#and in his case it would have nothing to do with talent

[literaryavenger]

DOPPELGÄNGER

Summary: In a universe where Sebastian Stan not only exists but he's also your favorite actor, you swoon for him when you happen to meet him up and about New York one day, having no idea he's not who you think he is.

Pairing: sort of Sebastian Stan x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Misunderstandings. Kind of manipulative Bucky but he's still a sweetheart. Kind of naive and clueless Reader. No mentions of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.8K

Requested by: @myfavbuckyfics

A/N: I'd like to thank @myfavbuckyfics for this ask which I had so much fun writing and I'm sorry it came like almost a full year late 😭 Her beautiful idea was basically 100% done, I just wrote it out and the result is just amazing! Also, I promise I'm still working on requests and they're slowly coming. Also, my messages/ask box are always open and I'm always delighted to receive requests to challenge myself with. I'm gonna try harder to find time for writing because it really brings me so much joy, especially when I find people that read and appreciate my work. Thank you to all of you who do!

Masterlist

The first time it happened, Bucky didn’t think much of it.

He’d accepted to go out for a breath of fresh air with Steve for the first time since he joined the Avengers and moved into the Compound and he was a little overwhelmed when a group of girls came up to them, fangirling and asking for photos. 

But Bucky understood, it’s Captain America, he assumed they were just excited to see Steve and asked Bucky to join the photos because he was Captain America’s friend, just to include him. After all, it hadn’t been announced yet that he had joined the team and nobody had any idea that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was back.

Then it started happening when he was alone too. Girls coming up to him and asking for photos with him. But he figured, from what he understood of the internet, that it got around that he was Steve’s friend so people asked for photos with him because it was better than nothing.

But what really puzzled Bucky was when they would call him a name he didn’t recognize: Sebastian. 

That’s how Bucky found out that there was an actor that coincidentally lived in New York too, called Sebastian Stan. Sam and Scott made Bucky watch basically all the man’s movies and, as much as Bucky could agree he was a talented and versatile actor, he didn’t love the fact that they looked so similar. But what could he really do about that? 

So whenever Bucky got asked for photos he would try to politely say they had the wrong person or, if he was in a good mood, he’d just pose for the photos and move on.

You’re out and about in the streets of New York when you spot him: Sebastian Stan. Just standing outside of a coffee shop, like he’s waiting for someone. You didn’t expect him to have hair that long or a stubble like that, but you did read he’d been letting it all grow for the shooting of an upcoming role.

He’s your all time favorite actor since all the way back to 2010 when he starred in Hot Tub Time Machine, but you never thought you’d ever meet him, despite living in the same city. New York is pretty big after all and full of people you’ll never meet.

You debate whether to approach him or not, worried you’re gonna bother him, but then tell yourself you’ll just say hi and, if he feels like it, ask for a photo. 

“Excuse me…” Your soft voice instantly grabs Bucky’s attention, but he keeps looking at his phone just in case it’s not directed at him. “… Sebastian?”

The tentative question annoys Bucky a little, today he’s definitely not in the mood to deal with fangirls, not after he’s been waiting close to two hours for Sam because he’s late. He turns around fully intending to shut this down right now, but the moment his eyes land on you, he feels like his heart stops entirely.

She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you talk again. “Hi, I… I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, and I’m sure you get this all the time, but I’m a big fan and just wanted to say hi.”

God, he thinks it’s so cute how nervous you seem to be as you try to be polite. Bucky doesn’t know what to do with himself and he’s talking faster than his brain can comprehend.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” He gives you a charming smile that makes you giggle and Bucky’s heart flutters at the sound, making him feel like the care-free young man he used to be back in the 40s.

“Could I give you a hug?” You ask shyly, dying to know how it feels to hug him.

“Sure.” Bucky answers a little too eagerly.

What the hell am I doing? I don’t like people touching me.

But Bucky’s thoughts are quickly squashed when you hug him. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do, awkwardly hugging you back, but then it hits him all at once. It’s warm and comforting and it makes him feel something he hasn’t in decades… Peace.

Right there as you pull away he decides, I can’t let her get away.

“Anyway, if it’s not too much to ask, could we take a pi-”

“Do you wanna get some coffee?” Bucky interrupts you, surprising not only you but himself too.

Did Sebastian Stan just ask me to get a coffee with him?

Did I really just ask this girl that thinks I’m somebody else to get coffee with me?

Both of your minds are racing and for different reasons, just staring at each other until you say the one word that makes Bucky both incredibly happy but also incredibly nervous: “Yes.”

Bucky tells himself that it’s okay, it’s just coffee, he’ll tell you the truth after, but the more you talk the more his resolve weakens. 

Talking to you is easy, it makes him feel carefree like when he was a wide-eyed young adult, not fully tainted by the world’s cruelty yet. And it brought out a part of him he didn’t think existed anymore, the part that flirted shamelessly with you the entire time, the part that got a rush of satisfaction at every giggle he got out of you and a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach with every shade of red he managed to make your cheeks turn to. 

It also didn’t help that you gushed over him, recounting every movie and tv show you’ve seen him in and how important each and everyone was to you. Bucky’s knees almost buckled [Bucky buckled lol] at the look of pure adoration in your face, that sparkle in your eye as you looked at him as if he was a real life shooting star in human form.

So he, when the date ends, as the words ‘I’m not Sebastian Stan’ dance on his tongue, what comes out instead is “Can I have your number?”

“Really?” You ask a little incredulous but he’s already taking out his flip phone, weird choice for an actor but okay, and you put in your phone number.

“Uhm, do you… Do you live close?” Bucky asks as he puts his phone back in his pocket. 

“Fairly.” You say vaguely. It’s not like you think he’s a serial killer, but he’s also a man you just met. “I could… Walk you, if you’d like?” Bucky offers, feeling protective over you and wanting to ensure your safety, but also desperately trying to prolong your time together. He just doesn’t want to let go of you.

You hesitate before agreeing, thinking he is a high profiled celebrity after all so there’s no reason to doubt him, right?

You feel like you’ve fallen into a fanfiction [ironic, I know] as you not only met your celebrity crush but he’s flirting with you and asking you out.

And so starts what, for you, is a fairytale romance, while for Bucky is more like a mission, his objective clear: Not let you find out who he really is. At least not yet.

As you keep going on dates and getting to know each other, or more like he gets to know you, Bucky does his best to become the man you seem so enamoured with.

In good trained spy fashion, he does all the research necessary about this Sebastian guy, the first and only time he abused his power at SHIELD to get into someone's personal files, determined to do everything he needs to keep you.

Bucky does the most, going as far as cutting his hair when he sees the actor’s haircut is slightly shorter and carefully planning his missions for times when he knows Sebastian will be away on press tours or shooting or crap like that and, when he doesn’t have missions, he just pretends to be out of town while barricading himself in the Compound, not willing to chance you finding him up and about.

He even gets himself an iPhone, going through the painful process of letting Peter teach him how to use it because the kid is the only one Bucky knew would do so without asking too many questions.

Sometimes he feels bad about lying to you and he considers coming clean, but every time he sees his face he falls more in love with you and he keeps convincing he’ll tell you the truth soon. But that time never comes.

He knows you’re falling too and he can’t bring himself to burst your bubble, not when you look at him with those bright, beautiful eyes full of love that sparkle adorably every time he’s around. He'll be Sebastian Stan forever if it means he gets to see you and be in your life everyday.

Still, he feels too guilty being intimate with you while you’re not aware of who he really is, so he makes a point to never go too far past pecks on the lips, which you accept and reassure him profusely that you’ll go at his pace, waiting patiently like the angel he believes you are.

He’s also aware that if you saw his Vibranium arm you’d immediately know he’s not actually Sebastian Stan, and not only that but he’s scared you’ll be horrified and run for the hills when you see just how broken he is, so he always keeps it hidden. 

You take notice of him always wearing long sleeves and leather gloves, but you don’t say anything about it as you don’t want to embarrass him if it’s about something he feels self conscious about, telling yourself he’ll eventually address the fact himself.

For six months everything goes smoothly, Bucky even manages to impress you with his Romanian skills, which he is more than happy to know get you fairly hot and bothered, but he keeps his promise to himself not to go too far with you until he tells you the full truth, always finding a way to come to you so he can make excuses about work stuff to not stay overnight.

But, as all good things do in his life, it comes the day where it all blows up in his face.

You’re waiting for Sebastian in front of his favorite sushi restaurant where you’re having your date but when he gets there, he almost walks past you without a glance and, thinking he just didn’t notice as he was looking at his phone, you grab his attention.

“Seb.” You walk up to him before he reaches the restaurant’s door and hug him hello, kissing his cheek like always.

Except this time, instead of returning your affections, he almost leaps back away from you. “Excuse me??”

He looks almost panicked as he looks at you like you’re crazy. “Who are you??”

You frown before you realize he’s messing with you. “Oh, nice one, Seba.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Acting like you don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry, are you a… A fan or something?” Sebastian asks confused.

“Are you gonna play the celebrity card on me after six months? Really?” You chuckle.

“Six months? What are you talking about?”

“Come, Sebastian, it’s me.” You sigh and cross your arms, starting to get over his little joke. But you have to hand it to him, he’s a really good actor. “We’re supposed to be on a date here.”

“Look, I don’t know you.” He says in a firm voice that makes you freeze, never having heard it before, you watch him take a step back like he’s afraid of you.

“Seb…” You say weakly, your arms dropping as you’re not sure what’s happening.

“Stop calling me that.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen you before in my life and I certainly don’t have a date with you.” 

I can’t help but feel hurt by his borderline cold tone, feeling tears starting to burn behind your eyes. “I-”

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble,” He cuts you off. “but please stop this distasteful joke or whatever this is before I call the police.”

Just as you’re about to cry out of both hurt and embarrassment all the same, Sebastian turns around to see a man standing behind him with a sheepish look as he avoids your eyes. Bucky.

“Uh, I’m sorry man, that’s my girlfriend. She was waiting for me.” Bucky apologizes to a gaping Sebastan, the actor can’t help but be amazed as he looks up and down at a man that looks so much like him, down to his own haircut. It’s like looking in an all-black dressed mirror.

Bucky keeps his eyes on his more famous version, but it’s not because he’s impressed by the similarities. He’s determined to keep his eyes away from you, his stomach churning so much he’s convinced he might throw up any second.

He saw everything, rounding the corner just as you approached Sebastian Stan. He remained well-hidden, his feet feeling stuck to the concrete as he witnessed the encounter in borderline horror and seriously debated just turning around and running away, but when he saw you were about to cry his protective side got the better of him and he felt the need to step in and save you.

He still can’t look at you though, fearing he might have just lost you for good.

“Wow…” Sebastian pulls Bucky out of his thoughts. “This is… Bizarre.” “It is.” Bucky forces a chuckle. “You can see how she’d be confused. Have a good night.”

Bucky’s quick to dismiss Sebastian as he feels like the more he stands there the more time you have to stew in your confusion and probable anger, and Sebastian doesn’t seem to think much of a man that looks like him with the same name too. Weirder things have happened in New York.

“Yeah, sorry I yelled.” Sebastian apologizes as he opens the door to the restaurant. “Have a good date, guys.”

Once Sebastian is gone, Bucky gathers all his courage just to look at you, the shock on your face clear before you snap yourself out of it and your expression goes blank.

“Who are you?” Is all you say and Bucky almost winces at your low, cold tone.

“I–” He gapes at you, not sure where to even start as the two of you just stand on the sidewalk. He sighs and runs a gloved hand down his face. “Look, I-I know you’re angry, just… Please come inside? Give me a chance to explain?”

You scoff but he starts pleading before you even get a chance to go off on me. “Please, I just want you to hear me out. Just give me a chance to tell you the full truth. You don’t have to say anything and you can leave after, just let me get the words out. Please.”

You hesitate, wanting nothing more than to turn around and run away from what you know is a potentially dangerous situation, but you know deep down that you can never say no to Sebastian, or whoever this is that you’ve spent the last six months falling for.

As you sit down in the furthest, most secluded corner of the restaurant you cross your arms and Bucky, as he told you his name is, tells you everything. And I mean everything.

He decides to tell you his entire history from the start just to paint a full picture, displaying an honesty that he’s never had with anyone, not even his therapist or Steve. But after the way he deceived you for six months and how horrible you must’ve felt during the encounter with the real Sebastian, the least he can give you right now is full honesty.

“... And I know there’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but I was just so terrified, doll.” He sighs, his eyes lowered in shame. “Terrified you’d run, terrified you’d think I’m a monster… I know I went about it in the worst ways, but I started falling for you the moment I saw you and I was so scared of losing you that I tried to do everything I could to keep you around.” You remain stoic the entire time, listening to everything that happened to him hurts deep in your soul but you can’t bring yourself to be sympathetic right now.

The last six months, everything you went through, it was all a lie. You thought you knew who you were falling for, but you were sorely mistaken. Even the cute nickname he calls you that you teased him so much for but secretly loved how adorably old fashioned it is, now feels hollow and just wrong.

When he finishes talking, you let a moment of silence pass between the two of you before you grab your purse, jacket and leave the restaurant without a single word.

Bucky doesn’t even attempt to stop you, after all you held the end of your agreement and listened to everything he had to say. Now all he can do is watch you walk away, knowing he’s lost you for good, the one good thing he ever had, just because he’s an idiot that made all the wrong choices.

A month.

That’s how long you mull things over before you’re ready to talk to Sebas–Bucky again. You went to the Compound with surprising ease but you were met in the lobby by Captain America instead of Bucky, who informed you his best friend had spent the last month wallowing in his apartment in Brooklyn, which you wish you’d known before you drove to the once again surprisingly easy to locate home of superheroes in Upstate New York.

So here you are, knocking at the apartment Steve told you Bucky sometimes resides in when he needs to get away from superheroing.

You almost gasp when he opens the door, your eyes widening at his disheveled state. You thought Steve was exaggerating when he underlined the severity of Bucky’s current mental state, but he was absolutely not.

He has dark circles under his eyes, his beard is unkept, his hair sticking out in odd places and it looks dirty. He’s obviously spent the last month in bed, not bothering to shower or even eat by the looks of it, his eyes red and puffy giving away that he’s done nothing but cry.

“Oh my god, Bucky…” You frown, the entire speech you made in your head on the way flying out of your mind as your concern overrides your anger or logic.

“Doll…” Bucky says quietly, his voice raspy and hesitant as if he’s not even entirely sure you’re actually standing there in front of him.

You stand there for a moment before you sigh. As much as you want to discuss things rationally and maybe even yell at him, I know I can’t when he’s in this state. For better or worse, you did fall for him and you can’t bear to see him like this, so you take it upon yourself to take care of him.

You make your way into his apartment and his eyes follow your movements as you silently take his hand and close the door behind you. Without saying a word, you help him shower, change into clean clothes, order food because he doesn’t have much to cook with and help him organize his apartment as you wait for it to arrive, although he doesn’t actually have many possessions to make an actual mess so it’s mostly just sweeping, dusting and gathering his dirty clothes in the hamper.

You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, he doesn’t look away for more than five seconds at a time, and you can tell he wants to say something but you’re not sure if he even knows what.

The only moment he looks away is when you help him take his shirt off, not wanting to see the horror and disgust he’s certain will be in your face, but to your credit you don’t comment or even react to his metal arm at all or any of the scars on his body, not even the massive one on his shoulder, but what you felt was something more akin to pity.

After you’ve eaten, you take a deep breath and finally turn to him.

“Listen… I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and… What you did was… Beyond wrong.” You say bluntly. “But I also can’t deny that, despite all the lies, I didn’t fall for you because I thought you were Sebastian Stan. I fell for you for all the talks we had, the way you look at me like I’m everything to you, the way you’re so sweet and flirty and cute… And that’s still you.”

For the first time in a month, maybe in seven months, Bucky feels like he can actually breathe. Your words are like a balm to his soul, hearing you say that not only you indeed fell in love with him but you fell because of him, because of the glimpses of who he actually is and not who he was pretending to be, that’s all he needs to hope again, hope that you’re coming around.

“I… I really am so sorry for lying to you.” Bucky says quietly, his eyes wide and hopeful. “And… I know I have no right to ask this, but I need to know… Is there any chance you’d consider giving me a second chance?”

“It’ll take some time for me to forgive you.” You say after a pause. “And even longer because I trust you again… But I think I want to give you a second chance.” Bucky can’t help but beam at that, but you’re quick to give him a pointed look.

“Solely on the condition that from here on out you be honest with me. No more lies, no more secrets. Just complete honesty.” You say firmly and, to your surprise, Bucky agrees with no objections. “I promise, I will never lie or keep anything from you ever again.” He says honestly as he takes your hands in his, touching you with his Vibranium hand for the first time without gloves. “Complete honesty… I’ll always tell you everything. I never want to risk losing you ever again.”

You can’t help but melt at that and sit a little closer to him, leaning in and pecking his lips. “For the record… I don’t think you’re a monster or anything. I think you were a victim of very bad things and you’re incredibly strong for having survived that.”

Your soft words make Bucky’s eyes teary again, although this time it’s for a different reason. He can’t hold back anymore and hugs you tightly, relief flooding through him as you don’t push him away but instead hug him back.

There’s still a long way to go before your relationship is fixed, but, right now in his arms, you can feel it– Forgiving him is the right thing to do.

And what are the chances that, if you work out, you invite Sebastian Stan to the wedding, explaining he’s the reason it all happened and thanking him. And he shows up too.

[yintous]

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ─── 𝓗EY LOVER! ㆍ₊⊹

gn! reader ; batboys and the little things they do for you.

notes. fluff, not proofread, &&. established relationship. happy reading :D! [masterlist]

DICK GRAYSON

on everyone’s soul, dick grayson is the epitome of yearning!!! (we’re all LIVING)

this is so random but i feel like he’d be the type to know when your alarm blares so he’d be the one to snooze it at the right time to avoid the alarm from blaring into your eardrums in the morning; he’d be the one to wake you up instead

whenever he’s free, he sends you pictures of things that remind him of you with little to no context. for example, he could send a picture of your favorite drink before sending a text that just said “you”

makes a list of upcoming things he knows you’d enjoy (such as new movies coming up that coincidentally have your fav genre, a new album from your favorite artist, etc). he marks them on his calendar and never fails to set up a date with you involving those things

has a habit of stroking your hair or back whenever he holds you because he knows it’s easier for you to relax that way

JASON TODD

def never forgets to send you “goodnight” and “good morning” messages

i like to think that he’s actually really gentle when it comes to his significant other as well as really communicative. after arguments, when words aren’t enough, he gives you little acts of service as a way to apologize

for example, he makes sure your food is heated up just right before you decide to eat dinner— if not, he was probably too busy setting up a warm bath for you, along with your favorite bubble bath products already restocked

i also feel like he’d be subtly clingy?? like clingy to the point he’d recognize your little habits and because of his clinginess, he recognized more of what little acts of services he could do for you

for example, if you’re the type to constantly forget your keys, your umbrella, etc., he’ll place them on a surface you don’t often miss, like a little reminder

TIM DRAKE

one time you broke your earphones and you suddenly saw new ones sitting on your desk, with a letter that had nothing but a small heart messily drawn on it

tends to make two cups instead of just one whenever he makes coffee or whenever he buys energy drinks, he buys two of yours and two of his (both of you down them together)

whenever you mention any problems— especially with technology, he makes sure to help you as soon as he could. you spilled water on your laptop? it’s suddenly fixed the next day. your necklace is tangled? turns out he had a bit of free-time a few hours ago and you’re free to wear it untangled once again.

if you are the type of person to yap about similar interests like certain tv shows, books, etc. he’d hold off from consuming its media so you’d have the opportunity to ramble to him about them in your own little way

DUKE THOMAS

the type to know your preference on EVERYTHING, like if you prefer earphones over speakers and vice versa, if you prefer black coffee over brown, etc.

def greets you at 12 am whenever it’s your birthday. he made it into a little tradition and would fall deeper in love with you if you returned the gesture

lists down all the songs you’ve recommended to him and puts all of them into a spotify playlist; he listens to the playlist whenever he doesn’t have you around or on his free-time in general

helps you untangle your hair in the morning and you swear he has a talent for it. his touch is as gentle as a feather

if you have glasses, he carries a microfiber fabric around just in case you’d need it to wipe your lenses

© yintous do not copy, repost, plagiarize, or feed any of my work into ai.

[reallyghostlypost]

You might be interested in the Rodney NPC mod, a sarcastic writer and tarot reader who moves in the valley. He analyses other characters using tarot cards too.

I think the reactions will depend on how serious tarot reading is treated in SVE. Magnus would definitely be interested in testing the farmer's abilities somehow though. And since divination in general is seems well respected I think he'll want to introduce the farmer to Welwick and see what she thinks about it, after all she has more experience in this domain than him. The rest might be interested only if they find the talent useful in some way.

Well, I realized that I can only throw ideas and I'm very lazy to write anything worthwhile, so here some idea

In short, I'm thinking about how some wizards and witchs would react to the fact that a farmer understands the tarot and the Major Arcana? because personally, I'm also interested in this now, and it's damn interesting. So far now, a farmer can ask for a birthday only to have something like "hmm... That's mean his arcana the emperor, hmm.. how interesting" and so it is with everyone! and they also look at the relationship, the future and what energies will be on the tarot, and the level of awareness of the farmer is much higher than that of others!

it's just that sometimes there are funny moments when maybe they're reading tarot and just "what the fuck is this?" And it's funny because they're trying to find a connection with tarot and thoughts..

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, being a semi-canonic common hallucination in the family after his death, could lead to the stupidest AU ever.

Imagine everyone seeing him — Bruce, half of the time, Dick non-stop, Tim more often than not, and eventually even Alfred starts seeing little boy's silhouette in the corner of his eye, but he never admits it, because someone needs to stay sane in this family.

It is a lot like real-life cases when cult families start to see collective hallucination, and it somehow syncronises in their minds, so they hear and see the same things, you know?

So, yeah, everyone sees Jaybin around.

Everyone but Damian. Damian is a normal one. He also knows his Akhi is alive and well, so whatever. And it takes him some time to figure out that his family is bat-shit insane, but when he does, he decides to use it on his advantage.

Damian, calling Jason: Akhi, you should visit me. It is getting awfully boring here.

Jason, frowning: You know I can't. They think I am dead, and I can't risk my plan, especially now, when Red Hood is gaining-

Damian: We will pretend you are a hallucination.

Jason: ...What?

Damian: So, there is a plan...

So, a few days after this call, Jason arrives at the Wayne Manor. He still thinks his brother's plan sucks, but gaslighting is one of his many talents, so surely, they will figure something out. He can lie his way through this meeting.

Expect, he doesn't even need to lie. His family is actually insane.

Bruce, bumping in Jason:

Jason, staring back: Uh-

Bruce: Wow. You look so grown-up. And we look so alike. Nice one, brain.

Jason: ?..

Tim, leaving his room: Hi, B, hi- Oh, damn. Hi, Jaybin. Nice leather jacket.

Bruce: Right? I guess his ghost just grows up with us now.

Jason: ????

Alfred, nodding along, out of nowhere: Master Dick will hate it. He looks taller now.

All of them: (peacefully leave the room)

Jason: What. The. Fuck.

Jason waits for the moment of clarity to happen as he chats with Damian in the kitchen, but... nothing changes. They really, really think he is a hallucination. So... he starts hanging out around more. Both because Damian is getting angsty, and because it is kinda... amusing.

Tim, stuck on the same case for a few nights, non-stop: Oh, it is really just me and you in this, Jason.

Jason, playing Mario Cart on the table by his side: Maybe take a nap, dude.

Tim: No, I need to figure out this case with-

Jason, rolling his eyes: Red Hood had already dealt with it. Go to sleep.

Tim: ...You are such a good self-care kind of hallucination.

Jason: ...

Damian: Your bets, when will they realise that you are a real person?

Jason: At this point, I am not sure that they will, even if I start screaming that I am real.

Damian: Fair. I bet a year would do.

Jason: ...A year and a half.

Dick visits the Manor. He cooes at Jason, muttering something about "of course, he would have grown up in a punk," and Jason almost breaks his role to hit him on the head.

Jason, arms folded on his chest: You know, you need serious help, dad.

Bruce, blinking at him slowly: Probably. You know what else I need?

Jason: Sleep? Retirement? To stop adopting strays? The list is endless, man.

Bruce: ...Coffee. I need more coffee.

Jason, groaning: What the fuck!!!

Alfred figures out that Jason is real, eventually. Solely because he catches him sneaking a few extra cookies, and hallucinations are not supposed to eat. He plays along with him and Damian until the very end, anyway.

(Damian ends up winning the bet because Jason loses it once and pushes Bruce down the stairs, when he starts reciting some precautionary tale about him. Everyone is flabbergasted.)

[puptrefied]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

　let's start by saying caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

masterlist

[brokenmenswhore]

potions | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus invites his potions partner over to his family home to “help her practice”

warnings: DUBCON (MDNI 18+), choking, smut, rough sex

────── ☾ ──────

When Regulus invited you into his home to use his in-house potions lab, you were suspicious. Regulus always had a darkness to him, and as your potions partner, he was never cruel to you, but he wasn’t the type to make such a kind gesture.

You accepted, knowing you could really use the extra practice. Regulus was talented at potions, and you felt bad that you were barely any help in class. As strange as it may be, you figured some extra time would benefit you, and Regulus could teach you and thing or two, if he felt kind enough to do so.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you through the door.

You smiled as you followed him through the house, the lighting almost as dark as his all-black outfit.

“I keep my potions stuff in here,” he said, pushing open the door to his bedroom.

“In your bedroom?”

“Mhm,” he responded, completely nonchalant about the fact you were in his personal space, while you felt it was a little strange. You didn’t know him too well, though you were attracted to him, and now you were only a few feet away from his bed.

He walked over to the table. “You coming?”

You swallowed and approached him, looking at the large collection of jars and ingredients spread out on the table.

“Should we maybe let your parents know I’m here? That there’s someone else in the house?”

Regulus chuckled. “The only other person here is my brother.”

“Sirius is here?”

Regulus shot you a look. You and Sirius had a weird past- you hooked up a few times at parties, you caught feelings and he didn’t, and you never spoke again. It was all ancient history, but you still tried to avoid being around him at all costs.

“Why does it matter?” Regulus asked.

“It doesn’t,” you spoke in a small voice, drifting your attention to the table, “so? What first?”

“Figured we could maybe just make sure you’re set on ingredients,” Regulus said. Everything he said was so dry, low, and monotone, and it sometimes made conversation hard.

“I think I’m comfortable with the ingredients side of things,” you told him.

“You’re not.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” you fought, “I know my own skill levels, Regulus.”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was so nonchalant about everything, reorganizing ingredients and setting up potion recipes as he spoke, as if anything he said didn’t matter.

You sighed and gave up fighting it, letting him take control and decide where to go from here. There was no point in going back and forth on the same thing over and over again.

“How about we just start with Shrinking Solution?” Regulus asked.

“Fine by me,” you answered.

Regulus backed away from the table, watching you do nothing. You looked back at him. Did he expect you to just do it?

“Well?” he said, “make the potion.”

You sighed. Sometimes he was so annoying and condescending. You looked at the unlabeled recipe and removed 7 red rose petals from a case of singular petals.

You began to drop them one-by-one in the boiling water. You looked at Regulus, who nodded at you to keep going. “How difficult,” you said sarcastically.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

You added five drops of essence of violet, stirring counterclockwise exactly twelve times.

“I don’t remember shrinking solution having essence of violet,” you told Regulus.

“Are you claiming my recipes are wrong?”

“No, I’m just saying.” You sighed and continued with the recipe, counting out 4 cloves and prepping canary flight feathers.

He didn’t say a word, just watching you make the potion, until you had completed the instructions.

“I also don’t remember it being pink,” you pouted, looking confused at the pot.

“I could have sworn this potion had daisy roots somewhere-“

“Would you relax?” Regulus questioned.

“Something just feels off about it,” you said, inspecting the liquid.

“Does it smell right?” he asked.

You leaned in and sniffed. The potion smelt like lavender, vanilla, freshly cut grass, and all your favorite smells.

The smell maintained throughout the smoke that you breathed in, overtaking your senses and filling your lungs. “Fuck that smells good,” you giggled.

Regulus crept behind you as silently as he could. When you stood up, he was directly behind you, your back almost banging into his torso.

You spun around to meet his gaze. “Can I help you with something?” you asked.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you were suddenly overtaken with adoration.

“I think I probably can,” you said, all logic going out the window as the potion took over your emotions, your focus completely on Regulus.

“Atta girl,” he tsked, gripping your waist as he looked down at you. “How you feelin’, pretty girl?”

You were overcome with intense emotion, but you fought to remain grounded in reality. “You motherfucker,” you said, letting Regulus know that you were aware he had you make the wrong potion. This was not Shrinking Solution, this was Amortentia.

“No idea what you’re referring to,” he said.

“You know,” you started, twirling his already wavy hair in your fingers, “you could have just asked if you wanted me.”

“Now could I?” he asked, intrigued and eager to hear you continue talking.

“Mhm.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Why?”

“You slept with my brother, did you not?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “And you know that how?”

“He’s my brother,” he said, holding you closer to him, his tone finally lifting to a bit lighter of a place, “and I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You giggled. “Have not.”

“I have been,” he admitted, “had to make sure you weren’t fucking anyone who didn’t deserve you.”

“I haven’t been fucking anyone,” you told him honestly.

“I know.”

“You wanna know why?”

His gaze darkened.

You sighed, “the only person I’ve wanted to fuck is standing right in front of me.”

Regulus growled, gripping your waist even harder and pulling you even closer. “Then what did I do all this work for? Getting you over here, the Amortentia, you’re telling me I worked for it for nothing?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, amused at how much thought and planning went into getting you here. You weren’t obvious about your attraction to him, but it couldn’t be that hard to notice.

“I feel drunk on you,” you admitted.

Regulus smiled. You had never ever seen him smile before. You didn’t even know he was capable.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” you said genuinely, a hand moving upward so you could run a thumb over his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he crashed his lips onto yours. Your hand found it’s way to the back of his head, holding him closer. You whimpered into the kiss, desperation overtaking your body. You couldn’t help it, the scent of the potion was still filling the room, and you were consumed in Regulus.

“I want you,” you said in between kisses, eager to finally get what you wanted.

Regulus didn’t break the kiss or loosen his grip on your waist, but instead inched you closer and closer to the bed. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you jumped up, attempting to land on the mattress, but Regulus caught you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He leaned over you, your back touching the mattress as you kept your legs around Regulus. He remained standing, the small of your back at the edge of the side of the bed.

Regulus finally broke the kiss, running his hands all over your body and inspecting every single inch of you. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Sirius will realize what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Your heightened emotions won, and the more you tried to stay quiet, the more hysterical your laugh became.

Regulus slapped your thigh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Regulus demanded, kissing you to distract you from the hysterics in your brain. You melted back into him, forgetting why you were even laughing in the first place.

You were still having too much fun to let him win so easy, and you liked watching him work for it. “Make me.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “What did you just say?”

A giggle threatened to leave your lips. “I said make me.”

A hand suddenly squeezed around your throat, not completely cutting off your breath, but stopping your giggling.

Regulus flashed you a wicked smile. “That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked out.

Regulus moved a hand in between your bodies, cupping your heat from on top of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, desperate for any sort of friction.

Regulus tucked his fingers into the band of your underwear, collecting your wetness with his middle finger as he traced it in between your folds. A sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and Regulus watched your face intently.

You thought he was going to continue on like this, slowly working you up until you were ready for him, but Regulus had other ideas. Without warning, he shoved two long fingers inside of you, his palm resting on your clit and circling, as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your body responded, back arching off the bed, a hand still around your throat. You squirmed a bit, unable to stay still from the sensation.

Regulus watched your chest rise and fall as your back arched and fell, his cock hardening as he watched what he did to you.

He curled his fingers, hitting that gummy sweet spot within you, causing your walls to convulse around his fingers. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he cooed, “come for me.”

His words undid you, the coil of tension within you breaking as you came on his fingers, whines and whimpers constantly filling the room as you calmed down from your high. He pulled his fingers out of you, never breaking eye contact as he sucked your juices off of them.

Once his fingers were licked clean, he unwrapped your legs from his waist, removing his hand from your throat.

“Stay,” he commanded as he untied his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down enough to free his hard and swollen cock.

You let out an audible gasp at the size.

“What? Too much for you?”

“How-“ you didn’t even know what to say, “how is that gonna fit in me?”

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty girl.”

Regulus held his palm in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You did as he said, and he used your spit to wet his cock, lining up his tip with your entrance.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, Reg,” you replied.

Regulus almost showed you mercy when he heard the nickname, it just sounded so pretty coming from you, but he still didn’t. “Beg for it.”

You nodded your head no in protest.

A hand grabbed your face, pushing your lips out and positioning your head so that you had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Beg. For. It.”

“P-please, Regulus I n-“

Regulus slapped your cheek, hard. You gasped at the pain, almost stunned that he did such a thing.

“Use that pretty little nickname you called me.”

“Please, Reg, I need it, p-please-“

Regulus shoved his length into you, a moan of his name leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Regulus growled, setting a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. He tugged at the bottom of your dress. “Off.”

You did your best to pull your dress off without interrupting his pace, struggling for a minute but eventually succeeding. Regulus leaned in and bit at your bra strap, snapping it back onto your body. He kisses the top of your breasts, shoving your nipples out of the cups, his tongue immediately sucking on one of them.

“Fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on your breasts and his cock splitting you open, and the scent of the potion still filled your nose, almost feeling like too much.

“Louder,” he demanded, serious when he said he would make you scream so loud that Sirius could hear you.

“Fuck, Reg!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, his pace quickening as you did so.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He sucked a sweet spot on your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him even more access.

He was slamming into you, the bed squeaking as your body rocked back and forth. Your legs were weak as they fell off the side of the bed, but Regulus didn’t want the position to change. He grabbed both of your legs, positioning them over his shoulders and fucking into you even deeper.

You squeaked and whined, not even capable of any genuine moans anymore.

“You gonna come again, huh? All over my cock?” Regulus gasped out.

“Mhm.”

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Y- yes!” you squealed, your high hitting you again as you squeezed his cock, a groan leaving Regulus’s mouth as he fucked you while you came, pace never faltering as you attempted to come down from your high.

Regulus was still chasing his own, his lips enveloping yours in a heated kiss as he snapped his hips as fast as he could until he came inside of you, erratic breaths and sighs spilling into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through his hair that was sweat slicked and falling in front of his face.

“God, I needed that,” you said, attempting to catch your breath as Regulus laid down next to you.

Regulus didn’t respond, he just stared at the ceiling, calming himself down.

“Reg?” you asked.

“Mhm?”

“You didn’t bring me here just to fuck me and piss your brother off, right?” you asked.

Regulus turned to you. “Do you think that low of me?”

“No. I’m just curious,” you explained.

“No, I didn’t bring you here to piss my brother off,” he answered, “it’s just a massive, massive plus.” He rolled over the placed a kiss on your lips.

[irisintheafterglow]

you had a creep-sized problem, and you spot your solution sitting on a bench next to a pretzel cart. he doesn't have time to brush you off before you're hurriedly making your case.

"hi there," you begin with a shaking voice. "i'm so sorry, but would you mind walking me just a little bit that way?" you point past the arena's third-floor gift shop toward a hidden walkway designated for volunteers and staff only. his surgical mask covers half his face, but his abrasive nature is clear in his body language.

"ask someone else," he replies dryly and shifts away from you, but your sound of panic makes him pause, slightly irritated why you continued to bother him. "what?"

"i just need to get over there, past that," you elaborate, pointing in the same direction but lingering your hand over a figure stalking you in the distance. he clocks the guy pacing a few yards away to block your path, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. the guy is holding his phone in a way that allows him to quickly point it and take a photo before the victim is none the wiser, and you'd caught him following you through the glass reflection of a soda fridge. with only a few minutes left until you had to start your shift, you needed a way to bypass him without drawing too much attention to yourself, so you roped in the nearest strong-looking guy to hopefully escort you to check-in. "please. i work the merch stands, i can get you a free shirt or something."

for a moment, you think he's going to refuse again and you're on the verge of apologizing before he mutters a barely perceptible "fine." he stands to his full height, and it makes your mouth go dry. he could be one of the olympians, all broad-shouldered and strong-calved. his figure was relatively lean, but you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles rippled under the tight fabric of his track jacket. without another word, he positions himself on your left side between you and the creep and begins walking.

"i like your jacket," you offer. if he was going out of his way to help you, the least you could do was make polite conversation. you hurry behind him and miss the way the crowd of game spectators stop in their tracks to look at your escort. "first time at the olympics?"

"been here before," he answers and you're surprised by the way annoyance has disappeared from his voice.

"oh, really? do you have a favorite event?"

"volleyball," the stranger replies without hesitation.

"that's mine too. all the teams are really talented this year, but i think japan is in it to win," you agree and he hums in what you can only consider as amusement. you don't notice the way the crowd pulls out their phones and whispers among each other, pointing at his mask-clad face and the two moles above his eyebrow barely covered by a perfect black curl.

"you think they'll get gold?"

"i'd be shocked if they didn't, what with the new guys they just signed and all. that striker from the private school in tokyo is supposed to be super good." you accidentally bump his shoulder as a marker and poster are shoved in his direction, but think nothing more of it.

"mmm, the germaphobe with the mask," he deadpans. "people think he's a freak."

"i think the mask makes him cooler, the mystery of it all," you argue obliviously, and he glances at you and your endearingly clueless nature. your eyes sparkle. his cheeks feel warm under the fabric of his mask.

a few minutes later, he deposits you at the volunteer check-in and nods a curt goodbye.

"i'll be coming to collect that free shirt," he concludes with the barest hint of humor in his voice. at ease, you finally crack a smile and thank him profusely before he turns to leave. you've just finished signing your initials when you finally notice your supervisor staring at you. her eyes dart between you and the receding silhouette of your bodyguard down the hall; specifically, the words printed on the back of his jacket you were so busy admiring earlier.

men's volleyball team - sakusa kiyoomi.

bear with me i haven't written in a long time but i miss my silly little volleyball player grump of a bf so badly

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[whoistartaglia]

crafting with genshin mem

you can’t tell me neuvillette wouldn’t crochet with you. neuvillette would be all into it, buying you all the yarn and hooks and needles you need. and he’s unsurprisingly good at it; someone that graceful is daft at handling the crochet needle with grace and ease. if you thought you were going to be the one teaching him the basics, you’re unfortunately wrong. though, neuvilette will be fascinated if you teach him new techniques or show him new patterns and projects. crochet nights with neuvillette are relaxing, with both of you working on your own projects, together. do expect him to crochet you a lot of sweaters, scarfs, and hats; even if you protest you don’t even live in a cold climate, he won’t hear a word of it.

zhongli would knit with you. yes, there is a difference between that and crochet. you’ll be working on your own project, and zhongli will immediately be captivated. you don’t even consider yourself terribly talented at knitting, but zhongli’s watching you like you invented the craft yourself. eventually, he’ll ask you to teach him, and it’s cute. zhongli is an attentive student; he’ll listen you carefully and ask intelligent questions as they arise. his projects are questionable at first; you’ll have to reassure him every beginner starts out with random scraps and knots. his face scrunched up in concentration makes you want to laugh during his lessons, but you refrain in case he suspects you’re laughing at the “scarf” he’s trying to create.

you tell childe that you heard making abstract art is a good stress reliever, and you not-so subtly add that he should try it. and because he adores you, childe will almost immediately agree. you expected him to give it his best attempt and maybe get a new painting for your living room; what you didn’t expect was how aggressive the paintings looked. the first one was a collection of reds and oranges, jagged lines and dark streaks; the second was similar, and the third one yet again. you figure childe just as a lot of pent up stress, and hey, isn’t this better than him going out and doing hid who-knows-what with his who-knows-who fatui colleages? this is what you tell yourself as childe proclaims he’s made another painting, as if you don’t already have one for your living room… and every other room in your house.

kaeya would want to paint you. specifically, he would want to use oil paint to really “capture your likeliness on the canvas,” in his own words. kaeya will frown if you laugh at that bold declaration, but he’s persistent and you relent. but on one condition: you get to draw him as well. kaeya agrees, charmed you’d want to do such a thing. so you purchase the paints and canvases and invite him over. the rule is that you can’t look at each other’s paintings until the end of the night. expect flirty eye contact as you both try to paint the other. flowery words from kaeya stating he’ll have to use a bit more red paint since you’re blushing so much. the portraits turn out pretty good for a few hours. kaeya will appreciatively tell you that his portrait looks so handsome, and frown should you tell him it looks “nothing like him.” (it doesn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

scara will blush and malfunction if you find the secret pencil drawings he’s done of you. it’s cute, you reassure him, and you’re honestly a little flattered. he’s your grumpy boyfriend going through his doodles and sketches of you, providing context (but not without grumbling a little bit) about each should you ask. some are of you when you’re not looking, others are from memory. you always asked scara to draw you and he’s always refused, so this was an endearing, touching surprise. please do tease him about this, especially given how much he refused to entertain the idea before this. even if you ask now, there’s a low chance he would specifically draw you, for you; it’s the spontaneous nature of it all that gives the drawings their charm. or, so he says.

bonus scene: if you ask scara to draw him, he will give you a disgusted look follow up by a flat-out nope, no thanks. he won’t entertain any conversation about it. not at all. but… should you “accidentally” doodle him when your mind slips or draw a rough sketch of him, scara will protest against it, then ask you to finish it, give it to him, and keep it forever.

[wcnderlnds]

fix these broken pieces | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: seunghyun had all but pushed everyone out, isolating himself so when he goes live on instagram and you manage to catch it, you know he needs someone. ・❥・word count: 1.9k ・❥・warnings: huh, nothing really. just sadness. ・❥・ authors note: yes, hi. this is based off that one insta live. we all know the one. they'll probably be a part two bc i'm a sucker and need to heal him. okay, thank you <3

Choi Seunghyun was a man of many talents even if one of those talents including being exceptionally good at shutting people out. Life hadn’t always been easy for him – the last couple of years especially. He was one of those people that would put the people around him first before he took care of himself. All he wanted was for the people around him to be happy, often forgetting about his own happiness in the process. He would often go out of his way to make people laugh and smile telling himself that it made him feel better. It didn’t, really. Seunghyun had always believed he was destined to be lonely, to be lost in his dark thoughts with no form of escape. He had accepted that at a young age — he was fine with it. What he really needed was a guiding light, someone to lead him out of the darkness and show him the love and care that he deserved. For a while, that had been you.

Back before Seunghyun had debuted, the two of you had dated. High school sweethearts, if you will. Falling in love with him had been the easiest thing you’d done. He was charming, kind, always looking out for you — how couldn’t you fall for him? You had been together for three years — Seunghyun would always say they were the best three years of his life — before the breakup happened. It wasn’t bad although it had been heartbreaking for both of you. Once Seunghyun had been accepted at YG, he thought it was best that you broke up. His train of thought was that he was going to be busy, he wouldn’t have enough time to give you the love you deserved. So, you agreed. It was the best thing. That didn’t mean it hurt any less. Seunghyun was your first everything… including heartbreak. It got easier with time and during that time, you had become the best of friends. The kind of friends that told each other everything whether it was how their day had gone or even their dating life. It wasn’t awkward, they just wanted the best for each other.

Unfortunately, life had a funny way of constantly bringing Seunghyun down. No matter how hard he tried to be happy, something always seemed to happen to disrupt that. After everything that had happened, the last few years had been the worst. He had been doing better, or so everyone thought.

When he started shutting people out, you knew that was his coping mechanism, he did it to protect the people around him. But, when he started shutting you out, that was when you knew something was incredibly wrong. Through all his hardships, he never pushed you away. You had always been his rock, the person he could trust with all of his secrets and feelings but this time? No. He had pushed you away and locked you out with the rest. He’d reply to your texts sparingly, ignore every phone call – it made your heart clench to think he was struggling and couldn’t even trust you.

The day had been as boring as any other. Most of it you had spent running errands, making sure your home was clean in case anyone decided to drop by. Were you hoping that Seunghyun would show up asking you to help him? Definitely but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. That man hated asking for help. As your thoughts drifted to your best friend, a notification pinged out on your phone.

choi_seung_hyun_tttop started a live video

It was instantly you pressed on the notification, the face of your best friend popping onto the screen. He looked sad but he was trying his best to put on a front – you knew him too well. As he spoke, you listened carefully. It broke your heart to hear him say that he would never do a comeback because people were evil. Music was his passion, his life; it was what kept him going and the thought that he had been bullied so much that he didn't even want to make a comeback was devastating. The fact people were so cruel they had bullied him out of the one thing he loved, it made your blood boil.

It was the second the words ‘I’m not good. I’m not good actually’ came out of his mouth when you sprang into action. There was absolutely no way you were letting him sit on Instagram live feeling that way. So, you scrolled to ‘Find My Friends’ to track down his location. Seunghyun had insisted a few years ago to add each other when you had a date with a guy that he had deemed ‘sketchy’ just in case anything happened. Neither of you had removed the other since then. Thank God you hadn’t otherwise you’d just have to sit here helpless while your best friend spiralled on the internet alone.

The restaurant he was at wasn’t too far away from your place meaning the drive barely took five minutes. All the while you kept the video up on your phone, listening and feeling your heart break when you heard him say ‘I’m always alone’. He wasn’t. As long as you were around, he would never be alone. This man, this beautiful man, was worth more to you than anything else in the world and you would do whatever it took to make him feel loved and cared for. Even after all these years, he still had your heart. It would forever remain his.

Walking into the restaurant, your eyes scanned around the place trying to locate him. You couldn’t see him so you walked up to a guy with a name tag reading ‘Steve’. He seemed friendly enough, carrying a tray with him as he walked away from one of the tables. Must be a waiter, you thought. That was good. Maybe he had seen Seunghyun.

“Sorry to bother you, Steve… but, uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen this guy, would you?” You held up your phone, showing Seunghyun’s face – his live was still ongoing.

“Oh, the handsome man with the glasses? Yes! He’s in the corner by the windows.” Steve pointed you in the direction. With a mumbled thank you, you headed in the direction that he had pointed you in.

Lo and behold, there sat Seunghyun with his hood up, speaking into his phone. For a moment you stood and watched. On the outside, to anyone who didn’t know him, he’d seem fine but you could see the light gone from his eyes, the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He had been dealt such bad cards in this life, it was unfair. 

“Your face looks very scary,” you heard Seunghyun’s voice reading out a comment. He took a moment to contemplate then spoke in the softest, confused voice you’d ever heard. “What do you mean?”

That was it. 

You’d had enough.

Marching over there, you grabbed the phone out of his hands immediately turning the live off. He looked up at you, brows furrowed together in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you,” you replied simply. You took the seat next to him, placing his phone facing down on the table. 

“How did you know where I was?”

“Find My Friends. You made me put you in there that time I had a date with Mark because you thought he was a weirdo.”

“He was a weirdo.”

You rolled your eyes but immediately your features turned soft, your hand gently resting on his thigh. “Are you okay?”

He refused to look you in the eyes instead focusing on the food in front of him. He couldn’t lie to you. If there was one person in the world he could never hide his true feelings from, it was you. That was why he’d decided to distance himself from you this time, too. In his eyes, you deserved to be happy and all he would do was drag you down with his problems. What he didn’t know was that he could never drag you down. All you wanted was to help him, make him see in himself what you saw in him.

“Seunghyun, look at me.” You gently lifted your free hand up to tilt his chin towards you and that’s when you saw it. The tears in his eyes. If your heart wasn’t already broken, it was in a million pieces now. Seeing him this hurt, the pain so prominent as he tried to blink back the tears, it made you want to cry. “Oh, baby.”

Without even thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around him. Seunghyun immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, letting the tears fall. All you could do was hold him, your fingers gently running through his hair to soothe him. Maybe this was what he needed. He had been holding it in for so long that finally seeing you had made him break. The one person that could always get through to him no matter how high he built his walls up. You would always come in, knocking them right down. He didn’t deserve you, that’s what he thought anyway.

It was a good ten minutes later when he finally lifted his head up. You smiled sadly at him, taking in his puffy eyes and his messy hair. “Always said you were a pretty crier.”

“Shutup,” he mumbled. No venom behind it whatsoever.

A quiet silence fell between you until you broke it. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know? After everything you’ve been through and the way people have treated you, I wouldn’t expect you to be okay. What I need you to do, though, is stop trying to push me away. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Choi Seunghyun. Whatever difficulties you’re facing, you don’t have to face them alone. I’ll be here right by your side like I have been since we were teenagers.”

You took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. His eyes briefly glanced down to your hands then back up to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to bring you down with me.”

“Seunghyun, you could never bring me down. I love you, you idiot. I want to help you through the tough times. I want to be that person you can depend on.”

“You are that person. I just…” he trailed off, his deep voice almost breaking as he spoke. “I feel like I’m never going to be okay.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, your voice soft as you spoke to him trying to reassure him the best you could. “You will be. Eventually. It’ll take time but I’ll be here every step of the way for you, okay?”

Seunghyun wrapped his arms around you, tugging you towards him and almost into his lap. He held you tightly like he was anchoring himself down. If that’s what he needed you to be then you’d be it. You rubbed his back softly, this time burying your head into him. “I’m going to need you to get me a list of names of those people who were saying mean stuff about you on that live, by the way. I know people who can deal with them.”

That made him chuckle. It wasn’t a full chuckle – it wasn’t a true Seunghyun laugh but you’d get there. Day by day. No matter how long it would take.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @come-as-you-are-111 @sherrayyyyy @loveesiren @fleabagspurplewife @gdinthehouseee

[circeyoru]

Twisted Killings

[Solo Leveling x Homicipher MC!Reader - Crossover]

Related Story: Idea 1 (Jinah's school dungeon break incident)

Note: This is different from {Other Other World} but the concept is the same where Reader/you are the MC of Homicipher and got sent into the world of Solo Leveling. There’s no particular pairing cause there are the Homicipher guys as your Pokemon already.

The Hunters Association was founded by an S-Rank Hunter, funded and sponsored by the same person who was now dubbed the Chairman, that person was Go Gunhee. He was well-respected and knew the world of power and authority not in terms of physical strength, but also the workings of corporates and those that are placed in higher power like the government or politicians.

This establishment had a few key focuses or purposes as the Chairman would say. One, to be a pillar of support for the citizens and Hunters alike, a neutral party that would strive the benefit of the country. Two, to be a shield against the outside force that aimed to take advantage of the weak-hearted or lower-ranked Hunters. Three, to be a monitor or eyes for all things related to Hunters and Gates. And finally, four, to be the weapon that keeps those with ill intent in check, namely the Hunters who have awakened and fancied themselves a god among mortals.

However grand the goals are, they were nothing when it was only one person within the Association. One person can’t be the one to change the world―at least Chairman Go knew he didn’t have that power and capability to do so. Perhaps one day, he’d meet someone of that stature, but right now, his focus was on the foundation of the Association.

Recruitment was easy and hard. There were those that would follow him to the ends of the Earth, and then those would oppose this establishment. Talented individuals usually find themselves independent and prideful, not wanting to work under someone and listen to orders. It was the restriction that made it all the more difficult to recruit such individuals. The Association was set up to be an honourable and praiseworthy organization, so mingling with this would be like turning into a priest or a nun. To be professional and righteous.

“It’s not much but I can offer you a home.” Go Gunhee spoke softly, his hands behind his back as he stood in the rundown abandoned shack in the forest. “A place to work and a place to strive.”

“I have no interest in that.” Your figure perched on a small hilltop of stacked wooden furniture pieces, the rain droplets slipping through the cracks to drip onto your raincoat. The hood of your dirty raincoat shadowed your face, leaving only a bandaged mouth and nose to the intruder that followed you all the way here. You gripped onto your crowbar as you glared down at him. “Leave before you regret ever following me.”

Your tone was borderline threatening for anyone who heard it. However, it serves as a warning. The rain washed away the blood and gore of beasts that you and your companions hunted for you to feast on, their corpses were still littered around and the flesh was still present. The smell of the forest overpowered that of the slowly rotting flesh, but that wasn’t the point. Focus on the beings surrounding the man he couldn’t dream of ever defeating or purging. 

An obsessive red man with a wide inhuman grin to the side behind you holding a red umbrella over you, his form glitching and distorting from time to time as if holding himself back from attacking―Mr. Scarletella. 

An amused silver-haired man with a dirty lab coat of sorts grinning ear to ear with his head tilted while his hands were behind his back, from your perspective, tortuous tools were held in case of any threat perceived―Mr. Silver. 

An on-guard doglike man with long black hair and dressed in black standing on the slop before you, his usually crawling form and childish grin gone with an aura of alert in his position―Mr. Crawling. 

From the shadows of gaps that made your perch, you knew an observant and calculating man’s eye had been watching everything but never said a word or made a move―Mr. Gap. 

Then, there was the one closest to the human. Your guardian and rock in the worst times, dressed in a worn-down cloak with his hood covering his entire face to the point one could only see darkness, he wielded a menacing executioner’s axe that was half of his size as if prepared to cut the human down―Mr. Hood.

If one were to ask, are there more to your crazy, overpowered, and disturbing companions? Let’s just say there was more to you than meets the eye. These weren’t all of your cards.

From just the atmosphere of the place, one could tell the ringleader wasn’t as harmless as their appearance would show. Gunhee, the leader of an honest institution, couldn’t believe himself, but if he was given another chance, he wouldn’t change anything and would make the same decision over and over. He raised his hand as an offer was presented to you. “Be my association’s officer. You wouldn’t be put into a suit and follow the standard procedures. I will offer you a playground to hunt and kill if you would be my weapon.”

The air shifted, and a grin formed on your face. It was as if it were a synced-up connection, and your companions all grinned alongside you. The crowbar in your hand was swirled around until it was thrown at the Chairman, who was unfazed by it all and stood his ground. You skipped down the hill, patting Mr. Crawling’s head on the way down to Mr. Scarletella’s envy. You stared at the bold man while you retrieved your signature killing tool, Mr. Hood had already stood protectively close to you. In a swift move, you pointed the curve tip in his face with a crazed expression. “If this is a trap… Know that your death won’t be quick and painless.”

“We are to be partners, I believe we benefit from mutual trust.”

Rumours circled in the Hunter’s community forum. After the Hunter Association’s official establishment, Hunters were promptly placed under control, guilds were formed and Hunters were organized into groups and ranks. The most unspoken attention was placed on the Hunters turned criminal or vice versa. Most, if not al,l were curious as to how the Hunter Association would handle that. Let them be sent to a prison? But their Hunter abilities could allow them to break out no question. Charge them? But as a Hunter, earning money had been the fastest among other careers. Monitor them? But with Gates running rampant and the lack of personnel, who would watch them 24/7?

A lone guild was sponsored by the Hunter Association and answered only to the Chairman. Its name was [Other], an exclusive guild that no one knew who its members were, including the guildmaster. Their activity, however, was renowned to all. In simple terms, they were the Hunter Association’s hired assassins or clean-up crew. Their typical work included acting as the strike team to clear unwanted Gates, though their infamous deeds were to pass judgment on those that defied the jurisdiction.

Simple terms?

Killing people.

The Other Guild was one of mystery. Its members and guild master are not only unknown, but recruitment was done in secret and one way. None could approach them or reveal relevant information about the guild itself and its master. Its activities leaked credibility to the point that some would brush it aside and claim that it was something the Hunter Association did to scare Hunters into being more moral and human, not to become the monsters from the Gates.

“It’s raining again…”

“I forgot my umbrella…”

“No football practice?”

“We should be moving to the indoor gym room.”

“I hate the rain, makes you all wet.”

You moved past the students chatting in the hallways with your school bag. Your eyes glanced out the windows to the school’s front gate, spotting a black car parked by the road. Just as you noticed the vehicle, your phone buzzed and you fished it out of your pocket to check the notification. 

STUCK-UP SUNGLASSES GUY: We need to talk.

You left his message on read and placed away your phone. As you were about to walk down the stairs, your hand was called, and you paused to turn your head, spotting your classmate and star student Sung Jinah rushing towards you with an annoying object in her hand. You turned around and backed off to the side so others wouldn’t be staring or complaining about how you two blocked the way. Your eyes stared at her silently while she caught her breath. Once she did, she raised the object for you to take, “You almost forgot your umbrella; it’s pouring outside, don’t want you to be soaked and get sick.”

“I won’t.” You didn’t bother to explain which statement you were implying, nor did you thank her for her kindness. You glared at the object before snapping your eyes back to her, involuntarily making her flinch at attention, “Why don’t you hold onto it? You don’t appear to have one.”

Jinah shook her head and turned to her side to show your her schoolbag behind her back, “My brother packed me one just before I left home today. So I got myself covered.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. There went your plan to abandon the freak. You forced a smile on and took the object from her, “Too bad.” You turned to leave school not before saying goodbye to Jinah since she initiated one first. You mumbled, “See you never…”

In your hand was a plain red umbrella that you kept tapping the tip against the floor or any surface as you continued your walk. At the building’s entrance or exit, depending on your travel direction, people were opening and closing their umbrellas, waiting for the rain to lighten up, or just dashing into the rain with their bags over their heads to avoid being soaked. Stepping close to one of the pillars, you harshly swiped the umbrella at the stone structure. Anyone that was near you shuffled away from your radius. Your umbrella opened without issue, and you held it overhead before stepping into the rain.

You opened the passenger slide door without missing a beat and entered the car. You purposefully slammed the car door at the handle of your umbrella, and it closed before you brought it in. To your right appeared Mr. Scarletella with a blushing face and hearts for eyes; to your left was Mr. Crawling, who had been a good boy staying out of sight and patiently waiting for you.

“Guildmaster.” The driver and the one you titled as ‘stuck-up glasses guy’ spoke up. This man, Woo Jinchul, was basically Chairman Go’s right-hand man. An A-Rank Hunter who could have been a celebrity but decided to follow the worthy Chairman and his noble goals, but you’re not one to judge; after all, you are technically following the same man as well.

“Hm?” You hummed with a lack of concern or interest. You opted to play with Mr. Crawling’s hair, straightening it out while he purred and nuzzled into your gentle touch.

“This is serious.” You didn’t need to shift your gaze to know he was staring at you behind his shaded glasses through the rearview mirror with a firm glare that would have threatened your attention―had you been a normal human being that is.

“Just talk, I’m listening.” You’re not really. Selective attention and whatnot.

Jinchul clenched the steering wheel but relented within seconds and stated as calmly and professionally as he could, “Stop playing around and acting like a student when you’re well over that level and age despite appearance. You have to control your guild better. One of your members, Kang Tae-Shik, have caused a scene inside a dungeon. He tried to kill the remaining Hunters during a contracted assassination.”

“So? I’m sure those were criminals.”

“There were reports that other Hunters were partaking in the raid and there were casualties.”

You looked away from Mr. Crawling to give Mister Bossy a look of disinterest. “Like I said, so? Deaths happen daily, if you cared so much, have your Chairman replace me with another guild leader.” You grinned at him with a haunt tilt of your head, your neck making a resounding crack sound though it’s not broken. “I’ll just find some other hunting grounds to work with.”

“You…” Jinchul controlled himself from lashing out. 

Truthfully, he never understood the logic behind bringing someone as manic and bloodthirsty as you into the ranks of the Hunter Association. The Chairman gave you a dirty job, but you accepted that with pride and joy. You have been doing your part in the beginning, though as of late, you have been slipping and couldn’t afford to lose your power and influence. Especially when you control those entities of another world like a mage Hunter with their summons.

That was another point. You weren’t a Hunter. You had no mana when you were being tested, yet you had inhuman capabilities. From speed, strength, to healing and otherworldly communication with your summons. You were human, yet there was always that unsettling aura around you that would make those around you doubt your identity. Still, you were no monster from a Gate. That was certain.

“I don’t mean for you to leave your post. You’re… irreplaceable in the Chairman’s eyes.” Jinchul’s voice trailed off as if he was forced to admit something he strongly disagreed with.

You rolled your eyes at his display; he was acting worse than Mr. Scarletella, and that was shown a lot. “What do you want me to do now?”

“If you can recover the bodies from the Gate and file them in a report, that would be much appreciated.” Jinchul only started the car when you gave a low hum of compliance. The drive to the site was quiet, save for the coos you gave to Mr. Crawling and the yells you snapped at Mr. Scarletella. Though you did try to recall who Kang Tae-Shik was, then you did recall someone by that name you recruited into your guild, but you found him annoying, so you dropped him off to Jinchul to deal with without telling the guy that Mr. Purple Head was one of those twisted Hunter.

Namely, three essential figures supported the Hunter Association’s function. The Chairman, Go Gunhee, who acted as the pillar and shield for citizens and Hunters alike, the figurehead of the organization itself and he obviously held the most influence. The guild master of the Other Guild, you, who acted as the punisher to those that threatened the peace from the shadows. To balance the two was the monitor, Woo Jinchul, who connected the Hunter Association with Hunters; his work was so diverse that one could say he had a hand in everything. 

The two of you were brought together by Gunhee under the reason of work and tolerated each other when the time came to work together. There was some sort of sibling interaction between you two, with Jinchul being the older one and even the Chairman felt like he was taking care of you from time to time. It was odd, but you didn’t care so long as attention wasn’t directly drawn to you and you didn’t have to pay for the kills you made.

“We’re here.” The car stopped and you opened the door to leave. By then the rain had stopped and you merely held onto the umbrella idly after putting on your signature raincoat and pulled the hood over your head to cover your face as always. Mr. Crawling followed behind you, crawling on all fours with a fond smile on his face. This sight was no stranger to the officers of the Hunter Association, but any onlooker would linger their confused and disturbed expression on the display.

You ignored the Hunters and went straight for the officers to get some form of brief report to them. “It has been 40 minutes since the dungeon was cleared and the remaining Hunters reported that the bodies are scattered about. Should we send personnel with you?”

“Don’t bother.” You fixed your outfit and took out a crowbar from your bag, even strapping a dagger behind your back, curtsy of the Chairman after you joined his ranks. You were given more toys to play with and it made your work all the easier. “I’ll be out within 10 minutes or so. If not… I’ll still be out anyways…”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened when Song Chi-Yui took the blame for killing the rogue member and killer, Kang Tae-Shik, even Lee Joohee did the same and went along with the lie. Having time to himself after Jinchul’s warning about Hwang Dongsuk’s younger brother seeking revenge, he thought back to the last words of the defeated assassin class Hunter.

“Your shadow… is connected to the darkness. You will become… as strong as your shadow’s depth in the dark…” Agonizingly, Tae-Shik wheezed as he muttered softly. “In a way… You remind me of my guildmaster… Unsuspecting but strong and terrifyingly deadly… I wonder… if you two will… ever meet…”

Jinwoo wasn’t familiar with Tae-Shik, but he was confused when he said he had a guild master because he was a member of the Hunter Association. So the only answer was that he belonged to the rumoured guild working for the association behind the public’s knowledge, a guild that focused on eradicating the darkness and evils. A necessary evil that people, both citizens and Hunters, disregarded as hearsay to pressure people to obey laws.

Still, that aura around you when you passed by, that aura that screamed murder and violence, that aura that made him question: Are you human? 

Your eyes blinked and your head turned to a particular direction. You spotted a young man staring your way with a thoughtful look. Jinchul had already moved elsewhere with the remainder of the raiding party, so that man that was standing alone had to be someone left unattended because he had nothing to provide, like a suspect that was released back to the public because they were deemed harmless and innocent. Though, you could tell…

For the longest time, you and Jinwoo never crossed each other’s path again until you were called in to verify Jinwoo’s acquisition as an S-Rank Hunter. When the two of you had some time alone, you called him out with a soft yet confident statement. “You’re the one that killed the man, the weakling Kang Tae-Shik.” You stepped closer to him while your ghostly companions shook; they knew who, or at least they could also sense what Jinwoo was. Your dead heart beat like a drum, and your dull eyes sparkled with anticipation, “You have the scent of death around you. You’re familiar with death and murder.” A smile formed on your face as you invaded the frozen man’s space. “Who else did you kill cruelly and coldly?”

“...” Jinwoo can’t tell why he answered you, but he did. Unlike your hyper and eager look of expectancy, his was stoic and indifferent. “Hwang Dongsoo.”

Note: I wanted to do the dark side of the Hunter Association and this crossover was just perfect for it and now we're here. {Other Other World} could be tweaked for the two stories to be connected, but that's only if you guys wanna see that happen. How's this one in your opinion?

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @rozuburedo @crxscnt @phisen @o-qi-shisme @bunnymysteriously @valeriele3 @ariseverdark @undecidingfate @stoats-a-dork (please let me know if you didn't want to be tagged cause this list is from the 1st idea)

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

12: THROUGH THE ALLEY

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Summary: Things between you and Bucky are awkward now. But when a dangerous encounter threatens your safety, he’s there in an instant, bringing all the heat and fury of his protective instincts. And as the dust settles, you’re left wondering— where do you go from here?

Warnings: Angst, mutual avoidance, tension, brief violence/threat, attempted mugging, knife threat, protective!Bucky, hurt/comfort, swearing, some soft moments amidst the chaos.

Word Count: 3309

Something had shifted between you and Bucky since that night. There was a tension that neither of you seemed willing to address. You couldn’t avoid him completely, not when he lived across the hall. But your interactions had grown superficial and formal, neither of you lingering long enough to exchange more than civilities.

It wasn’t just him avoiding you, you were doing it too. It had been three weeks since the incident but when you heard his footsteps in the hall, you hesitated at the door. If you spotted him across the street, you turned into the nearest store or ducked around the corner. It was cowardly, but definitely felt safer than facing the awkwardness between you.

Today was no different. As you rounded the corner near your building, your eyes found him instinctively. He was on the opposite side of the street, his broad shoulders easily recognizable even through the crowd. For a second, you thought he might cross the street to talk to you. His eyes seemed to connect with yours, and your heart skipped a beat. But then he frowned, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking down at it— then changed direction completely.

You froze, a wave of sadness washing over you.

It shouldn’t have hurt. Afterall, you were doing the same thing, weren’t you? Skirting around him, staying silent rather than addressing the unexpected moment of intimacy. It was far easier to pretend you didn’t see him than face the mess you’d made of things. You’d broken too many rules in your agreement already.

Still, the rejection stung, even if it was mutual.

You sighed and shook your head, adjusting the jewelry case in your hands and forced yourself to keep walking. You had far more pressing issues at hand, like making it to this meeting with a new client and salvaging what was left of your professional reputation.

The last two weeks had been nothing short of a fiasco. You’d been dropped by an important client— one that comprised a third of your income, and it had been a devastating blow to your confidence. Your anxiety was through the roof, you felt like you were drowning. But by the grace of God, you’d managed to snag an appraisal appointment with an incredibly prestigious firm that had never shown you interest in the past. And it felt like you’d been thrown a lifeline.

You’d spent hours putting together a slideshow of your most popular designs, carefully selecting the ones that showcased your talents. Amongst them was Bucky’s birthday bracelet— an addition that still felt like a daring choice. Now here you were, carrying your personal collection in your arms, the case held close not just for its monetary value but for the sentimental attachment you had to each and every one of the pieces held inside.

You were dressed to impress, wearing your favorite outfit— a dress that hugged your figure in all the right places and brought out your eyes. On your feet were a pair of heels that sculpted your calves so perfectly that it didn’t matter how much they pinched your toes. You felt confident, maybe even a little invincible. If only you didn’t have to deal with the penguin-like waddle the dress forced on you, you thought, catching sight of your reflection in a store window. 

The firm in question had a boutique locally and had suggested a meeting at its Brooklyn location and you jumped at the chance. You were on your way when a narrow alleyway on your left caught your attention. Cutting through there would save you a few blocks walk and give you time to arrive early and avoid looking flustered and sweaty. You peeked down its length— it was clear, save for a few scattered trash cans along it and the distinct smell of the city.

You hesitated briefly, before throwing caution to the wind and stepped into the alley, your clicking heels echoing loudly through the narrow space. About halfway through, you came across a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

You froze, your breath caught in your throat, making the way your heart was pounding sound like a jackhammer. The man’s demeanor appeared casual but his eyes were immediately locked onto the case in your arms and he did nothing to hide his intent. The predatory gleam did nothing to calm your nerves. Everything in your body was telling you to run, but how could you? Your attire would trip you up in a matter of seconds, leaving you in a more vulnerable position than you were in now.

“Well, well, well. What do we have ‘ere?” he drawled in a cocky voice.

There was a small glint, something silver in one hand. Where did that knife come from? 

Your grip on the case tightened, your arms coming around to clutch it to your chest. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” You did your best to keep your voice steady, despite the way your body was trembling.

“Trouble? Who said anything about trouble?” the man smirked. “Just be a sweetheart and ‘and over the case and we can both be on our way.

Your stomach churned as adrenaline flooded your system, your mind searching for a way out of this situation. “P-please… I need this,” you stammered out a plea.

“I ain’t tellin’ you again, miss.” The man took a menacing step forward. “Give me the bag.”

A wave of terror washed over you, paralyzing you as the man took another step closer. The confidence with which he gripped the knife made your pulse race and your mouth dry.

Suddenly you heard a noise behind you. Another one! You didn’t even have the courage to turn your head. Instead you closed your eyes and bowed your head, hugging your precious work in front of your heart. There was a rush of air next to you and something brushed your arm.

Please don’t kill me.

“W’the fuck you want?” You heard the first man speak.

The words confused you and you dared to take a peek to see what was happening. There was a tall figure standing in front of you, his back to you. You opened your eyes further, noting the tension in the new stranger’s stance. Your gaze traced his outline, the way his shoulders were squared, his head tilted to one side and his fists balled up at his sides— one flesh and one… 

Bucky?

It felt like you could breathe again. Relief and confusion flooded through you. But before you could process any of your thoughts or feelings, Bucky spoke. His voice was low and dangerous.

“I want you to leave.”

The mugger sneered at the simple threat, holding his knife higher. “Oh yeah? You gonna make me?”

“If I have to.” Bucky’s expression was devoid of emotion, his words cold. “Rather not, though.”

The mugger laughed mockingly, sending a chill through your spine. “You and what army, pal?”

“No need for an army…”

The mugger was starting to look a little anxious, but he wasn’t completely undeterred by Bucky’s nonchalance. He attacked, lunging at Bucky with his knife, the sharp metal blade glinting dangerously as it slashed through the air.

You gasped, taking a panicked step backwards. But Bucky didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. As the knife came down, Bucky caught the blade in his vibranium hand, fingers closing around it like a vice. The mugger’s expression made a flawless transition from an aggressive snarl to surprise and finally landed on fear. His bravado crumbled in front of you as he struggled to pull the knife back from the super soldier’s unyielding grasp.

“Just me,” Bucky finished quietly as his other arm came to rest around the mugger’s attacking wrist.

“Let go!” the man cried, trying to wrench it free.

Bucky tilted his head, as though thinking about his request. Then he twisted the man’s wrist ever so slightly, forcing the knife out of his grip. Bucky flipped the knife playfully in his metal hand a couple of times before catching it by the handle so that the tip pointed towards the mugger.

“Not a very balanced blade,” he said, balancing it on his palm. “This is what you’re relying on?”

He watched the mugger’s eyes follow the point of the blade as Bucky waved it around with practiced ease. Then, without warning, he closed his hand around the knife and clenched it so tightly that the crunch of the snapping metal echoed through the narrow passageway.

“You’re a monster,” the man spat, voice trembling with fear and fury and he tugged at his wrist in an attempt to escape.

Bucky’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. “You’re not wrong.” Then without warning, he let go of the mugger’s wrist, sending him stumbling backwards to land on the concrete floor. “Now get out of here before I change my mind about hurting you.”

There was no hesitation; the mugger scrambled off the ground and bolted down the alley without so much as a backward glance. And a silence fell over the enclosed space as the scuffle of his footsteps faded away.

Slowly Bucky turned around, his eyes raking over you, searching for signs of injury. You expected his face to soften as it usually did when he looked at you but today you felt something different. His expression was hard and you could feel the iciness of his stare, making you cower away from him. He took in your appearance, your shaking hands as they still clutched the bag, your rumpled jacket and your fearful eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” he growled in a low voice that betrayed his anger.

Your relief turned to confusion. Was he talking to you?

“Are you stupid or just reckless?” he snapped, stepping towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Walking down a damn alley on your own, dressed like… that, and carrying something so valuable?”

His words were harsh, every one cutting deeper than the knife you’d been threatened with, shattering what was left of your already fragile state. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…” you stammered, voice cracking under the strain.

“Do you even understand what that guy could have done to you?” he shouted, his voice harsh and angry. “He could have…”

You were shaking harder than before, clutching your bag tighter to your chest, like a shield, a barrier of protection from the onslaught of Bucky’s wrath. You turned away, hot tears spilling over your cheeks and your legs wobbling as though your knees would give way any second. “I know,” you wept, the words lost in your sobs.

You hated yourself for crumbling under the pressure, but Bucky’s reaction had tipped you over the edge.

The sight of you falling apart stopped Bucky’s tirade. His anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by a wave of guilt. “Oh, hey, hey, Princess… come on… don’t…” he muttered helplessly in a soft voice, quickly closing the distance between you.

Before you knew what was happening, he had pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. You hadn’t had time to lower your bag, which was now awkwardly squashed between you; not that he seemed to care or even notice. His hands were on your back and at the base of your neck, steadying you, soothing you. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You clung to him, the implications of your encounter finally catching up with you. Bucky stayed with you, a strong, solid presence as you tried to regain your composure. After a few minutes, you loosened your grip on him and he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded in response, feeling steadier but still shaken.

“Where were you going anyway?”

“I got an appraisal—” You looked at your watch, “in half an hour! Shit! Oh God, I must look awful.”

“C’mon,” he said gently. “Let me get that for you and we can get you freshened up.” Without waiting for an answer, he slipped the case from your shaking hands. The way his fingers brushed over yours was strangely comforting. “Where’s your appraisal?”

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks as you handed him your phone to show him the address, which was only a ten minute walk from your current position. He guided you out of the alley with a gentle hand at your back. The two of you were at the boutique sooner than expected, Bucky hadn’t left your side. He carried your case like it was his burden to bear. He even pointed out a neighboring coffee shop where you slipped into the washroom to fix your make up.

As you stepped into the boutique, a bell chimed softly announcing your arrival. You and Bucky were met by a harassed looking sales assistant who greeted you politely and apologized to you,  saying that his managers were still busy.

“We’re terribly sorry, but we’re still finishing up with a rather... challenging client. Would you and your bodyguard mind waiting for a moment?”

Bodyguard. You shot Bucky a quick glance but there was no sign of reaction on his face at the assumption.

“Of course we don't mind waiting,” you replied with a gracious smile, walking towards the chairs you were directed to.

In reality, you were grateful for a moment to compose yourself. Bucky set your case down and took a seat in the less comfortable looking chair. His large frame made the chair look comically small. You sat down beside him and sighed.

“Thanks for being here,” you said softly.

“You don't have to thank me,” he answered, also keeping his voice low. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I… I just want to focus on this. I really need it to go well.”

His brows furrowed. “Why? What’s going on?”

You sighed, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “I lost a big client recently. They said they weren’t happy with the direction my business was going.”

“Not happy with the direction of your business? What does that mean?”

You looked down at your lap, picking at a flap of skin next to your cuticle. Without looking at Bucky, you picked your words carefully. “They weren’t a fan of my commission request,” you mumbled.

Bucky leaned over towards you, concern etched across his features. “Wait... is this because of the post about my bracelet?”

You didn’t answer, your eyes flicking down to his wrist where you could see the bracelet resting snugly under the sleeve of his jacket. Your silence was enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Take it down,” he said firmly. “Tell them it wasn’t for me.”

You shook your head, offering him a strained smile. “It’s fine, Bucky. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” he argued. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re losing work.”

“They said if I took it down, they’d keep me on,” you admitted, determinedly looking down at your shoes.

His eyes searched yours. “And you didn’t?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” you replied simply. “I told them to shove it. I’m not going to have my work associated with those bigots.”

Bucky stared at you, his mouth parted slightly, stunned by the weight of your loyalty. For a few moments, he was rendered speechless.

“You did that... for me?” he asked finally in a whisper.

You shrugged, feeling your cheeks flush under the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t want my work to be associated with people who think like that.” After a moment of contemplation, you added, “Assholes.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him lean back in the chair, his vibranium arm coming to rest on the bracelet on his right wrist. “You’re... something else, you know that?” he huffed.

“Nah,” you laughed. “Just stubborn.”

“No.” He put his hand on yours, prompting you to look up at him. “You’re brave. And thank you… for sticking up for me.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence but you could tell from the way he fiddled with the bracelet that what you had done meant more to him that he was letting on.

The walk back to your apartment was uneventful. The streets were quieter, the bustle from earlier had faded with the afternoon. But despite this, you felt on edge. Bucky stuck close by you, as if sensing your need for reassurance, carrying your case again without complaint.

The meeting had gone well— really well. It had been surprising to you how well the boutique managers had responded to your work. But the real shock was how they had fawned over Bucky, their excitement over his Avenger status was palpable. For a brief moment, you stopped to wonder if their offer was more related to his fame than your actual talent. But despite this rather unsettling thought, their offer of a more lucrative contract took a massive weight off our shoulders.

As the two of you reached your front doors, Bucky handed you back your case. His eyes lingered on your face as though he was looking for signs of you unraveling.

“You gonna be ok tonight?” he asked, genuine concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steady. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Well, you… what happened today was pretty scary.”

“I’m fine, Bucky. Thank you… for everything.” You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He sighed, his face softening but he nodded, accepting your decision. “Okay, well… if you need anything, I’m…” He gestured to his door across the hall. “Just over here.”

Your eyes followed the movement of his hand and landed on his door. You’d grown so accustomed to seeing it and him, but you’d not previously thought of it as a safe space… a source of comfort. “Thanks,” you whispered, trying to convey your gratitude.

He gave you a small, almost sheepish smile, then stepped back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

He waited until you closed and locked your door before retreating for the night.

The next morning, you left for work not expecting to see him, but there he was— leaning against a lamppost right outside your building. His vibranium arm was stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, but the other had a small cup of coffee in it. 

You stopped in your tracks, wondering if he was waiting for someone else. The thought of him waiting for someone else unsettled you more than you expected. But then his eyes lifted to meet yours and he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Morning,” he said casually, as if this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

“Bucky… what’re you doing?” you asked, walking up to him.

“Walking you to work,” he said, handing you the coffee. “Don’t argue. It’s black. You look like you need it.”

You accepted the cup but you still felt confused. “Thanks, but… why?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re okay. What happened… what happened yesterday…” he sighed. “Look, fake relationship or not… I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

“Bucky,” you called his name gently, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he said earnestly.

“I know this is all for pretend, but… are we at least friends? For real?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “We’re friends. You can trust me.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, cradling the coffee in your hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, smiling gently. “Now, come on. Don’t want you to be late.”

He started walking again and you followed, the two of you falling into an easy conversation. By the time you reached the corner, you were still trading jabs, the earlier tension forgotten, as though you’d been friends for years.

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Posting schedule will be Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays around 2.30pm EST / 11.30am PST / 7.30pm BST

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Something is missing

There is something missing, Alexia thinks that evening.

She isn't sure what it is but she knows there's something. Something should be at home but isn't.

It can't be Olga because she knows Olga is in Madrid with a client and won't be home for another week. Alexia misses her for sure, calling every night to make sure she's okay and ordering little gifts for Olga to find when she finally comes home again.

It's not Jaume because he's already in bed, fast asleep after a long training session after school. He's been doing well in school, solidly in the middle of the pack with all of his tests and exams. He's balancing everything very well.

The thought of her son fills her with pride. He's doing so well with his training too, leaps and bounds ahead of those in his age range and only seems to be getting better and better.

Alexia can already see, in her mind's eye, him debuting for Barcelona as a teenager. He's got the talent for it and the drive.

Playing for Barcelona is his dream, to be clad in the colours of the first team and play in a sold out Camp Nou just like Alexia did all those years ago.

She walks around her house, checking doors and windows are locked to try and work out what she's missing.

She checks the mantelpiece, in case a picture has fallen down but there's nothing.

All of Jaume's school photos are hanging up in pride of place for everyone to see. Nothing has fallen off. Nothing has appeared out of nowhere.

The only thing there is a layer of dust that should probably get cleaned up tomorrow when she has time.

But Alexia's not quite sure what she's missing as she heads back up the stairs.

Jaume's bedroom door is slightly open and she can see him snoozing happily through the crack like normal. Your bedroom door is closed.

That's normal too.

Your door is always closed. You always hide yourself away in your room, hidden from everyone else for most of the hours of the day.

Alexia sighs, shaking her head.

She's not quite sure what to do with you.

You finish school this year...

No, that's not right.

You finish school next year?

Maybe the year after that?

Alexia's not quite sure but either way you need to talk to her about your future, about what you want to do with your life.

Ballet is a nice hobby to have but Alexia doesn't know if you're talented enough to make it a job. Nothing has come home for you in a while and there's been no invitations to recitals and performances. To be honest, Alexia doesn't quite know if she's still paying for lessons for you because you never tell her about them.

It hardly matters though because soon enough you'll need an actual job and Alexia needs to know if you'll go straight out into the work force or if you're going to be going to university.

She isn't quite sure what you'd study but your self sufficient enough to know by this point.

Alexia can't remember the last time you've asked her for something but that hardly matters either. You've been independent for a while now. You know how to sort yourself out.

Alexia would just like to know in advance so she can plan her own stuff out like if you're going to need company when touring a university or if you're happy to do it by yourself.

She yawns, finally tearing herself away from your closed door.

It's very late and Jaume's got early morning practice that she's got to drive him to.

He could get himself there all on his own if he really wanted to. He's been very smug about his new bus pass, allowing him to meet up with his friends without Alexia shepherding him everywhere.

But, still, the mornings before football practice are something special between Alexia and Jaume.

Just the two of them in the car together.

They talk about everything and nothing.

It's the perfect time to catch up with her son, Alexia thinks. He's a very busy boy when school and friends and football is taken into account.

He does so much and has so little time so the car journey is always the best time to talk to him and find out what's been going on in his life.

It's a time that Alexia looks forward to every week but it's very early in the morning that they have to leave though so she really should be getting to bed.

Whatever conversation you and she should have can be delayed a little longer.

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet. 

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood. 

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that. 

“Oh my god, there you are!”  Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

 Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun. 

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss. 

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.” 

“Again?” 

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode.  “I got a text from the guy from last night.” 

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk. 

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible. 

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing-  “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need. 

 Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. “Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on. 

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.”  He leans in on his elbows, sternly.  “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!” 

Fuck. Double fuck. 

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-”  Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.” 

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist.  “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally.  “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

 Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside.  “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with  a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you. 

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!” 

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.  

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it. 

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert. 

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement. 

 “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room  without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall.  “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has. 

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his. 

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass- 

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment. 

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-”  he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal. 

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

 Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him. 

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing. 

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious. 

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you. 

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-” 

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time. 

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep. 

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.” 

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight. 

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg.  “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine. 

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis. 

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.  

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.  

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

 “I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg.  “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.” 

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do. 

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes. 

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over. 

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries. 

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble 

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection.  “You don’t think we’re done, do you?” 

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand.  Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark. 

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?” 

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you��re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth.  “You poor, neglected thing.” 

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?”  you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle. 

“I’m going to do-”  Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

[ave-cave]

In Defense of Mahiru's Last Words

An aspect of 2-2 that I think a lot of fans get wrong is Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko. I’d go so far as to call them the most misunderstood last words in the series. Her role in the second case is often overlooked in favor of Peko and Fuyuhiko's, and this line encapsulates said role, so I figured I'd try to dispel the misconceptions that surround it. Cool? Cool.

---

First thing’s first, my thesis statement (lol): in response to the well-worn criticism that Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko were hypocritical, I’ll grant fans this much: her words were shortsighted and poorly-timed. They weren’t, however, hypocritical.

More often than not when I see people refer to Mahiru’s last words as hypocritical, they mean that she's condemning Fuyuhiko for avenging his sister, meanwhile her friend who committed an act of revenge received her protection. My issue with this? Sato’s murder of Natsumi wasn’t revenge. The third day of Twilight Syndrome Murder Case (which Mahiru played) has Sato explain in depth why she did what she did. She didn’t confront Natsumi with the intent to kill her; she only wanted to talk at first. But when Natsumi began making threats, she saw red and accidentally knocked her out. Knowing how dire the consequences would be if Natsumi woke up and tattled to her family, Sato killed her and pinned the crime on a rumored pervert. This is further highlighted in the trial.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Sato is still to blame here. No matter how much shit Natsumi was talking, she shouldn’t have responded with violence, and she found herself in that situation through every fault of her own. The key thing is that it wasn’t revenge; it was desperation. By the time Natsumi fell unconscious, it was Sato who was trying to avoid becoming the victim of yakuza “justice.”

Recall that the incriminating evidence Mahiru got rid of was a picture of a broken vase. To anyone who wasn’t there the day of the incident, a photo of this nature would prove basically nothing. Sure, one could surmise that it means the killer didn’t actually escape through the window, but figuring out what they did do, and by extension who they are, would require having run into Sato in the hall (given it isn’t brought up at any point, it’s unlikely there was security footage.) It might arouse suspicion, seeing as there were rumors going around that Sato was with Natsumi the day of the latter's murder, but it wouldn't be able to substantiate anything. Either way, the only people who would have any use for it were the police and the yakuza.

Mahiru protecting Sato from the police wouldn't make much sense at all. Blind loyalty toward her friends – to the point of helping them escape consequences for their actions – isn’t a trait she showcases in the main game. There are a few classmates she shows extra care toward (she’s particularly concerned for Mikan, she sticks up for Peko and she offers to help Hiyoko when the latter is struggling with her kimono), sure, but unraveling the mysteries of the killing game takes first priority for her at the end of the day. Moreover, in Twilight Syndrome, before she realizes that Sato is the killer, she takes pictures of Natsumi's body in the hopes that they'll be useful to the police (this obviously isn't the smartest move, but it's in-character: Mahiru is someone who's always trying to do the right thing despite her lack of self-confidence. She feels guilty about agreeing with the other girls not to report Natsumi’s body, and so she figures that utilizing her talent is the next best thing. We see her do something similar in 2-1.) Going from “I need to help the police find the culprit” to “my friend is the culprit; time to destroy the evidence” is a dramatic shift – one that doesn't line up with anything else we know about Mahiru.

What's a trait she does showcase in the main game? Distaste for cruel and unusual punishment. She sympathizes with Teruteru’s motive, heavily implying that Monokuma shouldn't have executed him, and she criticizes Nekomaru and Kazuichi for hogtying and isolating Nagito, before eventually bringing him food. The second example is especially noteworthy. Nagito got both the Imposter and Teruteru killed – he's an unstable individual, no two ways about it. Mahiru doesn't object to his being restrained; she objects to the over-the-top, vigilante-style methods used by Nekomaru and Kazuichi to do so. There's a clear parallel to be drawn between this and Twilight Syndrome. If she's so against Nagito – a murderer who isn't her friend – receiving inhumane treatment, then there's no question she'd be against it for Sato, a murderer who is.

It's only reasonable to assume that, when Mahiru realized the truth of the incident, she destroyed the evidence for the same reason Sato committed murder in the first place: she knew that, if it got into yakuza hands, there would be hell to pay. She wasn’t too far off the mark, either. The rumors in mind, all it took for Fuyuhiko to connect the dots was witnessing Sato’s failed attempt to discard the sole intact copy of the photo (Mahiru needed at least one if she wanted to corner Sato and coax a confession from her; she couldn't have anticipated that it would be absconded with.) And even if he didn't, say someone else found it: they might report it to the police, yes, but more likely (given the lack of solid evidence) they would start another, more potent rumor – one that would eventually reach the wrong ears, inciting action. All told, Sato was lucky to have only been killed, as the yakuza are capable of much, much worse.

Mahiru didn’t think what Sato did was right. Far from it; she was shocked and horrified when her suspicions turned out to be true. Furthermore, even outside of the TSMC, she believes her covering for Sato is something to atone for, which automatically requires thinking Sato was wrong. But if it was within her power to throw the mafia off Sato’s trail, she absolutely would, including by decidedly immoral means. You don’t have to condone murder to not want your friend to be kidnapped and tortured.

When Mahiru asserts during her final confrontation with Fuyuhiko that “nobody has the right to judge others for their crimes,” “judge” is another way of saying “take revenge on.” Think the phrase “playing judge, jury and executioner.” Fuyuhiko judged Sato as deserving of death for her crime, and carried out that judgment by murdering her. That’s what Mahiru is condemning. She’s not dismissing his loss – she acknowledges that his sister’s murder was terrible. She’s saying it didn’t give him the right to become a murderer as well. This isn’t hypocritical; it’s perfectly consistent with her actions in the TSMC. She never took revenge on anyone, nor did she protect another’s act of revenge. She was trying to prevent revenge from the start.

That said, Mahiru isn’t above reproach (if she were, none of this would be happening to begin with.) Though I stand firm that she had every right to be angry here, I can appreciate that Fuyuhiko did, too.

Mahiru went into the beach house intending to figure out how to atone for a sin she couldn’t remember committing. Fuyuhiko went into the beach house intending to kill Mahiru as further revenge for Natsumi. Thing is, Fuyuhiko isn’t a cold-blooded killer. He thinks he's supposed to be, but deep down he’s conflicted. And so, to cope, he has an out: if Mahiru denies the game's reality, he'll call off the plan. He’ll spare her. More than anything, he just wants to believe that none of it happened; his sister isn't dead and Mahiru didn't cover for her killer. But it's too late to hope for denial. He'd already accused Mahiru of the cover-up and sent her the photos as proof, and she’d been taking it very seriously ever since. The threatening letter he left her, combined with her knowledge of the game’s true ending, would have been more than enough to convince the others to apprehend him like Kazuichi wanted – not to mention the most obvious thing to do for her own protection. And yet from the moment she received the letter, the only thing on her mind was making amends. There was no going back.

These conflicting goals are a recipe for disaster. Fuyuhiko, who had initially compelled Mahiru to face her sin, is now wanting her to deny that the events of the game ever took place. Mahiru, who came for help collecting her thoughts, is now face-to-face with the very person she needed to prepare to talk to. Keyword: prepare. Again, the important thing to understand about Mahiru is that, despite her headstrong attitude and emphasis on “doing the right thing,” she doesn’t always know what the right thing is. She lacks the confidence necessary to support her levelheadedness, and so she agonizes and deliberates. Instances of this include:

When she stays quiet as Hiyoko berates Teruteru, claiming he deserved to die, only to come to terms with the issue later (main game).

When she’s implied to spend the night awake pondering what to do about the Twilight Syndrome motive (main game).

When she waits several days before getting rid of the vase picture, showing that she didn't take the decision lightly (TSMC).

When she ruminates over how best to make amends with Fuyuhiko, leading him to think she’s avoiding him (main game).

The fact that, in the TSMC, Mahiru finds herself in a situation that tests her moral compass is what makes her involvement in the case compelling. She’s not someone who believes the ends justify the means, and yet all of a sudden she’s thrust into a scenario where they have to – where “the right thing” (not destroying the evidence) and “the wrong thing” (letting Sato suffer and/or die) intersect. No wonder she handles the entire thing so clumsily; it’s completely foreign to her.

Now consider this situation. Mahiru has been lured to a secluded area. She never got the chance to talk things through with the other girls and hasn’t the first clue about how to make amends. Fuyuhiko has proven that he isn’t all bark and no bite and could actually hurt her if provoked. Hiyoko is nowhere to be found; who’s to say Fuyuhiko hasn’t killed or severely harmed her? It’s a perfect storm of stress. Needless to say, the interaction is already doomed.

Said interaction starts when Mahiru, treating the game as though it were real, asks if Fuyuhiko killed Girl E (Sato). At this, Fuyuhiko is furious. But wait… this whole thing started because Fuyuhiko accused her of being an accomplice to his sister's murder, and yet now, when she's asking about what he did in the game, he says he doesn't want to hear it? When she says he shouldn’t have killed Girl E, he replies that nobody cares? How does this sound to Mahiru? A man who doesn't think he did anything wrong, refusing to accept responsibility? Only at this point does she get angry.

On the other hand, from Fuyuhiko's perspective, Mahiru had been avoiding him ever since he left her that letter, and so the fact that she isn't answering his questions is insulting. Even though he'd already decided on revenge, he’s giving her a chance to avoid the fate he had planned for her altogether, simply by saying she doesn’t remember anything from the game or believe that it happened. Yet not only is she doing the opposite of that, the girl who supposedly tried to protect his sister's killer is claiming that he was also wrong. His anger skyrockets.

All in all, it’s pretty easy to understand where both of them were coming from. In Mahiru’s efforts to protect her friend from revenge, she prevented Fuyuhiko from getting justice for Natsumi in any capacity. There was no way the authorities would believe him, a member of the criminal underworld, over a seemingly normal high school girl – not without evidence. Sure, a picture of a vase wasn’t substantial, but it was something, and she got rid of it. Meanwhile, if Fuyuhiko hadn’t been out for blood, Mahiru wouldn’t have felt the need to destroy the evidence to begin with. In other words, they both felt they had no choice but to do what they did – Mahiru to cover things up, Fuyuhiko to kill. Their goals clashed at nearly every turn, right up to the end.

Mahiru messed up – that I won’t deny. She lost her cool and chastised Fuyuhiko while he was in the middle of interrogating her about his sister. She shouldn't have done that – not because she didn't have a point, but because it wasn't the right time. Chances are if she’d kept treating the game as real, she still would have angered him enough to convince Peko it was necessary to step in, but straight-up condemning his actions more or less sealed her fate. It’s almost ironic how her go-to method of yelling at people to do better led to her death in this instance. Keep in mind, though, it was Fuyuhiko who put her in that position to begin with. He backed her into a corner, deprived her of the chance to think things through and expected her to simply… read his mind and say what he wanted her to say so that he could find an excuse not to kill her. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to claim she brought her death entirely on herself.

Moreover, her last words in and of themselves weren’t off-target. Fuyuhiko spends nearly the rest of the game trying to atone for rushing into revenge. He realizes that Mahiru was right; “an eye for an eye” is a flawed credo, and it’s through this that he manages to earn the forgiveness of all of his classmates, even Hiyoko. Losing Peko might have been what springboarded his development, but Mahiru’s contribution shouldn’t be understated. Hell, the scenario of Mahiru's death echoes some of Goodbye Despair’s most important themes, namely restoration over retribution and being punished for a forgotten sin. The mindset that certain people deserve to die for their crimes is what leads to much of the cast’s misery, and ultimately the opposite philosophy is what saves them.

Thanks for reading :)