-coming disaster finally starting to collapse on himself. and the centerpin of it all is keeping swag safe and to himself because swag's the only good he sees right now in this hell of a world. swag's words become law in his mind. if swag says he has to be more of a leader, more assertive, he'll take that and run marathons with it. anything to make swag proud of him

because that's another thing is entre has just...always chased someone being proud of him or happy with him. or that he was doing good or whatever. a common onceler problem with the way that Once-ler Mama just Is but yes...it's always been a big deal for entre. he's terrified of failure. and he's terrified of disappointing people who mean something to him. so he'll do whatever it takes to make swag proud and it's not like the rest of thee camp know better than Him what's the Greater Good for them, of course. he's the leader. he's the one who created all this. this is his world and he knows everything about it better than anyone.

meanwhile swag's too fucked up on having his wings finally clipped after leaving off the high of true and total freedom for so long. that he has to stew with no escapism and let the reality of his life as it is now sink in. old ghosts start to catch up to him and new horrors start to sink in. that and the pain meds of course, but through it all, he's still operating on that trust he's placed in entre. entre's a weirdo, but he always takes care of him and spoils him as much as he can. and it makes swag not wanna question, not that he has a leg to stand on (ha) currently anyways when it comes to that. he doesnt know anything going on outside his door. and to be honest, i think that's the part of this shitty situation that he likes. he's clearly tired and been tired of feeling responsible for other people, but he also cant help himself because of his deep need to try and keep as many people in his life as possible because that means the ones that leave have a lot more replacements

but yeah obviously when he gets out and suddenly everyone is his responsibility again and it's up to him to be the hero (in his perspective) he puts entre in his place in the only way he knows how, but at this point...he's reached an understanding of entre and entre HAS become more significant to him than just a business partner. and he's starting to act on the parts of entre he can see in himself and so despite entre fucking up (yet again) he sees it as entre just trying to do what he was guided to in the best way he could manage and swag has little issue just being like ok you fucked up but who cares about that anymore

he has a better understanding on how entre thinks and what he wants (not a great one but a better one) and i think he knows that to endlessly punish entre and leave him alone would just make him way worse and so he decides to stick with him himself (i also think this is also swag's abandonment issues)

i don't think has very recognizable romantic feelings for entre at this point, but entre very much does for swag. so this keeps entre on his feet as much as it can despite the whole spectacle of it being something that'd drive him, any other time, to a long walk off a short pier. but it had to be a spectacle for swag because he had to show to everyone that hey hes here and hes the one fixing things! youre welcome!

but it's still a harrowing experience that strip entre down to the bone and he might be at his lowest he's been since bitter. maybe even lower, but then the prisma event happens and, if entre's event stripped entre to the bone, swag's stripped swag to the marrow

and if there's one thing about entre, it's fixing problems that aren't his own is one of the best ways to keep him moving. even if to anyone else, what swag's been doing this entire time for entre is the Absolute Bare Minimum, in entre's persective, with what he knows and observes from swag, it's worlds and worlds. so when the tables turn, entre feels like it's his turn to give back. and maybe the tables didnt entirely turn on their own, but entre pushed them to. he spun it.

swag was already knocked down a peg by losing his foot, but losing his emotional stability, his comfort, his optimism in this hopeless world. being abandoned by someone that was more dear to him than the others. that slammed him rockbottom. he stopped caring about if people liked him or not because why bother? they're all going to die or leave anyways. i think he knew sooner than we think that rocky was infected, and one was always him being purposefully obtuse. he knew what his fate was. everyone was going to leave him now. and he refused to care about it anymore

shoving everyone away and hermitting in himself. the same careful practices he berated and mocked entre for are things he'd come up with on his own. he was there to be useful now in a direct way. with practical ideas, survivalism, and physical labor. if there was no more joy or optimism, whatever. they were alive. and his joy didn't get to smile anymore so no one deserved to

i think it was the one-two combo of prisma and rocky that really did swag in because, even if i said he doesnt get Actually close to people, he still considered them his. like those are his people and he's going to lose them all. they're all going to leave him behind on this earth that he's been knew for a while fucking sucked shit, but as long as he got to have fun it hadn't mattered, but now he can't

and entre kinda...accidentally did the best thing he could've for swag at this time. he also felt alone, discarded, from the queen piece on the board to a pawn. and so he clung to the only thing he'd found reliability in over and over for better or worse: swag

in general, in this arc, i was working on him taking this giant blow to his ego as a humbling moment to have him kinda try to make amends and create meaningful relationships (or repair the existing ones) with the others in the camp, but being that he thought none of them wanted anything to do with him, his main focus was always swag. swag was the only one besides dave that he thought without a doubt, wanted him around in some capacity beyond being useful

and it's not that entre is a stranger to only being seen for his usefulness, so he bared down into that otherwise, but having tasted the high life...that's why he stuck to swag. he was back to eating those crumbs like addictive delicacies and they tasted even sweeter this time. they end up becoming very, very codependent on each other. they were before a bit too but here, especially so,

but with entre's tanked self-esteem (and it was already pretty bad before) and his sense of duty and taking responsibility, he takes to his role like a duck to water. but it's kinda...funny bc they both become both roles in a codependent relationship??? so it's like...codependency in its most truest realized form lmao

it's starts especially one way but then entre gets sick and it flips the other way, but entre's still trying to maintain the original set-up. this is also where their relationship becomes physical. from affections kept away from others' eyes, to deeper kinds of intimacy. i think with all that they've lost and are doomed to lose, they find their old coping mechanisms (which were never healthy or actually worked either tbqh lmao) just weren't cutting it anymore so then they turned to other things

with like...needing a more direct and physical and raw way to show each other they're still alive, still here, still significant to each other. swag initiates it more, i think, because while they're both on the asexual spectrum. swag's is demi. so this goes to show just how emotionally important entre's become to him, but also i think it's because of yknow...how he was raised. and for him it's more comfortable to do bedroom stuff with entre than kiss him or rub his shoulders. that stuff's "for girls" (too emotionally vulnerable)

and swag starts to show his care as more of...like a direct invasive thing. where he's not going to let entre abandon him too. he's going to somehow make him better and keep him here as long as he can. and entre's taken to rolling over for nearly everyone because he doesnt feel like he's allowed to stand up for himself and this includes swag because it's clear he's doing it because he cares so it's fine right?

and that's kinda where everyone's idea of them leaves off because we never got to go past that. so i get where people, especially those who aren't a fan of toxicity in their ships, would be confused why people like swagtre so much and even for me, as much as i love a good conflict in my ships, i think if this is all it was, i wouldn't be quite as obsessed as i am. because i'll be honest!! it made me sad quite a lot LMAO but i always did it for the bit (story) above all else. because while i wanted entre to say the magic words or do the magic thing or have the magic realization that would fix it all, that's not a good story

but it really is for the later story that i've gotten so caught up. even before we confirmed the Continued story i was always caught up and daydreaming of where this could go

and i just really really love the growth they've had with each other and how many like...jumps in their characters and stuff they've made with and because of each other. entre would not be who he is today in any iteration without some of the realizations i've made through swagtre and same with swag i know with good authority

and it's just like...it takes so long to get even where we ended it. and they have all these weird labyrinthine bullshit things to work through and against and with to get anywhere. and it goes back and forth. forward and two steps backwards so much. but it's just very interesting to study and even reread or reminisce on. and even think about ways it coulda gone differently idk...i just like ships that give me multiple multiple things to chew on and think about. i like to have a full course meal. no shade to people who like other stuff but yea..that's what i personally enjoy. the more complicated, the more difficulty and personal baggage and issues they have to work through to make it work, the better

and i can't say too much on where it's confirmed to go, because that's yet to be seen (smile emoji) but yes...it gets better and idfk i just eat up to people becoming super significant to each other in an apocalypse especially if they started off hating each other?? damn

and it's addictive seeing swag start to come more and more out of his shell. i say his moments of being genuine, vulnerable, real, and raw and caring were addictive crumbs for entre BUT BITCH ME TOO TF!!!

it drives me NUTS (SLASH HUGE POSITIVE!!!!) i love being a driving force to get to see aspects of a character we wouldnt see otherwise. knowing i had a hand in swag learning things about himself and revealing things about himself he would never in other situations...yum...that's the good shit

but yes so concludes my novel on why i like swagtre including i guess an impromptu summary of their relationship

if you made it all the way to the end god damn man...love ya

[starmoondany]

Okay so, let's talk about Walburga Black.

I have A LOT to say.

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Little reminder that everything I'm going to say below are my lore headcanons, and not everything follows the canon. Basically most of what you are going to read came from my imagination. Hope you like it ;) And btw my English kinda sucks

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— Walburga was never a good mother, not at all. She had very deep-rooted ideals and putting that above love for her children is unforgivable. But that doesn't mean she hasn't suffered with her parents too.

— The Blacks had been sharing their traditions and ideals for centuries from generation to generation, it was almost a sect. A family truly full of dark secrets; including murders of their own members -children born as squibs- to maintain the purity of their blood. Children were raised, or rather indoctrinated, since they had the ability to think. Being born under the Black surname was truly terrifying.

— Walburga and her brothers were no exception. Her parents were never gentle with her, she couldn't remember any hug, or even a kind word from her mother. She spent her teenager years trying to make her parents proud of her, but she never received a praise from them. Her parents demanded a lot from her, expecting nothing but perfection from their only daughter. And Walburga tried very hard to meet those expectations.

— Walburga demanded a lot from herself, a lot, even beyond her limits. She never doubted her parents, believing that they were always absolutely right - something they constantly said about themselves. Walburga was a perfectionist, disciplined, responsible, strict and very demanding woman, with herself and later with her children. She was raised believing that there was no room for even the slightest error, that's why when her first son, Sirius, revealed, she felt horrible disappointment in herself and enormous hatred towards him. Seeing that her eldest son, her heir, threw away everything their family made so may sacrifices to maintain, was the most humiliating example of betrayal for Walburga.

— She was completely blinded by the doctrine that had been instilled in her as a child, believing fervently and absolutely in everything that their supremacy dictated. That's why she was unable to see the damage she was doing to her children, the damage she was doing to herself, and the damage that had been done to her her entire life ((None of that is an excuse for what she did, no no, I'm just saying that no one in that family was okay lol)).

— She was a talented witch in her years at Hogwarts. Getting the highest grades, being a star student, focused on her studies and nothing else. She didn't do what other teenagers did, she wasn't interested in boys like other girls. Her mother told her that all of that was a waste of time, and promiscuity, and she believed everything her mother said -not having experienced that in her youth would affect her in her adult life. Besides the fact that she had also gotten married as soon as she graduated-.

— Walburga, at least in her younger years, wasn't what she later became. She was also a person, and she loved others, but she didn't know how to love. No one ever taught her how, she was never really appreciated by anyone, and that's how she learned to treat others.

— The only thing she heard from her father was how much she looked like her grandmother, which she didn't see as a compliment, since that was the only thing her father deigned to say to her. The man had never paid attention to his only daughter's achievements. And the only thing he heard from her mother was how imperfect she was. Her mother treated her like her worst enemy, making her daughter's teen years hell. Walburga had thousands of insecurities installed by her own mother, about her way of being and her physical appearance. Walburga never saw it; but her mother was very jealous of her.

— Anyway, Walburga never complained. She never cried. Nobody, absolutely nobody, had ever seen her cry. She never let anyone see her emotions, her vulnerability. She hated feeling vulnerable, weak, it was what she hated most in the world. She believed that she would be truly perfect if she had no emotions. She saw her vulnerability, her sadness, as a sign of weakness. Of imperfection. And all Walburga wanted was to be perfect in her mother's eyes. To be perfect for the noble house of Black, to fit the size her mother had molded her to. And looking weak, cry for everything her mother had imposed on her, everything she demanded of her, was like a betrayal of all that. Because she should be eternally grateful for having the honor of being a Black, right?

— Still, she had a breaking point. When she was old and her life, her family, had completely fallen apart. The day Orion died, the day she found out that her youngest son, Regulus, died; she cried in front of Kreacher for hours. As if she was crying everything she hadn't cried in all those years.

— And when Sirius was put in Azkaban, when she first read what happened in The Daily Prophet, she felt a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she knew there was a mistake, there had to be a mistake. Because if Sirius really was a Death Eater, her son would never have run away from home. She got along terribly with her oldest son, but she knew him like the back of her hand. And she knew her son was not a murderer. When she found out, Walburga, for the first time in many years, wanted to see her eldest son once again. She really, really didn't want Sirius to be in Azkaban. It made her uncomfortable, she didn't like to think about it. But her pride was stronger, the Black pride was always stronger, and she never did anything to help him.

— She died feeling miserable. Not just imperfect, but a complete failure. She knew her mother would be endlessly disappointed in her. Walburga, although she never admitted it, was afraid of dying. Because she knew that her mother would be waiting for her somewhere. And she was terrified of her mother ((Trauma passes from generation to generation guys, everything makes SENSE)). She was a failure, her husband and youngest son were dead, and she let her eldest son rebel, and even though she hated Sirius for that, she would never forgive herself for letting him break the mold.

— She hated when Sirius cried. Because she went through the same suffering as him, but she hadn't shed a single tear. And seeing her son being so different from her, so weak in her eyes, made her so angry. She hadn't raised him to be like this.

— She was an impulsive woman. She spent her entire life containing her emotions; her sadness, her disgust, her anger. But this last one was the most difficult to contain. Walburga lived her teen years crying inside, but at some point she learned how to change sadness for anger; an emotiona that made her less uncomfortable. At that moment, she finished becoming a monster.

— Sirius, although it wasn't his fault, had a hand in creating that monster. Since he was little, Walburga never had to deal with someone who opposed her so much. And the fact that he was her son only made it worse for her. She wanted submission from Sirius, obedience, and she tortured her son, trying to strip him of every drop of rebellion, trying to not leave anything of him. But Sirius was a Gryffindor, and he had a lion heart. And when he ran away, it was the last straw for Walburga. From that day on, Sirius was no longer her son.

— Walburga never was good to her children, but she did loved them. Though she didn't know how to show it. Regulus was her favorite. Her youngest son was her only hope, the only thing she had after Sirius betrayed her. Regulus was not like Sirius, he was submissive to her; and that was exactly what she wanted. So when Regulus died, the only son who had made her proud in some way, she felt like she lost the only person she had ever loved. The only person who paid attention to her. The only person who, somehow, looked up to her. ((Although that was what she believed, I'm not saying that Regulus really admired his mother 👁️)) ((This family's relationship is very complex)).

— Walburga, despite having a rotten heart, was a truly beautiful woman. Many noticed her appearance in her youth, drawing the interest of many, but Walburga never saw it as a compliment. Her black hair, her pale skin, and her sharp blue-gray eyes. Walburga was an imposing woman; not because of her size, but because of her eyes. Because of her always pressed together lips and her constantly furrowed brow. The elegant woman made her presence known wherever she went, for her beauty and her firmness. ((i LOVE Eva Green as her fancast, literally her)).

— The Blacks really had a thing for looking like a French monarchy (with the incest and all lol). Walburga loved to wear dresses that didn't match the era, which the other members did as well. Except, well, Sirius ((Siri babe I love you but you also liked making your mother's life miserable)).

— Walburga spoke perfect French, she constantly mumbled in French, saying things she couldn't say out loud and swearing at people. She tried to pass the language on to her children. With Regulus she managed to, with Sirius halfway. He had never been interested in anything his mother wanted to teach him. Another thing she managed to pass on to Regulus was playing the piano. She knew how to play the piano, she had gone to lessons as a child, and she taught Regulus since he was little.

— Walburga's two children looked like her. With their black hair, pale skin and blue-gray eyes ((It's not like they have much genetic diversity either tho, their parents are cousins KANWNDKIAJD)). Both inherited part of Walburga's personality, although in different ways. Regulus was the one who acted the most like Walburga at first glance; with the same frown, the same sharp eyes, and his unfriendly attitude. He had the elegance, coldness and discipline of his mother. He also inherited that disdain for vulnerability, but, ironically, he was the most vulnerable one there. Although he also inherited the ability to hide it very well ((except with Sirius)).

— Sirius, although he seemed completely the opposite, was also like his mother. Especially physically. It was scary because he really did look a lot like Walburga when he started growing his hair out. People told him that a lot and Sirius hated it, yet he still kept his hair long. He also took after his mother in terms of sociability. Of course, Sirius was an explosive extrovert and Walburga was reserved, but they both understood social dynamics perfectly. And they took that to their advantage. Besides, Sirius had a way of arguing, a way of insulting, very similar to his mother's. Looking for and noticing the same weak points as her in people. Sirius hadn't noticed that until one day, in the middle of a horrible argument, Remus yelled at him that he was exactly like his mother. Sirius was horrified to hear that. And began to hate that part of himself. He hated knowing that he was his mother's son, that the blood of that horrible woman also ran through his veins.

— He wondered if she had ever loved him, or if he had ever loved her.

— Walburga, on the other hand, died feeling miserable, knowing that she lost her entire family. And that was, in part, her fault. She sometimes found herself wondering if perhaps she was too hard on him, but she quickly pushed that thought away. Sirius decided to abandon her, abandon his entire family, and Walburga would never forgive him. Although she wished things had been different. She really did loved her oldest son.

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It may sound strange but I really love this character. Walburga is such a complex character, I had a lot of fun creating a lore for her. There's a lot to say about this family, and JK is useless and no one likes her so SKWJJAJD here are we with our headcanons.

Don't be afraid to comment guys, I love when you do that ((I need friends)).

You can send questions too, I'd really like some interaction.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 41

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: In Saecula Saeculorum

Notes: Contains spice. 🌶️ I can't believe it's the last chapter. 😭

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. 🌶️!!!Spicy and smut parts!!!!🌶️. Slight redemption arc.

Special warnings: Scent-Kink. Foreplay. Unprotected sex. Consensual. Strong language.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +220K

Chapter:  41/41

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Perhaps it was silly, but you lighted every single candle that was in your bedchamber, the small flames were barely enough to see the room and it’s furniture. You took the figurine from the pocket of your vest and placed it next to the doll on your bedside table. Then you fished the nightgown from under the sheets where it was left that morning, it’s thin fabric would not offer much protection from the cold but a solution would be entering the room soon.

Your clothes were discarded into the wardrobe, the nightgown slipped on so easily and it flowed around your curves freely. In the back of your mind, you kept thinking of what you had agreed to. Never did you think you would ever wed, the idea was almost ludicrous. But now… now it felt so natural, so right to take the step. You were fidgeting with your fingers when the knock on the door came, your heart picked up it’s pace and for just one small moment your confidence wavered. You tried to beat that feeling down before it could grow stronger, it was just nervousness because everything was still so new.

You went to the door, slowly opening it, and ignoring how shaky your legs were. You peaked through the gap and saw those weeping eyes stare back at you.

“Hello…” There was not a chance that your smile didn’t give away your nervous state to him. He tilted his head a little to the side, eyes inquiring.

You swallowed hard and opened the door further, letting him in. He placed the promised bucket of warm water near the bed. The only thing that betrayed his own spiking nerves was his hand clasping and unclasping at his side a few times. Your eyes were drawn to it, to the shape of his hand and the form of his fingers, the strength with which it had often held you. When your gaze lifted, you found his own studying the way you were undoubtedly staring at him, a hint of a smile formed on his lips.

His eyes narrowed, smile growing, a teasing statement, “You appear nervous.”

Your chest felt full of air but none of it would release to let the wit out, a shrug of the shoulders would have to suffice. The Ash Man’s gaze lowered from your face, brow slightly arching as he took in the sight of you.

“Maybe I am.” It was unfair how much your voice was fighting your will to keep it steady.

He had definitely heard that tremor in your voice, he forced his attention on something else, the doll sitting beside the figurine on the bedside table was his chosen target. Lancelot picked it up again, the faint smile disarming as he looked down at it.

“Are you here to play with my doll again?” You jested.

“Not with your doll, no.” He flashed a grin.

Your mouth fell agape, an incredulous look send his way, “I beg your pardon?”

He grew a lopsided grin, to timid to face you after that bold statement. You walked further into the room, stopping a little away from him at the foot of the bed. He placed the doll down again, then took in your appearance once more, his gaze grew undeniably hungrier.

He took off his cloak and draped it over the foot of the bed, then stopped right in front of your nose. His hungry eyes flowed over your form, even as he circled around slowly and stopped behind you. He pulled you closer by the hips, his palm skimmed across your abdomen.

“I love how you look in this.” His mouth moved against the skin the nightgown left uncovered at your shoulder.

You felt the fabric move against your leg and realized he was bundling a side of the nightgown up. Soon your thigh felt the chill in the room. He kissed the back of your head, you felt the heat of his quick breaths on the nape of your neck. His fingertips grazed over your bare thigh and your breath hitched.

“Do you know,” He said softly, “how much I wanted to have you among those books back there?”

He left you to think of that whilst he kissed your shoulder.

Back in the library, he was astonished by his own self-control. It had crossed his mind more than once to put you on that table, instead of the book, and read every inch of your skin with his eyes, his mouth, his hands…

But the risk to be disturbed was far too great and only the heavens knew if you would even have agreed to it. Never did he think it would be like this, to have such improper thoughts that were so difficult to contain in the back of his mind. Never did he believe to be the sort of man to even consider such actions. You had awoken something that had been kept buried inside, and whenever you were near it rose to the surface and clouded his mind into an irresistible haze.

You bit your lip and leaned into him a little. “You have been very patient tonight.”

He hummed, hearing the playfulness in your tone, and made you turn to face him, “And you? Have you been thinking of this moment?”

Your nod in response came comically quick. Tentatively, his fingers skimmed over the fabric of the nightgown, until they began their work to undo the small knot at the neck that kept it secured.

“As lovely as you look in this, I will have to take it off of you.” He nodded to the bucket of water.

You gulped at the huskiness in his voice. He sought your eyes while slipping his fingers under the shoulders of the nightgown, the fabric slipped down your arms and bared you upper body. He helped it fall to the ground completely after it had stopped at your hips. The cold chill ran over your skin until his warm hands came to brush along the length of them.

“Alright?” He asked when seeing the slight shiver.

His arms wrapped you in his embrace, his body shielded you from the cold in the room. You hadn’t noticed until now how hot he felt, warmth was radiating from him.

As he warmed you up, he asked, “Must I ask Helio’s permission for our joining?”

He didn’t sound opposed to the idea.

“You didn’t ask permission for anything else.” You deadpanned with a grin.

“I prefer to not make you a widow so early.” He jested back, a pinch of genuine concern.

You leaned back and pecked his lips. “I will wed you, even without his permission. But it would be nice to have it.”

He shared the opinion, his gaze fell to your bare front. “I will prove to him how good I will be to you. I swear it.”

His hand moved from your waist and slithered it’s way higher to cup a breast, his head tilted to kiss your throat. “I will show to you tonight how good I’ll be.”

You suppressed a giggle when he began to nip at your throat, and neck, rather playful. “Promises, promises…”

“I always keep my word.” He breathed.

That wasn’t quite true. “You are literally breaking the vow you took while saying this.”

He was smiling against your neck. “I always keep my word to you.”

Your soft laugh filled the room. “You’d better. I want my husband to be truthful.”

He leaned back to see your face. “I want my wife to be content.”

With one step back, he broke away and saw how you moved your arms to cover yourself. It was mostly because of the cold chill that hanged in the room that you were still adjusting too.

“Fear not. I made certain the water I brought is warm.” He consoled, while undoing the belts of his jerkin.

The sight of him undressing helped warm you up rather quickly. He took the leather off, and then the shirt, placing them both near his cloak and making matters more fair. He came closer again, you met him halfway.

You weren’t going to let some cold air ruin the plans you had made. You noticed a small birthmark on his neck that you hadn’t before, and touched your fingertips to it. He studied your actions for a moment, chest rising and falling quicker, then he took hold of your hand to lead you closer to the bucket with him.

“Do you still want this?” He asked, eyes locking on yours.

You were trembling, this time with anticipation. “As much as you do.”

A spark went through his eyes, that boyish smile tugged at his lips. His breathing was uneven, as if he hoped to get just enough air to keep his lungs working. He swallowed the dryness in his throat away and reached into the bucket to grab the rag. Suddenly the wet rag was above your head and he squeezed, the water dripped down heavily onto your hair and made you flinch.

“You rotten knave!” You cursed, and tried to cover your eyes against the water. Another spark flashed through his eyes, the smack to his arm did not discourage him in the slightest.

Now that the excess water was out of the rag, he started. It was surprising to see how he took the task seriously. He began at your face, went carefully around and over your lips, making his way down your neck. That rag moved over your skin with precision and eye to detail. You felt like a book being read, letter by letter. By the time the rag was at your chest, you wanted to take it from him and discard it, too eager to grab him close.

Still, you stood very still. Even as the rag tickled down your sides, to your hipbone. He sank to his knees, moving the rag over your thighs, slowly the warm rag slipped between them and your hand flew to his shoulder for support at the contact. He was ever so patient and gentle, letting the warmth of the rag tease a little. His lips touched your abdomen lovingly brief. He rinsed the rag in the bucket and continued down to your calves, careful at the scar of the wolf’s bite. His mouth brushed over your thigh, and he gingerly held your leg.

The scent of you like this made desire hit like a kick to his stomach.

He was on his feet again, took the linen towel and began to dry your skin. For him, it was easily the perfect excuse to touch you. Then it was wrapped around your shoulders, the fabric hugging you, as well as him. The warmth of his chest heated up your back, the hotness of his breath took away the chill on your neck.

You reached behind, to cup the side of his neck while he nipped at yours. His firm grip turned you by the hips, you leaned in to kiss the small scar that sat on his chest, your hands greedily skimmed over his abdomen. Your bottom lip dragged over his skin to his collarbone, where you placed another wet kiss, not caring in the slightest if you behaved licentious. You wanted to taste him, to feel him shiver under your affections and bring him to the edge of that self-control he always had. The linen fell off your shoulders, he held you tight, touching the low of your back.

“On the… bed…” He could barely form the words through the haze he found himself in. “Get on the bed.”

It could have been an order, if it hadn’t sounded so desperate, almost pained. For a second you thought about giving a witty response, until you saw how the raw, pure, lust had overtaken the blue of his eyes. Your mouth crashed to his, tongue touching his lips. All you registered was that he had turned with you, the next second you found yourself on the bed. The chilly sheets were a great difference to the heat of his body that was already covering your own.

His knee was placed between your legs and moved so little just to create more space for himself. As his tongue searched for yours, he began to undo his trousers and soon they were discarded on the floor. Your hands didn’t know where to touch him first. His neck, his chest, the muscles of his back, you wanted to feel all of him.

His mouth slowed down as it moved across your skin, a sudden patience had taken over in him. You intended to continue what had been interrupted the previous night and reached down to palm him. He prevented your hand from getting anywhere close to his groin and pinned it down above your head.

“You will feel me soon enough.” He tsked into your ear.

You already had, his hardness had brushed against your inner thigh. His mouth moved along your collarbone, the touch of his lips increased the further down your body he went. His hand glided down the inside of your wrist and arm, and made you learn how sensitive the area truly was.

A pleasant tingling spread up your chest, to your neck, and down your shoulders. You couldn’t help the content noises and small gasps from flowing out. It only seemed to encourage him, spurring him on to flood your being with all he could give. He brought his hand down between your legs, stroking through the wetness with two fingers. He was sucking on the skin of your neck with fervor, it was a feverish mess of moans and increasingly strong need.

His hand was gripping at your hip, trying to bring you closer than you could possibly be. He was breathing hard, his thumb was circling exactly where it needed as he sank two digits inside with ease. You grasped a hold on his shoulder when he began to slide them in and out at a steady pace right away. A moan spilled out. “Oh… gods… fuck…”

He crashed his lips to yours at hearing the crude language. It still wasn’t enough to silence it when it spilled from your lips again, and the word rolled into his mouth, where it soon escaped him too. He knew then, that you couldn’t help it, and neither could he.

The knot in your core was winding itself up tightly, he was getting far too good with knowing how to work your body. It felt like such a desperate need to have all of him, but he was so focused on your sole pleasure. With the last bit of self-control you had left, you grabbed his shoulders, moving him up more. His movements halted, eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or even protest. The first thing you did was move a knee up against his hip, another push…

He read the silent request in your eyes and made you hook your leg around him, he rolled over, and by doing so got you on top of him. The pads of your fingers pressed into his chest, slightly grasping at him as your lips dove down to litter his skin with their silent confessions of love. His hands never left you, one skimmed over your torso, the other caressed your thighs and between them again.

“Oh… f-” You swallowed the curse, for a moment it brought you close to crying at the sudden pleasure it caused rippling through your bones.

He could see you shiver, feel you try to clamp your thighs together more to try and numb what he was doing.

“Does it feel that good?” He was genuinely curious.

How good must it feel for you to be moaning like this and looking close to tears? The thought that you were as desperate for him as he was for you made his mind spin.

“Uhuh.” You barely managed a nod.

Your mind and body were fighting each other when you took his hand and stopped it from bringing you to your release. He looked up a little lost, until you palmed him, positioned and brought him inside. A strong jolt went through him, his hands flew to your hips.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait.” You grinned down at him devilishly.

He was upright and locked on your lips instantly, a breath, “I don’t mind.”

You cupped his face and let him steal the air from your lungs, letting him replace it with the essence of his being. The kiss was intense, consuming you of time and place itself, for a moment nothing else existed. Your hips had moved almost by their own volition, he groaned into your mouth and drew in a sharp breath through his nose. Once they had moved, they didn’t stop their calm pace. The difference in being above him, was having more control, it was surprising how willing he was to give it. It was almost as if he was less hesitant to think of his own pleasure now that you were on top and reminding him of it. His neck was already flushed down to his chest, his skin hot beneath your palms everywhere they moved over him.

He had to break away from your lips, his breathing was heavy, he began to kiss your collarbone up to your neck and down again. The cold in the room was long forgotten, heat spread through your body and caused lightheadedness. His body started to meet your movements, and you had to hold on to his shoulders at the feeling it send into you. Your fingers laced themselves into his hair, massaging his scalp while you felt him leave a wet kiss against your throat. “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

The confession caused a strong reaction. A quiet gasp escaped him, a shiver made his whole body tremble. And then your back met the sheets again, he never even broke the contact between you. He took control again, quickly putting you under him. His hips rolled into yours, chasing what was being build together. It left your breathless, your mind a cloud.

His husky voice snaked into your ear, warm breath running over your temple. “I love everything you are, my sweetheart. Now and always.”

The lovely admission was yet to be processed, when he made another of a different sort. He said it just when he thrusted, slow and deep, “I love the way you look at me when I have my cock inside of you.”

You gasped, he grinned. This time he caught your hand before it could deliver the scolding smack to his arm, and he pinned it above your head into the mattress. His pace was beginning to quicken, as he held your hand down.

It was indescribable to be at his mercy and be rendered speechless by how good he was making it feel. Your eyes fluttered shut, head lolling back, surrendering to the feeling it was building. You felt his other hand return to tease, two fingers working together, circling and stroking until he knew where they were needed to draw the moans from you.

The urge to press your legs shut was building along with the tightening knot in your core. Your hand was finally freed, thank the gods because you needed to hold on to something as the overwhelming sensation was nearing. You held on to his arms, told him to keep going how he was going because it was just what you needed. He obliged, clearly close to his own release, but by the gods he obliged.

And then the knot in your core snapped loose. Stars exploded behind your closed eyelids, cries fled their constraints, your mind lost control over your body as the sensation coursed through your veins. He thrusted deeply once more and moaned lowly as his release hit him. The tense muscles in his arms relaxed, just like the rest of his body as it entered a state of bliss.

Shaking breaths of air filled your lungs slowly, you wrapped him in your arms, his head came down to rest on your chest after he withdrew himself. Silence enveloped you, and you listened to his slowly steadying breaths and found your own start to match. It wasn’t long before his lips trailed over your collar bone, working their way up your neck to your face. He kissed your chin before locking his mouth with yours, cupping your cheek ever so gently.

His stubble tickled your jaw. “I cannot get enough of you.”

“I can tell.” You tried to keep the giggling quiet. “You’re in luck. I cannot get enough of you either.

He gazed down into your eyes, a smile that bordered on shy curving his lips. You cupped his neck and kissed him, holding him close and hearing the content sound erupt from deep within his chest.

You broke away and bit your lip. “I think I will need that bucket and rag again.”

“And my aid?” He asked.

“That sounded hopeful.” You jested, a grin formed on your face.

He tilted his head.

The idea did sound nice. “Your help is welcome.”

His eyes squinted for a second, then the offer came. “I must admit, the effort of bathing you now could be pointless again.”

“Meaning?” You dared him to say it.

He opened his mouth to answer, but then it curved into a smirk. The answer became evident when he started kissing you again, with the same passion and fervor. Bathing would indeed be pointless, because neither of you were done for the night yet.

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It was the first time when waking up into his arms came without a certain rush to avoid being exposed as a couple. And you took your time just enjoying the earlier morning, his arm around your waist and his quiet calm breathing on the back of your neck. You turned around, facing him. He was sleeping so peacefully, some stray hairs falling over his closed eyes. It was irresistible to touch his hair, his face…

It took him quite some time to wake, it happened so calmly. A smile was forming first, his eyelids still heavy from sleep opened very slightly.

“You are not sending me out the door?” He sounded so content while stating it.

Your index finger traced the mark under his right eye. “No. We do not have to hide anymore. So, I’m enjoying my morning with you.”

He lifted himself up to sit upright, and was quick to grab you. You gasped when his first action of the morning was to kiss you so fierce.

“Gods.” You scrambled out of his grasp, giggling at how his greedy hands tried to catch you again. Almost did you fall off the bed to get away.

His eyes took you in slowly, the hunger in them appeared near instant, it took far too long before they reached your face. Your cheeks burned, and you quickly grabbed your nightgown off of the floor to cover up.

“Good morning to you too.” You grabbed the cloak hanging on the foot of the bed and tossed it in his direction.

Even when just awake, his reflexes did not fail him and he caught the cloak before it could hit him. The way you looked, bare in the morning sun, a divine vision to behold.

Lancelot put the cloak aside, laughing quietly, “My trousers.”

You watched him gesture to them and look at you inquiring. You tossed them at him next, and a laugh erupt from him in response.

“You are feisty this morning.” He commented, and saw you search your wardrobe for clothes to wear.

“If you are to be my husband, you should get used to it.” You shot him a grin.

He stood up from the bed, confident and bare, to put his trousers on. Your eyes had wandered briefly and he had caught you looking. Whatever he must have seen on your face, it had certainly stroked his ego.

He smirked. “I am going to ask Helio for your hand. Unless you object?”

You winced. “He might cut off your own for it…”

He approached while you began to put your clothes on, not to help, “Will you still wed me with one hand?”

You heard the amusement in him. “Without a doubt.”

He stole the bodice to delay you getting dressed. You stole it back after a brief struggle.

“I want to tell Percival. Before he has to hear it from others.” He said.

A smart decision. “Good plan. I do find it important that he is alright with us joining.”

He hummed in agreement. It didn’t need to be said that the boy’s opinion could potentially end this betrothal.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell my father of our plans first?” It would not be surprising if he feared a bad response.

“He would not appreciate it if I do not show the courage to tell him.” Lancelot said.

It was perhaps correct to assume that your father would react better if he knew the Ash Man showed the courage. “Alright then. Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens.”

Without asking, he helped you close up the bodice, often letting his fingers brush against your chest. You cupped his neck and drew him closer to kiss him.

“Get dressed, Ash Man.” You spoke against his lips, smiling.

It took him another moment to show the self-restraint and step away to do exactly that. A lifetime of mornings like these, was a beautiful prospect.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Stepping out the door of your room together did not go without a moment of awkwardness when Ser Florent walked past.

“Good morning.” The knight said to the both of you. Without a warning he leaned in and tugged at the hem of your shirt that had been stuck under the bodice, the fabric fell more neatly now.

“Uhm… thank you, Ser Florent.” You were a little amazed at how observing he was.

“You are welcome.” He said, then turned to Lancelot. “I would think you would have noticed that, considering you never stop looking at her.”

Lancelot let out a small breath, seeing how the knight was almost grinning. “Good morning, Florent. Have you seen Percival?”

He gave a nod. “I saw him run in the direction of the dining hall.”

Lancelot thanked him for the information, and before the two of you could walk off, Ser. Florent pulled your attention.

“Y/n. Colette has been speaking of you. Would you sit with her at breakfast? She would like that.” Ser Florent was asking so politely and full of hope.

You couldn’t say ‘no’ to that. “I’d love to.”

Ser Florent smiled at you, something he didn’t often do for others. Maybe the knight considered you a friend, you hoped he did. “I appreciate it. As you may have noticed Colette is quite shy, it’s good for her to have someone to converse with more often.”

You touched his arm amicably. “I look forward to getting to know her better.”

Ser Florent gave a respectful tilt of the head. “Lancelot, I was informed that I am to guide you through your duties as a knight until we know for certain that you will do well on your own. Is that alright?”

The Ash Man was a bit surprised by the news. “That sounds alright. Thank you, Florent.”

The knight bowed his head once more, and went on his way again.

“He avoids much conversation with the knights, but seems to enjoy conversing with you.” Lancelot said.

It was nice to hear it. “He’s kind. I like him.”

“As long as you like me more.” There was just a pinch of jealousy under the jest.

You sighed. “There is only one other knight you have to compete with. Don’t worry.”

His brows knitted together. “Who?”

“Squirrel.” You reminded him.

He drew a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Oh. Of course.”

“Oaf.” You said, and started to walk to the dinning hall.

He quickly caught up to walk along. And you found Squirrel not far from the dining hall indeed. Lancelot called out to the boy, beckoning him over and sharing a look with you.

“What is it?” Squirrel wondered why you were delaying getting your breakfasts.

Lancelot knelt down to the boy’s level. “Percival, I wish to tell you of my plans before others hear of it.”

The boy was more than happy to hear a ‘secret’, “What plan?”

How was it possible, that he was more nervous to tell the boy than he was to face the wrath of Helio?

“I have asked y/n to wed me.” He searched the boy’s face for any reaction, big or small.

Squirrel blinked a few times, then leaned back a little. “Have you gone mad?”

Madly in love, more like.

Squirrel looked up at you, pleading for the Ash Man. “He can be a bit daft. Please, don’t be angry with him for it-”

Lancelot narrowed his eyes at the child. “She agreed.”

Squirrel’s eyes darted between you and the Ash Man in disbelief. “What-… how?”

You snorted a laugh and turned to hide it.

Deep down, he knew the boy was just doing it to get on his nerves. It was perhaps Percival’s way of showing affection. And he could not deny that it did entertain him often.

He was patient with the witty boy. “Because she loves me, as I love her.”

Squirrel looked up at you again. “So you’re staying here right? With her, with us?”

Lancelot smiled at him, it was clear that the boy had still been worried about him staying at the fort. “Percival,” He placed a hand on his shoulder, “do not doubt your importance to me. I never wanted to part with you, or her. I am staying.”

“Won’t Helio be mad at you again?” Squirrel was concerned.

Lancelot squeezed his shoulder. “Let me worry about that.”

You knelt down too, taking hold of Squirrel’s arm “May I have your blessing for our joining?”

The boy looked at you and Lancelot, both on your knees to seek his approval. The nod from the child send a wave of relief through you and the Ash Man.

You pulled Squirrel into a tight hug. “Thank you, my Little Squirrel.”

Mirena’s voice sounded, and offered Squirrel the freedom he was trying to regain from your arms when you let go. “Such emotions so early in the morning, how come?”

Helio stood at her side, looking down at Squirrel with curiosity. You and Lancelot stood up from the ground, he held Squirrel’s shoulder and you believed it was for the unspoken support he was about to need. Mirena was smiling, blissfully unaware of the storm that threatened to come down on this peaceful morning. Squirrel seemed to sense the anxiousness in the Ash Man and stood in front of him, shielding him from Helio with his small frame.

Lancelot cleared his throat, looked at you once before locking eyes on Helio. “I asked your daughter to wed me.”

You drew in a sharp breath at the announcement. Mirena looked stunned, then her eyes went to her husband to see his reaction.

Helio’s voice was colder than frost in winter. “Did you now?”

Lancelot’s confidence wavered for only a second, he picked it back together and said, “Yes, sir.”

A chill crept up your skin when they let their stubborn nature match against each other.

“And why do you believe I would allow it?” Helio’s tone was firm.

“Helio.” Mirena tried to get him to control his flaring temper.

Lancelot tried his best to speak of it in a calm manner. “You love your daughter. You want to protect her, I respect that more than you might believe I do. Truly, I-”

Helio stepped forward and took you by the arm, “I will speak with my daughter of this. After all, it is her life and future this concerns.”

You couldn’t bring a word out and Helio walked off with you.

Two hallways of silence, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You dug your heels into the floor and made him stop. “Father. I know you are against this-”

He turned to you, grabbing you by the shoulders. “How can you be certain? Little Moon, how can you know he will not break your heart? Wait a while, if he truly loves you he will wait.”

Words failed you, you had never seen him like this. He was begging you to think about it, to wait.

“Father…” You kept calm, trying to be considered of his concerns. “Nothing is for certain, only the presence. And what I am certain of now is that he loves me, and I love him. I am certain I want to join with him.”

He pulled his hands away, composing himself, the agony in his voice remained. “When you wed, where will you live?”

Was he sending you away?!?

“I swore to Squirrel I would never abandon him, you cannot throw me out of our home!” Your voice raised a little.

Helio recoiled like it had physically struck him. “I will not discard my child!”

Relief washed away the worry. “Then why did you say that?”

“Because if I let him wed you, the Ash Man will have to consider this place his home. He is not riding off with my daughter never to return. You, and him, remain here. With us.” He pointed at the floor, making his point.

You found those terms agreeable. “I understand. I think he will agree to-”

He interrupted. “There is more.”

Oh…

Helio laid out his plans. “Listen well. I am not getting any younger. This place is all there is left of our clan. Someone should always be in charge, someone of the Dawn Folk. Ciro, bless the boy’s heart, is not suited for this task. But you are. And perhaps Lancelot is suited to stand beside you in this task with his experience. We have a duty to our people, to this court that carried the hopes of our clan. Stay here, with him, with us. Learn to rule this court from me and ensure it’s future. That is what I ask in exchange for my blessing.”

You were quiet for a while, processing what this meant. Helio’s eyes fell on something behind you and you turned just enough to see Mirena and Lancelot standing at a small distance.

Mirena pushed him forward a little by the arm. “Go…”

The Ash Man slowly approached, stopping a few steps away.

“My home is wherever she is.” Lancelot said. “If she agrees, I will be at her side and rebuilt what has been lost.”

He must have heard the terms Helio had laid out. But he had only just broken free of having to lead an army of Red Paladins, did he not wish for another life? One where responsibilities were not so heavy to bare.

“Are you sure?” You asked him, this would change the future. “Lancelot, my father is asking us to be in charge of this fort in time. Are you sure you want to do this? I will not force you into a life of duty if this isn’t what you want.”

Lancelot locked eyes with you. “I understand the choice I am making. And I understand why it must be made.” He looked around himself for a moment. “This place, it’s history, it cannot be forsaken. Your home, your heritage, you still have it. It can still be saved. How could I refuse?”

You quickly walked up to Lancelot and whispered. “You don’t have to do this just to please my father. He’s not Father Carden, he won’t-”

He silenced you by cradling your head all of a sudden. “I am not doing this for him. If this was my home, if these were my parents, my heritage… if you were asked to help rebuild what was lost of my clan, what would you do?”

You realized he was doing this not out of duty, but out of the love he had for you. It rendered you speechless.

His voice was softer. “Would you stand by my side?”

You were nodding, and quietly answered. “Always.”

He blinked, his gaze intense and full of devotion. It made you forget who watching this display.

Helio tried to sound firm, but it was audible that he couldn’t muster it. “That is settled then. Yes?”

Lancelot’s hands fell away, letting you answer the question for the both of you.

“We agree.” You faced your father.

Helio gave a nod of approval. “We will talk about this after a meal. We cannot fill our stomachs with romance.”

He walked in the direction of the dining hall again, only stopping to tell the Ash Man, “Treat her well. My legs may be getting slower, but no man can outrun an arrow.”

“Helio.” Mirena sighed.

“Father.” You scolded.

Lancelot reaction was unexpected, he smiled at him. “I swear it. Sir.”

Then Helio smacked his hand unto the Ash Man’s shoulder, and looked absolutely amused by the way he nearly jumped. “Good.”

Helio released him and walked away. Mirena was smiling at you widely.

“My Little Moon is going to have a joining.” She was delighted and came to cup your cheeks, pressing a kiss to both of them. “I cannot believe it. I still sometimes think I will see you run in here with your trousers full of mud from playing in the creek.”

You couldn’t say a word when you saw her become emotional for a moment. She was apologizing for the way her eyes were getting watery. You embraced her until it stopped.

She took a step back and looked at Lancelot. “Not many are brave enough to face my husband the way you have done now.”

Lancelot tilted his head down. “I will do what I must to stay with your daughter.”

Mirena hummed, then said, “Helio likes you. It does not appear so, but it’s true.”

He wasn’t sure on how to respond to that claim and only gave half a smile, a sign of hope.

You still wondered what her opinion on the matter was, “Father will agree to us joining. But will you?”

Her gentle eyes rested first on you, then on him. “The paladins, Father Carden, the Reaper… no one has been able to keep you apart. I believe it is your destiny to be together.”

It was true, the odds had not been in your favor, and still you and him had stood strong against it all.

“And with that in mind, I give you my blessing.” She said, then turned to Lancelot. “Although I doubt it would stop you if I didn’t.”

The Ash Man send his eyes to the floor, always surrendering to Mirena’s knowing looks.

“We should be heading for our breakfast, before young Percival takes our plates. We did send him in there alone.” She said.

You took hold of Lancelot’s arm. “Good plan.”

She gave you a secret smile and walked ahead, still she caught a glimpse of how the Ash Man leaned in and kissed your head whilst walking behind her.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Ser Florent had come to collect Lancelot right after breakfast, the knight took the task of guiding the newest knight serious. When evening came, and after you had read for Squirrel and Ciro until they fell asleep. You searched for your betrothed throughout the fort, but it was outside the curtain walls of the fort that you found him. He was sitting in the same spot as the night of the feast. You went to sit beside him as he watched the sea in the distance, the moon reflected on the water as if it was full of stars.

You sat down, not close enough to his liking because he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against his side. His nose was in your hair, inhaling a few times. You felt his heartbeat under your palm, it quickened just before he kissed your temple. For a while nothing was said, you held his arm around your waist.

“That was your way of asking my father for my hand?” You broke the silence and snorted a laugh at the memory of the moment.

He was chuckling. “It is harder to say ‘no’ to a statement, than to a question.”

Your shoulder bumped into his. “Oh, you think you’re so clever.”

“It worked.” He protested.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, fingers playing with the leather straps across his chest. “We’ll be ruling over this place someday. I don’t know if I’ll be ready when that day comes.”

He brought a hand up to massage the back of your neck. “Everything will be alright. You are far stronger than you might think. I’ve seen it. And if there are matters you cannot handle, I shall take care of those. We will do as we have been doing, work together.”

You nodded, it was hard not to think too much of the future and get anxious over things that didn’t even happen yet.

His hand was brushing over your abdomen. “A warm day of spring was a good idea from Mirena to choose for the joining.”

It also offered your father what he so wanted, some time to get used to the idea.

“By then, everyone will have processed the news.” You hoped.

He hummed. “And Helio might be less inclined to chase me with that crossbow again.”

A small laugh escaped you, before you could stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you think he would ever left me borrow it?” He sounded like he was already dreaming of it.

“I would wait to ask him that.” You said. “For at least a year. Don’t tempt him too much.”

He chuckled. “I suppose you are right.”

You couldn’t stop grinning. “You already have his daughter. Don’t try to take his weapon too.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh. He pulled you closer again, moving some of his cloak over your form as well. It was a pleasant way to sit together like this.

His nose touched your temple, “The last time I tried to kiss you here, you turned away from me.” He recalled the moment he regretted. It often still caused him shame.

You lifted your head, your own nose almost touching his. “I don’t think I would have turned away if you hadn’t be drunk.”

That certainly surprised him. “No?”

You shook your head. “You are hard to resist.”

He tugged at your waist, smirking. “Then don’t.”

His hand came up to your face and his fingertips glided down over your cheek, he repeated the caress with the back of his fingers. You followed that advice and brushed your lips to his, and broke away two seconds later.

His hand was on the back of your neck quickly, a smug smirk dancing on his lips, “Think you can get away so easily?”

You furrowed your brows until his mouth collided to yours, a silent scolding for denying him what you were so eager to give. When his hand on your waist accidentally made you ticklish, your giggle made your lips break free.

He couldn’t stop gazing at the way you smiled.

“I need you with me. Always.” The confession fell from your lips so effortlessly.

Raw emotion flashed through his eyes, intensifying them so much that it was hard not to look away.

“My sweetheart…” He whispered, quietly.

Your lips reconnected and refused to part for the night.

The Hidden had been persistent since the day you met him, and now you were grateful for it. They had brought you together.

Two summoners, chosen by the gods themselves.

Two lovers, chosen by free will.

Two lives, to spend together as one.

And a love that was written down in a book on matters of the heart, to be read and spoken off for centuries to come.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[tansyuduri]

Merlin Loregasm Rewatch S1E1

Hi Everyone! Welcome to my rewatch of Merlin focusing on the lore. I am a giant nerd so pretty excited about this. Time for THE DRAGON'S CALL

Okay so by the looks of it Merlin walked all the way to Camalot. Every other person we ever see walking on the roads and many who ride get ambushed by bandits. So it seems Merlin either managed to remarkably avoid trouble once in his life. Or he took down a lot of enemies. Unless he just killed them all you would think someone would have noticed Magic unless he hid it. So it is possible Merlin already had a good deal of practice using sneaky magic in fights BEFORE arriving in Camalot.

It could also just be that the Road from Ealdor to Camalot is VERY safe because later in the season Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, And Morgana get there without incident, AND Gwen gets there fine in season 4. OF course, she might have had the skill to just fight off enemies. Another thing to think about that is funny is the possibility they were safe later partly because Merlin just managed to atract every possible danger and totally destroy it on his way to camalot in Merlin fashion. (And it kept happening if he ever visited home the times we do not see.) I could just be overthinking everything too. That will be a common theme.

OKAY! this is interesting, This is pretty much one of almost no one we see with a last name let alone a middle one. At this time in history last names were HIGHLY uncommon and usually belong to nobles. SO this brings up a question I find really interesting. Is it possible that the Collins family were once nobles? What happened to magic-practicing nobles when Uther took charge? Were they killed and then had their family stripped of their titles? If so it would explain the random last name (And how his mom knows how to move in a fancy dress perfectly later) HOWEVER in To Cure All Ills, Edwin Muirden has a last name. And one would think Uther would recognize it if THEY were a noble family. So this could just be a random fluke thing.

Full line from Uther here is: " When I came to this Land, this kingdom was mired in Chaos. But with the People's help Magic was driven from the realm, So I declare a festival to celebrate 20 years since the great dragon was captured. And camalot freed from the evil of Sorcery."

THIS tells us a ton. First of all, Uther did not grow up in Camalot. It's possible he was either a ward of some other person if he was from an ancient bloodline of Kings of Camalot. OR he became king purely by Right of Conquest! A magic mention just after 'mired in chaos' is interesting because it could imply there was more bad magic than just the death of his wife going on. This is supported by the mention that the people helped! It is also possible it is independent of magic if so WHAT CHAOS? I NEED TO KNOW. But either way, it becomes clear that the people supported enforcing the magic ban big time. Let's move onto 20 years. If the popular headcannon that Arthur turns 21 on his birthday in the first season is true, it means Arthur was born and then Magic was purged in about a year. Or at least the great dragon was captured about a year into the purge. The first seems more possible because of the "And Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery."

Does this look like an OH SHIT I knew this woman. She was a noble! face or not? He also lets her monoluge a while before the "Seize her" and looks kinda haunted.

Okay, Seriously what does it take to do this teleport spell. We only see her and Morgouse do it. MERLIN WHY DID YOU NOT LEARN THIS?

Gaius is very big on Magic must be studied and learned in this episode but later will mention Uther "drowned children for magic they were born with" We also see other people born with magic (Mordred, Morgana) So my thought is that people can be born with magic and sometimes do some random things and have random outbursts. BUT they need to study to learn any big spells or use it purposely. There are also people NOT born with magic who study it and learn. (Gaius seems to hint at this.) (or perhaps they have to be born with the ability too in which case Gaius was born with the ability but had to study a LOT) I'm a strong believer in "Magic is an Allegory for things you are born with that makes you fundamentally different from most people." So I prefer the later version) This hints that like MANY things magic ability is part talent and part study.

This just in! There is an estimated time to get from Ealdor to Camalot by walking. Perhaps Merlin did NOT clean out every possible threat along the way? ALSO RANDOM THOUGHT was Merlin's room once Alices? Or just a bed he let patients lay on? Like Merlin tends to do?

OKAY first mention of religion. The word "God" is used. I will be keeping track of these since its one of the things I wanna figure out with this rewatch.

Morgana: To whom! He practiced some magic. he didn't Hurt Anyone Uther: You were not around 20 years ago. You have no Idea what it was like.

Morgana: How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then? Uther: Until they realize there is no room for magic in my kingdom OKAY interesting this seems to possibly hint that once again more than Ygraines's death went on. It also seems to show that the magic ban is not universal "MY Kingdom" Yet Uther doesn't seem like the type to ally with magic-using kingdoms. We'll keep an eye on this

This starts the reflective surfaces reveal Ilusion magic rule. We will be keeping an eye for exceptions to see if I can find any but the rule seems pretty universal (Except for cups at the dinner scene. so puddles and mirrors.)

Okay those are for sure Tomatos which TOTALLY were only in the new world. I love this because it implies some great sorcerer like Sigan was like "you know what we need more crops. I want a more varied breakfast *summons crops from half a world away* PLANT THESE PEASANTS."

Funfact! Gwen's family/ancestor most likely came to Albion with the Romans during their invasion! This is one a reason it's ridiculous when people try to say there were not black people in Britain at this time.

Gaius: The likes of which I've never seen before

Merlin: What do you mean?"

Gaius: Well magic requires incantations, spells; it takes years to study. What I saw you do what elemental Instinctive

EXEPT is does not always require incantations, and we know for a fact that gaius talks about children born with magic later. So I think he means controled magic here.

Gaius: Uther banned all such wrk 20 Years Ago.

Merlin: Why?

Gaius: "People used magic for the wrong end at that time. It threw the natural Order into Chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then, even the dragons. Ok this seems much more likely to just refer to Ygraine. We also get a mention of Uther destroying Dragons. A freind of mine on a discord brought up that they think the dragon lords must have actually helped Uther because HOW ELSE DID HE KILL DRAGONS (let alone get a chain to hold one!)

GAH! No spell was recited here! WHY Merlin WHY! Was this done on accident?

We've got another God Used!

[tobiasdrake]

You've written before about how Cell is a twisted exaggeration of Goku's ethos (and all of Dragon Ball's, if you can even separate them), the pursuit of martial arts mastery and self-improvement at the expense of everybody's lives.

I don't want to talk about that; I want to talk about the *opposite* of that.

I want to talk about Androids 17 and 18.

More than any other recurring superpowered characters, they are completely uninterested in martial arts as a discipline or even a hobby. Their fighting styles are simple, direct, and mostly lacking in signature techniques; the most distinctive, 17's energy shield, is so practical it's boring. This is all thematically appropriate, as they don't have ki and therefore have no use for the philosophical groundings in martial arts meant to help channel ki.

As antagonists, this makes their relationships with the rest of the cast pretty clear. As allies...I think Toriyama had trouble coming up with ideas for them for a while. Through the Buu arc and the first several arcs of the Super anime the Androids had no significant combat roles. When they finally get recruited for the Tournament of Power, though, their fighting really leans into this; the Androids have no interest in studying novel special moves or testing themselves against new opponents, so they have no compunctions about interrupting or opportunistically eliminating their enemies. Arguably 17 being the sole survivor is a cosmic validation of this pragmatic attitude.

It's also a nice underdog moment in general. Something I really like about Dragon Ball's tournament arcs is that they're creative with how they resolve.

Typically, in a tournament arc, we're there to see our boy conquer all the competition. That's what is expected. Dragon Ball has featured nine tournaments. Ten if you count the Anoyoichi Budokai or Other World Tournament in Z filler.

21st Tenkaichi Budokai

Uranai Baba Tournament

22nd Tenkaichi Budokai

23rd Tenkaichi Budokai

Cell Games

25th Tenkaichi Budokai

28th Tenkaichi Budokai

Universe 7/8 Tournament

Tournament of Power

That's a lot of tournaments. Some didn't get expanded into full-blown tournament arcs but that's not the point. Point is, of those tournaments, Goku only actually wins two of them. That's including the Anoyoichi Budokai, as he was the last man standing in the ring but he and Paikuhan were formally disqualified for a rule violation midway through their match so it doesn't "count" as a win.

Dragon Ball goes to great length to avoid having Goku just eat all the competitors and win the gold in each and every tournament. In almost all of them, including Tournament of Power, he is centrally situated in the climax of the arc. But they're creatively written in such a way to keep things more interesting than "Goku wins yet again" would be.

The use of 17's lack of ki signature to allow him to sneak his way to the end after Goku and Frieza have double-KO'd themselves to take out Jiren is a great example of Dragon Ball having its cake and eating it. Goku gets his climactic fight, but the tournament gets a more interesting and creative outcome than it would have if Goku just shitstomped Jiren off a ledge and claimed the trophy.

[lunariamv]

take 2

yandere x reader (but hes a gamer internet guy :OOOO); obsessive + possessive behavior, manipulation, stalking, threat of self game-ending

❈The guy is a shut in, so either you met him online or you were childhood friends before he became a full on neet-

❈ Either way, he's liked you ever since the two of you met (whether he admits it or not) and his crush only grew the longer you've been friends. And soon enough turned very unhealthy.

❈ He stalks all of your socials. Including the ones you haven't told him about. He's an internet sleuth, so he found every single one of them rather quickly. With sporadic eagerness, he looks at all of your posts to learn everything about you (that he doesn't already know).

❈ His urgency is that of a starving man, from how erratic he checks your pages and carefully sifts through them to gather as much information as he can. If you have any pictures of yourself on there, chances are he's been staring at them for hours on end.

❈ and saves them on the hard drive for later

❈ SIMP

❈ SIIIIIMMMMMPPPP

❈ Will get you anything you want. He likes to please you with gifts, so he'll buy anything your heart desires, even if you had plans to buy it yourself. This irks you to no end, because you feel inclined to pay him back, but he insists otherwise, which in turn makes you feel guilty. It's gotten so bad that you have to watch what you say around him. Even the slightest hint of you mentioning something you need, it'll already be on it's way from a delivery service. ((He has money from his remote job;; so he has plenty to spend on you))

❈ One of his favorite things is studying you, and picking up on all your mannerisms. Once he picks up on certain quirks, he can't help but notice them and get excited. At this point, he fanboys over nearly everything you do. If you're wearing a cute outfit, he's internally screaming about how 'moe' it is, or if your sneeze is adorable, or your laugh… all of your cute behaviors drive him mad.

❈ If the two of you hang out, it's usually at his place. Surprisingly, it's not too messy, but oftentimes you find yourself helping him pick up opened delivery boxes or sorting through a game or manga collection. He loves this because he likes to imagine you're his wife or his personal maid.

❈ On that note, he fantasizes way too much. Every romance or sensual anime cliché ever, he's probably already thought about your involvement in one. Maybe you made him a personal lunch, or you had plans to confess to him with a love letter. Or worse where you're his maid or catgirl-

❈ Stalks you online a lot. Most likely, he's probably waiting for you to get on. If he sees you're online, he'll instantly ask to call, or text, or beg you to play games with him. He practices almost everyday so that he can get the satisfaction of carrying you in a game.

❈ Incidentally, he thinks e-couples are cringe, but there's an obvious double-standard when you're the one playing as his pocket support. If it's the two of you, he doesn't hesitate to pretend that you're a couple around other players.

❈ Even though he might be a stuttering, introverted mess when the two of you go out and hang, he's entirely different over the computer. It's like a switch. When playing games together and calling, he's extremely level-headed and surprisingly suave. It's pretty fun to him to catch you off guard with his prowess in games, especially competitive ones. He enjoys impressing you. Watch him 1v5 and kill the entire enemy team, just because the two of you made a bet that you'd go on a date with him if he won.

❈ But in the real world, he's the loser :(

❈ When the two of you go out to hang, he's usually extremely clingy, and keeps very close to you. He doesn't really talk to other people unless he has to, like a waitress or a cashier. He's too busy internally yelling in his head whenever someone mistakes the two of you as a couple. Whether you're shy, or more forward, he loves you a lot, and wants to be with you.

❈ "…(Y/N), can we go now? Please??" He whispers with a grimace. As much as he loves spending time with you, there's too many people in here for his liking. Unfortunately, you're currently invested with this really cute stationary at this store. They have a keroppi pen set! "No." You retort, and he groans under his breath. But he has to admit, you look really adorable admiring all the stuffed animals and cute stationary.

❈ bro playing an irl dating sim fr

❈ If you two are dating, it's very wholesome stuff. The mere thought of you being together is surreal, like a dream he's yet to wake up from. He's shy when it comes to affection at first, but then later on he'll constantly ask for things, like for hugs or to hold your hand. Then even later on when he's comfortable, he's super clingy and gets jealous very easily.

❈ "Uh… can I… have your hand?" He asks quietly. Some guy was staring at you, and he wanted to set the record straight that you were already taken.

❈ You notice his apprehension, but you decide to humor him. "I don't know, can you?" You reply with a hint of playful sarcasm.

❈ He frowns with a half-lidded gaze. "Please…?" Normally, he'd be amused, but right now he's getting desperate. If it weren't for his strong sense of self restraint, he would've grabbed your hand already.

❈ His sincerity, plus the seemingly puppy dog eyes make you surrender, and you hold out your hand to him, and he hastily takes it. Once your palms touch, his grip turns tight, like you'll vanish if he lets go for even a second. Though it might not translate well externally, he's practically exploding with dopamine on the inside.

❈ unlike the last guy who calls you waifu ironically, this guy will do it 100% unironically. None of his fictional crushes can hold a candle to you.

❈ If he's good at hacking, he'll bug all of your things. There might be a tracker on your phone, or he's on cams looking at you 24/7. He might hack into your computer for files or go through phone and do subtle things, like mess with your schedules, texts, or even make you unfollow other men or friends who challenge your relationship.

❈ absolutely no murder. This man is a cowardly pacifist. Though to compensate, he's very manipulative. In the sense that he will guilt trip you whenever you don't pay enough attention to him, or make him jealous. If you don't feed his clinginess, he's going to get sad. You don't want to make him depressed and kill himself, do you?

❈ When it comes down to it, he's extremely a very insecure and paranoid man. Though he doesn't look like it at first, he's a handful, and you have to be prepared to deal with him, whether you accept him or not. After all, you're the only thing he has, and even though he lacks confidence, he's very stubborn and devoted to the things he treasures dearly.

sus like amongus

i love this type sm ;-;-;-;-;-;

follow me for similar stuff;;

♡ quotev ♡ wattpad ♡ archive ♡ caard ♡

[idk6123]

Magical Studies (Sylvain X Male Reader)

“Your swinging is horrible.”

“I know. Why do you think I use magic?”

 “And yet the professor wanted for you to train in swords.” Felix frowns. He feels he’s being held back from his regular training by helping his younger brother.

“Maybe he wants me to be a Trickster or Mortal Savant? Well, whatever, I probably stick with magic anyway.”

“Fine by me. Still, the professor egged me on to help you. Let’s not waste time, so you better focus.” As both men draw out their swords, someone else joins the training ground, causing the swordman to scowl. “No.”

“I haven’t even said anything.” Sylvain quickly defends himself.

“My apologizes. You meant to train here, huh?” Felix looks at Sylvain, who awkwardly looks at him. “Thought so.”

“I was just wondering how you two are doing. Thought I would check up you two.”

“I’m horrible.” Y/N comments.

“And now I’m training him right now. Meaning you’re interrupting.” Felix coldly says to his friend.

“Well, maybe you should get a different teacher.”

Felix glares at the taller man. “You’re saying this is my fault?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” Sylvain quickly clarifies himself. “I thought maybe it would be better for Y/N to have a different way to learn.”

Felix hums. “I can see that.” Without a warning, he hands over the sword to Sylvain. “Here.”

“W-What?” Sylvain looks surprised. “You want me to teach him?”

“Yes, but knowing you, it probably won’t work.”

“But I don’t use swords.”

“Good. You’re on equal level. Maybe you can figure it out together.” Felix looks at his younger brother, who’s stunned his older brother would do this. “Talk you later.” Thus, he walks away and out of the room.

“Wait! Felix!” Sylvain wanted him to change his mind, but deep down, he knows it will do nothing. After sigh, he looks back at the younger Fraldarius. “Your brother is a handful.”

“Imaging living with him for your entire life.” Y/N cracks up a smirk. “So… are we going to train, or…?”

“Sure. Why not?”

They get into their places and begin sparring. Of course, they begin slowly. Though they slowly build up the pace, bit by bit. Everything has been going well, until one incident.

“What the-!?” Sylvain gasp as he quickly looks back, where he sees Y/N’s sword hanging against the wall.

“Oh my-! Are you alright!?”

“Did you just threw the sword at me?” The redhead looks back at his friend.

“I-It just slipped!” Y/N quickly excuses himself. “It was an accident! I swear!”

“It’s alright.” Sylvain calms him down, but Y/N still feel guilty. “How about we take a break?”

They decided to go outside after putting the swords away. That’s when they walk around the Monastery. While they chat, Y/N rents about the entire situation.

“I almost killed Felix too. Multiple times. He called me a moron in return.”

“Don’t fret about it.” Sylvain continues to feel his friend better. “You’re maybe a bad swordsman, but you’re still good mage.”

“The best.” Y/N says with full confidence. “I got straight A’s in the School of Sorcery back in Fhirdiad. Mercedes and Annette would say that too.” He let out a sigh. “Why can’t the professor see that?”

“Someone sounds full of confidence.” Sylvain find it funny the total shift of mood.

“I’m a modest guy, but I take pride in my magic.” Y/N explains. “I studied every type of magic. Whether it’s reason, faith or dark. I even create my own spells.”

“You can do that?” Sylvain sounds impressed. “What did you make?”

“Let’s see… I made a spell that shoots a beam of ice. One that tangles enemies with vines. But I also made spells that are used out of combat. Like one that cleans object, increases one’s charm, turn bad food into good one-”

“Wait a sec. Increases someone’s charm?” Sylvain is intrigued of how he can use this for picking up the ladies.

Y/N regrets confessing one of his spells. “I’m not going to let you bother any more girls.”

“C’mon! How about we see this as an experiment?” Sylvain suggests. “Say, what if we use the spell in order to neutralize the enemy without any shed of blood. Won’t that better the world?”

Y/N can’t believe Sylvain slimed his way to convince him to do it. “Fine, but only for a better world.”

-

Both men are standing at the marketplace, where they try their experiment. There are a couple of female students at the stall, in which Sylvain is intrigued by.

“You sure about this? I’m not finalizing the spell, so you might get results you don’t like.”

“Nothing permanently?”

“I sure hope not…”

“Fine by me.” Sylvain carelessly ignores the potential risk. “Let the experiment begin.”

“Alright.” A purple magic circle appears in front of Y/N and a purple shine lands on Sylvain.

The philander quickly looks around his body, seeing nothing changed. Nor does he feel hurt or changed. “…Does it work?” There isn’t a respond of Y/N. Thus, he looks back at him, seeing him look away with his face red. “Are you blushing?”

“S-Shut it!”

“Wow, you totally are!” Sylvain looks impressed. “The spell worked!”

“I increased your natural pheromones… and it looks like it worked.” Y/N tries his best to act normal. “J-Just go flirt with the girls already!”

Sylvain chuckles. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The man leaves Y/N and heads towards the stall, where he chats with the girls. Though he quickly notices that the girls aren’t responding like Y/N did. However, he did get some odd gazes from the male students. Feeling like he figured what the risk is, he returns back to Y/N, who looked normal first, before he shies away.

“The spell only works on guys!”

“I-It does!?” Y/N looks surprised. “I probably changed the pheromones to focus on guys…”

Before Sylvain could respond, one of their classmates passes by. Being polite as he usually is, Ashe decided to say hi, only to instantly notice the strange aura. “H-Hey guys. Y-You two having a good day?”

This confirms Sylvain’s suspicion. Y/N surely noted this. “We’re good. We’re heading to the dorms. See you later.”

-

Y/N and Sylvain heads to the bathhouse to get rid of the pheromones, thus breaking the spell. That’s what at least Y/N thinks. Ones there, the redhead prepares himself to go in the bath, which happens to be empty. Before undressing himself, he notices Y/N heading the exit.

“You’re not coming?”

“First, you’re teasing me with the entire spell. And now, you want to join you in a bath, while the spell is still active?”

“I don’t see the problem. Aren’t you supposed to confirm that the spell breaks with this?”

“You’re such a-” Y/N let out a grunt. “Fine… Wonder how you treat me if I were a girl?”

“Probably worse.” Sylvain says with a smirk.

They change their clothes and get into the bath, with Y/N staying away from Sylvain, who’s putting his entire body in the water. After coming out of the water, he looks back.

“They’re still there?”

Y/N gets closer, only then having an answer. “Y-Yes. Just continue putting your head underwater.”

Sylvain continues to clean himself from the pheromones. After a while, after his entire body is drenched by the hot water, he looks back at Y/N, awaiting for an answer. The spellcaster gets closer.

“It’s gone.” Y/N comments.

“Thank goodness. Now I don’t have to worry about guys like you smothering over me. But I guess you still will do so.”

“You think I’m into you?” Y/N says with a smirk. “We will be an awful couple. You will just cheat with any girl that passes by.”

“You really think that low on me?” Sylvain acts offended. “Like you don’t have your own baggage. Your brother will probably kill me if we were together.”

Y/N then smirks. “Now that you point that out, maybe we should be together.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Fine by me.”

-

After a long bath, the two guys continue spending their day together. As they approach the dining hall, they get approach by someone, reminding them that they completely forgot their training.

“Well? Did you learn something?”

“A lot.” Sylvain quickly pitches in. “…Just nothing revolving around sword fighting.”

“I’m not disappointed. Just confirming your lackless attitude.” Felix says coldly.

Y/N frowns. “Can’t you stop acting so rude.”

“Can’t you just do something as easy as practice. I can’t have your back the entire time.” Felix explains. “You need to learn to be independent.”

“I am.” Y/N argues back. “Maybe if you look less on what I can’t do and instead look on what I can, you know I’m more than capable.” The younger man let out an annoyed huff before leaving.

Felix let out a groan. “That idiot…”

“You should treat him less hard. He’s still a kid.” Sylvain defends his friend.

“We’re here for a reason. We’re not kids anymore, nor should we act like one.” Felix still holds up his stance. “He should realize that.” With that, he walks away, leaving Sylvain wondering what’s up with Felix, and how he could help Y/N.

-

Y/N is again practicing again at the training ground, where he swings his sword. Still, he doesn’t feel confident about it. He then sensed someone joining him. As he looks back, he sees Sylvain, as well the professor.

“Oh, hello professor. Sylvain.” Y/N nods to his friend.

“I heard you were having trouble with the sword. I didn’t knew you needed more guidance.” Byleth kindly says.

“I told him.” Sylvain admits. “Felix was complaining about the entire thing, and I know I’m not the one that can teach you, so I went to the teacher.”

Y/N smiles. “Thank you.”

“Next time when you’re having trouble, go to me.” Byleth adds.

“Looks like all that ends well.” Sylvain smiles. “Let me know if you need something.”

As he tries to walk away, Byleth speaks up. “Hold up. I think this an opportunity for you to learn a thing or two.”

Sylvain sighs. “Better luck next time…”

-

Some days has passed, and Y/N and Sylvain are swinging blows. The taller man can tell the spellcaster become better. Ever since their private tutor with the professor, Y/N’s sword affinity become better. His swings become smoother, faster and stronger. His stance as well become better. Sylvain would even admit he’s better then him. That definitely proves the current match, where Y/N uses Hexblade to destroy Sylvain’s training sword.

“What the-!?” Sylvain looks shocked.

“I did it!” Y/N smiles. “I recently learned that move. And now I will use it.” He gives a mischievous smirk. “Those bandits won’t know what will hit them.”

“I never think I will see the day where you act like a hotshot.” Sylvain responds. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you! Oh, and also thank you for your support. If only Felix would act more like you. …Without your bad parts.”

Sylvain laughs. “I can wish the same. Maybe you can call me your big brother instead?”

“Absolutely not. You’re more like… umm… a very good friend.”

“Just a very good friend?”

“Maybe.” Y/N smirks back. “I would consider you a good husband if you cut down with the flirting.”

“And what if I stop?” Sylvain asks.

“Action tells more than words.” Y/N says. “I guess only time will tell I can view you not only as a trustfully friend, but as something more.”

“Sounds like a challenge, and I sure like to take one. How about a warming up? We can go to the dining hall and get some food.”

“Sounds like a good idea. We can celebrate my victory.”

[themculibrary]

Bruce And Tony (Science Boyfriends) Masterlist 3

part one, part two

A Manic Monday in the Life of Bruce Banner (ao3) - agentsimmons T, 8k

Summary: Being a dad to so many kids, a hardworking scientist and the s.o. of someone high profile is bound to lead to stress overload sometimes. Thus, Bruce experiences a very manic Monday morning.

A mate in the African Jungle (ao3) - MoPerson E, 3k

Summary: The sun was shining. The trees were green. Sixteen year old Tony Stark was in his element deep in the African jungle. His life was good and he had a great family. It was his good fortune that brought him Bruce Banner, the son of the biologists coming to study the wildlife on the reserve. A mate and a precious child await him.

Blue As True As Blue Can Be (ao3) - aaralyn M, 77k

Summary: Tony Stark has worked hard to make sure everyone sees exactly what he wants them to. After all, they'd all rather see the asshole with the too-bright smile than the terrified person underneath who is desperately trying to conceal that which has caused him so much pain. Trust him, he knows.

(Tony Stark is a mutant, and his father had made sure to note /exactly/ how he felt about that. Now, with the Avengers living with him full-time, it's getting more and more difficult to hide the part of him that almost no one still alive knows about.)

by the light of all your bridges burning (ao3) - branwyn M, 39k

Summary: Bruce Banner is twelve years old. It's not an easy age. For anyone.

Danger is my Middle Name (ao3) - MoPerson E, 4k

Summary: Tony hated trying to cover up who he was. But a contaminated water supply would throw a monkey wrench into his carefully air sealed rouse.

Destiny Says So (ao3) - Rosawyn T, 2k

Summary: Tony is curious about Bruce's soul-mark, if he's found his soulmate yet. And of course there's also the matter of Tony's own soul-marks.

Disconnected (ao3) - brucebabener T, 8k

Summary: Bruce knew his entire life that his "soulmate" was out there. When he meets Tony and finds out it's him, Bruce quickly realizes Tony doesn't feel the same way for him.

Electrolyte Mind (ao3) - writtenbypira N/R, 53k

Summary: (High school AU) The first time Tony Stark talks to Bruce Banner is the same day Bruce Banner first tries to kill himself.

Tony Stark doesn’t realize he is the reason that Bruce fails.

Bruce Banner doesn’t realize he repays the favor three years later.

Five Times Tony Protected Bruce, and One Time Bruce Returned the Favor (ao3) - Zorro_sci T, 5k

Summary: Exactly what the title says. That is all. : )

Forged With Blood, Forged With Fire (ao3) - agentsimmons M, 91k

Summary: When Bruce looks over Tony's blood work he notices an anomaly that sets them both on a search for answers and shows them just how much they mean to one another in the process. But when the truth finally becomes clear, it's only the start of more obstacles and changes to come as they each find themselves facing new enemies and old.

headspace (ao3) - IsisKitsune M, 7k

Summary: “Come on! You can’t go run off every time that damn watch screams that your heart is beating above normal. It’s just making out, how bad can it get?” “Tony, we’re been through this…”

In which Bruce thinks Hulk is the epic cockblock and Tony is helping them get on the same page.

home (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight M, 11k

Summary: An Ace!Bruce-centric peek into our favorite Poly-family, from the first meeting with Alpha!Tony through the addition of Thor, Loki and the most recent kiddos.

You guys know how the story goes– unconditional acceptance, Alpha!Tony being an instantly smitten kitten, tooth rotting sweetness and our favorite genius getting all the love he deserves.

In the Broken World (ao3) - sahiya G, 15k

Summary: Truly, Bruce only meant to stay a day or two at the lake house. He never intended to move in with Tony and Peter; the two of them were clearly a world unto themselves, and Bruce didn’t want to wear out his welcome. He also didn’t want to be on the outside looking in all the time, so for everyone’s sake, it seemed wise to limit this first stay to just a day or two.

And yet. Three days passed, then five. Bruce didn’t feel like an intruder, and he didn’t feel unwelcome. He felt... comfortable. And he came to the somewhat disturbing realization that he had no desire to ever be anywhere else.

in this together (ao3) - i_buchanan E, 62k

Summary: Bruce was pretty sure that he was going to be the youngest person at MIT. He didn’t realize that honor actually went to his roommate, the already-infamous Tony Stark. Granted, the child prodigy turns out to be nothing like he expects, for better or worse, and Bruce figures that they just have to make it work. Besides, it should only be for one semester, right?

Or, the fic where they live together, move out together, and eventually get together.

Just a Touch (ao3) - The_Buzz T, 8k

Summary: When Bruce and Tony are trapped under the debris from a bomb, Bruce can't afford to transform into the Hulk without risking Tony's life. To make matters worse, Bruce is badly hurt and help might not be on the way for a while.

meanwhile the world goes on (ao3) - sahiya G, 7k

Summary: Bruce had no idea what he would find when he finally returned to Earth, bruised and battered and exhausted. Two years was long enough for a lot to happen, and Bruce had long ago stopped trying to predict the future. Tony was the futurist, not him.

He hoped that Tony was okay, more or less, and he expected that even if he was, he would sooner spit in his face than kiss him hello. Bruce could handle that. He deserved it, even.

What he didn’t expect was the kid.

Somewhere That's Green (ao3) - volunteerfd T, 63k

Summary: A mild-mannered dork’s nerdy hobby leads to the creation of a gigantic green monster that ruins his life. But there is a happy ending.

In which Bruce Banner owns a flower shop on Skid Row, Audrey Fulquard is his assistant, and Tony Stark is Tony Stark.

Special Delivery (ao3) - heyjupiter G, 3k

Summary: When Peter leaves for a semester abroad in Wakanda, Bruce and Tony send him care packages. When Peter returns from Wakanda, he brings back gifts for Bruce and Tony to return the favor.

the world's a beast of a burden (ao3) - sleeponrooftops T, 1k

Summary: In which Steve takes a look at Tony the bully and Bruce the very, very nice man and doesn't understand them at all.

When Bruce Banner Asks for a Favor and Gets A Lapful of Tony Stark Instead (Not that he's complaining) (ao3) - Aria_Lerendeair E, 7k

Summary: Tony missed Bruce when he disappeared six months ago. He likes the Hulk, but has a 'thing' for Bruce. He decides to convince him to stay by showing him his state of the art lab(s) (yes, there are two) he built for him. Maybe even seduce him if he has the chance.

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy wednesday! hope you, Saeth and nightshade had and will have a great week. (btw, what dog-race is nightshade? I don't think I've read that before 🤔)

Honestly I would love to read more about the nameless timetravel fic! So curious to see how they will change things this time around. For instance, how easy do they get rid of valentine?

nightshade is a lab retriever and he's super lovable and spoiled and he likes being wet so he smells like a pond most of the time! i hope you are doing well and they'll have a pretty easy time, they have alec and alec's never met an enemy he didnt study. i hope you're doing well! we finally all napped and feel much better.

saeth named it the same sky and now it has a name lol i hope you enjoy!

lumine

—

Alec is aware he’s blunt.

He’s also aware that Magnus is working through a trauma that Alec can’t fix through anything but time and Magnus doesn't have the time he needs.

It’s with desperation that he looks at Cat and Ragnor and he gives a wry smile.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Catarina. And Ragnor, I look forward to getting to know you in this new lifetime.”  He blinks guilelessly, hoping he got his point across and he thinks he does.  Cat hisses lightly, reaching out to grab Ragnor’s arm and Ragnor himself pales to a lighter green and nods, eyes hardening.

It also lets them know that Magnus has been wounded in a way they’ve always desperately tried to protect him from, one of their deaths.

“Darling, tattling on me to that old cabbage already?” Magnus asks, voice dark and low and Alec chuckles, wrapping an arm around Magnus’ neck.

“I need to make sure someone keeps an eye on you when I’m back at the Institute.”

Magnus is thoroughly distracted now, face outraged as he uses magic to drop Alec and pin him to the ground.

“You are not going back to the Institute!” Magnus barely manages to get out, “you are moving in here. Immediately.”

And because Alec hasn’t been married to him for centuries now and not learned how to be a little shit, he hesitates.  He knows now exactly what it does to Magnus for him to look up through his lashes, or to bite his lip while sulking.

And Alec will now admit that he sulks, because it makes Magnus give in immediately and Alec isn’t a strategist for nothing.

“But we only just met, Magnus. I thought during the first time round, you said these things had to happen slowly? That I was moving too fast?”  Alec purposefully tries his best to sound earnest and also hesitant, a little sad even.

Magnus almost falls for it and it’s with outrage that he realizes he’s almost been played.

“The audacity of some brats.” Magnus mutters, but he’s smirking down at Alec and he nudges him playfully with his boot. “Come up here darling, stop making me want to lock you in the bedroom.”

“Oh?” Alec asks, suddenly interested, “is that an option?”

“Why do you want to know if that’s an option?”

“Well obviously I’m not doing the whole interim head and commander I did last time. I don’t see why I can’t just stay wherever you’d like me.”

Magnus is staring at him adoringly and Alec sighs, letting himself pout up at the man he loves.

“So are we faking my death, am I being kidnapped?” Alec flutters his lashes and then frowns, wincing as he looks contemplatively at his side.

“You still have your parabatai bond, don’t you?” Magnus asks, something off in his voice and Alec winces, because he did try to block that off. Not wanting Jace to feel Magnus or Magnus to feel Jace.

“I haven’t had to share you for decades now.” Magnus whispers and Alec sighs and kisses Magnus’ cheek and the corner of his eye. “I thought it was just the bond resettling, that I couldn’t access all of you but would with time.”

Alec curses the pain he’s about to cause his parabatai, but he also doesn’t care as much as he might have a century ago.  Alec’s siblings lived good, full lives and they died happy and content.  Rare, beautiful gifts for shadowhunters and Alec finds that he looks at these new, young versions of them more like their distant descendants. 

Which is good because in the last few decades, Alec has learned that there is truly nothing and no one that Alec wouldn’t sacrifice to keep Magnus safe, happy and alive.

“Okay, we’ll fake my death. Maybe we can take care of Valentine and I’ll just show up in the aftermath. Explain who Jace is, what Valentine did to him. We can blame the bond breaking on him. Say he kidnapped me or something.” Alec is resolute in his decision. Other things, better plans, can be figured out but Magnus needs this.

Alec can tell in the way his hands are trembling, just a little.  The way he reaches for across the bond and then pauses, as if hesitant to press closer.

It’s grating on Magnus already and Alec doesn’t think he needs this new stress on top of holding back his temper and sorrow over what’s happened to them.

True they have each other and a chance at a new life, but it’s also different.  They were done with this life and this world, moving on to another and now they’re back.  So far back before so many things went wrong.

Alec hates that he knows Magnus is going to feel responsible for solving so many of those problems for the downworld.  Magnus doesn’t need a young interim head fighting his parents at his side.  Magnus needs a strategist who knows all sides and can be brutal, even towards his own people.

Alec has been Magnus’ secret weapon in many small and large wars across the years and it’s a position he’ll happily take up again.

It’s with ease that he rucks up his shirt and hands over his stele to Magnus, who takes it with the same awe that he had the first time Alec went to Edom for him.

Someday, Magnus will stop looking at him like that. Like it’s a surprise that Alec loves him so much.  It’s been well over a century and it still hasn’t happened, but Alec has hope and enough love to make it a habit.

“Third times the charm?” Alec says even though it doesn’t feel funny, that this is the third time this part of his soul has been cut away.  He’s lived longer now without Jace and bonded to Magnus than he did the other way around. 

It feels strange to not let Magnus encompass him entirely and Alec misses it with a fervor that he leans into. It keeps him steady through the breaking of the bond and Alec can feel Catarina’s startled, concerned magic pressing against him.

“He’ll be fine now.” Magnus murmurs next to him and Alec settles, safe in that knowledge.