#and it hit me again that I write in English and that probably narrows down my audience a lot

[fangirl-writes]

Sick Day

JJ Maybank x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Sickness, fever.

Request:

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write jj maybank x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish, like they always jump from excitement and love weird things. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and jj take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please.

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you.

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

Notes: JJ would absolutely listen to Arctic Monkeys don't @ me.

"But JJ," you whined as he carried you into your house.

"No buts, Y/N, you can't put other shit above yourself. You're sick and you're going to be sick until you get better."

You pouted, burying your head in his shoulder. "But what if you get sick?"

"Don't worry about that, I literally never get sick. It's like some superpower I have," he replied, walking towards your bedroom. "One time John B. got the flu, like shit from both ends bad flu, and I spent the whole day with him anyway and never got sick."

"But you're gonna miss a pogue day off..."

"I think I'm willing to sacrifice one day just for you,"

A blush spread across your cheeks and you said, "...thanks."

You'd woken up feeling like shit, with a fever and an aching body, but you were never one to let anything bring you down so you popped some Tylenol and went on your way.

But the pogues knew something was wrong right away because you were usually the life of the party, bouncing uncontrollably all the way down the dock and talking animatedly about whatever it was that had piqued your interest that day.

But not today.

Today you were relatively silent, refusing a beer and a puff of JJ's blunt.

You'd had off days before, they all did, so none of them pushed you to tell them what was up.

Until you stood up too fast and nearly fainted.

Thankfully, JJ intercepted your body before it could hit the water and laid you down on the floor of the boat. Everyone fanned your face and Kie pressed a cool water bottle to your forehead.

"Y/N, you're burning up," she said. "I think you have a fever."

"What?" JJ said. "Seriously?"

You couldn't help but cry a little bit at the statement, the concern in everyone's eyes making you feel worse.

Which JJ could tell. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What? No-" you sat up quickly - too quickly- and had to catch yourself before you fell back. "Seriously, don't let me ruin your day, I can walk home."

"Y/N, you can barely sit up, let JJ take you home," Pope said.

"No, come on, he probably doesn't want to be around me anyway. You'd much rather stay here and drink and smoke with the pogues, right?"

JJ was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at you before he leaned over, grabbed your wrist and hip, threw you over his shoulder and hopped up onto the deck with ease.

"JJ!" You protested, but he'd trapped you. You had no escape in this position.

"See you guys later," JJ said, throwing a peace sign to his friends with his free hand before continuing his trek towards your house.

"JJ!" You tried again, pounding against his back. "Put me down!"

He swung you around, making you shout, but he didn't put you down, simply holding you bridal style instead.

You must've turned green because he winced. "Sorry."

Eyes squeezed shut, you said, "It's fine. You should really put me down though."

"Nope."

A few minutes of bickering later and well-

"Here we are," JJ said, setting you down carefully on your bed.

Having resigned yourself to sickness at this point, you immediately crawled under the covers and groaned.

JJ chuckled, running a hand over your forehead. "You really are burning up. I'm gonna go get you some water."

"J-"

"I'll be right back," He said, smiling at you as you looked up at him.

He pulled a water bottle from the fridge and the bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet before heading back to your room.

Your eyes were still open when he came back.

"What?"

"Nothing," you replied, smiling weakly. "Just never saw you as the nurse type."

"Never had any sexy dreams about me in a nurse's uniform?" he joked.

"You wish."

Instead of replying, JJ set down the water and Tylenol on your bedside table and picked up the thermometer that was already there.

"You had a fever before and you still came?"

You groaned. "Don't lecture me."

He didn't but he still stuck the thermometer in your mouth.

"101, wow," he said. "You are sick. And you definitely need to sleep."

You tossed your head against your pillow. How were you supposed to sleep in the middle of the afternoon with the sun shining right in your window?

Then an idea struck you.

JJ looked up from where he was surveying the thermometer and noticed your gaze. "...What?"

You made grabby hands at him. "Cuddle me?"

He shook his head. "You're sick."

"What happened to all that bravado about not ever getting sick?"

"I mean you need to sleep."

"I'll sleep better if you're with me," you replied.

He rolled his eyes but joined you in your bed anyway. "If you wanted me in your bed, you didn't have to get sick to do it."

"Shut up," you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms with your head against his chest. "You know you've always wanted to be here, too."

He hoped his heart wasn't hammering too hard with you so close. "Maybe so."

You sighed, face scrunched up as you tried to will yourself to sleep.

JJ bit his lip.

His mother always used to sing him lullabies when he was sick as a kid. Course that was before she left.

Still, maybe he could turn that painful memory into a good one.

He started humming softly, just loud enough for you to hear, and raking his fingers through your hair.

"You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours," he sang softly.

Sure he wasn't the most musically gifted person, but he could hold a tune and the way you snuggled further into him told him you were enjoying the serenade.

"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."

Forgetting the other words, he returned to humming.

You were so beautiful, lying in his arms, half-asleep. Even sick, you were one of the most beautiful people JJ had ever seen.

"I just wanna be yours," he sang one last time, assuming you'd be asleep by now.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went to get up but you tightened your hold.

"Don't leave," You whispered sleepily, almost slurring. "I wanna be yours, too..."

A little stunned, JJ slunk back into his former position, holding you close. "Really?"

You hummed, nodding.

JJ absolutely got your fever the next day but he'd claim it was worth it to hear you sing the same song back at him and to kiss you whenever he wanted.

[kairiscorner]

Throwback to the very first thing i requested from u bc i think it’s been over a month HAHAHA

For ‘i’m stuck with you’ (art student x stem student miggy) EXCEEEPPPTTT make the reader a english/langlit major, or just really good at writing (bc i love my writers)

Okay, we have established that reader is fucking terrible at math (i am them, they are me)

But how about miguel needing help with essays? Because sci students are lowkey kinda bad with essays

Cause yeah, even though i hc that miggy probably has really, really good grammar, when writing essays? Nah, that mf is all over the place.

Like he has the ideas, but he lacks the creativity and writing skill to get them onto paper

(Not a request, but write it if u want to :D)

SHIEEEEEETTTTTT i am forever in love with college miggy <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i'm stuck with you. — miguel o'hhara x reader pt. 2 (college dorm mates au)

summary: it should come as no surprise to anybody that miguel o'hara was extremely good at running his mouth off and pretentious when it came to grammar and spelling... but making him write an opinionated essay, or a book report? oh, you're stumping him. luckily for him, he has a super adorable, english-smart dorm mate; unluckily for him, however, you can't put up with his annoying, whiny ass about how "boring" all this writing seems to be.

pairing: college!dorm mate!miguel o'hara x college!dorm mate!reader

genre: fluff <333

word count: 965

author's note: when is it my turn to have a cocky, math and science smarts stem boyfriend that sucks ass at creative writing ,,, i'm alr the writer gf, universe, ano ba 😭😭😭

he stared at the flashing cursor on the document he was supposed to be writing his book report for the english class he had to take. he sighed and folded his arms over his chest in frustration, his eyebrows crinkling as all he could do was sigh again at the lack of ideas swirling in his head. "this is why i took genetics, nobody needs to write reflections on alleles or why DNA is shaped as a double helix... this is idiotic." he muttered under his breath as he forcefully hit the backspace key repeatedly and sighed for the third time.

you soon arrived back to your dorm after attending all your classes for the day and was surprised to witness your so-called "genius" dorm mate slump over his desk, his forehead pressed down against the surface as his laptop remained open and the document remained empty–even emptier than before, actually. you walked over to miguel, half concerned and half unfazed, ironically. you had yearned to see the day when his ego would break, but unfortunately, you weren't there to see the fall–hence you drew barely any enjoyment out of seeing him all stumped.

"hey, genius, what's wrong?" you asked him in a partially sarcastic and partially worried voice, with miguel groaning as he thumped his forehead lightly against the surface of his desk. "words are hard." he muttered. you raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled lightly. "words are hard? wow, and you can piece together a bunch of letters and greek symbols together... either you're speaking an alien language of incomprehensible numbers, or you're just good at everything but linguistics." "the latter." miguel mumbled all muffled and groan again.

you chuckled and moved closer to him, practically hovering over him as you looked at the very blank document before you. "what's this supposed to be?" "an... essay." "an essay has words, you realize that, right?" you asked him sarcastically with a smile. he scowled at you as he sat up a bit from his computer chair. "it's... it's loading." "nah, i know exactly when words are loading, i'm around documents a lot–you've got nothing on it." you pointed out with a snicker as miguel rolled his eyes.

"well, if you're so good at this, why not you do it?" he asked you with narrowed eyes. you rolled your eyes and placed your arms over his shoulders, bringing your fingertips to the keyboard to type for him. you were in such close proximity to miguel that he couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of your forearms brushing against his shoulders and neck occasionally, and the scent of your perfume filling his nose. he felt a bit flustered at the feeling and scents he was picking up from you.

you tilted your head slightly. "what is it, mig? care to tell me what your essay's supposed to be about?" you asked him, snapping him out of his trance as he pushed his glasses back up on his face and cleared his throat. "it's about... my thoughts around my favorite person. i know, pretty rudimentary, it's a question for a first grader. but the problem is... i can't even begin to describe that 'favorite person' of mine. the thoughts are pouring in, the words just... don't come as fluidly." miguel admitted as he shrugged.

that was no problem for you, however–you had the ability to come up with the most effective and creative ways to write feelings, thoughts, and ideas out with ease; you were just the person miguel needed. you articulated his thoughts out on the virtual document for him, listening to him patiently describe his favorite person in such layman terms; and you, with your very eloquent and unique way of delivering his scrambled thoughts, wrote him a 7 page essay in that one sitting. all he did was open and close his mouth, speak in such simple terms to describe his favorite person–stuttering, stammering, repeating words involuntarily due to his limited vocabulary for adjectives that could properly describe that person, expanded by your own broad vocabulary aiding him in drawing a picture of this favorite person of his that... felt familiarly unfamiliar, in an uncanny way.

you two finished the joint work you were doing, and miguel's mouth hung open in surprise at how quickly you could type and how you never repeated a single adjective to describe his favorite person–and especially at how long the work you wrote was. "no... way." he muttered aloud as he rolled the mouse's cursor all the way down to the seventh page, his eyes bulging from their sockets as he took in every word you wrote for him. "my professor's not gonna believe i wrote this." he gushed as you chuckled. "is it that bad?" you asked him with a shy smile as he looked at you in disbelief.

"bad? this is spectacular, beyond everything i ever expected–thank you." he expressed his thanks to you as you smiled wider and shrugged. "dunno, i... think i could've elaborated more on paragraph–" "oh, please, if you elaborate any more, my professor's got fail me on the spot, they'll know i didn't write it by then. it's beautiful, it... really encompasses how i feel about my favorite person. thank you..." he said as he grinned up at you brightly. you had witnessed a side of miguel that no one had ever seen before... a grateful side to the cocky, arrogant genius of this college; and you swore, that from the corner of your eye... a hint of a genuinely happy, adoring miguel was staring back at you through those hazel brown orbs of his that peered into the deep recesses and depths of his soul, of his heart.... have you finally figured out who his favorite person is?

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @melovetitties @arachnoia @luvstarrstruck @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0

©kairiscorner (don't steal my work, i'll steal your kneecaps !)

[falconflare]

how to get your daughter to stop talking like a robot:

a really informal post where i try and decipher bronya's transition from talking about herself in third person to being normal

This is kind of just for me and me alone but I like to yap and somebody might be interested enough to listen along. For the sake of the many non-Hi3 folk around here I will begin by getting into some context. First, though, let me be really upfront and honest: I've played this game since 2019 and, despite having replayed a lot of the content, Bronya is a character that exists from chapter 1 until the very end with a lot of screentime. I may lose some details. This post is perhaps not biblically accurate.

let's get into it.

Bronya was born in Siberia, orphaned by a Honkai eruption, and then scooped up by the military and trained as a soldier at the ripe age of... We don't know. Younger than twelve, we know that much for certain. She was a fantastic sniper, dubbed Silver Wolf of the Urals, and on a mission to assassinate a woman by the name of Cocolia, she failed.

Cocolia then captured her and, well, brought her to her orphanage. I'd say it's downhill from here (it is) but she didn't really start too far uphill either.

The robotic speech thing is... well, we don't know when or why it necessarily started. We see Bronya speaking this way from literally chapter 1 of the game. In the supplemental manga, Azure Waters, which details Bronya's life before the game's events, we see her refer to herself in first person right from the start, which is when Cocolia captures her.

The next time we see her it is a bit over a year later just living her life as an orphan and by then she's referring to herself now interchangeably between first and third person. It kind of seems to happen randomly, so we're going to narrow it down to situation by situation:

What did we learn from this? Um... not as much as I had hoped to be quite honest.

Now is the part where I also bring up that I am obviously relying on the English translations of all of this content, which comes from before Hoyo's translation team was quite where it's at now. For the record, I'm probably just bashing my head against a wall here. Anyway.

My initial thoughts were that she either swapped to third person as a sort of stress response, or even just only really used first in conversations with people she's close to. I guess we never see her use either with people other than Seele or Cocolia in this manga, except for the one time she uses third with the kid that throws her down some stairs, but she uses both with the former two which pretty much solidifies it's not a person to person thing.

The other hypothetical I had looked at was it being triggered by situation, which was almost holding water until we hit a point where situations I had formerly deemed as first person Bronya would get a random third person line slapped into them. And then we have multiple of the same type of situation where it also seems to just be... random between the two.

Basically, I'm going insane.

But then we have the canon game events, which start about three years after the above manga. And by then, Bronya literally never speaks in first person. Like. Never. Which, we know, is due to the fact that she loses the ability to feel emotions after an experiment done on her. Of course throughout the course of the game the actual effect of that experiment is nullified (herrscher nonsense blah blah blah) and yet she still... deliberately chooses to speak in third person? For like... the next 10 years.

So now we are here at where I write Bronya, which is age 25 as she is featured in A Post Honkai Odyssey, which is a secondary game mode that follows the events of canon Hi3 with a pretty hefty timeskip. In which she does, in fact, speak in first person.

Like seriously. She got normal. What. (For the record the first screenshot also comes from a point in the narrative where she can feel emotions again and does not need to speak like that)

So now we can get into how I translate this information into my characterization:

Based on the fact that the actual habit of referring to herself in third person seems to have existed before she was actually turned into the equivalent of a robot, I imagine it to be a pre existing behavioral pattern that was just easy and appropriate for her to adopt when the disconnect from her identity as a human became real.

But I think it's important to state that it was always there. Bronya was a weapon before she was even a kid, desensitized to some crazy things (murder??) and a literal child soldier. It may just be an inconsistency in the narrative, or a translation moment, but I choose to believe that it was something she began to adopt as a form of coping with these heinous acts that she was being forced to commit. By referring to Bronya as though she is not Bronya, it could certainly soften that truth for a literal child.

Tangentially, I also think this puts a really interesting parallel into her dynamic with Seele. For the fans at home, Seele in Hi3 has two selves (or... another person in her body but semantics are semantics) where the front presenting one is viewed as soft and timid and her other self is harsh and a touch violent. Where Seele's narrative is all about the separation of these two selves, Bronya's seems to play the slow and less-direct game of unifying both her colder, apathetic front and her true, emotional self.

We don't really see on screen the deliberate choice that Bronya makes to stop favoring this speech pattern, but I think that the impact it has in the difference you can really see and feel in her character is very there. It makes me very soft and stupid to see her all grown up when I was also a kid when I started playing this game LMAO

Anyway, if you made it this far then hi. I owe you money. This has been something I've really wanted to piece together and I do my best thinking when talking it out so that is... basically what this was LMAO. Bronya is perhaps not the highest on my list of favorite characters but she is still so dear to me and getting to delve into her has taught me such a new appreciation for her and her importance to the narrative. Love this thang.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

For writing prompts could I humbly please request Davey teaching some of the newsies school stuff a la my recent ask?

I feel like Elmer just takes over any maths lessons and being a small child makes it ever more incomprehensible to the others skdsjkd

Thank you for the prompt! I hope this is okay :D

(I also find math incomprehensible so I am very much Elmer in this situation, like genuinely I would’ve loved to mention more complex math but I am an English lit student and just so terrible at mental math Albert in this is me fr)

David felt like he should be shorter than he was, given how much he hated being on the receiving end of other people’s attention. And yes he would still be stood at the top of the bunk house with eyes on him regardless of whatever height he was but being tall decidedly made it worse. (And no, he didn’t feel the need to explain himself when he mentioned this to Jack a few weeks previous.)

“I thought it was only gonna be a couple of the kids.” Davey said, and Race, a bunk over, was lazy as he removed the cigar from between his teeth, as if Dave wasn’t being stared down by at least eight of his friends.

“Yeah n’ a couple others wanted to come too when they heard you was offerin’ lessons. So take it away Teach.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah that’s Finch. An’ you like school n’ stuff right?” David shrugged a little uncomfortably, he was hardly going to say no, so he didn’t say anything and Race kept talking. “Just look at all those bright young faces whose futures you could be changin’”

David turned to face the small yet intimidating crowd.

Elmer, Romeo, Henry, JoJo and Splasher stared back blankly, unimpressed. As well as a few of the older ones in the back too now, Specs, and Albert and Tommy-Boy.

Blink from his place on his bunk on the other side of the room made his presence known by groaning, so Davey mentally added him to the tally aswell. “You gonna get on with it or what, I need you to bore me to sleep Dave.”

He thinks he would’ve been hurt by the comment had come from anyone aside from Blink, who had never exactly been subtle in his disdain of David’s schooling. He couldn’t blame him so he couldn’t be mad, because David got it, at least he thought he did. But trying to think round his words so he wouldn’t say anything he’d have to end up explaining was difficult sometimes, and Blink looking at him like he was a sentence away from being on the receiving end of his fist when it happened wasn’t comforting either.

“Okay. I’m better at literature but you wanted to do maths today right?”

He didn’t know who he was asking but Henry answered.

“Yeah. I mean, I can count n’ add up n’ all but it takes a while to do the multiplications. They don’t stick in my head.”

David frowned in thought. “Okay, so what goes on in your head if I asked 4 X 7.”

“I gotta count through em’ all. It doesn’t just come automatic.”

“It doesn’t have to be fast. I mean, you can make it two 14’s and then add those together.”

“So’s 28.”

“Exactly.”

Henry nodded slightly, eyes a little narrower. “Huh.”

“What I don’t get.” Elmer said, because of course he did. “Is how 7 by 0 is 0. Ain’t it meant to be 7?”

David blinked. “Oh well, it’s seven 0’s, so there’s nothing.”

“Yeah but there’s seven of em’”

“Okay. Yes. but say you even just added 2 zeros together, it would still be zero.”

Elmer stared at him blankly. “But there’s two of em.”

“Two of nothing, if you add nothing plus nothing you get nothing.”

“Two nothings.”

The groan and the sound of a head hitting against a bed frame came from Albert this time round.

“Jesus Elmer, stop tryna kill the man you know exactly what he’s saying, you’re better at math than half the bunk house put together.”

“You’re only saying that cuz you can’t add up.” Elmer shot back, and with that he twisted his neck to face him again so aggressively that Davey could probably be persuaded that he’d given himself whiplash. “Do it Davey, ask him what 37 plus 56 is.”

“I’m not putting anyone on the spot.”

“I’m telling Spot you said she can’t add.”

David blanched. “That is just not what I said at all.”

“Can’t wait to tell Spot you compared her to Oscar Delancey, you heard it here first folks.”

The fact that Blink decided to contribute to the lesson at all was more surprising than the fact that this was where he decided to contribute, but the likelihood he was actually serious was significantly higher than Elmer’s jokes.

“That is even further from what I said.”

And suddenly everyone was talking all at once and David wanted to throw up a little maybe. God he hated public speaking, even if this didn’t necessarily count as public, except maybe- no. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of it. Right now he had to work out how to get eveyone to quiet down.

“Hey knuckleheads,” Race didn’t move from his spot leaned up against the bunk but all eyes drew to him anyway, and if David was a little in awe of how he held the room he wasn’t shocked by it, Race had always had that quality right after Jack. (Briefly Davey wondered if they could give him lessons in that) “If you want Dave to actually keep teaching youse you can’t drive him out the room or get ‘im shanked by Spot.”

Elmer was the first to shrug, and slump over again, leaning his elbows on his criss-crossed knees.

“I guess.”

David had opened his mouth to speak again, taking advantage of the second of silence to try and get this back on track but Elmer beat him to it one more time.

“Long as you don’t try and give us homework like last time.”

[jmflowers]

Fanfic questions… 7, 17, 40, 66 and 91 please 😊

7. Tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote.

            The first time I ever wrote fanfiction, I think I was about 12? Maybe 11. I didn’t have access to fandom spaces the way I do now, so I posted each chapter as video clips on my YouTube page, where I had a small following for my fanvideos. (I was also a little brat who thought threatening people to comment or give it a thumbs up in order to receive the next chapter was appropriate.)

The story was called The Letter Elle for the show Ghost Whisperer, pre-Jim’s death. I gave them a child (a little girl named Elle) who was exploring her own understanding of her inherited abilities. I probably still have it somewhere in my stuff, but I’m sure it was Not Good. Hilariously, the show gave the main characters a child a short while later and then did a time jump to allow for an exploration similar to the one I’d been writing about. Maybe they should’ve hired me.

17. What is your favourite line you’ve ever written?

            I don’t think I could narrow down one specific line; I have a tendency to forget what I’ve written once it’s posted. First to come to mind is most of She Will Still Love You because it was so cathartic and my first soirée into second-person point of view.

“When, really, what you should’ve been doing was rebuilding. Taking the chopped down limbs of your trees and building a log cabin out of them. Rubbing out the knots and sanding down the rough edges and turning it into a place you could call home.

You need to learn how to call your body home again.”

40. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

            There’s been a lot of good stuff through the years. The one that comes to mind most often was from a teacher when I was 14, who handed back an assignment that I’d earned 99% on (the highest grade she ever gave out) and then told me I wasn’t finished. She pushed me to go beyond in my writing and I owe a lot of my drive to her. The quiet pride in her face when I was published for the first time a couple years later is a core memory.

In the fanfiction realm, a reader reached out a few years ago regarding Extraordinary Measures and said some things that made me cry. She pops up every now and then, as our fandom paths have crossed a couple times, and it feels like a warm hug each time.

I’m incredibly grateful for any person who has ever reached out to me about that fic, especially when they tell me it made them cry or feel something they weren’t expecting. It was one of the most challenging writing endeavours I’d ever embarked on at that point in my life and I’m so proud that I completed it.

I also love when a reader leaves a comment in a different language. That you took the time to read something in English and then still write me a message after, even if you’re not sure I’ll be able to understand it, means so much. It’s like opening a little surprise bag when I go off to translate them. I’ve been getting Spanish and French most recently.

66. When have you felt the most confident in your writing?

            For fanfiction, the most recent confidence boost was actually you commenting on my Hygge Universe stuff. Knowing that what I’m writing is not your vibe in the slightest, but that I was still able to reel you in… pretty impressed with myself. I’m also always more confident when I’m getting lots of comments or kudos emails, or the hit count is rising quickly, like most writers, even if that isn’t why I write...

In terms of school, a professor telling me to pitch a show to network because she wanted to watch it was pretty fulfilling. And professionally, holding my own in my first writer’s roundtable was intensely gratifying. As well as finding out my favourite thing I wrote for them was picked up by network, after the root concept they’d given me to work from had been denied by that network the year before. I’d love to see that story become a television series.  

91. How has your writing style changed over the years?

            Oh man, where to begin? Early on in my fic-writing career, I wrote primarily in first-person point of view. Usually past-tense, I think. Over time, I began to explore different tenses and then had a period where I really played with writing second-person point of view. I also wrote much shorter pieces – if I got to 1000 words, that was good enough for me. Editing was minimal. Story content was very dark and angsty.

Nowadays, things are much longer, obviously. I’ve been mostly writing in third-person point of view for a couple years now. I think I’ve settled into a tense that makes sense for Hygge Universe, which is the lump sum of my fanfiction writing right now. I spend a lot more time editing than I ever did before and the story contents are heaps more uplifting and positive. I also think I just have a better understanding of human emotion than I did years ago, when I was trapped in a fog of depression and physical pain. Screenwriting has made me ruthless in terms of cutting things out that aren’t working and I think that’s reflected in my work in terms of like, anything present in a story is there because it’s integral to the overall plotline. I also appreciate that my writing now is not riddled with the same word six times a paragraph, haha. I hope my growth over the last ten or so years is obvious in my work.

fic writing asks

[tickldpnk8]

Ten books to know me

Tagged by @notallsandmen — so excited to do my first one of these kinds of posts: thanks for the tag!

Rules: 10 (non-ancient) books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

So the big question is how the hell do I narrow this list down to 10?? I consider this my list as of this moment and not the definitive list of all time...as I'll likely think of at least 5 books I should have put on this list as soon as I hit publish. The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett with illustrations by Tasha Tudor The illustrations on this book are important: they really captivated me when I first read this in elementary school, and this quickly became my first favorite novel. I'd check it out and read it again and again. I also loved her other books, but this one will always be my favorite. Tasha Tudor's work was really influential on me wanting to go into design/illustration. Probably also why I love reading classic literature.

Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien The first fantasy series I really got into and it's still the bar I measure everything else up against. His world-building is amazing, and I love how it's really an exercise in recreating an Epic Saga like the stories of Norse mythology. (which I was also really into: that and Greek myth) I've read it over 6 times and am long over due to watch the EE movies again sometime soon.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling Look, at the time we didn't know she'd become what's she's become. Anyways, I was really bored during a holiday at my grandparents' house, and picked up my little sister's copy. It then became a special bonding book series as I made it my mission to get my kid brother to learn how to read and to also like it. Probably my first real fandom after LotR, and definitely my gateway into fanfiction. Also, surprisingly, my gateway into Agatha Christie and other mystery novels.

Persuasion by Jane Austen I discovered Jane Austen at the end of middle school, and while some of her books were a bit hard at that age to keep track of (I had to make a chart of characters for Emma), she quickly became a favorite author. This is my all-time favorite: as much as I love Pride and Prejudice, the storyline really spoke to my notions of romance at the time. And unlike Jane Eyre, it still holds up for me on a reread. Also, Austen's characterizations can just be really funny.

My Ántonia by Willa Cather Czech pioneers in Nebraska, companionate love vs passionate love...This book had a profound impact on how I approached finding love in my life, as well as giving me some empathy for the immigrants in my own family's past.

Die Verwandlung by Franz Kafka One of the first books I was able to read in German, and still one of my favorites. (Although Tintenherz by Cornelia Funke or a translation of James and the Giant Peach rank up there for favorite) I hate bugs, but I also just really love the line "Er fühlt sich wohl." Because it feels like it encompasses so much more than the English translation of "he felt good/well."

Bleak House by Charles Dickens Dude, Dickens may be wordy, but his characters are hilarious! This and The Cricket on the Hearth are my fav books by him.

Visitation by Jennifer Erpenbeck What if the places we live in have feelings and memory? What have they experienced over the centuries? What have they seen? A fascinating look at one location's experience in Germany.

The Rose Code by Kate Quinn The way Quinn describes her heroine decrypting Nazi code made me feel like my own brain was solving it. Also a fairly accurate description of how my own brain feels when it solves a particularly nasty design problem. Plus a mystery!

How Long Til Black Future Month by NK Jemisin but also her Broken Earth trilogy Dude, I'll read anything Jeminson writes. I found her through both LeVar Burton Reads and also my brother recommending Broken Earth (geology! speculative fiction!), and this short story collection has a little bit of everything for everyone. Some of the stories in this collection just linger in the back of my brain. Also some of the first fan art I've ever drawn. (unless you count drawing Disney characters as a kid)

Honorable mention: just adding that reading The Sandman has basically made Neil Gaiman shoot to the top of the list of my favorite authors. I'm still working through his works, so don't have a favorite yet to share.

I think everyone I follow has already done this prompt, so it's hard to tag someone. If you're reading this and want to participate, consider this your tag! (but tag me back so I can see all your book recs!)

[mcrmadness]

RSD is so stupid. I just mind my own business and suddenly RSD goes "you know you can never be as liked as you want in this fandom because you're from a wrong country and speak/use the wrong languages etc."

[thewriterghost]

Lab Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You were working late and Bucky was worried.

Note: This is my first time writing for Marvel and it's been a while since I last wrote in English so, sorry in advance if it doesn't make sense or it has mistakes (it probably does). Also, English is not my first language. I appreciate all the feedback!

*****

Night was fresh and lab was calling to you, as Tony stated before pulling you into the giant lab of his. And to say that you were simply delighted to be there, would be an understatement. All sorts of technology were surrounding practically every surface the laboratory had. The walls had different sized mechanical arms and legs, and things you couldn’t recognize but know that they belong to some project of Tony’s. Every table had a half finished or nearly finished project on it. As you walked in, Tony was busy with clearing a surface for your equipment.

“So, what do you want to work on?”

“Well, water tanks were easy to use on the last mission.” You sat down in front of the white and glass table, which was clear after Tony pushed a lot of things aside. Or one should say, he ordered FRIDAY to push things aside. You continued. “But the fuel tanks? Not so much.”

You had to use a water tank so that you always had water around to manipulate, and a fuel tank to be able to light a flame when you need to use your fire abilities. Being able to control four elements of nature wasn’t easy when you don’t have the elements near you. Luckily, air and earth were all around you most of the time. You were still working on perfecting your manipulation skills, but if you were to ask the Avengers, they would easily say that they depend on your skills greatly even if they’re not at full capacity yet.

“We could look at the plans again, see if we can alter anything.”

*****

The ticking of the clock echoed through the lab. Tony had to leave a while ago, to say goodnight to Morgan, and told you to go to bed as well but you wanted to take another look at the plans before you hit the bed.

“What are you doing this late?” You looked up to see the source of the voice. A certain super soldier was leaning against the door frame with a stern look on his face, his metal arm shining under the lab’s white lights. He looked tired.

You didn’t bother answering verbally, instead just pointed to the table you were working on.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Time is an illusion.” You joked. He didn’t laugh. Of course, he didn’t. Instead, he chose to glare as always. As Sam once said to you, you get used to it.

When neither of you spoke, he walked in and stood in front of your table as he continued.

“You are a human being, who needs sleep.” He said slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. That side of him, the one that worries about you in times like this, was one of your favorites to encounter. He would act like he couldn’t care less, and yet he would be there, trying to take care of you while trying to look like he was in fact not taking care of you. That made you smile. Not a lot of people saw that side, you thought. Only you, and of course Steve. Maybe sometimes Sam. He would rather die than to admit it, though.

“Exactly. Who needs sleep?” You grinned. He groaned. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like messing with him.

“Don’t force me to physically drag you out of here.”

“Fine! I’ll leave!” You huffed. “I was just taking another look at something. I think I was close to actually find a better way to release fuel from the tank.” You narrowed your eyes as you looked through everything on the table once more. Yes, Tony had already changed a few aspects of the tanks, but you weren’t sure if you could’ve done something else or not.

“Sleep deprivation. That’s what you are close to.” He turned around. “Come on.”

You put the plans back to where they belong and followed him outside of the lab. At that moment, you realized that it was three in the morning, yet he was wide awake, pulling you out of the lab.

“Why are you up at three in the morning?” You asked as both of you started walking down the corridor.

“I was thirsty.”

“But your room is closer to the kitchen, and you didn’t even have to go through here.” You tilted your head with curiosity as you looked at him.

“I thought I should check the lab before going back to bed. So what?” He said, his eyes were looking ahead. This exchange would seem normal to people who didn’t know Bucky or his interactions with you, but luckily you were aware of his tiny habits of speaking with you. Whenever he asked you a question, he would always flash a glance towards you. It wouldn’t matter if you were alone or not, it was something he’d done regardless. So, when he didn’t look at you in the slightest it got you suspicious.

“Why, though?” You pushed the subject once more.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned towards you. His blue eyes were fixated on you.

“Because you weren’t at your room, alright?” His voice wasn’t raised, yet the look on his face was enough to tell you to drop it. You both would be surprised if you did.

“You went to my room? Why? Did you need something?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he started walking again, towards the end of the corridor where your rooms waited just across each other.

“Bucky?” You asked, while you tried to keep up with his steps.

“It was nothing. Just drop it.” He said as he stopped in front of your room. You stood in front of him. Not asking, but still curious. You had your reasons though; Bucky would never come to your room in the middle of the night if it wasn’t important.

He sighed. “Had a nightmare and I thought I’d come see you for a second.” He mumbled, his eyes looking everywhere but you. You could tell he was embarrassed to say that long before you realized his cheeks had a light shade of pink to them, even though he still looked dead serious.

“I’m fine.” He quickly added. “Everything is fine.”

“I’m the one that’s supposed to say that.” Standing on tiptoe, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and continued. “You’re fine. Everything is fine.” He wrapped his arms around you in response. You didn’t need Wanda’s abilities to know that he was thankful for the hug. The way he hugged you and buried his face in your neck was enough to let you know that. You ran your fingers through his hair, to try and comfort him.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” You asked as he pulled away.

“It’s three in the morning.” He stated the obvious thing that you refuse to acknowledge.

“Your point?” There was that stern look once again.

“Fine, fine, we’ll sleep.” You dragged him to your room. After all, you wouldn’t be able to leave him on his own after he chose to come to you at that hour.

“Only if you’ll actually sleep.” He said as the both of you walked into your room. You went ahead and pulled your covers.

“Promise.”

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[peachycheol]

| lost in translation |

➸ summary: jeonghan asks you to translate some of his fans’ comments, but you hadn’t expected them to be so... dirty.  ➸ genre: pwp  ➸ pairing: idol!jeonghan x english-speaking friend!reader ➸ warning: dirty talk, oral sex (m. and fem. receiving), face fucking, deep throating, cum swallowing <333, **the italicized comments are in english**  ➸ w.c: 2.6k

➸ author’s note: hi i’m alive!! i’m so sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, but i kinda just lost my mojo for a little bit 😔  but worry not- i have experienced a reawakening and i am now more of a whore than ever so hopefully i can get back to posting more. i have a lot i have planned out, but i wanted to get a quick fic out to y’all as a BIG THANK YOU bc i reached so many milestones while i was gone 🥺 🥰 💕  i love you guys and i’m really glad ppl are reading my fics haha

this fic is based on the infamous jeonghan gym video, y’all know the one (thank you to @haechanblr​ for reminding me of it and helping me with this fic i love u so much!!). i was actually in the middle of writing this when hoshi decided to post his own gym video and PHEW. JEEZ. I’M STILL RECOVERING. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this one bc i really enjoyed writing it 💖 🍑 

[ foreversvt ] commented: I AM ON MY KNEES  [ yoon1004 ] commented: is it jeonghan’s birthday or is it mine [ happy bday angel! ] commented: YOON JEONGHAN ???? [ twinkluvr69 ] commented: grrr wanna slurp those noodle arms like spaghetti 

You continue scrolling through the comments left underneath the video, trying to keep your face composed as you come across more and more explicit reactions from fans all over the world. Seokmin had uploaded the video to Weverse as an innocent birthday prank for Jeonghan, but he probably had not anticipated just how horny their fans could get over a seemingly harmless video of Jeonghan doing some leg presses. To be fair to the fans though, you yourself had watched the clip several times and you would be lying if you didn’t say you were… affected. 

“Well? What are they saying?” Jeonghan leans over to watch you scroll, and you are acutely aware of the warmth of his arm pressing against yours. The two of you are sitting on the floor of  your living room with your backs resting against your couch, hanging out after a small birthday dinner with some of his other friends. As one of Jeonghan’s english-speaking friends, he had asked you to help him translate some of his birthday wishes before his day ended, though you’re not sure how to tell him that his fans are not exactly sending in wholesome professions of love. 

Instead, you decide to try giving him some tamer versions in the hopes of satisfying him before you get to anything too blunt. “This user says you have noodle arms, but I think they like it so it’s okay.” 

“Hey! I’ve been trying my best to get thicker, but not all of us can be born beefed up like Seungcheol.” 

“You asked me what they said!” you laugh. “Most of these are just birthday messages anyway-- I’m sure you don’t need me to translate ‘Happy birthday, I love you!’ a thousand times.” 

“Yeah, obviously I understand the more common phrases, but there’s so many that I don’t understand today for some reason!” Jeonghan huffs, then points to a comment that you had purposefully hid under your thumb. “Like okay, what’s that one say?” 

[ seungcheolswife ] commented: wow the way this video made my pussy clench,,,, 

“Uh,” you start, already feeling your ears go warm. Should you just lie? It’s not like he would be able to tell, right? You and Jeonghan are close, but not so close that you can just say these things to him. Especially when this comment may be hitting a little too close to home for you. Even now, you remember the bolt of arousal that shot to your pussy the moment you  heard Jeonghan’s first grunt of effort. You bite your lip. No, Jeonghan really didn’t need to know about that. “I-it says something like ‘you made their heart flutter’.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan takes a moment to scan your face before his eyes narrow at you suspiciously. You give him your best innocent smile, but you already know he’s caught you. You had always been a shitty liar. “What does it really say? Is it bad?”

You sigh. Of course he hadn’t bought it. “No, it’s not bad. I just don’t know if you want to hear stuff like this…” 

“Well now I have to know. Tell me exactly what it says.” 

“E-exactly?” You meet Jeonghan’s stern gaze and you know that there’s no convincing him otherwise. What Jeonghan wants, Jeonghan gets. “I-it says that the video made their p-pussy clench.”

After several beats of silence, you look over to Jeonghan to see he is completely unaffected by the comment. Or maybe he is. His eyes glint mischievously in the light when he responds.  “I said exactly, baby. Try again.” 

Your whole body feels hot under his smug, expectant gaze; you should be surprised by the sudden pet name, but it only makes your mind fuzzy with the beginnings of arousal. You swallow thickly, unable to disobey him. “T-this video made m-my pussy clench.” 

“So naughty… Just this short clip has your cute little pussy all needy,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue, but a knowing grin spreads on his lips. His words have you shifting in your seat in an attempt to relieve the dull ache setting in between your legs, though you don’t dare let it on. It’s clear Jeonghan is playing a game with you, and although you know you’re going to lose, you’ll be damned if you let him win so easily. “Let’s read some more, hm? Translate this one for me.”

[ daddy_hannie ] commented: omg i bet jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking 

The comment he scrolls to nearly makes you whimper. It’s embarrassing how clearly you can recall the sound of each of his low groans coming through the screen, how sexy he sounded. Images of Jeonghan on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed as he grits out desperate groans of pleasure, leave you in a daze while your panties quickly dampen with your arousal. 

“Go on.” Jeonghan’s firm tone only makes you squirm more, and this time he takes note of the way your breathing has gone shallow and how your eyes are already hazy. 

“I bet Jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking,” you say softly. 

Jeonghan chuckles, his breath tickling against your neck. “Now you’re just making me blush, sweetheart. I bet you’d make some pretty noises when I’m fucking into you too,” he muses casually. You finally let out a soft whine, tired of holding your breath as he moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“J-jeonghan…” 

“Hm, I think we should read a couple more,” the boy says, ignoring you and scrolling through more of the comments. You pout - your wetness has already soaked through your panties, your cunt just aching for his attention, but of course Jeonghan isn’t done teasing you. 

You’re wondering how long it will take for him to finally push your back to the floor and fuck you senseless when you spot a comment that might help you get you what you want quicker. ”I want to read this one,” you tell him, already rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. 

[ ~hanniehae!~ ] commented: god i KNOW your dick is big like PLEASE I WANNA SUCK UR DICK SO BAD

He raises an amused eyebrow at you, and you wait for him to stop you, biting back a smile when he doesn’t. You make sure to look him in the eyes when you say it, his own dark eyes telling you that he’s impatient for you too, and you nearly let it out in a whine from how much you mean it. “Please Jeonghan… I want to suck your dick so bad.” 

For a sliver of a  moment, Jeonghan goes rigid. Then, his smug smile returns as he brings up a thumb to tug on your bottom lip. “Mmm, such a pretty mouth saying such filthy words,” he sighs, shaking his head. “If you wanted to put it to good use, all you had to do was ask, baby.” 

Jeonghan chuckles at how eagerly you follow him as he moves to sit on the couch behind you, keeping his hold on your chin so that you keep your eyes on his. He has you kneel between his legs and you don’t waste any time in reaching for the button and zipper on his jeans. 

The man helps you tug his pants and boxers down to his ankles, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock springing back against his stomach. Of course it’s pretty just like the rest of him. “You’ve been teasing me all this time, but you’re already this hard?” you whisper tauntingly as you lean forward to ghost your lips over the base of his shaft. 

Jeonghan’s shaky exhale does not go unnoticed by you, but his response comes out smooth as ever. “Could you blame me? You just looked so cute getting all worked up from saying all those dirty things about me. I bet your little panties are soaked through by now-- guh!” He lets out a surprised groan when you suddenly flatten your tongue against him, letting it drag slowly up to his tip. 

“You talk too much.” You look up at him with a smile before you wrap your lips around his leaking tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Teasingly, you swirl your tongue against his slit until you feel his hand thread through your hair, as though he’s begging you for more. You decide to be nice, lowering your mouth further down his cock, letting him feel the slide of your wet tongue on his sensitive skin. 

A soft sigh leaves his lips at the sensation, pleasantly carding his fingers through your hair as you take as much of him as you can. “That’s it. Good girl.”

His praise has you clenching around nothing, and you whine as you steadily begin to bob your head along his hard cock, reveling in how he would let out small whimpers whenever you would lightly suckle on it. 

Just as he gets used to the feeling of your mouth on him, you suddenly take him as deep as you can into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks tightly around his cock. “Oh, f-fuck!” Jeonghan lets out a strangled moan, his hips lifting from the couch to fuck further into your mouth. 

You feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, but it only spurs you on even more as you swallow around him, causing him to throw his head back in ecstasy. At this point, a dull ache starts setting in your jaw and drool begins to messily slip from the corners of your mouth as you return to sucking him at a more steady pace, and you feel your pussy throb from how dirty it all felt. Though you and Jeonghan did flirt occasionally, he had always felt off-limits to you-- he’s an idol and you’re just one of his normal-person friends. But here you are with his cock in your mouth, all thanks to the horny thoughts of his fans no less. 

To their credit, they were right. Jeonghan does make the hottest sounds while fucking. He lets out another throaty groan from above you and, unexpectedly, he pulls you off his cock. His pupils are blown wide with desire, his chest heaving slightly as he looks at the state you’re in with your swollen lips and the drool on your chin. “Can I fuck your mouth?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Yes please,” you reply, voice already a little hoarse from your efforts. You shift back on your knees to make room for Jeonghan when he stands, opening your mouth obediently when he moves to slide his cock back onto your tongue. Jeonghan tightens his grip on your hair, keeping you still as he starts to fuck into your mouth with quick, shallow thrusts. “Mmh!”

“Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Jeonghan sighs appreciatively. You bring your hands up to grip at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady when his thrusts become a little more erratic, causing you to gag around him as his cock continues to hit the back of your throat. Still, all your focus remains on hearing more of Jeonghan’s pleasured groans, on seeing his face scrunch up in absolute bliss, so you keep your mouth open wide despite the tears that prick at your eyes. When Jeonghan looks down at you taking his cock, eyes glazed over and fucked out, he curses loudly. “Shit-- can I come in your mouth?” 

Unable to speak with your mouth stuffed full, you cutely give him a thumbs up. Jeonghan would have laughed if he wasn’t so close to cumming. With several more thrusts, he cries out a strained warning before his hot release fills your mouth. He rides out his orgasm, twitching in your hold as his pleasure bleeds into oversensitivity. Once he’s pulled out, you make sure to stick your tongue out so he can see how his cum coats your tongue right before you swallow it all down; all he can do is smile thinking about how he really should have fucked you sooner. 

“So good for me,” Jeonghan says to you softly, helping you up to your feet so that he can pull you into a heated kiss full of tongue and whimpers. You desperately grip onto Jeoghan’s shirt, pressing your body against him in search for some sort of relief for the arousal that is pumping through you and straight to your neglected pussy. He can’t help but smile against your lips. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you now.” 

You let him lead you to sit on the couch-- this time you are the one sitting on the edge of the cushions with Jeonghan’s head between your legs. He slides a hand over your clothed core, humming when he finds that you really have soaked straight through your panties. Just as you begin to squirm underneath his teasing fingers, he strips you of both your leggings and underwear in one swift movement, leaving you bare before him. 

The sight of him pushing your legs apart is enough to leave you in a daze. Your breath catches when you feel cool air brushing against your inner thighs, slick with your wetness, then it all comes out in a whine when you feel Jeonghan’s velvet tongue swipes at the spot for a taste. “O-oh!” a cry slips from your lips once his tongue finally slides through your folds. “Mmh!” 

“Does it feel good?” Jeonghan whispers, not bothering to wait for a proper answer because your broken moans tell him to keep going. He spreads your lips open with his fingers, eating you out slowly and deliberately as though he is savoring his favorite meal.

The room is filled with your soft whimpers and the lewd sounds of Jeonghan’s mouth working against your pussy and it only tightens the pressure in your stomach, causing your toes to curl. “P-please-- please let me cum,” you rasp out, and your eyes roll to the back, your hand clutching tightly at the back of Jeonghan’s head, at the feeling of his tongue flattening against your clit. “Ngh! Y-yes!” 

He skillfully flicks his tongue on your bud, shaking his head back and forth until his chin is absolutely covered in your juices. When your hips begin to move of their own accord, he lets you ride his face as you please, his cock twitching at how desperate you are for him. “S-so good,” you sob, only able to mutter unintelligible nonsense in your delirium. Then, he wraps his mouth around your clit, and you’re left squealing as your legs begin to shake from how obscenely good it feels. “Shit, I-- I’m--!” 

You come undone with a loud cry of Jeonghan’s name, your body going rigid from how hard your orgasm hits you. Jeonghan takes it all, his eyes closed as he works you through your release, only letting up when you slump away from him.

The both of you finally look at each other properly in the aftermath, chests heaving and hair wild. Suddenly you’re both erupting in giggles at the realization of what you two had just done. “What are you looking at?” Jeonghan asks, eyes bright as he smiles handsomely up at you. 

You reach down to swipe your thumb against his chin, which is still shining with your cum, barely able to contain your giggles. “Who’s got the dirty mouth now?”

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous lover (part 3)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, Sirius and James critisizing Slytherins (and Y/N), not proof read

Word count : 1.9K

Part 1 - Part 2 - You're here - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

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Y/N had transfiguration class next, it was usually the class were she would sat down next to Lily Evans. The two young women liked each other quite well, they weren’t the closest, each having there own group of friends, but it wasn’t that rare for the two of them to study together, or to talk for hour, saying things they felt they couldn’t tell to the people they were the closest to.

That’s how Y/N found out Lily actually quite liked James Potter, and the rest of the marauders, despite being a bit hard on them. And that’s how Lily found out about some of Y/N’s little secrets, like the chocolate she hides in some classes to snack during lessons or that time she stole back one of her belonging from Finch’s office. Despite being part of his favorite house, the caretaker didn’t liked her much.

When Y/N entered the classroom and greeted her professor, she quickly spoted Lily to sat down with her, her being at their usual stop. But when she was about to put her stuff down, someone else hurried to take the spot. Y/N was about to face the intruder, but her words got stuck in her throat when she saw who it was; Sirius !

“What are doing here, Black ?”, Lily on the other hand, despite being happy to see him again, was not going to let him do what he wants. “What Evans ? Not happy to see me ?”, Sirius did an exagerate pout before throwing an arm around her, “that hurt my feelings, I thought you’d be more caring”

“The sit was already taken !”, Lily tried to push him away, with a hand on his face as he was getting dangerously close. At that, Sirius turned to you, “Oh but you don’t mind, right Y/L/N ?”. Before Y/N was even able to form a thought, McGonagall interrupt them. “If you don’t mind, Miss Y/L/N, I would like to start my class”. She got all red. “Sorry Professor”, she then looked around and sat down at the only seat left, who happen to be right next to James.

Once she was at her seat and Mrs McGonagall started her class, she looked at Sirius and Lily, the black-haired was throwing a big smile at their table, but she was unsure if it was to her as a thank you for the spot –he had stolen-, or to James. Y/N then looked at the boy next to her, a bit confused, shouldn’t it be him trying to sit down next to Lily ? James simply respond with an innocent smile before looking at the whiteboard, to try to pay a bit attention to what the professor was saying.

She looked at Sirius again for a few seconds and smiled to herself, looking at what the professor was writting. She was happy to see Sirius was doing better, was it thanks to her letter ? She blushed at the idea, no, it couldn’t be. Sirius was a strong person, always getting up, he was probably already doing better even before receiving the letter. Maybe he didn’t even got it ! She heard Sirius and Lily talked a bit during class but didn’t think of it to much, he was quite the chatty person, always something to say.

“Shit, can I look at your notes for a sec ? I missed the last bit” James was turned to her, Y/N her eyes widen a little, but then she just chuckled. “Sure” She then turn the paper for him to look; “Th-” but he stop when he looked at it, “wh- How can you read this ?!” he talked a bit too loudly and McGonagall scolded him “Mr Potter quiet !”, “Sorry Professor”.

He turned to her again and talked way more quietly this time, “How can you read this ?”, she smiled and respond with a fake wise man voice “I was there when it was written”, James rolled his eyes and she laught at that, “Here, let me help you”, Y/N told him what was written so he could catch up, he thanked her, the rest of the class went smoothly.

Contrary to what people might think when they found out Y/N loved writing letters, she didn’t actually have much of good handwritting on the daily. When she would send messages, she would take her time, appreciating the moment, but in class ? She had to be quick, write all she could with her own note taking system, if you were able to puzzle out the words it was quite helpful, but only a few people were able to do so.

Even professors had a hard time, it wasn’t as bad as her notes but still could be impossible at moment. Many times have some of them asked her to rewrite the whole essay, one even threaten her to not marked it at all and failed her. After that, she made sure to be just a tad more carring of her homework and tests.

At the end of the period, Y/N calmly put her supplies away, contrary to James who stuffed everything in his bag before joinning Sirius at the door, looking like they were waiting for something. As for Y/N, she went to Lily, they were suppose to study together as class stopped early today –poor Professor Slughorn had a burst of Gargoyle fever-.

“So, do we go to the library ?”, Lily felt a bit embarassed “I’m so sorry Y/N I can’t go today, I have to help Sirius-” she looked over and saw James was there too, she sighed, “-and James with something, is that okay ?”. Y/N’s looked soften, “Of course, there’s no problem ! We could always do that another time”, Lily had a big smile “You’re the best”, Y/N flipped her hair in a faux attempt of looking snob, “I know”, they laughted and then went their separated way after saying goodbye.

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Lily, Sirius and James all went to the boy’s dorm so she could take a look at the letter, so far, it was Sirius’ best shot to know the identity of his mysterious penpal, he really hoped he will be able to find out who it was.

“Take that smug away Potter, I’m only helping Sirius because he insisted a lot”, James simply put his hand in the air in front of him in a sign of peace, “Of course Evans, don’t you put any worries in that pretty head of yours, I had nothing in mind”.

Before Lily could reply, Sirius put his arm around her shoulders, “You’re a saint Evans ! Thanks you for helping me here, you’re my only chance right now to find the one I’m destined to be with !”, Lily rolled her eyes a bit, “If it’s one of your prank I’m going to hex you so hard your kids will feel it”.

The three students entered the dorm and Sirius sat on his bed. “Yeah yeah, of course, it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway”, Lily open her mouth in disbielive “I was suppose to study with Y/N !”, James scoffed, “Yeah, a slytherin, I don’t understand how you can be friend with her !”. Lily rolled her eyes, an habit she did quite a lot around the marauders, “She’s nice, not all slytherin are death eaters”

It was Sirius’ turn to mock her, “ ’might as well be synonym”. Lily hit him with a pillow, “And what would you do if it’s a slytherin your little anonymous lover ? Or Y/N even ?”. James laughed, “With a pig like handwritting like hers, imossible !”, Lily was now red of irritation from the two young men.

“Show me that dang letter so I can be done with you two !”. Sirius growled a bit and gave it to her, while she was reading he thought of the possibility of a slytherin being the one who send the letter and his nose scrunch at the idea. It wasn’t possible, no slytherin would want to cheer someone up, especially not him, or even to say nice things to anyone.

Then he thought of Y/N. Sure, she never did anything wrong to him, she even was nice enough to listen to him rembled with his anecdotes, she even looked like she was actually listening to him, and she was cute, and she smelled like parchment and roses, and her li-... No, that’s not possible. They barely talk together, never would have she known enough of him to write all those nice words, it was purely a polite relationship.

When Lily finished reading she pinched her nose and then sighed, “I’m sorry Sirius, but I don’t know who send you this”

The boy who was previously abstracedly playing with the “kiss”, jumped out of his bed in one motion to her friend. “What do you mean you don’t know ?? You’re their friend !”. Lily put a hand on his shoulder, “Listen, I didn’t recognize the handwriting, I don’t know anyone who can make drawing moves and the things said are not a secret to any of my friends, I’m sorry”.

Sirius let out a loud growl, throwing his head back, James sympathetically tapping his shoulder. He had such a pityful puppy face, Lily felt bad. This letter was full of love, no denying that, and clearly Sirius wanted to find the one who sended it. “Look, I can give you a list of the friends I talked to the most, that might help narrow it down and I would try to get information, alright ?”

Sirius’ face lighted up and he took Lily and James in a big bear hugs, “Thanks Evans, you really are a saint !”, Lily laught a bit “You already said that”. Sirius winked at her, “We should start with those who write with colored ink maybe ? There shoudn’t be that much people”. James shook his head, ”You don’t remember ? It’s actually very popular, so much, Minnie had to precise light colored ink were prohibited to use on tests and homeworks because some idiots started to use yellow ink”. Sirius had a bit grin on his face, “Then I guess we better get started, Prongs”

And that’s how mission “Anonymous lover” started, the marauders would try to gather information on Lily’s friends, on who might have or might have not write the letter, but they quickly found out none of her close friend had anything to do with it.

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The rumors of Sirius searching for a mysterious penpal didn’t took long to reached Y/N. She was a bit shocked, why would he wants to meet her ? She didn’t thought he would tried to find her, she didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want him to be desappointed to found out it’s her. She had talked of it to noone, and she hoped that for now, there were no way to find her, she wanted to think about it for a bit on her own.

After debating with herself for a few day, she decided to have a bit of fun with it, watching Sirius looking for her at the complete wrong place was quite entertaining, and she wanted to try to have a chance to have Sirius to get to know her without the prejudice of her house on the way.

That night, she decided to write, and before classes the next day, she gave the letter to an owl, who would send it at lunch with the other owls. She couldn’t wait to see his face.

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taglist : @blackpinkdolan

[love-and-monsters]

Faebruary: Fake Dating

M Faerie X F human, 7,922 words

You guys remember this post? Well, here’s the story it was based on. A human gets lost in the Faerie world, and her only hope of getting back home safe is agreeing to go on a date with one smug Faerie boy. Hope you enjoy!

Admittedly, this was probably something you should have seen coming when you stepped into a fairy ring.

It was stupid. Everyone said you weren’t supposed to step inside the little circles of mushrooms that sprouted up all over the hills. But it was just stupid. Fairies weren’t real. So when there had been a circle of mushrooms across your path, you had just walked toward it.

The instant your foot crossed the line, there was a sickening spinning feeling in your stomach. Your foot plunged down like you’d missed a step in the dark and you fell into a swirling sea of mist.

You came to spitting out leaves, though you couldn’t remember hitting the ground. It was as if the ground had materialized against your face. Slowly, you staggered upright.

There was no longer sunlight. The forest was full of mist. And the trees seemed much more closely clustered than they had before. Their bark was darker, their branches more gnarled and reaching.

It was deathly silent. You wrapped your jacket closer around yourself. “Hello?” you called. Your voice died a foot from your throat. It was like the mist absorbed the sound.

Several feet in front of you, a pale blue light blinked into being.

“Hey!” you called. “I’m over here!” The blue light winked and bobbed, then began to shrink into the distance. You plunged through the foliage after it.

No matter how fast you ran, the light seemed to be permanently ahead of you. It sped up as you went onward until you were flat-out sprinting to keep up.

“I wouldn’t follow the light if I were you.”

You skidded to a stop, feet skidding on the damp leaves. The voice had come from somewhere above you. Squinting in the dim light, you could make out a figure crouching in the tree branches. Lightning fast, the figure leaped, vanishing into the mists.

“Fuck!” you swore, looking around. The figure was gone. It had moved so fast you hadn’t even been able to see where it had gone. Frantic, you looked for the blue light. Had it gotten away while you were looking at the figure?

“You’re not going to lose the light.” The voice came from behind and above you this time. You whipped toward it. The figure was pointing into the distance. Following the finger, you could see the gentle gleam of blue light bobbing there, like it was waiting.

An unsettled crawling feeling moved up your spine. “How did you know it was going t be there?”

Details of the figure were impossible to make out in the dim lighting, but you could hear that he was grinning. “Because will-O-the-wisps are nothing if not predictable.”

He punctuated his sentence by leaping from the tree and coming to a crouched landing in front of you.

You stared. What had landed in front of you was not human. He looked vaguely human, even handsome, by some definitions. A strong, though narrow, jaw, sharp nose, black hair that was teased back into a carefully disheveled style. But he was dressed in odd clothes, the sort of thing you’d expect from an old English court, and he had a tail. A long, thin tail that weaved and twisted behind him like it was caught in a current. And he had antlers, small, but pronounced antlers.

“I forgot,” he said. “Mortals are so often stunned into silence when they see the natural splendor of the Fair Folk.”

That made you find your tongue. “What are you?”

His smirk vanished. “There was a time when mortals were rightfully respectful of us. If you had half a head of sense, you would be on your knees, begging for mercy.”

There was a pause, as if he was waiting for you to do so. You didn’t, though you kept your mouth cautiously shut. He snorted. “I’m a Fae. One of the Fair Folk. And you, little mortal, are utterly trapped in the Faerie lands.”

“Trapped?” you repeated. An icy cold stone dropped into your stomach.

The Faerie grinned. “Now you see the truth of your situation. Yes. You’re trapped. Unless you convince a Faerie to let you go, you’ll be trapped in this land for all eternity.” He swept closer to you. “And this place is not safe for lone mortals. There are things here that would make you wish the will-O-the-wisp would have dragged you down into its bog and stripped the meat from your bones.”

You couldn’t repress a shudder. The Fae noticed and his smile grew wider. “I assume you’re telling me this for a reason,” you said, keeping your eyes on him.

“Me?” he said, pressing a hand to his chest, the picture of faux-innocence. “I want to show you the way out. You do want to go home, do you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uh huh. And I’m assuming you want something in return.”

His lips curled. “Figures the one thing humans wouldn’t forget about a Faerie is that we like even trades. It would make things so much easier.” He ruffled his fingers through his hair, carefully avoiding his antlers. “Yes. If you would like me to guide you out of the Faerie world, then I will need something in return.”

He didn’t continue. You narrowed your eyes at him. “And what is that?”

He huffed out a sigh. “Not going to write me a blank check, hm? Fine. If I am going to lead you out of here, I need you to agree to attend a Faerie party with me.”

That threw you for a loop. “You want me to what?”

“Attend a party with me,” he said, grinning at your confusion.

“That’s it?” you asked. He nodded.

“One night, twelve hours, at a party with me,” he said. “All I need is for you to attend as my date.”

That seemed far too good to be true. “Is this a trick? Some kind of way to trap me or humiliate me or otherwise coerce me into staying?”

The Faerie rolled his eyes. “Are all humans so suspicious? No. I just need a date.”

“Why don’t you pick a Faerie, then?” you asked.

“Because I think you would piss of my parents the most,” he said.

You lifted one of your eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

 He waved a hand. “Neither. I just need a mortal. That would completely ruin their night.”

There was genuine venom in his voice when he said it. You stared at him, struck dumb. How old was he? You mentally reassessed him. His age was sort of difficult to determine. There was an unearthly beauty to him, no sign of the sort of little imperfections that come around with age. But if you looked really closely, studied the lines of his face, he looked like someone barely out of his teenage years. Maybe nineteen, or at least the Faerie equivalent. You held back a snort. At least maturity wise, you were probably around two years older than he was.

The Faerie drew himself up haughtily, apparently taking your silence as some sort of agreement. “You must state your agreement out loud. It will be a Faerie agreement, so there will be no going back on your deal.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Backing out of a Faerie deal is not a good idea, especially for a fragile mortal.”

You eyed him cautiously. There was still a chance he was trying to trick you or coerce you or trying to do something else of the sort. But, given how young he seemed, you were somewhat less inclined to suspicion. The longer you spent with him, the more affected his persona seemed. It was the posturing of someone who had just been given their first taste of power and was still unsure how to properly use it.

“All right,” you said. “How do we make an agreement?”

The Faerie smiled smugly and extended a hand. Several of his fingers were clad with large, heavy rings, inset with black gems. All of them bore a triangular symbol. “Take my hand.” He said it like it was some sort of great favor to you. You did so. His fingers felt oddly sharp under his skin, slender and bony. “Now. The stipulations of this deal are that I will return you to the human world, to your home. In exchange for this, you will attend a dance with me as my date. You will be my date for twelve hours, over one night. Once the night is over, I will return you home again.”

“I have stipulations,” you said, forcing your voice to be confident. He lifted an eyebrow, but allowed your to continue. “While I am your guest, you will not conspire against me in any way. You will not allow me to come to any harm, nor will you attempt to trap me here once more. If I am harmed in any way, the deal is null and void and you will return me home immediately.”

The Faerie wrinkled his nose. “I would not allow my date to be harmed. Even if you are a mortal, the rules of hospitality still apply to you.”

“And you won’t allow me to unknowingly do anything that could harm me,” you added. The Faerie gave you a sarcastic look.

“Are you finished?” he drawled. You hesitated, trying to wrack your brain for anything else you might need. Nothing came immediately to mind.

“Yes. I’m finished,” you said, however suspiciously. The Faerie grinned.

“Then the deal is struck.” His voice seemed to boom through the forest. A tingling sensation ran across the back of your hand, then it sharpened into a piercing sting, like an insect was biting the back of your hand. You yelped, but the Faerie held onto your hand firmly.

The sting faded and the Faerie released your fingers. You shook your hand, trying to get the blood to flow through it again. On the back of your hand, imprinted as neatly on your skin as a tattoo, was a black marking. It was a circle, emblazoned with some kind of angular sigil.

 “It marks our bargain,” the Faerie said, showing you his own hand. He was similarly marked, though his brand was bright purple. “Should either of us break it, the mark will sink into our skin, and we shall endure some sort of tragedy.” He smiled, all needle-sharp teeth and cruelty. “So be certain that you do not break it.”

“I won’t,” you said, voice flinty. The Faerie looked amused by your anger.

“Then I shall fulfill my bargain first,” he said. He held out his arm to you, as if he was escorting you to a party rather than freeing you from an alien realm. “Shall we go?”

You hesitated, but he had made a promise. And you had also heard that Faeries couldn’t lie. You took a deep breath and linked your arm through his. “Yes.”

The Faerie took a step forward and the ground tilted under your feet. The mist billowed out obscuring your vision. The only thing that seemed real was the Faerie next to you. Your grip on him tightened, despite yourself.

“Move,” the Faerie said into your ear. You took an uncertain step forward. The mist had covered the ground so thickly that it looked like you were walking on clouds. When you took a step forward, the ground seemed to spin under your feet, like you were covering more distance than you should have been. You felt dizzy, but the Faerie moved forward with uncompromising speed and pulled you along. Only a few steps later, the mist had disoriented you so much that you couldn’t tell where anything was. The world seemed to be spinning around you even when you weren’t moving. You needed to cling to the Faerie’s arm to stay on your feet.

Sunlight pierced through the trees and you squinted your eyes shut. The mist evaporated within seconds and you were standing once more in your familiar forest, blinking up into the bright light.

“And my part of the bargain has been fulfilled.” The Faerie looked no less alien and beautiful in the human world. He grinned at you. “Home again, exactly where you were taken.”

You were still clinging to his arm, you realized. Slowly, you unwound your fingers from his shirt and stepped away.

“I shall return for you on the night of the Winter Ball.”

“Which is when?” you asked.

“The full moon next. I shall find you proper garments.” He gave you a critical once over, indicating that he wasn’t optimistic about your chances of finding them yourself. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “We will meet again then.”

Mist rolled across your vision. When it melted away again, he was gone. You stared at the spot for a moment, then looked down at your hand. The marking was still there, as starkly black as it had been before. At least it was proof that you hadn’t made it up. With a final glance at the Faerie ring a few feet away, you turned and headed out of the forest.

The sun’s position told you that you should have arrived back a few hours after you left. Your arrival home informed you that was actually a day and a few hours since you’d left. Your mother left you with a lecture ringing in your ears, one that had only gotten more aggressive when she’d seen the marking on the back of your hand. No matter what you said, there was no way to convince her that you hadn’t gotten drunk, gotten a tattoo, and passed out in the woods somewhere. Admittedly, you were a little disheveled. Once you had freed yourself from her grasp, you slipped up to your room and checked your calendar.          

The next full moon was just over a week away. You marked it off on your calendar and took a deep breath. Right. Time to start prepping.

Your week was filled with pawing through old books and scouring the internet for every scrap of Faerie lore that you could find. By the time the full moon had rolled around, you had gathered as many supplies as you could find.

You were waiting in your room uncertainly when the full moon rose. The Faerie had told you he would find you, but did you need to be outside for it?

Before you could make any decisions on it, the moonlight filtering through your window thickened into a sheet of silver. It rippled and the Faerie stepped out of it like a doorway.

Unfairly, he looked even more handsome than he had when you’d met in the woods. He was dressed in silvery clothes, a flowing robe and cloak with a silvery ruff. His tail and ears were adorned with silver bangles, a choker pressed tight to his throat, and his horns were covered in silvery strands, like tinsel.

“You could have freshened up a little more,” he said, giving you a once-over. You gritted your teeth and one of your hands went to the little bag you had tied to your waist, hidden securely under your shirt. It was filled with salt and little pieces of iron. More iron and salt packets lined the inside of your clothes and you had strapped an iron knife to the inside of your thigh. A string of rowan berries was tied at your neck. With any fortune, those charms would be enough to drive off any cruel Faeries.

“I thought you were going to provide me with the garments you found appropriate,” you said in a clipped voice.

 “Only because mortals unilaterally lack taste,” he said. “There’s really only so much I can do.” He stepped back and gave a broad gesture toward the shaft of moonlight. “We only have an hour before the Ball starts. Hopefully that’s enough time to make you presentable.”

You drew yourself up and stepped through the portal of light. A chill rolled over your skin, like you had stepped through a cloud of mist.

One of your feet struck a tiled floor and you stopped. The moonlight faded into a tall, ice-white room with an arched ceiling and silvery lights decorating the walls. You paused to take in the décor and the Faerie walked into your back.

“Excuse me,” he snapped, glaring at you. You glared back. “Follow me. I have a dress picked out for you.”

He led you into a small room. A curtain divided it in half and there was a dress draped over a chair. It was gauzy and made of pale blues, silvers, and white. “Put it on. One of the servants will do your hair.”

“Servants?” you said, but he had already swept back out of the room. You sighed and picked up the dress. At least it wasn’t overly elaborate.

You slipped hurriedly into the dress. It was clearly simpler than his outfit, with far less adornment. Perhaps mortals weren’t allowed to wear as much finery as Faeries, or perhaps he just didn’t want you to outshine him. Either way, you were grateful for anything that made the outfit easier to wear.

The servants, as it turned out, were small, fluttering creatures that did your hair in a quick, simple style, a braid that was wound at the nape of your neck and secured with a silver pin. You caught a glance of yourself in a silver reflection. The dress emphasized your curves and complimented your skin tone. Your beauty wasn’t stunning, but it was simple and understated.

As soon as the servants departed, the Faerie was sweeping back into the room, cape swirling around his body. He looked you up and down. “Well, you can clean up nicely,” he said. You caught the way his eyes lingered on you. The faintest hint of a blush colored his cheeks, but then he was turning away. “Come. We need to hurry to arrive on time.”

You picked up your skirts and hurried down the hall after him. Thankfully the shimmering heels you wore were short, so it was not so difficult to walk in them. “I still don’t know your name,” you said as you caught up with him. His gaze shifted to yours suspiciously. Names were important to Faeries, you had read. Clearly, he was trying to determine if you knew that or if you were speaking in ignorance.

Finally, he spoke. “You may not have my name, but you may call me Elwain.” He tilted his head slightly toward you. “And yours?”

You told him, mimicking his wording. It was hard to tell if his expression was disappointed or not. He just strode out of the front door and onto the front steps.

Outside was all greenery, and pale, twinkling lights. Elwain led you down the steps and toward a skeletal white horse. You shivered when its pale eyes turned to you. Its mane and tail rippled and flickered like it was made of mist. There was an elegant saddle attached to its back and Elwain easily gripped the reins and pulled himself up onto its back. You hesitated, uncertain of how to climb on. You’d never ridden a horse before.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Elwain said. You glared at him. He merely rolled his eyes and extended a hand. You gripped it. His fingers were strong and steady against yours as he pulled you up into the saddle behind him. Your hands moved automatically to his waist. A flicker of something moved through your stomach before you quashed it.

The horse took off, hooves striking the ground with a sound like metal clanging. You lurched into Elwain’s back, fingers tightening at his waist. His breath caught for a moment, though you weren’t sure if it was actually your grip causing it.

The ride was swift and rocky. You were pressed awkwardly to Elwain’s back for most of it, leaning against him with every motion of the mount.

You were expecting to stop at another house, some sort of grand mansion like the one you’d left from. Instead, you stopped outside a grove of trees. They were covered in twinkling lights and noises of whooping celebration echoed through the air.

Elwain dismounted flawlessly. You twisted, attempting to copy his elegant motion. Your foot caught in the stirrup. With a stomach-flipping jolt, you stumbled.

A hand braced itself between your shoulder blades. The back of your head impacted a chest. You tilted your gaze backward. The upside-down face of Elwain stared back at you. “Mortals,” he sighed. “Hold onto me.” He shifted his position so you could get your arms around his neck. That fluttering feeling of attraction started in your chest again as he balanced you against his shoulder and reached down to undo your foot from its catch in the stirrup.

As soon as your leg was free, he lifted you up, carrying you away from the horse. “Are you all right?” he asked. You could feel his breath against your cheek. Your faces were right next to each other.

“I’m fine,” you said. There was a slight catch in your voice. A pink flush worked across Elwain’s face and he deposited you on the ground once more.

“Then we should go.” He looked at you for a moment, then sighed and reached out and fiddled with the choker at your neck. His fingers traced lightly over your skin. Your breath caught.

“There. Better,” he said, drawing himself up. “Take my arm. Stay close to me. Avoid eating anything. Take nothing from anyone. Do you understand?”

You nodded. “I understand.” You looped your arm through his. He looked at you for a moment longer, then turned toward the entrance of the party.

Music filtered through the air as you stepped through the grove of trees. It was odd, but alluring. It reminded you of lights shifting on walls, the tone constantly changing with odd trills throughout, but it was still beautiful. You shook your head, refocusing.

People swirled around you as you entered the clearing. They were strange, dressed in flowing robes and bright jewels that hung from tails and horns. As odd as it all was, it was hard to tear your eyes away. Everything was kaleidoscopic, mesmerizing.

“Try not to look,” Elwain said. His voice was less than an inch from your ear. “Mortal minds struggle to comprehend the true nature of Faeries.” You lowered your gaze to the ground.

Elwain led you onward, across the forest floor, toward the center of the throng. Bright lights fell on you and you squinted against them. “Announcing the Silver Son, Elwain Corridale, and his mortal consort!”

There was a sudden burst of murmuring, chittering, and general commotion. You lifted your chin, meeting the gazes of the Faeries who were looking at you with interest. Across the clearing, you could see two people, similarly beautiful and draped in clothes similar to Elwain’s, glaring. Presumably Elwain’s parents. You stared resolutely back at them.

The lights shifted away from you, but you could feel the gazes of the crowd on you regardless as Elwain led you over to the edge of the grove.

“Those two strict looking people your parents?” you asked out of the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” Elwain whispered back. “Charming, aren’t they?” There was a sarcastic bite to his voice.

“I’m assuming you don’t get along,” you said. You were deliberately not looking at them, but you could feel their cool gazes on you. Elwain snorted.

“No. We don’t.” His gaze flicked over to them, eyes narrowed. “They seem quite irritated, do they not?” There was a note of distinct pleasure in his voice. His pale, inviting lips quirked into a small smile.

“They do,” you said cautiously. “Because you’re with a mortal?”

“Indeed.” He caught your curious gaze and rolled his eyes. “I suppose I shall have to sate your curiosity now?”

“Unless you have something better to do,” you said. “It doesn’t seem like it, considering that you’re hiding in a corner in the middle of a party.”

His gaze snapped over to you, lips curling. “You are especially irritating, even for a mortal, you know?” he said. You just looked at him steadily. He huffed out a sigh and looked back out at the dance floor. “We have not been getting along for a while.”

He lapsed into silence and you waited for a moment. “Why not?” you pressed when his was clear he was not going to be forthcoming with the answers.

Elwain grimaced. “I am the oldest of my family, set to inherit their wealth and land and the responsibility of keeping the family name out of the mud and in good standing. I’d much rather not have the responsibility. My younger sibling would be far better at taking the helm, but I am the eldest, so it falls to me, regardless of whether or not I want it, or would even be particularly good at it.” A sharp, cold grin crossed his face. “My parents have been so insistent that I take the position, regardless of my own feelings, so I figured that aggressively smearing the family name would, at the very least, piss them off. If they won’t change their decision, I can make them regret it.” He laughed. It was sharp and brittle, almost like a crow’s caw. Despite yourself, you smirked. Elwain caught your expression. “You seem… pleased.”

“It’s funny,” you admitted. “And I can get behind the idea of spiting your parents.”

Elwain’s smile shifted. It was a subtle thing, just a twitch of his lips and a smoothing of his brows, but it altered his entire expression. There was genuine happiness in his face, and his ethereal beauty melted into something gentler and more boyish. Your stomach gave a little flip. “You’re not irritated?” he asked, and there was genuine curiosity in his voice. “Mortals always seem to get awfully huffy about being used by Faeries.”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t irritated. But I understand,” you said. You cast your gaze over at his parents again. The man was talking to someone with enormous antlers and strange, twisting legs, but his mother was glaring at you. Her gaze was like ice. It took all your will to repress a shiver. “Would you like to dance?”

Elwain gave you a surprised look. “You’d like to dance?”

“Better than standing off to one side. And if we’re going to try to be convincing to your parents, we’ll need to put on a better show than this.” Elwain’s surprise melted into an expression of amusement. His arm tightened on yours.

“Certainly. Wonderful point. Shall we?” He pulled you out onto the dance floor, threading you through the Faeries that were already out there. You ended up roughly toward the center. Some Faeries, the ones you figured were lower-class, avoided you, while others completely ignored your presence. Elwain stopped and turned to you, one hand settling on your waist, the other hand gripping yours. “Will you be able to keep up?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

You grinned back, mimicking his sharp grin. “Try me.”

The music was fast and energetic as you started to move. The beat was bouncing, easy to keep track of. Elwain led and you followed easily. Together, you swirled and weaved around the other couples.

Elwain’s hand shifted on your waist, tugging you closer to him. His fingers interlaced with yours. The beat of the music thrummed through your body, pounding in time with your heart. You were tepidly aware of other people around you, but you paid them no mind. Instead, you focused on Elwain’s face above yours, the slight knit of his brow as he focused on each dance move.

The music came to a stop. You blinked. It was as if you were stepping out of a trance, or waking from a dream. Your body was pressed against Elwain’s, almost chest to chest. With every step, you had drawn closer to each other. Your head was tilted sharply back to still look him in his face. His lips were parted slightly, and you found yourself tracing the curve of his mouth with your eyes. His fingers were tight on your lower back, tangled in the fabric of your dress.

“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” Elwain said. There was still that little edge to his voice, but it was wavering, as if it was a struggle to keep it up. He was panting a little, and you weren’t sure if it was actually from the exertion or not.

“So are you,” you said. You were staring up into his eyes. His pupils were large, endless and abyssal. He let out a slow, shuddering breath. His grip on your back loosened.

As you broke apart, you became aware of the gazes that rested upon you. Half the Faeries on the dance floor around you were staring, only swaying vaguely as a pretense for dancing. “Take a bow,” Elwain said, the edge of his mouth lifting into a smile. He swept out an arm and you mimicked him before bending low into a deep bow.

There was some scattered applause as you departed the dance floor, returning to your original place. Elwain was smiling in a smug, self-satisfied way. “I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain, yes?” you asked in an undertone.

Elwain looked down at you. “You’re certainly more effective than I thought you would be,” he said. “I can’t quite remember the last time I’ve had such a good time at a party.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” you decided.

“Good,” Elwain said. His voice quieted a little and sincerity blossomed in his tone. “I meant it as one.”

Before you could fully register what he’d said, Elwain’s mother came sweeping across the room toward you. She looked regal and fine, like a sculpture carved out of ice, her eyes blazing with cold fire. Her blonde hair was twisted into a tight bun, set in place with a silver, diamond-encrusted comb.

“Mother,” Elwain said. His voice was chilly enough to provoke a shiver, but you lifted your chin and stared defiantly back as his mother looked you up and down. Her lip curled and she gave you a clear look of disapproval.

“My son,” she said. Her voice hit like a whip. It took some willpower to avoid flinching. “I would like to speak to you for a moment.” It was clearly not a suggestion.

“Of course,” Elwain said, his voice measured and polite. He turned to you and fixed you with a smile. It was startlingly warm and your stomach flipped over. You bit your tongue, trying to kick the feeling away. No. Bad. Don’t start catching feelings for this guy. Elwain bent at the waist, drawing one of your hands up to his lips. His mouth brushed delicately along your knuckles. “I will return. Wait for me.”

His mother’s expression became icier and more remote, but she said nothing as she and Elwain stepped away from you. They moved to somewhere still within your eyesight, but out of earshot. You could tell they were having an intense, whispered conversation, and you could guess that you were the topic, but you couldn’t catch any details.

You were so distracted, trying to catch a whisper of their conversation, that you didn’t notice the Faerie at your side until he had grabbed your arm.

“Little mortal,” he crooned. He was pretty, so much so that it was uncanny to look at. You tried to pull your arm free from his, but his fingers were sharp and immovable as solid wood. He tugged on you, dragging you slowly but undeniably toward the dance floor.

“Little mortals shouldn’t be all alone in Faerie,” he said. His voice bounced around the inside of your head, banging off the sides of your skull until your brain was suffused by ringing noise. It was dizzying. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He was dragging you steadily toward the dance floor. Memories of your studies screamed alarms at you. Mortals trapped in swirling Faerie dances, unable to stop even as their feet bled and their muscles strained with exhaustion. Already, you could hear the enchanting, piping music. Your brain was fuzzing. One of your hands scrabbled for the cold iron pendant under your dress, but your fingers felt clumsy. You couldn’t resist. Why did you even want to resist? The music was so beautiful, leaping through your veins, and it would be so amazing to just be able to dance…

Someone’s hand caught yours. You staggered to a stop, the fog retreating from your brain. The Faerie snarled, dropping his grip on you.

“I would thank you not to try and steal my date,” Elwain said. His voice was freezing. Even with the full force of it turned on someone else, you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering. The Faerie that had tried to grab you shrank back.

“Of course, if I had known the mortal was yours, I would have left her alone,” the Faerie said, ducking his head and backing away. “Apologies, my lord.” He scrambled back into the crowd, melting away.

 Elwain glared after him until he was gone, then turned to you, offering his arm. “Are you all right?”

You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. “Fine.”

“I did tell you to avoid the other Fae,” he said in a scolding tone. You glared at him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you said. “He ambushed me.” With Elwain’s arm around yours, the music that had been scrambling your brain seemed distant. He led you back across the room. His fingers were tight on your arm. Even when you were a safe distance away from the other Fae, he didn’t release you.

“Maybe we should stay somewhere else, for now,” he said. He picked his way through the crowd to a gap between the trees and worked his way through them.

It took only a few moments to get to the edge of the forest. The sky overhead was filled with more stars than you’d ever seen. You could even see the gradation of color from the deep navy blue at its zenith to the faint, almost purple color at the edges.

Elwain released your arm and closed his eyes. His expression fell. Suddenly, he looked exhausted and wan. You hesitated before asking, “Did everything go all right with your mother?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “She was most displeased,” he said in a haughty tone that suggested he was mimicking her. “Most displeased indeed that I was disgracing the family name by dallying with a mortal.” He rolled his eyes. “You would think she didn’t have mortal blood in her family.”

“She does?” you said. Elwain lifted a shoulder in a moody shrug.

“Most Faeries do, even the nobility. The Queen is rumored to have mortal blood in her lineage, even. Our own reproductive ability is poor. Mortals are much better at breeding. It’s not uncommon for a Faerie to marry another Faerie and sire all his children with one of his mortal servants.”

“Then why is it such a problem to be with me?” Elwain gave you a look that suggested you were either very thick or very naïve.

“You’re allowed to breed with a mortal, but you’re not supposed to treat them as an equal. You’re certainly not supposed to date one, or show her off as your partner. Breeding with mortals is more of an open secret. Actually marrying a mortal would be a huge drop in status, and as the oldest son of my family, it would be a scandal if I even married a Faerie of lower status, much less a mortal.”

“That’s why you thought I would piss off your parents,” you said. “You’re putting your family status in jeopardy.”

Elwain nodded. “Yes. They’re so concerned about my family name, I figured putting it under threat will at least get some kind of reaction.” There was an undercurrent of vindictiveness in his voice. “Perhaps it will at least get them to see that I am a living person and not just a walking vessel for carrying on their line.”

Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. He went stiff, staring at you. “Glad I could help with that. It sounds like a worthy cause. I’m all for pissing off shitty parents.”

Elwain looked at you with an unreadable expression. Then his mouth twitched and he smiled. “Well, then. We should get back and do it some more, shouldn’t we?” He reached up and took your hand off his shoulder. Instead of hooking your hand into the crook of his arm, as he had been doing, he kept it in his hand.

There was a faint whistling noise. Something whizzed by your ear and made a dull ‘thunk’ as it embedded itself in the tree trunk behind you.

Your ear was stinging. You reached up and touched it. Your hand came away bloody.

“Get down!” Elwain pulled you into the bushes. His body was nearly on top of yours, pressing you down into the undergrowth. One of his hands pressed against the small of your back.

“Someone’s shooting at us!” you said redundantly. Elwain lifted his head slightly, trying to get a look around the brush. Another arrow whizzed by, slamming into the ground less than an inch from your hand.

Elwain made to grab it and yanked his hand back with a hiss. You could smell sizzing flesh. “It’s cold iron,” he said. “They’re for killing Faeries.” Horror crept into his voice. “They’re here to kill me.”

Another arrow plunged into the ground. This one was less than an inch from one of Elwain’s hands. “We need to move before they get a shot!” you said. “I can distract them, then you can run.”

“Wait! That may not be a good ide-” Before Elwain could finish his protest, you pushed your way out of the bush you’d hidden in and plunged blindly into the woods.

There were several more whistling thunks as arrows rained down on you. One of them ripped its way through the skirt of your dress and you had to pause and wrench it free. When you lifted your gaze to start running again, a shadowy figure descended from the trees in front of you.

They were entirely wrapped in black, so their features were difficult to make out, except for the fact that they were tall and skinny. A hand clapped down on your shoulder, right at the junction of your neck. It was cold, with needle-sharp fingers.

“Little mortal,” they crooned. “We were only told to kill the Faerie. With you, we can do whatever we please.” One of their fingers stroked along your cheek. Your mind fogged. “Wouldn’t you like to be my little plaything? We would have so much fun together. Or perhaps it would be funny for that little lordling to die by your hands? What a fitting death for the mortal lover.”

One of your hands went under your dress. Your brain was fuzzy, but your mind cleared as your fingers brushed your string of rowan berries. Still, you kept your gaze as unfocused as possible. Your other hand was creeping under the back of your dress. Your cold iron knife burned against your thigh. “Call out to him,” the Faerie said. “He’ll come for you, and then we’ll see how he fares when his little pet bites back-”

The Faerie had no chance to react. The knife ripped free from its sheath and you wrenched it up then down in a plunging arc. The blade tore into his chest. The smell of burning meat filled the air around you. Flesh sizzled as you ripped the knife down, carving open his belly.

The Faerie’s expression turned from gloating to terror. He staggered back, hands clamped to his gut. His motion wrenched the knife free from your hand, leaving it embedded in his stomach. He fumbled for it once, twice, before pulling it out of him. A gout of blood poured from the wound, soaking through his black clothes and puddling in the dirt.

He collapsed sideways on the ground. He was still breathing. You could hear the soft, wheezing gasps as he struggled for air. Gradually, the breaths became garbled, gurgling. He coughed, body spasming. Something warm and wet was soaking your feet. You didn’t want to look down. There was so much blood around him, more blood than you’d thought could be in a person.

It took a few moments to realize that the gurgling had stopped.

Something crashed through the bushes behind you. You whirled, lifting your second weapon in your hand. It was smaller, blunter, but maybe if you cracked them over the head, you could stun them for long enough you get away-

“Watch yourself. It’s only me,” Elwain said. He emerged into a shaft of moonlight. His long cloak was hanging in tatters from his shoulder and there were smears of muck and dirt across his face and clothes. His hair was in complete disarray. His gaze traveled up and down your body. “You’re bleeding.”

“No,” you said, stepping back to reveal the body on the ground behind you, “I’m not.”

There was a cold pause. Elwain looked between the body and you several times, as if trying to reconcile the evidence. Finally, he stepped past you and knelt next to the body.

“Cold iron,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I should have searched you before bringing you here. I figured humans had largely forgotten all the old methods.”

“If you had searched me, he would have killed me and then you,” you said in a chilly voice.

“A fair enough point,” Elwain said, albeit a touch reluctantly. “You are far more clever than I gave you credit for.” He rustled with the body a bit more, then went still, sucking in a sharp breath.

“What?” you said, leaning over his shoulder. He lifted a silvery pendant, dangling it from a chain around his fingers.

“I recognize this,” he said in a hollow voice. “My family crest.”

You stared at the little triangular that dangled from the chain. “He was from your family.”

“Sent by them, at least. The crest marks him as one of our assassins.” His voice caught. It was only the slightest of noises, something that you almost didn’t notice. For a moment, his expression crumpled. He took in a swift, choked breath and his face smoothed over. His eyes were still distant, staring absently ahead.

You reached out and squeezed his hand. His fingers tightened on yours with crushing force. “I’m sorry.”

He breathed deeply. “We need to go. If there’s one, there will be more.” He fumbled with the ties of his cloak. It dropped into the foliage. He was turning to you in a moment, fingers sliding along your bodice. You yelped quietly as he tugged free some of the outer layers of your dress, leaving a shift that would be far easier to run in. Despite the danger, you found yourself focusing on the skim of his fingers against your skin.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Elwain started to tug you through the trees.

He skidded to a stop, gaze darting wildly. “I- I don’t know.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His expression was lost, uncertain. There was nowhere for him to go, you realized. His family was gone. He was being chased by assassins. His life was gone.

Fine. You would take over. “Go back to the mortal world,” you said. “It’ll at least shake them off your tail for a while.”

 Elwain blinked at you, expression clearing. His fingers tightened on yours and he picked up into a run. Within a few steps, you were staggering to a stop in a mortal forest.

“They probably won’t come after me,” Elwain said. “They won’t want to draw the attention of mortals. And as long as I’m here, I’m out of their way.” He blinked slowly. “I have been exiled from Faerie on pane of death.” His voice was hollow, weak.

You leaned against him, trying to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”

Elwain tossed his head back and laughed. It was a sharp, grating laugh, nearly inhuman. Your hair stood on end hearing it. “I knew my family had executed political irritants before,” he said between choked breaths, “but I never realized they would count me among the number!”

His laughter broke, turned into wracking sobs. He swayed into your side, pressing his face into your shoulder. You rubbed his back helplessly.

It took some time before he lifted his head again. He looked significantly less magnificent in his tattered clothes, with his eyes bloodshot and puffy. There was something oddly endearing about it, though. “I don’t know where to go,” he said in a quiet voice. “I have never had to stay in the mortal world before.”

“You can stay with me,” you said. “But you’re going to have to pull your weight.”

 He looked at you archly, drawing himself up in a way that could have made him look impressive, except the effect was ruined by his running makeup. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

You smiled. “You’re going to have to get a job.”

 Two weeks later, Elwain came stumbling into the house and fell face-first onto the couch.

“How was work?” you asked. Elwain let out a tortured groan. “That good, huh?”

“Every day I work there and don’t curse someone is a miracle,” he said, voice still muffled in the cushions.

“I mean, you’re doing pretty good. And the tip money is really something,” you said. It was odd to see Elwain in a cheap fast-food uniform, but even that couldn’t dampen his unearthly attractiveness. There had been a small gaggle of people who’d been leaving generous tips along with some suggestive compliments.

Elwain crawled across the couch and planted his head in your lap. You drew your fingers slowly through his hair. “I don’t see why I have to work a job. I could glamour a few stones into diamonds and we would be set for life.”

You snorted. “The illusion would wear off and selling diamonds isn’t as easy as you seem to think it is. If you’re going to live in the mortal world, you need to live like a mortal.”

Elwain rolled his eyes. “You are a slave driver.”

“Yeah, I’m so cruel,” you laughed. “Maybe next time, I’ll let the assassins get you.”

Elwain sat up. His face had a tendency to flush patchily, with red spreading unevenly over his skin. It was oddly humanizing. “It was rather impressive, that move with the knife under your dress,” he said. “You were far more clever than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you,” you said, a little smug. “Us mortals are quite impressive, aren’t we?”

“Hmph.” Elwain’s blush deepened. “Yes, well. Out of all the mortals I could have picked, I’m quite pleased it was you.” He curled up in your lap. His face nestled into the crook of your neck. “You are quite a special mortal.”

“Hm.” You smiled. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You could feel Elwain’s mouth move against your skin and the soft rush of his breath as he laughed. “Good. It was intended as such.”

[marvelyhp]

Still you | chapter II

Chapter II: The comeback

Synopsis: Y/n decides to help the Avengers despite their betrayal two years prior and her life makes a big shift once again.

Pairing: Y/n x Bucky Barnes and some Y/n x Sam Wilson

Word count: 5,997

warnings: cussing, some fluff

note: I know I took so long but I had writer's block. then, I got covid and I felt too awful to write. But I'm okay now so this is what I could come up with. Not my greatest stuff. the tag list is open :)

Side note: I would really appreciate hearing from you and your thoughts!

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We managed to lower two floors without raising suspicion or making too much noise. At least, James and I were pretty silent, whispering if needed. But of course, Stark always had to open his damn mouth. He had been talking all the way —pretty loudly too— and he just did it again.

“Where’s the grandpa with the bad luck of having you as a tenant?” The man didn’t know the meaning of whispering. Or maybe he did. He just wanted to make my life more complex than it was. I looked frantically behind me, praying he had not seen me sneaking out. At the sight of no one, a breath of relief exploded out of me. But it didn’t last long, irritation quickly dampening my already poor mood.

“Shut the hell up!” I hissed. My patience with the insufferable man wearing thin.

“Oh, relax. If he sees us, we’ll knock him out and blame you.” He mocked, a chuckle erupting throughout the hall and following the stairlike a draft of wind. My blood started to boil inside my veins and I felt the heat spread from head to toes. I was afraid to be reaching my tipping point already because this was nothing. Two years out of practice left me hypersensitive to his shit. I wondered how long I would be able to stand the insufferable mortal and regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

“He is a good man, Stark. We will not knock him out.” I whispered as I pressed myself against the wall. Twisting my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I sneaked a glance at the stairs and the visible space from the top. “Watch your step here. His room is right underneath the stairs. We don’t want to wake him up.

I walked forward, pressing my foot in the first step, praying the creak of the old wood would keep quiet today as it did some nights. At least that’s what I hoped but it wasn’t what happened. A groan broke the silence in the room and I knew that if he was awake, he definitely heard it. I waited a couple of seconds, alert to any noise. When nothing came, I advanced four more steps. I focused on the one shadow dancing in the wall and relief swept through me. He wasn’t awake.

I turned, thinking the guys were still up. However, I let out a gasp when Bucky’s face came into view, mere inches away from mine. Thanks to the startle, the foot I had dangerously close to the edge slipped.

My heart stopped as I thought about the fall and the inevitable bone-crushing pain that would come after it. The stairs were pretty high and even though they were wood, it was quite sharp. Splinters roamed everywhere. I waited for the pain and the strenuous sound. It was phenomenal, the first time I saw the team in two years and I would meet them in a body bag with a broken neck.

However, it never came.

When I opened my eyes, blue electric eyes stared back at me. Our faces were inches away from each other. A hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him to hold me from falling. I was hyper-aware of our breaths clashing against each other, making the most sinful of sounds. Our lips were separated by a small space, too close for my brain to catch up quickly. I noticed how his lips roamed my face, stopping at my lips slightly parted by the surprise. His eyes held a fervent fire and my breath quickened once I felt the inevitable rush of warmth roaring my body.

Coughing slightly, I took a step backward, stepping out of his grasp. I forgot all about the landlord as I scolded myself. The man looked at me and there I was getting flushed like a raging hormonal teenager. I looked at everything but Bucky’s face, why I knew still had his eyes on me except now his jaw was firmly set. I wanted to ask him what was going on inside his head but a hovering shadow at the top of the stairs captured my attention.

“What are you still doing up there?'' The man looked utterly confused standing at the top of the stairs surrounded by darkness. I wondered if it had to do with what he just witnessed.

“You care about that grandpa, don’t you?” His expression was one of disbelief. His body wasn’t moving as if in shock or trying to process the information he thought was correct. And it was, but he didn’t have to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, unaffected.

“Of course you do. You care about the landlord.”

I whirled around as fast as I could with the incident earlier present in my head as a gruff voice filled the room. A short, stubby old man stood at the foot of the stair dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts. The ends of his hair stood up as if held by a string and maneuvered by a child. His narrowed black eyes stared back at us. His lips pressed in a thin line.

“Of course, she does, kid. Why shouldn't she?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. I followed the movement of the milk dancing in the glass on his right hand. I felt proud of the English I had taught him and how-- as much as I didn't want this to happen-- useful it would be. I looked back at Stark to find him gaping like a fish. Little croaks came from his throat but no coherent words came from him. It was the first time I had seen Stark speechless. “I’m an incredible landlord if I say so myself.”

He was.

I cursed inwardly. There were things I didn't want everyone to know. To a certain extent, I wasn’t ready for the team, for Stark, to find out that I wasn’t the monster he expected me to be. I wasn’t ready for him to look at me differently. Andrei had the power to change our whole dynamic.

It wasn’t that Andrei and I shared anything about life. Or at least I didn’t. Andrei liked to talk, to share his life with me, and try to make me talk. He said I was too reserved. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

It had been a warm evening. I could see the sun filtering through the windows. Shining onto the top of the show top and illuminating the cottage-like bakery. The dough in my hands stuck to my skin, lumps of a uniformed cream mass suffocating the fingers. The powdered white dust sat beside me and I felt irritated. I hadn’t thought about pouring it on the mixture before I touched it. ‘I was out of my element here’ I thought as I reached for the flour.

Andrei’s baker had abruptly called five minutes before work notifying him he couldn’t work his shift. His grandmother had fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip, hence his lack of concern for Andrei. He was the only living relative she had so it fell upon him to look after her. One missed shift would turn into dozens. The bakery was small and hidden in a remote part of Romania. The clientèle was not much besides those living in the small town from years ago, or even since they were born.

Everyone in town knew each other. When I arrived I had my doubts about staying in this place because of that same reason. I would be the talk for weeks and I couldn’t risk so many people questioning my presence. Except, I was lucky.

One evening, I sat in a small and dark corner of a bar near the outskirts of the town where it was most probable to see an outsider. Two men sat a couple of feet away from me, talking fairly loudly. Out of boredom and desire to know the people I might have been seeing every day, I heard and studied their moments. Taking notes about their behaviors and storing them far into the file I had on humanity. Their voices were cheery as they ate pastries that I was sure to not be from the small bar.

“This is so good! I can’t believe I haven't tasted a pastry this good since I left,” he moaned loudly in reaction to the puff on his hand. The crumbly dessert spilling powdered sugar all over his dark gray pants. “Andrei hasn’t lost his touch.”

“Who is this Andrei you talk so highly of?” The older male asked the seemingly young partner. The man wore an expensive suit, not one that could be found here and from what I gathered from their conversation, he had not grown up here. But his friend did. What he said next grabbed my attention the most.

“His bakery is pretty hidden in the town. Someone that didn’t know the road would not find him. He used to be a criminal, on the run and all that. But since he got out of prison he became a baker. the man sure has a gift. I don’t even know why he went to jail, because the man is a sweetheart. I think he was just dealt a bad hand.” The man kept munching on his pastry as he talked. The vowels all merging to create a soundless blob. I swore he said more but that was all I could understand and by the face of his friend, he understood less.

“It’s such a small town. Why was it never known?”

“I don’t know. Rumor has it that he was born here but left, something to do with his family. He came back years later, on the run from some people. People we assumed to be the police. Of course, the police followed his trail and eventually found him here. Two years later. He hid pretty well if, you asked me. He treats people with respect but he never talks about himself. He has always been reserved when it comes to his life, only telling small details that lead to nothing. You know, not enough to form a life picture…”

Before he finished talking, I was out of my seat, walking towards the pair. I plastered an innocent look on my face, one I had studied and perfected many times since coming to earth. I relaxed my posture, knowing I had been tense and tucked since I entered this town. I still can’t believe I was social before. Nobody would believe that if I told them now.

“Hey, those pastries look marvelous!” I said in a cheery voice when I reached the pair. Both of their heads whipped towards my direction, curiosity written in their faces. I could hear the questions in their head about me and where I came from and what I looked for in town. Typical gossiping mortals. I wanted to cut the tie between our heads, feeling bad about corrupting the men’s thoughts. But I couldn’t, not until I had what I wanted. “Do you know where could I find them?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, sweet thing?” Sweet thing, that’s funny. If he had been into the American news he would not say that.

“Calypso. Do you know where the place is? Can you explain it to me?” I said, trying to hide the hurry in my voice. His thoughts were front seat in my mind, not wanting to miss a thing.

“So eager.” He chuckled. Instead of the route, I was expecting, he thought about my naked form and countless sexual images began replaying. I resisted the urge to impale his backside, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. I played his game. I battered my eyelashes and looked at him from hooded eyes. I bit my lip gently and walked closer. Sneaking a glance at his friend, I noticed he was no longer looking at us. He seemed uncomfortable and had turned to his coffee and pastries. I wish I had a coffee to turn to.

“Maybe you could take me there. If you remember the way, of course.” He smirked and grabbed the jacket slung over the wooden chair he sat on. His friend looked at us, startled as if he wasn’t expecting my response. However, the joy of his friend would be short-lived. Images of the way to the small bakery filled my head and I smirked. Before he could take my hand to guide me to his car I asked for the restroom.

As soon as I came in, my eyes searched for some window I could use to leave unnoticed. And I found it in the corner of the bathroom beside one of the huge black and white mirrors. I locked the door and hurried to open the window, sliding through the door. The darkness of the night didn’t face me but my alert was high. Everybody could hide in the dark. My heart rocked against my chest as I saw the same guy from early waiting beside his car. I hurried along the alleyway, pulling my hood up and hiding my hair, disappearing into the dark.

“Calypso, boy for you.” I was brought from my memories by the rough voice of Andrei. Whoever didn’t spend much time with him would think he was mad all the time thanks to his voice and forever furrowed white bushy eyebrows. I matched the furrowing of his eyebrows when he mentioned a boy. I had been careful enough to not get attached or get anyone attached to myself so the mention of another human being besides Andrei spooked me.

Suddenly, the thought of agents looking for me or the usual threats I had filled me with panic. I heard the thunderous beat of my heart. The tremble of my hands disrupted the beautiful form of the pastry in my hands. quickly cleaning and taking away the apron full of white dust, I walked to the front of the door.

A dark-haired man in his early twenties stood next to the door with a blue box in his hands. A white shimmering ribbon adorned the delicate box, wrapping silkily around it to form a well-done bow. The chiseled bone structure of his profile caught my breath as he looked to the small, underpopulated plaza in the corner of the rondure. The curvature of his roman nose and the thin shape of his lips sticking in his profile.

I saw him regularly at the small bakery. His usual was a Papanaşia with a black strong coffee. He left three dollars on the tip jar three times a week and I noticed if he was overly happy, he would leave a fiver regardless of the day or how many days he had tipped. I had seen him mad twice in the store. Seemingly, he was one of those guys that harbored every trouble inside in a chaotic turmoil. I knew because I had invaded his mind one of those times. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, knowing he was always the type of guy that carried the sun on his shoulder. Every time he caught my attention, I tried to remind myself that he could’ve been an agent sent by Hydra to kill me or worse, kidnap me.

“Hello. What can I help you with?” I said, confidence laced in my voice. The confidence I did not expect to have. His head whipped towards me. A smile broke on his face at the sight of me. I saw the fidgeting of the box in his hands and the sudden bobbing of his knee. He didn’t appear to be harboring any secrets, or at least not deadly ones.

“Hey. I know this will probably look very weird to you but I’ve been watch- I mean not watching but I just- I,” His stammering caused a giggle to leave my lips involuntarily. My hand immediately flew to my lips, hiding the smile corrupting my face. He lowered his face but not before giving me one of those smiles that could light up a world. God, I felt sappy. He looked at me once again. “I don’t know how to do this. I definitely didn’t think it through.” He chuckled. One of his hands came up to brush his face while shaking it, side to side. I could tell he was nervous, maybe more that I initially had been.

Seeing him stammer was the cutest thing I had seen since the little green and purple flowers that grew back home and surrounded our palace. So, I decided to help him a bit. “You could start with your name,” I said, trying to not smile too much. Agent, agent, agent…

“God, you probably should’ve done that first. Nice one.” He said, more to himself than for me to hear it. “I’m Razvan. It's lovely to finally meet you.” I shook his hand. It was rough yet soft with elongated fingers caressing my own small and thin one.

“Calypso.”

“What I meant to say, you know, before I shot myself in the foot was that you caught my eye since I first saw you. Now, I swear I'm not stalking you because it could be easy to think after the horrible introduction I just did. But, yeah, I would like to get to know you, if that’s okay with you.”

I did think about it. I swear I did. I thought about how he could be linked to Hydra and if you searched on the deepest paranoid corner, the Avengers. I thought he could’ve been just a random murderer whose floor I had shaken. My voice of reason said no. and with the saddest feeling settling my stomach, I told him what I thought. Or tried to.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t. You seem like the loveliest person b-but I…” For some reason, I couldn’t just say no. “Can I think about this?” That was the only thing that came out of my mouth while I tried to get the words ‘go away and ‘don’t speak to me’ out of my mouth. His smile faded a bit, but even then he tried to keep his positivity and bright personality on. I could feel the waves of disappointment once I started speaking but hope soon came flooding back.

“Sure. I'm a complete stranger coming here every day just to see you. I can see how that’s alarming. take your time.” He shook his head as if realizing what he had just said. He chuckled and I tried to give him a small smile. Before I could turn away and leave, I felt him touch my elbow. I jumped back.

His brows furrowed quickly. “Forgive me. This is for you. And please accept it.” I thought about refusing but this would only prolong this meeting, pushing me to accept a company I wasn't ready for. I took the small box, my hand already trying to open the shimmering blue box. “No, please. Open it later, more calmly and everything and you can tell me whenever you’re ready if you like it.” I gave him a smile, which he returned brightly before diving back inside the back of the store.

Once inside, I undid the delicate ribbon, watching it dissolve like seafoam by the lovely blue water. The glistening gold chain with a tiny, colorful Koi fish rested in the center of the box. My heart swelled and I felt a way I hadn’t felt since Bucky. He remembered what I had told him that first, and the only time we had talked before today.

The voice of Andrei brought me out of my stupor with a jump. A hand traveled to grasp my heart while the other held the box tightly.

“Razvan is nice guy.” His voice was gruff and deep like it had been since I had met him. He walked behind me and grabbed a pack of flour to dump beside me. I looked towards the other and realized I was running out of it.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. Comes every day for two years. Great boy.”

When I didn’t say anything, he stopped cutting open the pack of flour and turned to look at me. “You too reserved. Not want to end like Andrei alone. Give guy chance.” That was all he said before he left. A tall wrinkly woman with short red hair calling out for him.

The last thing I thought that day after he left drove me to the same road he had set me on. I didn’t want to end alone or die alone for that matter. But what was I to do if everyone thought I was a selfish monster who just wanted to kill and bring chaos? The only person who didn’t feel that particular way was the same man I was leaving without saying goodbye.

Stark seemed to have gathered his words together because he suddenly began spewing some shit on Andrei. shit, he didn’t like it.

“The girl is no selfish girl. Only a fool like yourself would think so. Only a blind man would propose such a thing.” His brows were furrowed but Otherwise, he was calmly standing at the bottom of the stairs sipping his milk. He seemed like he would continue but I made sure to stop him

“Andrei, no.”

“I see. She holds you hostage and controls you, doesn’t she?” Stark countered, a smirk settling in his features. I pinched my nose, sighing loudly.

“You have to leave with this buffoon?” I walked down to his side, muttering an annoyed yes. “I’m sadder for you than him.” A chuckle escaped him as he hugged my shoulders with one arm. I tried to push him away but found no will to do so. I would miss Andrei. He felt like the father I never had. Worry settled in my stomach knowing I had been here and I would no longer be if anything happened to him. I hugged him back, despite my better judgment and the four pairs of eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t forget about me, violet. Nor dear Razvan.’ He told me after letting me go. I nodded before calling back to my two companions. Stark came down, slowly walked to the front door. Bucky at his heels. They both turned. Bucky’s face had some sort of emotion I couldn't decipher. I thought I could, but I doubt he would feel happy about finding someone genuine to spend my days with.

Stark, on the other hand, looked at Andrei as if he had grown an extra head.

“I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be dying at her touch or something? Are you sure she didn’t threaten you to act this way?” The funny thing was, he sounded genuinely confused. The skepticism in his voice hurt my feelings but the mere fact it was stark made me forget quickly. He was an insensitive prick with a personal vendetta.

“Take this fool away before I turn him into a human pastry,” Andrei commented. I walked towards them, chuckling. “Ai grijă, violet aprins.” Take care, fiery violet. The elder said before we shut the door behind us. my heart swelled at his words. I knew I would long for those quiet evenings where it would rain and we would sit down in the living room with a book, quietly enjoying our presence. We laughed and made new and invented pastries in the kitchen for days, always looking for new and innovative flavors. I would miss the man that had treated me like his daughter.

“Take care, Pop.” I whispered to myself. Not thinking a long-haired blue-eyed soldier would hear.

And just like that, we disappeared quietly into the night and I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

James let me know they came in the Quinjet, that enormous thing I had refused to sit on two years ago. the walk was not far from where we were and we found it in a while.

The Quinjet was hidden behind one of the buildings next to the bakery. the gigantic thing sleeping while we arrived to climb up. clint stood outside, his arms crossed. that man always looked like he was in a power pose.

“Romania? What is it with chased people and Romania?” Confusion and genuine interest were written all over his face.

Barton had always been a friend before I knew the truth. Nat told me she had told him in a drunken stupor. he tried to talk to her about telling me but she didn’t listen. I didn’t hold it against him because I knew he wasn’t actively participating but he didn’t do anything either.

I shrugged. “It’s a good hiding place. too many criminals organizations for you to matter. nobody cares who the hell you are as long as you keep quiet.”

“Good shadow place.” Bucky added as he tried to help me get in the Quinjet. I ignored his hand, focusing on Clint’s face.

“Exactly.” My response was clipped. if he was fishing for a normal conversation he was in for a treat.

After a while, we took off. My legs became restless as I sat in front of Stark and Bucky while Clint piloted the flying thing. boredom pushed me to get up from my seat and walk towards the front of the Quinjet. that, and Straks glare along with the awkwardness of Bucky’s movements.

Clint’s focused face came into view as I sat beside him. silence engulfed the both of us before he broke the silence with some words I didn’t expect.

“We missed you.” it was a quiet remark but full of shocking force. I just sat there, wide-eyed looking towards the already clearing sky. I looked towards him and forced myself to respond. a scoff came out of me, causing Clint to look rapidly towards me.

“You have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. Nat was pretty shaken up when you left. we looked for you everywhere and decided you didn’t want to be found. that you needed some time. it took you longer than we thought.”

“You didn’t find me because you didn’t look. You don’t have to lie to me, Barton.” I said, masking the hurt I felt with anger. why keep lying to me? I knew they didn’t care sop they didn’t need to act as they did.

“What? we did loo-” He never finished his sentence since Stark’s voice boomed around the small space. he came to let us know where would land soon as if we didn’t know already. Clint was the pilot, it was impossible for us to not know. suspicion arose in my chest but I soon forgot it when I saw the massive compound below us.

✹✹✹ I would be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t fluttering and my hands trembled slightly. I subtly rubbed my hands in my jeans, hoping to get some moisture away. But, there was something else bothering me. It had been there for a little while. The emptiness in my chest divided in two, as though… I don’t even know. The doors slid with a swift sound and my heart rate hit new floors.

I tried to avoid showing any emotion I felt. Seeing them surrounding the long table, all in their daily clothing made it hard to remember. I couldn’t show the happiness of seeing them all right after two years. Nor could I show the excitement deep in my bones seeing Wanda’s face. I couldn’t forget the damage (situation) those high-held beings made to my heart.

I looked at them with a mask of indifference firmly placed.

Wanda was the first to step forwards, as I knew she would. I didn’t expect her to but a part of me screamed how she had been the only real friend through the year I spent in this cage. I resisted the urge to hug her, touch her, and receive the reassurance I so deeply wanted.

“I thought- we thought you were dead.” The revelation shocked me. It felt as though they couldn’t believe I was alive. But I was. The question was… why did they think so?

“Nop. Still kicking.” I replied.

“Unfortunately.” I heard Stark mutter under his breath. I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to kick him. I could make him feel a true kick in his brain. And his ass, too.

“Y/n!” A high-pitched voice came from the corner next to me. The smiley face of Pepper Potts came rushing towards me, engulfing me in a hug. My nerve endings shot and I prayed my instinctive responses wouldn’t go through. Fortunately for me, they didn’t. Before I could even think to hold her back—which I wouldn’t have done anyway— she stepped back. Smile intact and a gleam in her eyes capable of illuminating the whole room.

“Jesus. You’ve changed so much!” Her hands settled on my shoulder, holding softly and slightly shaking my shocked frame. “I missed you.” Her vice took a sweet edge and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes scrutinized me with the look of a mother who had just seen her child after a hard year abroad. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably out of her grasp. I wasn’t used to this.

“Honey, leave the feral alien alone.” Tony’s voice reached my ears. “We have important matters to discuss.”

“God, Tony. Give us a break. We haven’t seen the kid in two years.” Natasha’s ______ filled the room as I saw her taking steps towards me. I noticed there were no relaxed steps but tense and wary. Her eyes held a sort of apology mixed with caution.

I just stared. Deep inside I didn’t know how to react to someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, someone who betrayed me gets closer. Her body language told me she was sorry but still cautious of my reaction but I didn’t know if I should forgive her. Her right hand stretched towards my frame. I shifted uncomfortably in place, moving slightly away from her.

I saw her eyes roam my body, noticing the discomfort. She came to a halt three feet away from me. Her lips were pursed as she let her head drop for a second. She recovered quickly, extending her same hand towards me, this time to shake my hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.”

I took her hand in mine, shaking firmly. I nodded my head towards her. My lips pursed. The movement of Wanda’s body caught my eye. She stepped closer to me, her hands nervously trembling beside her big, red jumper.

“Can I hug you?” Hearing those words coming out of her froze the ongoing flow of blood through my veins. I was shocked, to say the least. I bet I looked like a gaping fish as an incomprehensible string of detached words escaped my lips. Everyone else seemed as surprised as I was. For completely different reasons I would bet. As Stark had said, they thought I was a free being.

She waited patiently, probably aware of the shock and ongoing battle I had inside me. She was the only one aware of my thoughts about showing anything besides contempt. And she knew why. But I sent it all to hell and for once, I did what I wanted to do. I nodded.

Her smile was worth enough as she moved quickly towards me, as though worried I would change my opinion. Her thin arms wrapped around my neck, my lack of height apparent as my 5’1 ass reached her shoulders. I resisted the urge to cry as I wrapped my arms around her back, relishing in a familiar face that didn’t hate my only existence.

“I missed you.” It was a whisper, only for me to hear. A small smile escaped my lips as hope blossomed in my chest. Hope that maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Hope that maybe someday I could have a family.

“I did too, Red.” I murmured back. Careful to not raise my voice as I didn’t want anyone to know anything. I felt oddly vulnerable to be hugging someone let alone hugging someone in front of seven people. I noticed Vision staring and I gave him a subtle nod, a small smile creeping upon my lips. He nodded back with that usual blank expression not in compass with the feelings he harbored. After some time, I let her go before Stark had another remark to make.

I noticed Steve leaning against a far-away table, maybe ten feet away from where I was. His head lowered, eyes on the ground. His arms surrounded his build, hugging himself with a heavy frown on his face. He didn’t want to look towards me and I thought I knew why. He was ashamed of what he did. He was guilty anyway you looked at it. He was guided by Bucky to do everything. He followed the man despite knowing it was wrong. Not because your friend tells you to throw yourself out the window means you’ll do it. He knew full well what was wrong and right. He knew Barnes' proposal was as low as a man could get.

If he didn’t apologize and acknowledge what he did, he was dead to me. I mean, he had tried to apologize that day, but I was devastated and no words came through my anger.

There were a few handshakes and subtle nods here and there before I noticed a presence missing. I looked around for the usual big man with an overinflated sense of heroism but didn’t find him. He was big enough for anyone to spot him. I felt a pang in my chest and a tingle at the back of my head and I knew something was wrong. The air shifted and my hands started trembling slightly.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked, my voice slightly shaky. I tried to compose myself, knowing he had to be alright or I would’ve felt something.

“We don’t know. We couldn’t get a hold of him.” Natasha replied. I noticed the subtle worry etched in her face lines.

Suddenly, I understood that emptiness inside me. That swirling emotion unlatched to an earthy body. One of the connectors inside of me, besides bucky’s, was empty. It didn’t have any energy to connect to.

No.

No.

No.

I didn’t realize I began hyperventilating while the word repeated itself over and over in my head. My chest rose and fell quickly while the air got caught in my throat. My hand shot out to grasp anything in reach I could hold myself up with.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?” Wanda was the first to step forward and grab my elbow. Her soft touch didn't completely register in my sensory sense. The only thing in my mind was the heavy colorless fog swirling around in my insides.

The worst part was, I didn’t know which of my brothers it belonged to. I thought about them and how long it had been since I had seen them. Since I had been with them.

“Can you all excuse me?” I pulled myself together and without waiting for a response, I hurried across the room. I thought about the me that they just saw but somewhere deep down, I didn’t care.

I hurried, passing Steve's body. This time, he looked intently at me. I didn’t expect him to stand up and grab my shoulders. By this point, my vision was blurry and I tried hard to reconnect with the missing life essence.

“Y/n, I-”

“Can we do this later, Rogers?” I spat, cutting him off before getting my elbow out of his grasp. I left, shuddering and feeling a wave of anger rising in my chest.

What a good way to make a comeback.

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worth the wait [three] // daisy johnson

summary: when you're out chasing a story that leads you to the unanticipated hands of HYDRA, you certainly don't expect to be rescued by a girl you presumed dead for nine years.

warning/s: descriptions of violence, torture, injuries.

author’s note: here’s the next part, hope you all like it!

part one | part two | part four | part five | part six | masterlist | wattpad

Nine years later...

"I'm meeting with my contact now. He said he knows something about the weapons."

"Okay, just make sure you're safe, Y/N."

I smiled with amusement. "I always am, Taylor. I think this could be the source to break the story though. I'm gonna try and get them to speak on the record."

"Just be careful," he warned.

"Will do," I promised, before checking my watch for the time. "Okay, I gotta go. See ya."

"Good luck," he finished, and I hung up before putting my phone away.

Looking around, I saw the village was quiet seeing as it was pretty late and everyone was in their homes. It was the perfect place to meet with a source for my story on human trafficking.

I headed down the street and waited outside the apartment building for my source. I had no idea what he looked like, but nobody else would be out this late into the night, so he couldn't be hard to spot.

A few minutes passed before I saw a guy approaching me, holding some files in his hands. I straightened up and held his gaze as he stopped before me. He glanced around before looking me up and down.

"You are Y/N?" he asked with a Burmese accent.

I nodded, speaking fluent Burmese as I said, "Yes. You must be Ohnmar? We can speak Burmese if you prefer."

"Okay. We talked earlier, but it wasn't safe then. I have information on the missing residents," he answered in Burmese, before shaking the files. "It's all in here, but you mustn't open it until you get home."

I accepted the files and nodded, though was mildly confused. "Is it about the labour they're doing? I have a theory, but I have no proof. I... I think it might be HYDRA."

He pursed his lips and I figured he was confirming my thoughts, which concerned me.

"I'm right," I realised, before moving to open the file. "I need to–"

"You should've stayed away," he suddenly said in English, and I looked up in confusion.

Before I could question him, he pulled a gun from behind him and hit me on the head, knocking me to the ground. I tried to blink my eyes open, but my vision was blurred and I eventually blacked out, unable to stay awake any longer.

I woke up in a dark room with an aching head and confused mind. It took a moment for me to catch myself up, but I soon realised I'd been tricked by my contact. I was so easily fooled and I felt stupid as I hadn't seen it coming, instead too blindsided by my need for information.

Looking around, I realised I was tied to a chair. The only light in the room was from a single electric lamp plugged in the corner, shedding light on the damaged walls and, to my dismay, a HYRDA logo.

"Well, fuck," I mumbled, before shaking my wrists to try and get free, but they were tied pretty tightly with rope, making me shift uncomfortably at the chafing.

Panic started to set in when the door slammed open in front of me, flooding the room with light and making me close my eyes with discomfort. I heard another slam and opened my eyes when I saw the door closed behind whoever entered.

Two people were in the room and one of them turned the lamp, shining it in my direction and also revealing my assailants' faces. One of them was Ohnmar, my contact, which I guess wasn't his real name. The other wasn't anybody I recognised, and they were both wearing uniforms with the HYDRA logo on the pocket.

"I wouldn't try to escape if I were you," the fake Ohnmar said.

I clicked my tongue and looked between the both of them. "I'm guessing I got a little too close to the truth which is why I'm here. Right?"

"You've been putting your nose in where it doesn't belong," the other guy said. "Did you really think you would get away with this? That we'd let you write about this?!"

I flinched at his loud volume before clearing my throat. "I didn't think I needed your permission. And in case you didn't notice, it's my job to report on this."

Fake Ohnmar scoffed. "We don't care what your job is. Now tell us what you know and what you've told your superiors back home."

I narrowed my eyes. "Do you really think this is the first time I've been captured? I've spent nine months in this village. If you think I'm going to throw that away for you, you better think again."

Fake Ohnmar's friend cracked his neck, pacing with discomfort, before pulling out a gun. I chewed on the inside of my mouth, nerves settling as I tried not to show it.

"We have someone going through your electronics as we speak," he told me, gripping his gun. "Your superiors will get their updates as expected, but you won't be giving them."

"Look, you're gonna kill me whether I tell you or no–"

I was cut off when he smacked me across the face with his gun, making me see stars momentarily. I felt something warm gush from my nose and realised I was bleeding.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," he muttered, his face inches from my face as he stared me down threateningly. "Now tell us what you know of the missing villagers."

I wiped my nose on my shirt the best I could and chose not to speak. They couldn't do much without knowing what I knew. Everything I'd learnt had been sent back home to the news organisation I worked for, and if I didn't get back to them or call them, they'd know what happened.

"Two things I despise," he mumbled with irritation. "Journalists and Americans." He waved to his friend dismissively. "She won't talk. You know what to do."

Fake Ohnmar nodded obediently before suddenly punching me in the face, once again, leaving me dazed. This went on for a while, him beating me up as an attempt at torture, before the two of them left me alone to 'think about' if I wanted to tell them.

I had been in this situation, surprisingly, two times before in my journalistic career. Both times I was able to get out either by escaping myself or managing to get found by the authorities. Of course, in this case, the latter seemed impossible, so my only hope was escaping myself.

I looked around, but realised I was in too much pain to hatch a plan right now. They'd done a good job on me, and I was sure my ribs were bruised pretty badly. Honestly, I didn't expect nine months of investigative journalism in Myanmar to lead to HYDRA of all places.

—

"You've beat me, starved me..." I coughed because of how dry my throat was. "I'm not talking."

Fake Ohnmar placed something rectangular on the table in front of me. I realised it was my laptop – they must have taken it from where I'd left it in the room I'd been renting downtown.

"You're clever, I'll give you that," he said, crossing his arms and shaking his gun impatiently. "Where did you learn such complicated encryptions?"

I couldn't help but smile when I knew he couldn't get into my laptop. At least not the parts that exposed what I'd learnt so far.

"You do what I do and you learn from past mistakes," I told him, making him clench his jaw.

It wasn't much, probably the only trick in the book I knew as I wasn't exactly an expert with computers. Clearly it was benefiting me today though.

He slammed his hand on the table suddenly, making me jump. "Tell me the password, now!"

I licked my dry lips, choosing to stay quiet. I began to wonder just how advanced these guys were if they couldn't even afford to get a hacker to break through.

"So it's gonna be like that," he said with a shrug, before pointing his gun at my face.

He flicked off the safety and I closed my eyes as calmly as I could, already saying my goodbyes in my head. A few days in a HYDRA cell was like weeks anywhere else. I'd accepted my fate.

I expected the shot to go off any minute now, wondering what things would be like afterwards. Would it hurt? Would it be an instant death?

I certainly didn't expect my left ear to be ringing as an excruciating pain shot up my neck from my shoulder. My eyes opened and I tried to breathe through the pain whilst hoping my ear would stop ringing. The man began to laugh, but I couldn't hear him, only see his evil smile.

When I looked down, I saw blood seeping from a bullet wound in my left shoulder. Despite my experience in this profession, I can't say I'd ever been shot before. It certainly hurt a lot more than I'd imagined.

"You talk and I get you patched up," he said when my hearing returned to normal. I looked up and saw him watching me with narrowed eyes. "You stay quiet and we see how long it takes for you to bleed out."

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut to contain the pain, before opening them again.

"You're gonna move operations," I realised aloud. "You want to know whether you can. Because if I've told them about you, you know you can't stay here much longer. And if I haven't, you just get rid of me."

He squeezed his gun with irritation, watching as I spoke the truth.

"But either way I die," I repeated. "So why the hell would I want the last thing I do be to help you?"

He grabbed the laptop before kicking the table away with anger. "Call when you feel like talking. We can make your death quick and painless or long and painful."

I smiled bitterly as I watched him leave the room, slamming the door behind him. I released a deep breath as I looked down at my shoulder, trying to make out the damage. I didn't know much about first aid, but I was pretty sure there was no exit wound meaning the bullet was still in there. That was good, right? Or wasn't it...? I couldn't remember. I just knew it hurt like hell.

—

Hours had passed and I began to hallucinate. Silly things like cheeseburgers and dancing water bottles – lack of food and drink, the blood loss and the heat was making my head spin. I wasn't sure if this was where I wanted to die – in a small, dirty, hot room by myself. Was it worth it? Dying over a news story?

Of course it was. I pursued this story after some social media posts about disappearing villagers in Myanmar. I stayed here nine months with each day leading me closer and closer to the supposed human trafficking that was going on. I got to where I was because I wanted to get justice for those who suffered and stop anyone else from suffering. Yet the only people who knew were my editors back home, and I wasn't sure they'd ever know the full truth.

It was better than helping the enemy though.

Just when I thought cheeseburgers were the worst of my delusions, I saw a face I hadn't thought about in a long time. A person who I least expected my mind to drag up in a time like this.

The door opened and I was sure I was going to be questioned again, but in ran none other than Skye. The same Skye who had ran away all those years ago and wasn't to be found.

She looked a little older with her shorter hair, but otherwise she was just as I remembered.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you out of h– Y/N?" she started, before furrowing her eyebrows with confusion.

She even sounded the same, and if I could feel anything at that moment, I'm sure I would've felt my heart beating quickly at the sight of her.

"Can you hear me?"

I began to laugh with what little energy I had left. Is this what it was like to die? Seeing things that you'd pushed down for so long to stop your heart from hurting? It was strange. Why was my mind playing with me like this?

"Y/N, look at me, can you hear me?!" she asked quickly, grabbing my face and forcing me to meet her eyes.

I continued to laugh because it all felt so real. Her touch, her voice, her eyes that peered into me. I wished it was because maybe after all of these years I could have made things right.

—

"Miss, can you hear me? Y/N?"

I blinked the tiredness from my eyes and opened them, trying to remember what was happening. But I was confused and my body was numb and nothing made sense.

"Y/N, sweetie, can you hear me?"

I turned my head, realising I was laying in a bed. There was a woman beside my bed – a doctor, I presumed – staring down at me with a friendly smile on her face. I nodded slowly, my mouth dry.

I couldn't remember getting out of that cell, being rescued. Unless I wasn't rescued and this was still a trap.

At this thought, I widened my eyes and tried to move, panic setting in, but I was attached to a bunch of tubes and my body was still numb.

"Hey, it's okay, you're okay," the doctor tried to reassure, resting her hands on my arm, trying to keep me still. "You're safe here. You're on a S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet. That's like a plane...? We got you out of that HYDRA cell and I've bandaged your wounds. You don't need to be afraid anymore."

I wasn't sure whether to believe her, but something about the way she spoke and the kindness in her eyes made me relax.

"My name is Agent Simmons," she introduced as she grabbed something from beside me, "but you can call me Jemma."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. On cue, she held a glass of water towards me and helped me sit up enough to have some from the straw. It felt good to have actual water in my system after not being given anything the past two days.

"Not too quickly," she said gently. "Take your time."

I listened to her before laying back down. It took a few tries, but I managed to get out, "Thank you, Jemma. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N Y/L/N, investigative journalist for the New York Times," she stated before an apologetic expression crossed her face. "Sorry. Facial recognition an' all... I hope that doesn't freak you out."

I sighed, not the slightest bit surprised. I knew enough about S.H.I.E.L.D. to know they had the resources to know exactly who I was.

"I don't remember you getting me," I said with confusion. "How did you I know I was there?"

Jemma took a seat on the stool beside my bed. "Well, technically it was Quake who got you out. We had reports of HYDRA activity in that area for a while and we knew an American journalist had been taken, but we didn't know it was you."

I nodded, though I was still confused. "Who's Quake?"

Jemma chuckled, thinking I was joking. But when I met her eyes with confused ones, she lost her smile.

"You're serious? You don't know who Quake is?"

I shook my head. "I've been in Myanmar for nine months, and not in the most advanced areas. I haven't had much access to American news."

"Seriously?" she asked with disbelief, before putting her arms out and shaking them. "Earthquake-causing, vibration-manipulating, tremor-shaking superhero Quake?"

I raised an eyebrow judgementally, making Jemma lower her arms sheepishly.

"Oh, well, she's a hero that works for S.H.I.E.L.D.," she explained.

I nodded slowly, deciding that was something to ask more about later on. For now, I was more concerned about my story.

"You said S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching that area for a while," I recalled. "Does that mean you found out what happened to the missing villagers? I got as far as working out HYDRA had been using them for some sort of forced labour, but never beyond that."

Jemma got up from her stool and busied herself with other things. "I, er, that's actually classified...? You see, it's not good if we tell you, especially as you're a journalist..."

"But it's my story," I countered with annoyance. "I've been trying to work this out for almost a year. I deserve to know the outcome. Did you save those villagers? Were they all alive? Did the local authorities know?"

Jemma seemed to be getting uncomfortable the more questions I asked and I forced myself to sit up, groaning at the ache in my shoulder.

"You can't hide this from me," I told her. "Please, just tell me."

She grimaced. "It's not my place. I'm not in charge–"

"Then tell me who is!" I shouted with frustration, before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just– I've put a lot of work into this and it can't just be taken away. I need to know what happened."

She nodded, avoiding my eyes for fear I'd get angry again. "Look, I can talk to my superiors and find out what I can say. For now, you should really be resting."

I leaned back and breathed out slowly, already feeling my fatigue catching up to me.

"Okay," I said quietly, before asking, "You said we were on a plane. Where are we going?"

"That's actually classified as well," she said regretfully, making me sigh. "We're going to our headquarters. But after that, we'll be taking you home or wherever you want us to take you."

At the mention of home, I grew hopeful. It had been so long since I'd been back. I wasn't exactly in the right state to be living by myself, so I was glad that I had made the choice to leave my flat and move in with my parents before leaving for Myanmar. Plus, I had missed them dearly. To be back there was almost unimaginable.

"Can I ring my parents?" I asked hopefully. "Just to let them know I'm okay? And that I'm coming soon?"

Jemma nodded, offering a small smile. "Of course, Y/N. I'll go grab you a phone."

She left the room momentarily and I took that as my chance to get a good look around. It looked like a hospital room you'd find anywhere, except without windows and with card-activated doors that had tiny glass windows showing a narrow hallway. I didn't get to look around for too long as Jemma returned pretty quickly, handing me (what looked like) a normal mobile phone.

"I'll give you a moment of privacy, but please only call your parents," Jemma warned as politely as she could.

I cracked a small smile. "What – are you guys tracking the phone or something?"

She chewed on her lower lip as she looked down, making my smile fade as I realised that's exactly what they were doing. I wasn't surprised, I guess.

"Right, okay, no other calls, got it," I agreed with a nod.

She left me to it as I dialled my mum's mobile number and eventually spoke to both her and my dad. It was emotional to say the least, as I tried not to worry them too much without withholding the truth. They knew when I was lying so it was better to just be honest. Of course, they were happy to have me stay at theirs until I was back on my feet and the call ended with my mum scolding me for not resting as the doctor recommended.

Finally succumbing to the tiredness I was feeling, I fell asleep for God knows how long, but when I woke up, I felt more refreshed. Similar to before, Jemma was in the room, checking some charts. She caught my eye when I woke up and smiled reassuringly.

"Feeling better?" she asked, setting down the chart and rounding the bed.

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks... how long was I asleep for?"

"About six hours," she guessed, waving her hand. "We've landed at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and our agents are debriefing. Once everything is sorted here, we can take you home to New York and arrange a driver to take you to wherever you want."

"My parents' house," I clarified.

She smiled and nodded. "Right. Your parents' house. How are you feeling?"

I tried to sit up and she helped me as I smiled gratefully in return.

"I'm not gonna lie, being shot hurts like a bitch," I admitted, grimacing as I glanced at my shoulder and arm in a sling.

"First time?"

"And hopefully the last," I retorted, before looking to her. "How long will this take to, y'know, get better?"

"Well, I'll need to keep you here for observation over the next few days," she explained. "When I'm happy with the outcome, I'll send you home and you'll need fortnightly checkups at the hospital. Overall I'd say a month? Maybe more if there's no... er... other issues."

"I know you mean PTSD," I told her bluntly, before frowning. "Doing what I do requires knowledge of that."

"There's going to be support available for you, both here and back home," Jemma reassured, resting a hand on mine and offering a small smile. "You're not alone, Y/N."

I nodded, clearing my throat. "I know... I know. Thanks."

She nodded and moved to the other side of the room to grab something, before wheeling a tray of food over to me.

"Hope you're hungry," she joked. "It's nothing fancy, but it's pretty good."

I smiled and accepted the food. "Means a lot, thanks."

I took a bite out of my sandwich as I remembered something. When I finished chewing, I wiped my face with the napkin before looking to Jemma who was at her desk.

"Er, Jemma," I called, making her look up. "Did you find out what happened to the villagers?"

She pursed her lips and nodded. "I've spoken to my superiors. I know you've been working on this and I'm only permitted to tell you so much."

I waited patiently, not wanting to snap at her like last time.

"The missing villagers were in fact taken by HYDRA, like you predicted," she explained. "They were forced into labour at a facility that was under the guise of a food warehouse."

"What was the labour?" I asked curiously.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't tell you much, but I can say that it was a nuclear weapon that could've hurt a lot of people. S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to stop it before they could finish it, which is when we found out that a journalist had been taken. That was when we came for you."

I released a deep breath, definitely not expecting that. At least they had been stopped.

"Did the missing people return to their families? Were they okay?" I asked hesitantly, remembering the many families I spoke to of the missing. I'd grown attached and I don't think I could have taken more bad news.

"Most of them, yes!" she exclaimed hopefully, but I could tell the following news wouldn't be good. "But not all of them were okay. There's some psychological damage and unfortunately physical damage, too. HYDRA did a number on them."

I massaged my head with my right hand, trying not to get upset, but the guilt in the pit of my stomach wasn't helping. I had one job, literally, and I couldn't even do it right.

"Y/N–"

"Do you have a list?" I asked, cutting her off. "A list of who made it?"

"Y/N, I don't think–"

"Please," I pleaded. "I spoke to the families of those who were missing. I got to know them. I need to know who's not getting their loved ones back."

She frowned, but nodded slowly. "I'm sure I can do something."

I sighed and my shoulders sunk with disappointment. Just another day on the job.

—

It had been a few days since being rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. and I was itching to get home, but Jemma insisted I be observed for at least another day.

Under different circumstances, I would have been eager to explore the quinjet and get more information out of Jemma about her place of work, but I was too exhausted to care. Instead, I revelled in being taken care of and having a break from work.

I was laying in bed, reading a book, when Jemma walked in and caught my attention. I tried not to bother her as she was clearly working on other stuff, but it got pretty boring sitting in a room by yourself all day.

"Hey," I greeted with a smile, lowering my book.

"Hello," she returned as she took a seat at her desk, going on her computer. "You doing alright?"

"As alright as I can be, considering," I said, shrugging with my right shoulder. "Just a bit bored."

"The book not good?" she asked, nodding to my hand.

"I've read it," I admitted. "I just didn't wanna be a bother and ask for another one."

She chuckled. "You could have said something."

"It's okay," I assured her, before leaning back. "So, up to anything fun?"

She gave me a knowing look. "Are you seriously that bored?"

I nodded, pursing my lips, making her laugh. Eventually, she stared at me curiously.

"There's actually something I wanted to ask you," she admitted, crossing her arms and leaning back on her chair. "If you don't mind."

Wanting any distraction from my boredom, I nodded. "Go for it. I'm all ears."

"I've been reading some of your work," she shared. "You're really talented and you've been through your fair share of tough scrapes."

I chuckled. "I guess, yeah. And thank you. What's the question exactly?"

She looked at me like it was obvious. "What made you want to do this as a job? Investigative journalism?"

I played with the corner of the book as I answered thoughtfully, "Well, I guess I've always enjoyed writing and delving deep into stuff. The important stuff, y'know?" I looked down at my hands as I remembered Skye. "There was actually this girl I knew back in school. She was a friend and she, er... she was always wanting to find and expose truths. About herself, the world... I guess she kind of influenced me in a way."

I chewed on the inside of my mouth as I remembered my hallucination. Skye seemed to be coming up a lot more in my life lately, more than I was prepared for.

"I'm guessing she isn't with you anymore," Jemma realised, expression softening. "I'm sorry."

I forced a small smile, looking up and shaking my head reassuringly. "It's okay, it doesn't matter."

Jemma smiled in return, but I could see the pity present in her eyes. "I'm sure whoever she was, she'd be proud of you now. For everything you've done."

"Thank you, Jemma, but I... I'm not too sure about that."

"I am."

I froze at the sound of a familiar voice. Was I hallucinating again? No, that couldn't be. I was getting better. But that sounded so real...

"Proud of you, that is," the voice continued, and I risked looking towards the door where I saw none other than Skye standing there with a nervous smile on her lips.

When I met her gaze, I knew she wasn't a figment of my imagination. Those piercing brown eyes couldn't be fake.

"Hey," she got out, barely a whisper.

I licked my lips and tried to look away, but my heart was suddenly racing in my chest. She was just how I saw her last, but I guess that had been real now.

"I should give you guys a moment," Jemma said, pulling me from my reverie and making me look away.

She walked out, past Skye, leaving us both alone. I was still in shock though, too startled to say anything.

"How are you?" she asked gently, and I still couldn't believe I was hearing her voice after all these years. When I didn't say anything, she continued, "I know this is strange, but–"

"Strange?" I finally found my words, eyebrows raised. "What exactly is strange? The part where I'm sure I'm seeing a ghost right now as I you presumed you were dead after not being able to find you for years after you left, or the part where you've probably been at S.H.I.E.L.D. the whole time and didn't bother to tell me you were okay? Which part is strange exactly?"

She frowned guiltily, eyes falling to her shoes. "When I left–"

"Ran away," I corrected her, bitterness slashing through like a sharp knife, surprising the both of us.

She glanced at me, nodding. "Right... when I ran away, I left you a message."

I almost laughed, a sarcastic smile on my lips. "Don't even get me started on the excuse veiled as a message you left me. The cowardly way out you took because you couldn't face me."

She met my gaze nervously. "I didn't think you'd be this angry after all this time. It happened so long ago."

"Of course I'm angry!" I shouted with frustration, making me grimace at the pain in my shoulder, but I didn't stop. "You left without a single trace of Skye or Mary left behind! You left me with nothing but concern for your wellbeing! I thought you were dead!"

I hadn't realised how I angry I was after all this time, but it made sense. When she first left, I always imagined what I would say to her when I found her again, what our reunion would be like. But when the years went on and I accepted she was truly gone, all of that worry turned into bitterness and resentment. And now, seeing her here... I was furious.

"Y/N, I know you're upset, but–"

"Just get out," I told her with a glare. "I appreciate you saving me and all, but get out."

"Y/N," she pleaded, but I looked away and pressed the button on the side of my bed.

Jemma soon returned and looked between Skye and I with confusion and reluctance.

"Everything okay here?" she asked.

I looked up and met Skye's guilt-filled gaze. "My shoulder hurts."

Skye seemed to get the hint and nodded once more before finally leaving the room. I breathed out a shaky breath, before swallowing the lump in my throat and letting Jemma help me.

I couldn't believe she was back.

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Man Made of Stone

Next

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Summary: Carrillo and Javier show up at your door looking for help.

Rating: ummmm R?

Warnings/notes: I know nothing about medicine, please keep that in mind; canon-typical violence; murder; blood; swearing; smoking; alcohol; drugs; also, I intend for there to be more to this, but I have no idea where it’s going. And it’s my first time writing for this world and both of these characters so critiques are welcome.

Word count: 1608 

@vanthrefrigeration​

There was a sharp knock at your door and you stared at it, feeling your stomach clench. You couldn’t think of a single good reason why someone would be knocking on your door at this hour and that rooted you to the floor. There was another knock and you heard Javier call your name.

“Javi?” you asked, rushing to the door. You opened it to find him and two other men standing in the hallway. You recognized one of them: you’d seen him with Javier and Steve when you ran into them at the bar but his name escaped you. The third man was being supported between them and he was bleeding all over the floor. 

“Shit,” you said.

“We need your help,” Javier said, straining under the weight. You stepped aside, waving them in. You could think once they were inside, you didn’t need any of your neighbors to see a man bleeding on your doorstep. You draped a blanket over your couch and watched as they laid the injured man down.

“What is this?” you asked Javier.

“This man has information and we need him to stay alive long enough for us to get it.” It was the other man who answered. You racked your brain for his name. Something with a “C”, right? Your eyes fell on his stern face, his narrow dark eyes. You wondered fleetingly if he ever smiled. 

“You remember Colonel Carrillo,” Javier said, gesturing to him. Carrillo, that was it. 

“I’m not a doctor,” you said, looking back at Javier. He was leaning against the windowsill, his hair matted against his forehead. “You need to take him to a hospital.”

“They’ll kill him before he makes it through the door,” he said, shaking his head. You looked back and forth between the three men, knowing that if you didn’t act, the one lying injured on your couch would die. 

“Get some water,” you told Javier before heading to your closet and pulling out a first aid kit and several clean towels. You handed one to Carrillo on your way to the injured man’s side. 

“We have to stop the bleeding. Is it just the one wound?” you asked.

“Yes, a gunshot to the abdomen,” Carrillo replied. You unbuttoned the man’s shirt, a nice floral print now stained dark with his blood as Javier came around with a bowl of water. You did your best to clean up as much of the blood as you could before having the two men gently tilt him up on his side so you could examine his back, seeing no sign of an exit wound.

“Set him back down.” You had Carrillo apply pressure to the wound while you pulled items from your kit.

“What do you think?” Javier asked you.

“He could miraculously survive, or he could die in the next ten minutes.”

“Fantastic,” he said, passing his hand over his face.

You sat on the floor, slumped against the wall, your bloodied hands balancing on your knees, while Carrillo peered out the blinds. Javier sat in a chair in the corner, smoking a cigarette. He shared a look with Carrillo over your head. You didn’t catch it and you didn’t care to--you were exhausted. Javier stamped out the remainder of his cigarette and came over to you, crouching down in front of you and squeezing your calf.

“You okay?” he asked. You gave a brief nod. “Thank you for doing this, I know it was a lot to ask.” He checked his watch and straightened up. “I gotta check in with Murphy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  

“Hold on, Javi,” you said, getting to your feet. You walked into the kitchen and opened the junk drawer, shuffling things around until you found a key. Meeting him by the door, you held it out to him. “Just make sure to announce yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Javier said, nodding to you, then to Carrillo before heading out the door. You locked it behind him, noticing the dried blood on your hands, holding them out in front of you and looking them over. You headed for the bathroom, glancing at Carrillo who stood like a statue in the same place you’d left him. You took your time washing your hands, scrubbing every inch of skin and scraping the blood from under your fingernails. Voices filtered in to you from the living room and you hurried out of the bathroom, still drying your hands on a towel, to see Carrillo sitting on the edge of your coffee table, arms resting on his knees, talking to the injured man. The man’s eyes were barely open and his words were mumbled. You understood enough Spanish to get by, but nothing he was saying registered with you. Carrillo’s face was hard, his unblinking eyes in a squint, trained on the man’s face like a hawk. You watched as he slipped a knife from his belt and rested it on his thigh, and your stomach constricted into knots. Carrillo asked the man a question and you could just see his eyebrows lift expectantly. When he didn’t get the answer he wanted, Carrillo got to his feet and walked around the back of the couch, brandishing the knife. He held it out over the man’s throat and before you knew what you were doing, your hand was on Carrillo’s arm, stopping him. He trained his stern gaze on you, his lips set in a tight line, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched and you sucked in a breath, holding it there. You released your grip on him as if you had been burned.

“Can we talk?” you whispered, looking at him with pleading eyes. You weren’t sure if the injured man could speak English, but you didn’t want to risk it. Carrillo reluctantly followed you into the kitchen, positioning himself so he could keep his eyes on the prisoner, hands on his hips. 

“I appreciate that you have a job to do,” you said, “but I’d appreciate it even more if we could avoid a bloodbath in my living room. Not to mention, with the state he’s in all you’re likely to achieve is causing him so much pain that he blacks out.”

“What do you suggest?” he demanded, his voice heavy with irritation. You bit the inside of your cheek and let out a sigh.

“Does he speak English?” you asked.

You pressed a cold, wet cloth to the injured man’s head and his eyes cracked open slowly. You’d moved your chair over by the couch and were sitting next to him, Carrillo standing just behind you at your shoulder. 

“I know you’re very tired, but I need you to listen to me for a moment,” you said, and you heard Carrillo repeat your words in Spanish. At least, you hoped they were your words. The man glared up at you, but you pressed on. “I’m a nurse. They brought you to me because they thought I could help you, but you’re dying. You have an infection from the gunshot wound, and there’s nothing more I can do to help you. You have two options: you tell this man what he wants to know, and I can make your death quick and painless. You don’t, and I will let him kill you as slowly as he wants.” The man’s eyes fluttered to Carrillo’s face, then back to yours and he gave one stiff nod. You stood and glanced briefly at Carrillo before disappearing down the hallway to your bedroom where you retrieved your bottle of sleeping pills. Ducking back into the kitchen, you could just hear the man speak in a strained voice to Carrillo, and your stomach turned as you crushed a large amount of pills, dropping the dust into a glass of whiskey. You reached out a hand to pick it up, but you hesitated, watching your fingers tremble. 

“I got what I needed,” Carrillo’s voice pulled you back to yourself and you turned to look at him, finding your breath again. You nodded, leaning back against the counter. “Is that for him?” He pointed at the tumbler and you reached behind you to pick it up, nodding again. Wherever your voice was, it wasn’t coming to you. You stared down at the brown liquid. Carrillo’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to you, taking in your appearance, the open bottle of sleeping pills, the tumbler full of poisoned whiskey. 

“Is he actually dying?” Carrillo asked. 

“No,” you said. “At least, he doesn’t have an infection, I lied about that.” The realization that you had intended to kill the man anyway hit both of you and your eyes found Carrillo’s. You had done the math: the injured man wasn’t going to see the dawn. If the gunshot wound didn’t kill him, Carrillo probably would. You had no idea the extent of the man’s sins, but you knew what people like him did. And you’d promised him a painless death. Carrillo’s expression had softened, something you thought impossible and he reached out, taking the glass from you. You watched as he walked back over to the couch and sat down in the chair you’d vacated. He eased the man’s head up and tilted the glass to his lips and you couldn’t look away. Your unblinking stare held that corner of the room even after Carrillo had moved away, and you heard the scrape of the empty glass as it slid across the counter. He stood next to you, leaning forward, his hands splayed on the countertop and turned his head to the side to look at you. You looked back and the two of you said nothing, only held each other’s gaze.  

[swift--fox]

Creeping Is A Dangerous Game

Day two of Tickletober- Begging

(I never said I was good at naming things)

Castiel has a drag of a school day, so he finds a way of enternatining himself afterward. And if it’s at the expense of his boyfriend? So be it.

(Thank you @deadpiss for writing this one for me)

~~~~~~~~~

English lit. is a fucking drag of a class, and today was no exception. He’d had to listen to Professor Shurley—or Chuck, as he insists his class call him—drone on for forty-five minutes about dramatic irony, of all things. His ass was still a little numb and he was bored out of his wits, itching for some kind of entertainment to make up for that day. 

He sees Dean—or rather, the legs attached to him—under an old but classic-looking car. He imagines Dean is thrilled to be working on it, he’ll probably talk Cas’s ear off about it later. That can wait. 

He shrugs his satchel off his shoulders and drops it off by the tool bench, walks over to his preoccupied boyfriend.

Of course, he goes ignored. Dean is in grease-monkey mode; fully engrossed in his work. Castiel nudges an oil-smeared thigh with the toe of his boot and Dean’s entire body does a half-aborted jerk and he makes a startled noise from under the belly of the car which echoes in the empty garage. He slides his way out, shooting Cas a dirty look—quite literally, given the state of his matted hair and the dark smudges on his face. 

“Owch.” He says pointedly, rubbing at his forehead. Castiel shoots him his sweetest smile and extends a hand, wiggling his fingers. 

“I’m back,” He bats his eyes, the picture of innocence. “I missed you.” 

Dean doesn’t take his hand and is already pulling himself back under the car. “Uh-huh. Missed you too. I’m a little tied up right now, s’all. Busy day.”

“I’m sure. All your non-existent customers and I are packed in here like sardines. It’s madness out here,” He says dryly, circling around to Dean’s feet. 

“Asshole. C’mon, I’m almost done. Just gotta make sure everything’s screwed in and working down here and then check out the rattling in the engine. Prob’ly change the oil, too—this dude doesn’t know shit about cars. ‘Specially classy ladies like this baby.”

Cas can hear the affectionate pat Dean gives the underside of the car and he scowls. He’s more enamored with this rusty old car than him. 

“Y’know, I’ve never worked on a—JESUS—”

Castiel sits on Dean’s hips and lets his knees touch the ground on either side to keep Dean from rolling back out. 

“Oh, do continue, Dean—I’m so excited to hear allll about the car that you’re ignoring me in favor of.”

“You’re such a petty bitch, Cas. You’re gonna break my creeper!” 

Cas eyes the strip of exposed skin over Dean’s waistband where the hem of his shirt pulls away. His arms must be over his head. Perfect. Castiel slides his hands up starting from Dean’s thighs to his ribs, staying over his shirt but dragging the hem up even further with the movement. “Say again?” 

Dean stiffens under him and his breathing stutters. “C—Cas. C’mon, not here. I’m—I’m serious, dude, this is—it’s my work! I gotta—NO!” He breaks off with a yelp when Cas’s fingers ripple against his ribs. 

“Of course, Dean, don’t let me stop you. Just pretend I’m not here.” Cas says solemnly as ten fingers tickle a meandering path down either side of Dean’s ribs to congregate on his soft and currently heaving belly. 

He bucks up as much as his position allows and his feet desperately scramble behind Cas, trying to pull himself out from under the car. Cas braces his knees further apart and holds the board in place. “You—Youhou fuhucker.” 

“Is that what kind of pet names we’re using now? Shall I call you ‘bitch’ instead of Darling? Honey? Oh, what about ‘my dear’ or ‘good boy’? You love those,” He lists off each example with a poke to Dean’s stomach. He can see the pink dusting Dean’s cheeks and neck in his mind’s eye at the mention of the last example. 

Dean elects not to say anything, he just writhes as much as the narrow board of his glorified skateboard allows. Cas watches Dean’s futile attempts at dislodging him with a smug sort of fondness, his hands resting on Dean’s soft sides. Unmoving, for the moment.

He gives Dean’s left side a squeeze. “You’re very cute like this.” 

Dean makes a strangled noise in his throat and Cas smiles. “Am not. Can you—we’re in public. Someone could co—nonono, Cas, don’t! Anyone could walk in—stopstopstop,” Dean hits his forearms on the underside of the car trying to pull them back to his sides when Cas starts rucking his shirt up. 

“I can’t! N—” Dean cuts himself off when Cas presses a kiss just below his belly button. He sucks in his stomach but Cas only chases after it, pressing mouthy kisses randomly along his middle. He’s stuck between a rock, a hard place, and his sadistic attention-whore of a boyfriend. All he can do is kick fruitlessly at the concrete floor of the garage and do his best not to hit the car with his twitching arms lest he undo his hard work, and giggle. 

He’s taken to pleading, now. Bribing. “C’mon, c’mohon. Eh—eheh—I’ll—I’ll clean the dishes! For a week!” Dean’s voice gets shriller when Cas brings his teeth into the mix, biting at the soft flesh of his belly and flank. “A MONTH, I’LLDOITFORAMONTH—”

“Hmm, a tempting offer.” Cas ceases his torment for a moment. His fingers catch the band of Dean’s pants and tug them down a little. He hears the panicked breath Dean drags in. “Not as tempting, though,” He continues, fingers trailing from Dean’s sides down towards his hips. “As this.” He presses his thumbs into the hollows beside the bony ridges and Dean’s entire body spasms.

“I’LL FUCKING—I’ll do yoga! I’ll do it, pleasepleasepleaseohgodno, I c—I cahan’t.” He sobs through cackling laughter. Cas raises an eyebrow and withdraws. Pleased, he stands and gives Dean some space to extract himself from the underbelly of the vehicle and catch his breath; he’s red-faced and panting. He throws his arms over his face and sucks in air greedily.

“You’re an evil son of a bitch.” He says breathlessly. 

“Mm, only because you like me that way.” Cas offers his hand and Dean eyes it warily before taking it, heaving himself carefully off the creeper. 

“Next time we keep that shit at home. I don’t wanna get fired just ‘cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” He glares at his self-satisfied boyfriend, but it holds no heat.

“Next time?” Cas smirks.

Dean pinkens even further and elbows him in the ribs. “Shuddup.”