#and its always a toss up as to who is going to be more unstable in any given situation.

[willyhoos]

"shadows are inverted flames" -> wilsons hair is made of shadow -> YOUR BOYFRIEND'S HAIR IS MADE OF FLAME??? PETPETPETPET

also wilson can't leave the throne so he just has to deal with her doing this 24/7

[writing-bakugo]

Working on a Kirishima fic and have no direction so thought I'd share my biggest headcanon that I've been keeping secret but can't anymore because its TOO good.

Kirishima's Significant Other

Everything weighed him down. Yes, he had his dream job. Yes, he worked close with his friends. Yes, he saved people.

But no one told him how lonely being a pro would be.

Kirishima was trying his hardest. He truly was. But after the third dead person he couldn't save in a single week? It was no secret his smile had started to shrink when he wasn't working and his shoulders slumped more and more.

Of course he did what he could. He was a good man and went to therapy every week and did exactly as the therapist recommended. He even did service projects where he would go help cook or clean at orphanages or homeless shelters.

But no one warned him being a pro would be like this. There was no preparation for the weight that pros carried on their shoulders. And it didn't matter that he was alone.

Kirishima was so terribly alone. After watching all his high school friends get married one after another—even Bakugo, the most unstable man in existence—Kirishima wondered what was wrong with him.

It's not like he didn't have a plethora of fans dying to date him. But none of them lit so much as a spark under him. It wasn't their fault, he just...wasn't interested.

But maybe if he had someone waiting at home for him the weight wouldn't be so bad. If he had a home to come home to, maybe the stress could melt away and he'd finally relax.

His weeks had a routine to them. Monday-Wednesdays were patrol days, Thursday was his day off, Friday-Sundays he was on call. Which he tended to get called in.

So that left Thursdays being the only day of the week that he could do his laundry, clean his kitchen (like his mother taught him), buy groceries, meal prep (Kirishima has a strict diet), and go to therapy.

Hectic, methodical life. Always in motion but never participating. So Kirishima dragged himself to the store and unsurprisingly was swarmed by fans who wanted his autograph.

One even had the gall to ask for his number. She looked like she was in middle school.

And then he was finally in the frozen food section searching for frozen chicken. He always bought the same brand, same packaged chicken. Not for any particular reason, but because it was easy to remember with the bright red logo.

He tossed the last bag in his basket and made to leave when you appeared and frowned at the empty freezer. You wore loose mom jeans and a plain t-shirt with purple stains on it. Your hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and you didn't even bother with makeup.

When you noticed him, you smiled. "You got the last one! Lucky!"

"Oh yeah," Kirishima said and watched you scan the freezer for a replacement. "Do you want it?"

"Huh? No! That's yours! I couldn't!"

"Here." He held it out like some sort of treaty before you shook your head and he laughed. "I insist."

"I suppose if you insist," you said and took the bag. "Thank you! Do you need help finding more?"

"I'm not too worried about it," Kirishima said before reaching into the freezer for ground beef.

You slightly bowed before you went on your way. A few years earlier, Kirishima had a pretty good meal plan surrounded by beef, so he figured he could change it up a bit a make his old recipes.

When he stood in the checkout line, he saw you two registers down. You bowed slightly and apologized before pointing at a cake mix. The cashier set it to the side and Kirishima's eyes widened. Did she not have enough for a cake mix?

The register opened and he turned away, letting the person behind him go before he rushed to the baking aisle and grabbed a cake mix. He didn't really know what he was doing, but it was his hero's duty. And who knew? It could be your birthday or something and you really wanted a cake.

When he checked out, he looked through the doors and wondered if you'd gone far. Kirishima rushed the cashier before he grabbed his three bags and ran out the door.

There you were. You were struggling with putting your bags on the back of a bike and Kirishima grinned when he came over.

"Sorry, I noticed you wanted one of these, so..."

Your eyes widened. "How...thank you." You bowed deeply. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no biggie."

The next week passed. And the next. He didn't see you at the grocery store either times. But, third time's a charm when you appeared and pulled out a bag of frozen chicken.

"Looks like there's enough for both of us, huh?" Kirishima asked when he put a bag in his basket.

"Oh hey! How are you?" You asked. "Thank you so much for the cake, by the way. I didn't know what to do. It was my baby boy's birthday and I wanted to make it special but money's tight right now."

Baby boy. Kirishima stared at you with a drooped smile. He noticed orange stains on your pink shirt and your hair was disheveled like it'd been pulled and of course he would think about someone who already had a family. How embarrassing.

But just like him, honestly.

"No big deal," he halfheartedly said.

You sighed. "Seriously, you were a lifesaver. After his dad skipped town three years ago, it's been so hard."

Wait. Kirishima gawked. "What?"

"Yeah," you deflated and stared at the ground. "My ex went crazy one day and said he wanted nothing to do with us. I'm happy my boy wasn't old enough to remember him or any of it, but jeez. He's five now but I don't even know how men shave. Like do you do just your face or is there other parts of the body? Or even attempting to explain puberty," you shuddered, "and who's going to teach him to tie a tie? And—I'm sorry. You don't want to hear about all my woes!"

Kirishima didn't know why he went home that night relieved that your ex had left. He also didn't know why he was imagining your kid over and over and he didn't know why he found himself standing in the frozen meat aisle just waiting for you to show up on the next Thursday.

And when you did, Kirishima held a bag of frozen chicken out for you and cleared his throat. "Do you want to go out sometime?"

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

I 10000000000% see Kirishima being the kind to fall in love with someone with a kid and 1000000000000% adopt the kid. He'd make the PERFECT adoptive dad. Totally the kind of man who'd say "no it's not your kid it's MY kid." 1000000000% ya'll

[anderstrevelyan]

My Blood Your Paint

Rating: M / Pairing: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash (one-sided—thanks, amnesia) / Word Count: 3,139

If you’d told me when I started this game that my writing brain would be consumed by this particular antagonist I would not have believed you, but hey, here we are! I’m working on more about Valas (and Gortash) set before the game, but it seems fitting for my first posted Baldur’s Gate fic to be about the scene that started it all.

Here's the Act 3 coronation from Gortash’s perspective.

Excerpt below, and you can read the rest on AO3.

Today was supposed to be the best day of Enver Gortash’s life. Everything was to be his. Everything. Exactly as it always should have been, from the moment Bane looked into his black heart and saw the makings of a lord. After all the cold, long years he’s spent, belittled and betrayed, building himself up with unwavered faith to close his fist around the kind of power Baldur’s Gate has never seen: to become its first Archduke. Yet it was incredibly clear, long before today’s vaunted coronation, that today won’t be the uncomplicated triumph he’s long imagined. Ketheric is dead. Orin is unstable, wavering, threatening to carve out the plan’s still-barely-beating heart—the antithesis of anything he would have chosen in an ally. The brain threatens to revolt, rumbling beneath the very streets, sparking his own panic even as he stands straight to solve everyone else’s. And Ketheric’s killers, utter unknowns, bearers of the third Netherstone—they remain the key. And so this day, his day, becomes all about them.

No matter. He’ll convince them, that standing with him is the way forward, the only way to best the brain: through logic, through charm, through the power of pageantry—or through force, if it comes to that. He just wishes—as he makes the final touches to his hair and pins the last golden brooch to his lapel, as he descends the winding stairs of Wyrm’s Rock, as he hands the ceremonial sword to Ulder Ravengard, mind tadpole-tethered and tamed—he wishes he had more to go on about what makes these mysterious adventurers tick. Orin had tried to plant a treacherous little seed, of course, and he curses himself for sparing it another thought. With a toss of her braid, affectedly aloof, and the exact right idea to carve into his skull: that her sibling, Bhaal’s fallen Chosen, his own lost everything, lives still. Is among those adventurers. Is on his way to him here, today, has accepted an invitation to these very formalities. Gortash didn’t fail to notice the cruelty in Orin’s eyes as she’d said it, had tried to focus on its memory as he heard of sightings across Rivington, through his Steel Watch and more quiet observers—or at least, sightings of someone wearing his face. Gortash wasn’t going to fall for that again, even as each report sparked an unwanted shock of hope through his heart. It’s not him. It can’t really be him. He focuses instead on the details of the audience hall: takes a silent roll call of the invited patriars, in their ceremonial best to greet the city’s new dawn, checks and re-checks its defenses, the Steel Watchers standing sentry and the traps, gilded gold, ready to make ash of anyone who tries to intervene. Orin and her ilk won’t come here. Even she wouldn’t dare. By the time he feels a faint resonance in the stone secured to the back of his hand, he’s calm again. Confident. Sure, as he listens to Dillard Portyr introduce him with a dull-as-ever speech, that he has this in his control. But when the far doors open, when he’s sure the newcomers are the ones he seeks, when they come close enough for him to see Valas DeVir’s face—that’s when Gortash knows he’d been wrong. Gods below, this really is the best day of his life.

(keep reading)

[irlkanamedate]

Trying this again and again with multiple attempts deleted and gone forever all cause i can not put together the words in a way that makes sense or is, in my eyes, remotely understandable. but maybe i shouldnt try to put everything together in a neat manner.

nothing i struggle with is neat or pretty or even comprehendable to people who dont struggle with this. and maybe i just want someone to at least acknowlage this. to just be heard. that and just get shit outta my head too.

From here on out there is just a general content warning for many very heavy topics and unsavoury mentions. Very serious warning.

i also dont want pity or for anyone to go im sorry. or for anyone to tell me how strong i am. i actually detest a lot of that a lot.

Anyway. My name is Aspen. I find it hard to exist. There is something deeply wrong with me i think. a lot just being speculation. Autism, DID, Psychotic disorder, EDS, being *Severely* suicidal. and probably more speculations. but nothing can be confirmed mostly cause im poor as fucking shit and america is a fucking joke and im a visiably asian queer guy living in fucking texas.

I technically was raised good i guess though verbal and phsyical abuse really fucked me up. among another form i dont really want to mention. then just struggling with simply existing. i felt ive always been noted to have something wrong with me since young (not that i can really remember much actually).

I struggled with school, making friends, understanding people, understanding cues. and sometime in elementry school i had a deep paranoid existenial crisis over the thought of death and how that scared me so much i just cried and cried and cried. and it sort of cemented the start of my deep rooted phobia of death. or rather the thought that there was nothing after it.

i held a lot of love in my heart for my mom at the time and the idea that she would be gone one day broke me. and it still does really especially now that im 27 and with a lot more people and things i love. i try not to think about it too much or else i really get thrown into a deep spiral of dread and fear that pretty much paralyzes me.

i still need to check out the things a friend recommneded to me to try and help cope with it.

and ironic enough with the phobia of death, i am deeply suicidal. mostly passive about maybe 90% of the time but still suicidal. i dont even remember when it started. for all i know its been my whole life given i struggled mentally the whole time. so pretty much ive struggled with this.... lingering idea. that gets tossed back and forth of wanting to live so so bad and wanting to die. and being passive about it well usually means i dont act on it. but its still there. its like a version of me thats mirroring everything i do but the only thing it can do is tell me to hurt myself, to end it, to just get it over with. and i guess thats most of my intrusive thoughts really. the urge to hurt myself or kill myself is near constant. and its been hard trying to just manage through that and exist especially in a world where it is already so so hard to just live.

and sometimes it does win. smaller batches of self harm. cuting, starving myself, lashing out at people i care about and ruining the relationship, isolating myself from everyone and jsut getting worse and worse. though sometimes i cant really help but actually want to do worse. i dont really. honestly the worst i have done is really starve myself for a good few days. really not good but hey thats being suicidal and deeply hating yourself does to you.

i do try to make the effort to maage it. games, friends, going out, various small fun things but sometimes shit just piles up and well. theres only so muc i can do at a time. this isnt even to mention the other shit that ends up adding to it.

ive come to realize how... unstable i really am as a person but i never had any realy frame of refrence to what was normal and what wasnt along with getting this idea that im fine and just not trying hard enough really ends up with me having such awful issues that i have no idea how to even handle myself. its so fucking frustrating actually. delusonal, psychotic, unstable mood, rejection sensitive dysphoria, probably some fucking personality disorder. i dont know. there is jsut something wrong. i just want to live. i just want to not struggle anymore.

theres people i fell out of touch with. or ran from, or jsut driven away or blocked. and i am so. deeply sorry. theres some now that i honestly cant muster anything to keep in touch because im scared. i miss my friends. im trying and trying but god theres so much. and i just. ended up with the habit to run cut it myself so it doesnt hurt as much. not that it doesnt hurt a lot but. man.

i feel myself losing steam on this and im not really making much sense. im going on tangents and its hard to really bring it all together.

but no matter how much i try, i just dont seem to get a break. not much of one really. i still try regardless but i am so tired.

im so god damn tired.

this isnt even to mention the fucking bastard that keeps living with us cause my mother is too fucking nice to just. get. rid. of. him. i shouldnt have to suffer years of his ass basically tormenting and harassing my mother and being an angry self entitled piece of shit. i shouldnt have to have had my hand broken becuase he got high and drunk and had a bad trip and was threatening to kill my mom. i shouldnt have to suffer living in the same house as a man to fucking threatened to rape me. who shows no respect at all to my mother and fucking laughs at her when she gets angry or gets aggressive. honestly sometimes i feel like it is better to just fucking kill him now than deal with any of that or anything else he has done anymore.

no surprise hes the reason for a lot of my recent really dangerously bad spiral where i really did consider just ending it all.

i am so tired.

i still kinda want to end it.

i still am scared of interacting with most of my friends again. im scared of reaching out to the ones that i havent spoken to in a bit. im terrified of fucking it up and hurting my partner all cause im so stupidly unstable and just unable to hold everything together.

and how pathetic it is i cant even make a call to a psychiratrist all cause im so violently incapable of making a call cause i hate it to the point it phsyically hurts.

not to mention the usually struggle with doctors also in not bothering to actually make effort listening to me.

not to mention inablity to work cause of being disabled and unstable.

i am gods favorite clown cause my life is a fucking joke.

but ill still try. to at least keep living. even when i hate it some days. even if im deeply suicidal nearly everyday.

cause i still have my cat. i still have some friends. still got games to finish and movies and shows to watch. ill still hate living sometimes but i really cant help but be in love with life.

i guess thats all i have to dump out of my head. cant think of anythign else to complain about.

[qwzyqwsp-blog]

More random 'Touhou trapped in The Amazing Digital Circus' headcanons, in no particular order:

Ran: Stares into the void for a minute, muttering calculations under her breath, then codes herself up a door and walks out.

Yukari: Shows up at random, pretends she was always there. Makes no secret of the fact she can clearly come and go whenever she wants, which doesn't exactly endear her to the others. Jax tosses Gangle into one of her portals once to see what happens, and after she emerges relatively unscathed he jumps in himself. He barely survives the experience, largely because Yukari was in a generous mood that day.

Nitori: Disgusted to learn that the water in the Digital Lake is poorly coded, and doesn't flow or behave like regular water at all. This is going to require a complete overhaul of all her water-powered equipment.

Mokou: Reacts to the whole situation with a resounding shrug. Eternity means nothing to her, and she spends most of her days disconnected from her basic humanity anyway. Her casual morbidity and self-destructive fighting style tends to worry the others.

Kaguya: Has a similar 'For eternity? Oh, how quaint' reaction as Mokou. Rather enjoys the atmosphere of the Circus, finding in its garish, bombastic aesthetic a complete rejection of the cold sterility of the moon that she sought to escape. While her space-time manipulation powers can't outright create an exit, they do give her a lot more freedom of movement than any of the others.

Yuugi: Not too keen on the lack of swearing or fucking, but other than that she's down for living in a world where life is one big never-ending party. Brings her sake dish with her because you simply cannot separate an oni from their booze, though much to everyone's disappointment it only works for her and everyone else just tastes water.

Alice: Initially unhappy about being trapped, but once the nature of the realm is explained to her she begins to see the possibilities in it, and starts researching a way to craft an artificially-intelligent doll from the raw digital material of the realm. Jax eventually learns to leave her dolls alone after one too many of them blows up in his face. Slightly too fixated on giving Ragatha a close examination.

Kogasa: Initially quite happy about being able to consistently jumpscare Gangle, but eventually stops doing it because she feels bad about taking advantage of someone so clearly emotionally unstable. Ragatha pretends to be scared of her to cheer her up.

Koishi: Even for those accustomed to the horrors of the Circus, a giggling, knife-wielding girl who only shows up at the corner of your eye whose face you can never quite remember is something else entirely. Within days of her arrival, most of the crew is driven to fits of paranoia and madness.

Byakuren: This isn't her first time being sealed away in a purgatorial realm, at least this time she has company. Tries to teach the others the ways of Buddhism, only Kinger takes her up on the offer. While he never really quite gets it, he finds the meditation calming.

Tsukasa: Tries to do her usual thing of playing everyone against each other, but finds little to work with. The trapped humans are so worn out and beaten down from living in the Circus that there's almost no spirit or ambition left in them to pander to, and Caine barely seems to understand that she's trying to manipulate him.

Doremy: Considers the Circus to be a dangerous aberration, an artificial Dream World that traps the minds of humans and seals them away from their real dream selves, leaving those free to rampage. Her Dream World self infiltrates the Circus to probe for its weaknesses from inside, while her waking self investigates the real world to figure out who made it, and why.

Hecatia: Drops by on a whim and thinks Clownpiece would like it, so she brings her along to play the next time she visits. The other inhabitants aren't sure what to make of this, but decide to play along after seeing what she did to Jax.

Sumireko: Spends the entire time sulking about the universe deigning to assign her a role as quotidian as 'trapped in a VRMMO' without even giving her a cheat-level power to go along with it.

[theirmockingjay]

“I agreed. I agreed when you told me we shouldn't lie to each other. This is no trap… It’s not…!”

By the time, she knew how her bouts of hysteria started, and the telltale signs were starting to show up, uncalled and strong, threatening to shake her body and shatter her into pieces. It was a bad time for it but for some reason, her first games came to mind, and he could not help her mind from picturing the President as a golden wasp– He was like a tracker jacker, knowing exactly where fear resides in her mind. She would rather die than live with Peeta’s death, being left behind— owing him. Loving him too, but owing was a system she knew far better than love, and easier to deal with. And Snow knew. He knew it would be the worst kind of punishment, watching from above as those she love feeded the soil. It didn't matter who was crowned at the end of each Hunger games-- He was the only real victor. 

“It’s not a trap! It’s not! I’ll be there, just– Just let him go!”, she repeated, holding on to a chair to control the way her body shook with spasms and her knees trembled, “But… make sure he doesn’t see me”

The travel back to her camera crew, even to thirteen was a blur of faces and distant sounds. Katniss was not sure if someone had attempted to talk to her, the only reality the bracelet on her hand that read ‘mentally disoriented’. She guessed that helped corroborate the words, making her look unstable.

Sleep was out of the question. She rocked back and forth on her bed, the pearl clutched tightly on her fist. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m from District twelve. There is no District twelve anymore. Snow has Peeta. Snow will release Peeta tomorrow. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m from—

“I need to hunt alone today”

Her own voice surprised her. Gale stood in front of her, and she had the alien memory of him waiting for minutes for her to talk. He looked as if he was about to tell her how it was a bad idea in her condition, but– Gale knew her. He could tell when she had an agenda of her own. And he just nodded.

Soon she was outside, her lungs filling with clear air while her skin warmed under the sun. The woods brought clarity and determination. She tossed her game bag and hid it under a pile of rocks and leaves, and made her way through the foliage, deliberately making noise so the birds and different animals gave her position away. And then she heard it. Boots, marching in unison. Military.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. My home is District twelve. There is no more District twelve. My name and my home don’t matter at all. Peeta is all that matters. Peeta will be safe.

Boots, marching. Hands on the air, over her head. Boots, running. Voices, uniforms, commands muffled inside helmets. Handcuffs around her wrists. The soft leather of a carseat with tainted windows.

A blonde boy, so thin, so bruised, so broken, walking with confusion etched on his features. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

A needle on her arm, and then nothingness.

Katniss woke up to a series of voices that spoke with a known cadence. The ends of their sentences were high pitched, as if asking a question every time they spoke, and she knew where she was. She allowed herself to smile, in victory. In defeat. He won. He always won.

Looking down, she noticed she was wearing a soft orange dress, and she was surprised when no bout of hysteria threatened to make its way into her consciousness. She only thought Peeta would like the color. In front of her a table was laid, filled with rich food and delicacies. And after what felt like hours, her companion for dinner showed up, looking regal and tired.

Katniss grabbed a spoon, the only utensil in front of her. She laughed.

“I came willingly. And there are no knives here for me to kill you with. We both fulfilled our deal”

Coriolanus listened as she talk about the plan that she had clearly already made. Was this a trap? Had Katniss come up with this plan alone or was this a trick? To try and weaken him and his rule? Not that Katniss wasn't already doing that as the Mockingjay. Her very existence was causing him nothing but trouble across almost every District except the few they still had a very firm stronghold in. Peeta was disposable. He had never particularly wanted the boy, he was just useful. Katniss had always been the one he had his eye on, ever since the Reaping for the 74th Games. He should have just insisted she was killed during the Games but Crane had foolishly allowed it to go so far that it couldn't be stopped without risk of riots even back then. Coriolanus should have risked it then, since he was facing a much more significant problem now across all of Panem. The rebels were not interested in peace. They were interested in baying for blood. His blood specifically. Even if Peeta was capable of becoming a spokesperson for the resistance, it was unlikely most would be prepared to listen to him. It was Katniss that brought them together their her anger and fire. That was what they wanted to feed from, not Peetas 'breaking bread' together strategy. With the Mockingjay in the Capitol, it would weaken the movement considerably. A worthwhile possibility indeed. "Oh Miss Everdeen. I told you not that long ago that I don't want to kill you. What makes you believe your execution is the answer?" Coriolanus knew that executing Katniss would be just about the worst thing he could do right now. He was needed to douse the flames she had created and sent tearing across the nation. Seeing her executed would only fan the flames and become a call to arms for anyone that hadn't already picked up their pitchforks and torches. He didn't hold back the soft chuckle when she threatened him. Even when she knew he had the upper hand here, when he had something she wanted, she left no question about what her intentions were if she got within an arms length of him. Annoyingly, he quite liked her spirit. It would have been much better if she was working for him rather than against him.

"Very well. I will play this game with you Miss Everdeen. I'm willing to exchange Peeta for you. Tomorrow, 3pm, I'll have an entire army of Peacekeepers come to pick you up. You may see Peeta before you come - willingly and we will leave him behind." Coriolanus knew they had little to lose and much to gain. The Peacekeepers were disposable. So was Peeta. It was worth the risk to do the exchange, even if he lost everything. "But Miss Everdeen, make no mistake. If this is a trap, you will not enjoy the consequences. I will ensure Peeta is the first to die and you will be left to linger with the consequences." Coriolanus had learned long ago that death was not the ultimate punishment, in fact it was worse to be left behind.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,689 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-Negan Alexandria Warnings: language Summary: When Daryl starts dating an Alexandrian, Y/N tries to deal with the feelings she has yet to acknowledge. A/N: yaaaaaaaas Jealous!Reader fic is here!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Who is she?” Rosita asked, leaning against the top rail of the fence. Carol lowered her canteen from her lips, her eyes fixed in the same direction as Rosita’s where a woman was standing close to Daryl, talking animatedly.

“Emma something,” Carol said. “She teaches the older kids, middle school age, I think.”

“Hmm,” Rosita hummed, squinting under the bright sun.

You threw a particularly aggressive swing of your pick axe into the hard ground, drawing both of their eyes. “Have you met her?” Rosita asked you.

Your teeth clenched and you aimed and swung again, cracking the soil open. You sighed and wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your gloved hand. “No. I haven’t met her,” you murmured, tossing the heavy axe down and picking up the shovel. You thrust it down into the earth, propelling it deeper with your boot before turning the soil over.

“That’s all you’ve got to say? She’s dating Daryl and—” Rosita started again. You and Daryl were extremely close. You always had been. You certainly considered him your best friend… and had thought perhaps, maybe, there was something else there. Something more. You’d certainly felt it. You thought he had too… You’d spent so many late sleepless nights together, early mornings watching the sun come up as you headed out to hunt or search for supplies, close calls watching each other’s backs, patching each other up, quiet but comfortable moments doing nothing at all… But now, you were rethinking everything. Everything you thought you’d felt, every glance or touch, all of it. You felt like your feet were on unstable ground, ground that was crumbling like the clay at the tip of your spade.

You spun on Rosita and sighed. “I haven’t met her. What else am I supposed to say?” You turned hurriedly back to your task and kicked the shovel in more deeply again.

“Well, I’m sure she’s a completely fine person, but I don’t get it,” Carol said suddenly, twisting the top back on her canteen.

Rosita leaned on her elbow and cocked her head at Carol. “You’re really falling into your suburban housewife busybody persona, hmm?” she joked.

Carol shot her a look. “She’s been inside the walls here since almost the beginning. She’s got no idea—” she broke off, shaking her head. “It’s not going to last. Trust me. She’s not right for Daryl. He needs someone that knows what it’s like out there. Someone who understands how he feels inside the walls. I give it two weeks,” she said dismissively.

Rosita laughed. “Well, he doesn’t have to marry her. Maybe the man just needs to get laid…”

Your hands clenched around the handle of the shovel. “If you two are done gossiping, I’d really appreciate some help with this damn garden plot. This clay is a fucking nightmare.” You hadn’t meant to say it through your teeth, but that’s the way it came out.

“Right. Sorry,” Rosita said, moving back around through the gate and grabbing her shovel from its place against the fence.

Carol, on the other hand, dusted off her hands. “I’m actually due at the pantry to help Olivia organize the canned goods. Manual labor is just too hard for little me,” Carol said with a wink.

You shook your head at her. “Just for the record,” you said, “I really hate this persona you’ve created. It’s way too sugary. Makes me want to throw up…” you added, thrusting your shovel back into the soil. Rosita snorted beside you.

“I agree! If these people knew what you were really capable of—? Come on. Ridículo.”

“That’s the point. They don’t. I’m harmless and nothing,” she replied, with a forced smile. “And you’d be surprised what people will tell you when they think you’re harmless and sweet.”

You and Rosita watched her disappear down the street and continued working on the new garden plot for the rest of the afternoon. By the time you were heading back to the group’s shared house, you were filthy and sweaty from the day’s hard work. Daryl was sitting out on the railing of the porch, his back against a wooden support beam, but he jumped to his feet when he saw you coming.

“Hey,” he greeted you. He tried to stop his eyes from wandering over the way your clothes, damp with sweat and smeared with dirt, were clinging to your skin in the heat. But they wandered anyway…

You pushed your hair away from your face with the back of your hand and gave him a tight smile. “Hey.”

“Have a good day?” he joked. You glanced down at your filthy clothes and shrugged.

“I’ve definitely had worse.”

He let out a small, amused exhale. “Ya. Ya, me too.”

The two of you looked at each other briefly and then both said “Piggly Wiggly” at the same moment before laughing lightly. You’d shared a particularly bad supply run experience back in Georgia that involved being trapped in a former meat locker with the most well-fed walker you’d ever seen and ended with the two of you having to find a way down off the roof. Luckily, you were both still alive to laugh about it now.

The air felt thick between you suddenly and you shifted anxiously. Daryl looked like he was about to say something, but instead just ducked his head, as if he’d thought better of it.

“Well, I need to grab a shower,” you said. “Obviously.”

He nodded. “Right. We got a wedding party to go to later, right? Ya can’t be showin’ up lookin’ like ya just came from mud wrestling,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Yeah.” A sigh escaped you. “Surreal, isn’t it? A wedding party. In the apocalypse.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding. His eyes fixed on you for a long moment. “But—I get it. I mean, I get what Maggie and Glenn are doin’, ya know? They found somethin’—” he broke off, and his gaze seemed to stay on your face a little longer than it needed to. The hair on the back of your neck prickled as if from a charge of static electricity. Finally, he cleared his throat and ducked his eyes again. “Hey—uhh—” He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck. “Emma’s really wantin’ to meet ya,” he said.

Your stomach twisted, but you managed to nod. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. Maybe you can introduce us tonight.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. His lips were pressed together briefly in a tight line.

“Well, I better get cleaned up… I’ll see you later,” you said, continuing on your way back into the house. You shut the front door and leaned back against it for a moment. Shit. She wanted to meet you? Of course she did. You were the best friend. Ugh... You were going to have to stand there with both of them and—and act like your heart wasn’t sitting on the fucking ground outside your body, beating only out of obligation. At least there would be alcohol…

Hours later, you found yourself with a beer in hand, hanging at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. You felt like a rock in a stream with the water just breaking around you. You were in the middle but you weren’t part of it. You tried to think your way out of the dark mood you were in, but it was impossible. You had a bubble in your chest, and it was growing bigger and bigger, putting pressure on your lungs. You felt like it could burst at any second.

“Well, look at you!” Aaron’s familiar voice was suddenly beside you, light and full of joy. Eric was next to him of course, too. “Y/N, you look stunning,” he said, taking in the way your hair was shining beneath the string lights and pinned just so, framing your face perfectly. You scratched absently at the glass of your beer bottle with your thumbnail.

“And where the hell did you find that dress?” Eric asked, letting out a wolf whistle and grinning at you.

You cocked your head at the two of them and actually cracked a smile. These two always made you feel better. “Shocking, right?” you said, glancing down at the silky fabric. “Sasha found it in some closet.”

“It fits you perfectly,” Aaron said, giving you a fond smile. “What doesn’t make sense is that you’re standing over here alone looking like this,” he said pointedly.

You took a sip of your beer. “Apparently the ‘fuck off’ stamp on my forehead doesn’t work on you two, huh?”

“Oh, we see it. We just know you’re more bark than bite. Everyone else will figure that out eventually, too,” Eric said with a laugh.

You felt your eyebrows lift at that. “God, I hope not…”

The two of them laughed and rolled their eyes at you. “Just—try to have some fun tonight, would you? It won’t kill you,” Eric said seriously.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that,” you said, ducking your head and staring down at the glass bottle in your hands.

Aaron gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze and then glanced at Eric beside him. “Well, I guess we better make the rounds. We don’t want to tip everyone off that you’re our favorite,” he said with a wink.

“No. We can’t have that,” you agreed. “I’ll see you later.”

As if on cue, as the two of them drifted away, the music softened and slowed and you found yourself looking out across the crowd, your eyes searching for a set of familiar broad shoulders and wavy brown hair. Eventually you saw him, almost directly across the floor from you. He was leaned back against one of the tables, a drink in his hand, with her tucked up against him. His arm was draped behind her and you couldn’t tell if it was wrapped around her or—fuck. What did it matter? It was none of your damn business anyway, what he was doing or with whom. You discarded your empty beer bottle on the nearest table and were just about to go in search of more alcohol when you felt someone lightly touch you on the arm and say your name. You turned to see Deanna’s son, Spencer.

“It is Y/N, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Did you, uhh—want to dance?” he asked. He almost seemed nervous. That was unexpected. You’d always thought he was arrogant and over-confident.

You stared at him for a moment and pulled in a deep breath. “Listen—don’t take this the wrong way but—”

He laughed good-naturedly and nodded before you could even finish. “It’s alright. You can just say ‘no’. You don’t have to give me some excuse. I figured it was a long shot anyway,” he said.

“…Why’s that?”

“You’re over here by yourself… Doesn’t really make much sense, unless you want to be. That, and maybe everyone is a little too intimidated to try,” he said.

You gave him another long look but couldn’t really think of anything to say in response to that. He was actually being kind of sweet, but you were far too preoccupied to care. “Thanks anyway,” you finally murmured. He left looking a little disappointed, but you were sure his ego would rebound in no time… You needed another fucking drink.

You managed to edge through the crowd toward the refreshment table and grabbed another drink, this one made of something stronger, before again planting yourself at the edge of the party. You searched out the members of your family purely to pass the time. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Abraham and Rosita were showing off on the dance floor. Maggie and Glenn were both glowing. Rick had Judith in his arms and seemed to be talking with someone different every time you looked up. But no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your eyes kept going back to Daryl. And she was always right there. This time, when you glanced his direction again, it was just in time to see her arch up onto her toes and kiss him.

Your stomach twisted and you tore your eyes away. There was a hot flame of jealousy licking upwards in your chest and spilling heat into your cheeks. That was it. That was all you could take. You felt sick, and more than anything you needed to be anywhere else.

You abandoned your drink on the nearest table and started to make a beeline for a gap in the crowd. Just at that moment, maybe having sensed something, Daryl had looked up and saw you disappearing, sinking into the shadows at the edge of the gathering. You seemed to be in a hurry.

The echoes of your shoes reverberated off the dark and still houses on either side of the street. Behind you, the din of conversation, laughter, and music was sinking to a low mumble as you headed home, alone, and on the edge of tears. You were happy that Maggie and Glenn finally got to have a proper “wedding”, you really were. But you couldn’t get around the pronounced ache in your chest. You just couldn’t stay any longer... not with her all over him the way she was. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to push the images of her leaning in and kissing him from your mind. You felt the prickle of hot tears in your eyes and knew you were losing the battle with your emotions.

“Hey!” You spun, surprised, at the sound of Daryl’s voice and boot steps, hurrying to catch up with you. You hoped he wouldn’t be able to see the tears in your eyes and hurriedly tried to blink them away. “Where ya goin’?” he drawled, slowly to a walk.

You shrugged. “Home.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding a little. “Partied out?” he asked.

You ducked your eyes, unable to look at his blue eyes any longer without that pang in your heart and constriction in your throat. “Yeah, something like that.” You cleared your throat, clasping your hands together tightly in front of you. They felt cold, like the rest of you, despite the balmy evening air.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” Daryl asked suddenly. This drew your eyes right back to his handsome face, now with a heavily furrowed brow and an expression painted with concern.

You nodded. “Yeah. Fine.” Your voice came out much quieter than you’d meant it to.

He hesitated and you saw skepticism flash in his eyes. “Ya sure? Ya seem—I dunno…”

You anxiously chewed the inside of your cheek and nodded again. “I’m fine. Did you need something?” you asked, needing to deflect to a different subject before you crumbled.

“Nah, I just—feels like I didn’t really get a chance to see ya tonight. And then I looked up and ya were leavin’,” he drawled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

An image of her leaning up against him flashed in your mind again. “You were busy. It’s okay. I’m just tired. I was digging all day and… I’m just gonna head home and get some sleep,” you lied. You weren’t tired. And you were quite sure sleep wasn’t waiting to envelop you as soon as your head hit the pillow.

“Alrigh’...” he drawled.

You studied his expression for a moment. Was that disappointment you heard in his voice? Fuck. You needed to get out of here before you did something stupid. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

He watched you turn and head toward the house. “Night...” His eyes lingered on the bare skin of your back and the angles of your shoulder blades, revealed in the deep V of the back of your dress, as you walked away. He tried his best to swallow his worry and headed back toward the crowd, despite the fact that he really rather wished he was walking with you toward home.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Restless. Sleepless. You rolled over on your mattress for what felt like the thousandth time and heaved a sigh, stubbornly squeezing your eyes shut as if you could trick your mind into quieting. But it was hopeless. You let out one last noise of frustration and threw the blankets off yourself before sliding over to sit on the edge of the mattress. It was around one o’clock in the morning. You rubbed your hands over your face and planted your feet on the ground. Maybe some air would help calm you.

Pulling on some warmer clothes, you made your way through the silent house with soft steps and pushed out onto the porch. Some movement to your right startled you and you glanced over just in time to see Emma peeling herself away from Daryl. Your heart dropped into your stomach like a lead weight.

Daryl separated himself from her almost urgently and was giving you a look you couldn’t quite read before he ducked his head.

“S—sorry—I just needed some air. I’ll—” you started down the steps hurriedly, just needing to get the fuck out of there. Your heart was pounding and you could feel hot tears starting to sting your eyes again. It’s your own fucking fault for not telling him… Another voice answered. And risk ruining everything? If I lost him because I opened my stupid mouth—

“Y/N—hold up—” Daryl’s voice behind you. You turned back at the bottom step and looked back, biting your bottom lip so hard in an attempt to distract yourself from the way your heart was crumbling that you thought you may have drawn blood. He took a big stride toward you but Emma quickly grabbed onto his hand and tugged him back. You heard her whispering something to him. Daryl responded in a low murmur and you ducked your eyes, staring down at the yet untied laces of your boots.

He extricated himself from her grip a moment later and started making his way over but she called him back again and was obviously upset about something.

“I’m—I’m just gonna take a walk. Sorry to bother you,” you said in a rush. Before Daryl could respond again you were gone. He watched your distant figure fade into the darkness. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, hugging them to yourself as you wandered up the sidewalk. The thought of the two of them back on the porch was enough to finally send the tears spilling out onto your cheeks. You breathing was staggered and shallow when you suddenly realized you were at Aaron and Eric’s front door. The thought of going home and again seeing the two of them, her with her arms around his neck again, leaning in, was almost unbearable, so instead you raised a hand and knocked loudly on the door.

You hastily wiped the tears off your cheeks, but when Aaron finally pulled the door open he could see that your eyes were red and glassy. “Y/N? Oh my God. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You shrugged vaguely and more tears spilled onto your cheeks. “No,” you managed. “I’m an idiot.”

Aaron’s face was clouded in concern. He stepped back and nudged you inside. “Get in here. Come on.”

A short while later you were sitting on the couch with a hot mug of tea in your hands. Aaron and Eric had listened patiently as you’d explained exactly what had you so upset.

“It’s not even fair of me to dislike her… She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my own fault for not—not saying anything. And somehow I had deluded myself into thinking he felt what I did and—and now he’s with someone else. And he has every right to be. Somehow I just never thought—” you broke off again and fell silent.

“You’re not an idiot,” Aaron said. “And—I’m sure you didn’t imagine everything. I mean, this is Daryl we’re talking about. It’s you and Daryl. Don’t you think it’s entirely possible he’s feeling the exact same thing and is just as worried about screwing up the friendship? I mean, he could have talked himself out of what he’s feeling the same way you did. It’s easier to convince yourself you’re imagining it than to take a risk and go for it.”

You looked up at him hesitantly. You shook your head. “I don’t know…” You sighed and rubbed a hand over your tired eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re together and I’m not gonna be the shitty person who starts fucking with someone’s relationship.”

“So, you’re just gonna keep all this to yourself?” Eric said.

“What am I supposed to do?” you challenged him. “Run home and suddenly confess my feelings in some kind of big dramatic outburst?”

Eric glanced sideways at Aaron. “Yeah, actually that sounds good…”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t do that! I just can’t, okay? Because it really could ruin everything.”

“Or it could make everything infinitely better,” Aaron prodded gently.

You shook your head and stared into your tea for a long moment.

Aaron finally sighed. “Alright. It’s late. Why don’t you stay here tonight? Guest room is all yours. Try and get some sleep,” he said gently. “Things will look better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you said absently. “Thanks for letting me barge in at this hour. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eric said, putting a friendly hand on your shoulder as he got up. “Just get some sleep if you can.”

You couldn’t. You dozed off and on, maybe for a grand total of a couple hours, but by the time the light was burning orange on the curtains, you were up and out of Aaron and Eric’s place. You’d intruded enough on them. You took your time wandering back to the house, admiring the dew droplets shining on the grass, breaking the light into tiny rainbows, and breathing in the cool morning air. You were exhausted. But I’m here. I’m alive, you reminded yourself. There were worse things than being crossed in love. Oh, shit. Love. The word hit you and stuck between your lungs. Of course you loved Daryl. But now you were realizing that you were in love with Daryl.

“Hey.” A familiar southern drawl and you looked up, wide-eyed, as you were still reeling a little from the realization you were having. Daryl was climbing to his feet on the steps where he’d apparently been sitting. Alone.

You tried your hardest to snap out of it. “H—hey,” you said vaguely. He was chewing on his bottom lip anxiously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Ya didn’t come back last night,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“What?”

He scratched a non-existent itch on his head nervously. “After yer walk. Ya never came back…” You narrowed your gaze as you peered at him. “Did—did you wait up here all night?” you asked.

“Well, ya kinda went runnin’ off last night. Twice. And—I dunno,” he said. “Guess I was worried.” His brow was furrowed heavily over his strikingly blue eyes.

You stared back at him, unsure of whether the daze you were in was from lack of sleep or the fact that this man had waited for you all night out of concern… The latter. It was the latter. “I stayed at Aaron and Eric’s,” you explained.

“Oh,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip again. “This ain’t got anythin’ to do with that Spencer guy, does it?”

“…What?”

“Deanna’s dumbass son. I—I saw him talkin’ to ya at the party last night. He didn’t—I mean,” he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he was trying to ask. “Was he botherin’ ya?”

Wait. Had Daryl been checking up on you last night? He had seemed to notice you leaving pretty quickly… You shook your head. “No. No, it was fine actually,” you said.

He nudged his nose up in a nod and the silence stretched for a moment. “Alrigh’…” He cleared his throat. “What’d he want?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing at all.” You gave him a tight smile. “I slept like shit, so I think I’m just gonna go lie down for a while before I head back to work on that garden plot. You should get some rest, too,” you said. “You really didn’t need to wait up for me like that.”

He turned and fell into step beside you on the steps, shrugging a little. “Ya, I did.” He sighed and touched you on the arm so lightly you thought you imagined it for a moment, but your heart jumped immediately in response and there was no ignoring that. “Listen, ‘m sorry fer last nigh’. Ya know, with Emma bein’ here and—felt—uhh—”

You shook your head and ducked your eyes. “Don’t apologize, Daryl.” That sinking feeling was back in your stomach.

“I am anyway.” He pulled the front door open for you. “Can we go do somethin’ tomorrow? Ya know, just the two of us.” He sounded nervous. “Go huntin’ maybe? Get outta the walls for a bit.”

You gave him a long look, trying desperately to read between the lines of what he was saying, but you were getting caught up in stupid, foolish hope. “Yeah. Of course. I’d like that.”

He looked more relaxed and actually gave you a tight smile. “Alrigh’. Good.” He watched you breeze past him. “Hope ya can get some rest,” he murmured. You looked back at him over your shoulder.

“You too.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

After a little sleep in your own bed, you were back in the garden plot, this time planting the tomato cuttings and rows and rows of corn. You heard the squeaky hinges of the gate and looked over your shoulders to see her, and she seemed to be headed straight toward you.

You turned back to your task and tried to hyperfocus. Maybe she wasn’t heading over to talk to you.

“Hi. Y/N?”

Shit. Maybe she was…

You straightened up and turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Hi,” she said again, giving you a tight smile. “I’m Emma,” she said, holding out a hand to you.

You glanced down at your dirty gloves and lifted them up, palms out so she could see the layer of soil still clinging to them. “Sorry. Bit dirty at the moment,” you said. In truth, you just didn’t want to shake her hand. You knew it was petty but you couldn’t help yourself.

She dropped her hand a little awkwardly. “Right…”

A somewhat tense silence stretched for a moment before you broke it. “Something I can help you with?”

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” she said. “I know you and Daryl are—friends. And we didn’t have a chance to talk last night at the wedding so…” she trailed off.

You nodded. “Yeah. I headed home a little early.”

Another awkward silence settled over the two of you. Why was this so uncomfortable?

“Actually, while I have you here, there is a favor I wanted to ask you.”

A favor? You’d literally just met her and she wants a favor? You didn’t reply and simply kept waiting for her to go on.

She cleared her throat and you watched her body language shift. “Daryl and I are together now,” she said firmly. “And I would really appreciate it if you’d give us some space.”

You felt your brow draw down over your eyes. “…space?”

“Yes.”

You shook your head. “Um… I’m not really sure what you mean by that,” you said, pulling off your work gloves and fiddling with them a little anxiously.

“I just mean that it’s new and I’d really appreciate it if you would back off and give us some space in the relationship.”

“Back off?” you repeated. You could now hear the edge in your own voice.

“Yeah,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

You let out a wry laugh. “Sorry. Maybe I’m confused… you’re telling me not to spend time with Daryl?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re confused,” she said. “He’s with me. And I’m asking you for a favor so we can explore this relationship without interference.”

“Interference?” you repeated. Now you couldn’t help yourself and another laugh left you. “…Does Daryl know you’re asking me for this ‘favor’?”

“Yes,” she said. “We discussed it last night. After you interrupted us on the porch.” There was a biting edge to her voice now too.

You stared at her for a long moment. Was there even the slightest possibility she was telling the fucking truth about that?. Another sardonic laugh escaped you. “Wow,” you murmured. “Okay. Umm… I think you should leave,” you said.

“What?”

“I think you need to leave,” you said more strongly.

“Look, I’m just trying to have an honest conversation with you and put some boundaries in place,” she said hurriedly. Had she thought you’d just be a pushover and complied with this bullshit?

“Boundaries?” you repeated. “Daryl is a grown ass man. If he wants to put some boundaries in place with me, he can come talk to me himself.” You started to pull your work gloves back on. “Are you having this conversation with all of Daryl’s friends, or did I win some kind of shit lottery?”

She clenched her teeth and the muscle in her jaw clenched.

You laughed again and shook your head, a dry smile on your lips. “Got it. I think we’re done here,” you said. And with that you turned your back on her, secretly fuming inside, and went back to your tomato plants. A moment later you heard the squeaking of the metal hinges again on the gate and knew she’d left.

For the rest of the day, you busted your ass in the garden trying to work off your anger and frustration about that fucking conversation. Actually, conversation wasn’t the right word. Demand seemed more fitting. You’d resolved to mull things over and talk to Daryl the next day on your hunt when you’d cooled down. That was the right move, right?

Only you never got that far.

You’d come home and showered and were lying back on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling when Michonne appeared in the doorway. “Thought I heard you up here,” she said. “Daryl was looking for you.”

You pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh. Where is he?”

“I think he’s in his room downstairs,” she said.

“Thanks.” Michonne gave you a smile and breezed off. You sighed, your heart already hammering in your chest. You were annoyed at how you had no control over that. You headed all the way down to the basement and knocked on the doorframe when you hit the bottom of the stairs.

“Come in,” Daryl drawled.

You took another step into his space and caught sight of him sitting on the edge of his bed, shutting a worn paperback and tossing it down on a nearby box. “Hey,” you said.

“Hey.” He stood and chewed on his bottom lip anxiously for a moment. “I gotta talk to ya ‘bout somethin’,” he said.

You nodded. Your stomach lurched with nerves. He seemed pretty serious. “Okay.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “Emma came by earlier.” He paused, studying your expression closely. “She was all upset about somethin’.”

Great.. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay…”

“Said she went to introduce herself to ya and that—that ya threatened her.” His blue eyes were still fixed on your face, but he couldn’t perceive any change in your expression. Inside, your mind was whirring. Before you could respond, he went on. “Ya wanna tell me what really happened?”

Oh. He knew that was bullshit. Of course he knew.

You shrugged vaguely. “Not really…” you replied. His blue eyes narrowed and you sighed. “Look, she just—she was being pretty possessive of you. I just told her to leave to end the conversation. I didn’t—”

He sighed heavily. “S’my fault,” he murmured, ducking your gaze.

“What? No. Daryl—how could that possibly be your fault?”

He shook some his wavy hair from his eyes and fixed a stare on you again. “Guess ‘m more transparent than I thought.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“She must have sensed that—ya know, yer a threat.”

You shook your head, your thoughts still muddled. “Daryl, I swear I didn’t—”

“Nah, ya dun get it,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was so nervous he felt shaky. “Yer a threat to her cuz—one word from ya and I’d be right where ya needed me, whatever ya needed.” You felt like your heart was suddenly in your throat. “I’ve tried to ignore it, ‘cuz ya deserve so much better than me but—Y/N, I’ve got feelin’s for ya that I ain’t ever had fer anyone else. I was tryin’ to make myself forget. She was interested and pursued me and I thought maybe if I was with someone else that—” he let out a frustrated sigh. “But she musta seen how I feel ‘bout ya…”

You were still standing there, frozen, staring at him a little wide-eyed.

“Ya deserve way better than me but I can’t pretend that I ain’t—ain’t in love with ya,” he drawled quietly. “Last night, I couldn’t stop stealin’ glances at ya even though I was with her. And then when ya didn’t come home, I was so worried I felt fuckin’ sick. I kept thinkin’ maybe ya had gone and were with that asshole Spencer. I—I wanted to come look for ya. I wanted to burst in and—the thought of ya bein’ with him—”

“Daryl—”

“Nah, I just gotta get this out and then I won’t ever bring it up again. But I need ya to know. Yer the best fuckin’ thing I’ve ever had in life. And whatever that means, however ya wanna be with me, whatever, it’s—s’fine. But I just needed ya to know that. And yer not just too good for me but yer too good for this fucking shithole of a world we live in now.—”

“Daryl.”

He wasn’t looking at you, apparently too nervous to be talking so freely about his feelings, worried about being rejected, already assuming he would be. “—I think yer the most amazin’ person I’ve ever known. If all ya wanna stay as is friends, I can—”

You shut him up finally by crashing your lips against his. It was instantaneous—the way he melted into you. His arms wrapped around you and pressed your body more tightly into his. You looped your arms around his neck, arching up onto your toes and kissing him deeply. His lips were hungry against yours and you felt his fingers tangling into the ends of your hair a little shyly.

You pulled back only because you desperately wanted to see his expression. Now he was the one looking stunned. You smiled at him. “I was so fucking jealous of you being with her. I couldn’t stand the sight of the two of you together. That’s why I left the wedding early. That’s why I stayed at Aaron and Eric’s—I couldn’t bear coming home and finding the two of you together again…”

His eyes flitted between yours. “‘M sorry. That was… the whole thing was fuckin’ stupid. I knew she couldn’t ever compare to ya… And the fact that she treated ya like shit and ya still weren’t doin’ the same—” he shook his head. “Yer just—I dunno.”

You ducked his eyes for a moment. “I was gonna talk to you about it tomorrow. Just to tell you what happened… but I also didn’t want to get involved in—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head. “I knew she was lyin’ immediately. Ain’t no way it went down like she said.” He shifted anxiously and then paused and studied the flecks of color in your eyes. “I’ll try to—to be good enough for ya…” he drawled.

“Are you insane?” You shook your head. “Daryl. You are more than enough. You always have been and you always will be,” you said, pressing a hand gently to his strong chest. You could feel his heart hammering beneath your fingers. “I’ve been in love with you for—for a long time. I was too scared that you didn’t feel the same way and the thought that I could fuck up the perfect friendship we have—it was too risky…”

He clasped your face, his thumb traveling over your cheek gently. “Ya ain’t ever losin’ me. Not if I have a damn thing to say ‘bout it. I promise.”

“Me either,” you said. You kissed him again, relishing the electricity sparking from his fingertips as they trailed up your back. You both had dreamy smiles of disbelief on your faces when you broke apart.

“Feel like ‘m dreamin’,” he drawled.

“Same,” you said. You brushed your fingers through his hair and his eyes closed at your touch.

He ducked his eyes again, a little bashfully. “Wanna know somethin’ fucked up?”

“Hmm?”

“Every time she kissed me, all I was thinkin’ ‘bout was what it’d be like to kiss you.”

You caught his eyes again and shook your head. “How could you possibly think you don’t deserve me? You’re my favorite.” You draped your arms around his neck again.

“Could—would ya lay with me a while?” His heart was pounding and he was still trying to tell himself that this was happening. You wanted to be with him.

Your smile beamed up at him. “I’d love that.” He nudged his head back toward the mattress and you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward it. He collapsed down beside you with a smile, and his heart jumped again as you moved into him.

He draped his arm over your waist, but he couldn’t make himself closing his eyes. He didn’t want to miss a second of this. You seemingly read his mind, and your eyes opened again beneath dark lashes.

You gave him a small smile. “Daryl. I’m not going anywhere. I’m guessing you’re as tired as I am, with how last night went.”

He nodded. “Can we take a raincheck for our hunting trip tomorrow?” he asked. You gave him a questioning look. “I just—dun think I’m gonna wanna get outta bed,” he drawled.

A smile curved your lips again and you nodded. “I agree. Raincheck.” You brushed some hair out of his eyes again and he finally relaxed into the pillow and closed them. Soon both of you were asleep.

[colorcodedbeanies]

S2E1-"Seven Thirty-Seven"

Season 2 let's fucking goooo. Said out loud "Jesse kill him" in this moment

TW: Sexual violence, addiction, police abuse, racism

So I mentioned in the last post that Tuco very much matches a white middle class Idea of what a criminal is. Violent, unpredictable, and indulgent, with a massive temper and hang-ups about respect. At the risk of poor meow-meowing him a little I think its interesting that this is complicated in this episode. Tuco PANICS when he realizes No-Doze is seizing, enough to turn the car around and seek out the closest help he has access to. When No-Doze dies, he gets angry, striking him again. This matches what we'll learn in future episodes (and in BCS). Tuco isn't necessarily violent for the hell of it. Rather, using makes him unstable, and that instability often manifests in actions he regrets later. To be clear: Tuco has definitely killed before and likely would have again had he not encountered Hank. He's certainly not taking any steps to protect himself or the people around him. No-Doze's death is really no one's fault but his own. The Salamancas in general tend to manifest their psychological issues and insecurities into violence directed at a lot of indiscriminate bystanders. But to me, even that capacity for regret and lack of control complicates that "stone cold killer" image that Walt and Jesse have of him. Gonzo is also complicated, worrying that shoving No-Doze's corpse under a stack of a cars "[isn't] very Christian", but I'll dig more into that closer to the end.

So we've got another pairing of eroticism and criminality, but this time its manifesting as explicitly sexual violence. Walt assaults his wife. There's no other way to describe it. She is telling him to back off and until she screams "stop it" he continues to ignore her objections. To me, there's two ways to read this scene. One, Walt is unexpectedly aroused by what happened. Something about the distress of the situation, (or very possibly, being yelled at and degraded by a bigger, younger man) created a sexual reaction in him. And/or, Walt is attempting to imitate Tuco as a way to cope with the fear of that situation. Tuco beats the shit out of No-Doze, Walt attempts to act out his fear and frustration on Skyler's body (including shoving her forcefully against the fridge). Skyler even explicitly attributes it to fear, though she believes it stems from his cancer anxieties. Regardless, this isn't going to be the last time Walt attempts to imitate brown men who humiliate him/terrify him in a desperate attempt to defend his own masculinity. Bringing my inevitable cuckoldry discussion ever closer (threatening).

I think its important to give some due credit: Hank is legitimately making an empathetic attempt at helping Marie with her issues. He doesn't always say or do the right things with the situation (clearly being more comfortable tossing her at a therapist than having honest conversations with his wife). But the thing with dealing with addiction is that there's rarely a concrete right solution. He does his best (for now) to not lay blame at her feet, provides her with multiple support mechanisms, and is resolutely in her corner for dealing with this. Which would be very sweet to see if it weren't also likely some tactics he would make fun of a meth addict's family for employing. Its hard not to connect Marie's issues and Hank's work when the show takes pains to show Hank smacking a prisoner's cell bars after a frustrating interaction with her. Hank may be frequently disrespectful and callous to Marie, but he clearly views her as worth investing in, worth coaching through this, and is clearly conscious that she can't be held meaningfully accountable for what she does unless she has the proper help in place too. An attitude that does NOT apply to anyone who isn't his rich white wife.

It is notable, though, that the Schraders have clearly left this all as a secret in order to save face and keep up appearances. I went after Skyler pretty hard for how she responds to her in the moment, but I want it on record: Hank very much ambushes her with information about her kleptomania, and then immediately asks for support without a word of apology for either her distress or for keeping this from her. What Skyler says isn't kind. It isn't nice and it isn't empathetic to her sister. But she's also not wrong that she's being asked to just box up her feelings at a point when she's already under an immense amount of strain, which no one has really bothered to reach out to her for. They really are Jesse and Jake aged up, both vying to be taken seriously while also being mortally afraid of admitting to weakness in their day to day life.

Walt doesn't nail down the lie about the meth, writing off Jesse's concerns. Specifically what he says is "How much salesmanship do we really need? That degenerate snorts anything he gets his hands on." This is going to bite him in the ass next episode, but is pretty telling of how Walt views addicts. Unthinking, ravenous, almost animalistic, and importantly, with no sense of self-preservation.

Gonzo is my final note: he dies doing something innately human. He dies going back to rebury his friend, another gangster that polite society doesn't give a shit about, because its the respectful, Christian thing to do. He dies slowly and in pain, bleeding out alone. This is all extremely funny to the DEA, who pose for selfies with his corpse and cackle about the idiot criminal.

[cybersvoid]

❥ Suffocating

♡ Pairings: Deku x Reader x Todoroki

✉ Request: Reader tries to murder yandere Deku and Todoroki (poly) in their sleep with a knife but kinda breaks down in between and starts crying? Fluff please if possible and TYSM :) [Anon]

‼Warnings‼: Attempted Murder, Polygamy, Knife, Kidnapping, Isolation, etc.

They loved you, but they kidnapped you.

They were so kind, but they haven’t let you outside in years.

You loved them, but you hated them.

Your mind was being torn to shreds as you kept countering every thought with its opposite. You didn’t even know what to believe. You didn’t know what thought was yours and which was planted by them. Even your mind wasn’t your own anymore.

You started to cry, gripping your head tight enough to where you hoped it would just squeeze out the bad thoughts. The sound of your sniffling must’ve been loud, because it immediately began to awaken your green-haired boyfriend kidnapper.

“Y/N… what are you doing?” Midoriya questioned groggily, eyes widening and drowsiness dispersing as his eyes landed on the knife in your hand. You were paralyzed, frozen in place as he frantically started shaking Shoto, who was sleeping next to him, his eyes never leaving you for fear of what you would do when he looked away. For a second you had almost forgotten you were even holding a knife.

“Mmm, what’s wrong?” He hummed, eyes not even opening until he heard the shake in Midoriyas voice as he called out his name. He removed his head from the pillow, following his line of sight. You saw surprise flash for a split second before it disappeared, his usual stoic expression returning as he sat up with caution.

“Put that down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” His voice was calm and even, as if you weren’t a grown adult holding a knife, but instead a toddler he was lightly scolding. He was always the best at keeping his composure. Even as you stood there, completely falling apart, tears streaming down your face, your body shaking in terror at what you were doing. Or what you had attempted to do.

He reached out for you, causing you to jump back slightly, already on guard. Both of his hands came up in a surrender motion, showing you he meant no harm. “Just give me the knife. Everything’s going to be okay, you just need to calm down.”

“We love you, Y/N. We love you so much,” Midoriya cried, desperation in his words. He was weeping, not as hard as you, but enough to almost make you feel guilty. His eyes were begging you to just listen to his partner. You were too unstable to be holding onto something so dangerous, and if he wasn’t so afraid of you using it on yourself, he would jump over there in a heartbeat, tossing the knife and holding you so tight you’d never be able to slip away.

Your thoughts were racing. You couldn’t think clearly if you tried at this point. You felt yourself unraveling at the seams. Yes, they were your kidnappers, but they’ve also treated you with more love and care than anyone ever has. But at the same time, you couldn’t figure out if these were these your genuine thoughts, or if it was the isolation just making you think that you loved them back. Unable to label your own thoughts and emissions was hurting. Maybe it had been for a while, but your mind was just now catching up. You felt yourself start to break down even more before Shoto gently called your name.

Once again, he held out his hand, this time lifting it out a bit slower than before as not to scare you. His eyes were so kind and gentle while Mirdoriya continued to gaze at you with worry. You just wanted to be comforted more than anything right now, you don't even care by who, so ever so slowly, you took a step forward. Shoto didn’t reach for it, he patiently waited until you set the knife in his hand.

The second the metal made contact with his skin, he gripped it quickly, throwing it to the side while simultaneously grasping your wrist and yanking you onto the bed with enough force to be swift, but also not hurt you. You fell directly between them, not able to comprehend any of what he just did before they both wrapped their arms around you.

Midoriya sobbed into your back while Shoto held your head against his chest as you began crying out, all our leftover frustrations leaking out of you. His heartbeat was erratic. You were sure he was far more afraid than he was originally letting on. It hurt to think about.

As you laid silently sobbing wrapped in both of their arms, you heard Midoriya whispering to his partner. “How did they even get that?”

“We were careless. We’re just lucky they decided to use it on us instead of themself, or else this could’ve ended differently.”

You felt Midoriya get stiff and Shoto’s grip tightened a bit at the thought of losing you, lips leaning down to peck your forehead. You were okay, that’s what was most important right now. A little scared, but overall okay. They just had to make sure a mistake like this never happened again, which meant stricter rules and tighter locks on the drawers from now on. If it kept you away from anything dangerous it would have to happen. They can’t allow their mistakes to cause harm to you, they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves. They loved you too much.

To a suffocating amount.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

[midday0nightmares]

31 - a week later.

Previous chapter a rat.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

3 days after.

“Jeno .. can I ask you something?” 

“Sure” he replied,

 jeno too has changed, he has become more caring towards you like he was stepping to fill jaemins place, while jaemin was occupied.

Jeno was more controlled, he didn’t show much, if you didn’t know what had happen you would have believed everything was fine.

“What’s gonna happen to me if..? You know” ,

you leave the questions unfinished, but jeno understands what you wanted to ask.

His mouth opens to speak but closes shut again, he takes a minute to think before he answers “I don’t know”.

His honesty although appreciated didn’t help at all.

 “but, I will do my best to make sure you’er taking care of” he reach to hold your hand over the table, gently squeezing it to reassure you.

.

.

.

5 days after.

You saw less and less of jaemin.

The stress of it all was getting to you too, you were agitated.. you blamed it all on jeno.

“Why don’t you just confess?”, 

your question was loaded with hostility.

He looked at you, a desperate look on his face, he told you over and over but still he tells you again,

”it’s complicated sera”.

You scoff, his answer seemed more like an excuse than a genuine answer. “what’s complicated? You did it, you are the one who should be facing life in prison not him” you pointed at jaemin’s closed door.

He exhales, his eyes close “you don’t know what you’er talking about”.

“You killed him!” You contain to argue but he gets up and leave, ending the conversation.

Tears of anger pooled in your eyes, this is another level of injustice. 

.

.

.

6 days after.

You were quietly munching on your cereal, jeno sat across form you sipping on his bitter coffee.

The mood was tense, unstable.

The neglected tv flashed a breaking news strip that caught your attention, it was about the murder in a diplomatic’s son house, “turn the volume up” you ushered jeno.

“.. it has been determined that the leased apartment falls under diplomatic amenity and no further investigations could be carried” 

You looked at jeno, “dose it mean that they’er closing the case?” You asked, carful not to get your hopes up, he remind quiet for a minute before he nods “ yup, I guess they are”.

You jumped out of your seat, squealing with happiness “yes! Yess thank god” you grabbed his arm to share the joy but he didn’t move.

He wasn’t happy, nor relieved.. he didn’t seems to feel any thing.

You top your small celebration, “what?” You asked.

“Nothing” he stood up ready to leave, “clean up when you’er done”.

he leaves you to your wild thoughts to run the worst case scenarios. 

.

.

.

Today

The week slowly rolled over with much tension and uncertainty, jaemin has been called to the police station couple more times, you swear each time he comes back, he has aged years.

You wanted to be by his side but he didn’t even look at you when you tried to call him this morning, if he’s not out then he’s locking himself in his room. you tried knocking on his door, to get him to at least eat a proper meal but he didn’t answer. Each attempt has been met with either complete silence or a sharp temper, he would lash at you then quickly apologize.

This is not how you wanted your first semester to begin, you attended the first week of your online classes but you couldn’t really focus on what has been said, not with a disaster hanging above your head ready to drop at any minute.

And as much as you wanted to blame it all on jeno, you couldn’t anymore. The case is closed, but why is jaemin still being investigated? Could it be because of you? Did the police knew you were taken? Was it your fault?.. you tossed and turned in your bed, it felt cold and empty without him, you missed him so much. After a long string of pillow thoughts, slumber finally took mercy over you.

“y\n..” 

An unfamiliar voice calls your name.

“y\n” 

the whisper gets louder, your body tip over and fall off of an edge to an endless darkness.. you jerk out of the nightmare, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

You clam yourself and push the heavy covers off of you, dragging your feet to the kitchen for some water, you don’t bother turning the lights on, you open the fridge door and take a bottle. The icy water clears the clouds in your mind only for the grim reality to take its place, jaemin might be taken away.. you dwell on the scary thought. 

You turn your head to see the lights of jaemins room were on, your heart clinches, he’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

Opting not bother him, you head back to your lonely bed, but the dark figure in the balcony almost gave you a heart attack.

You recognize the man, it’s jaemin.. his tall figure was standing in the dark, the phone was pressed to his ear, his demeanor was agitated, shifting his weight form one foot to the other, you couldn’t hear anything but you can tell he wasn’t happy.

You turn to see if jeno was in his room, his lights were off and his shoes were by the door. you always had the impression that they were close, partners in crime. they did all their nasty work together, but why is it only jaemin who is in this mess right now?.

“You can’t be serious !” 

Jaemin’s loud voice comes clear through the thick glass, his hand running through his hair seemingly wanting to rip it from the roots out of frustration. You can tell he was angry, desperate.. he keeps shouting but you can’t make out what he was saying. you step closer, as close as you can without being seen by him, you try to decipher his muffled voice,

 “I am your son! Your only son” 

you’er not sure if that’s what he said.. 

He speaks in a lower voice before he removes the phone from his ear, ending the call. He punches the wall next to him, he was beyond pissed.

You move to hide behind the curtain to avid angering him more, he opens the door and steps inside slamming the glass door behind him.

“I can see you” he deadpan says in the dark, since there’s no one other than you, he must be talking to you and you make the quick decision of coming out before he losses his temper. 

“Im sorry, I had a nightmare and I got up to drink wa..” You try to explain yourself but he waves his hand with not much care “Yeah yeah” and you stop talking.. he walks to his room, the dull city lights illuminating his backside, his shoulders were slumped, his back hunched with heavy burden, the sight of him broken made your heart twist inside your ribcage.

“Jaemin” you call him without a plane, he stops and looks at you, “Are you okay?”, stupid question.. 

Although it’s dark, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“Do I look okay?” He retorts,

You answered him with a small “no”

he turns to walk to his room but you speak again, “I can help you if you tell me what wrong”, bold statement.

He stops again and heavy sighs, your heart thumbs in your chest as you wait for him to speak, but all you get was a scoff, “why don’t you just know your place huh?” he asks with much condecindence, although you know he didn’t mean it, his words still hurts. 

“Just stay out of my way, you have done enough already” he adds more sharp words, twisting the planted knife in your heart.

“I just wanted to help you and be here for you” your voice breaks and you hate yourself for it, but you chock and the tears starts to gather in your eyes, he huffs and looks up to the ceiling, impatiently waiting for you to recompose yourself. But his cold nonchalant demeanor triggers more eruptions inside of you.

 the words escapes your mouth before you have thought of them.. “all I wanted was to help you, but you keep me away form you! you don’t tell me anything, no one is telling me anything! I don’t know what is happing or if I will see you when wake up the next day” you rant through the sobs, your voice getting louder and louder, and when he was fed up with you he shuts you down with a loud scream “shut up”.

 Jeno comes out of his room, bewildered and alert.. he stands in the background watching the fight evolves.

“You are not my girlfriend” he walks towards you, making you feel small and insignificant, “I don’t own you anything” his tall stature looms over your short one, that cuts deep. 

you look at him, you stare into his eyes, challenging him to take what he said back but he doesn’t.

“Yeah?” Your voice barely comes out, “fine then I guess I have no reason to stay here anymore”. you turn and stomp to where your bed is to collect your few belongings, he follows behind, his steps shaking the ground beneath you.

“where the fuck do you think you’er doing?” He asks but you ignore him, more so you couldn’t speak due to the choking knot in your throat, but your lack or response angers him even more, he grabs your arm and turns you around with much force, that it almost dislocates your shoulder, you whimper at the pain but he doesn’t care, his grip tightening even more, his eyes glazed with a dark, sinister layer.

“Jaemin!” Jeno warns, but it does nothing as another screaming match breaks between you, with him asking you the same question, not really waiting for an answer, and you shouting whatever comes to your mind first, curses, accusation, anything to hurt him. you don’t know who started it first but hands were being thrown, jeno was trying to break you apart, but  eventually, jaemin overpowered you and threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll, your kicking and screaming did nothing against him.

 “Jaemin” jeno shouted at his friend who was in a trance, muttering the filthiest insults under his breath.

“Where are you going? Jaemin!” jeno tries to reason with him. at this point jaemin was like a robot, marching to his room, he kicks the door to his bedroom open, he slams you to his bed, knocking the wind out of you. 

“Jaemin! Calm down” jeno was trying to stop whatever jaemin was doing, he kneels and opens his safe, jeno’s voice getting louder, you were paralyzed with fear everything is happing so fast for your brain to form a response.

Jeno was trying to pry jaemin’s hands out of the safe, “come on! don’t do something you’ll regret”, jeno was almost begging him to stop.

jaemin finally broke out of his trance and turned to jeno “get out!”,

but jeno stood in his place like a pillar, his presence seems to clam jaemin, he takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back “I know what im doing” he speaks calmly this time before he turns back to you, you swallow the thick knot “jaemin please..” pleadings to spare your life were timid but loud enough to be heard, your body crawls as far away from him before the wall stops you.

He kneels down and reaches again inside the safe, for a second the time has stoped, everything moved in slow motion. 

He takes out a metal handcuffs out of the safe, the blood that was frozen in your vines moved again, you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.. jeno does the same “fuck..” he must have thought the same, he too believed jaemin was about to kill you.

Your limbs fell weak and cold due to the withdrawal of the adrenaline that filled your bloodstream, you feel sick, dizzy.

The bed dips under jaemin’s weight next to you, your head falls back into his soft pillows, aimless tears rolls down your temples, you give him your hands to cuff. you are worn out, you surrender.

He takes both of your arms and cuffs them to the headboard of his bed, your eyes meet, you don’t look away and neither does he. He looks down at you.. his eyes pours inside of your soul.

Dark circles beneath his eyes, dry lips, heavy eyelids but still, still handsome as ever. he leans down to kiss your watery eyes, “for my sanity sake” he whispers between the kisses.

He throws his covers over you, and turns the lights off before he leaves and close the door behind him. 

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part V)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Eren and reader meet face to face and are determined to put an end to the tension that has been building around them since Eren returned from Marley.

Word Count: 7.9k 

The light wind blew the few leaves that had fallen from the trees around me at the same time that it generated a slight comfort, as if the same wind was hugging me and holding me between its countenance. The branches moved to the beat of it sweet music and danced a slow tango around two figures ready to end the other. We were both facing each other, each positioned perfectly and vertically above the other's line of sight, only a few steps separated, perhaps two meters apart, but still the difference wasn’t an obstacle to inspect each other.

Eren standed stiffly on the muddy floor, a position that was becoming a habit lately every time he was about to confront someone, either with words or with blows. His shoes were dirty and torn, some small holes showed through the cloth. Strands of hair fell on his forehead and some were stuck to the skin due to the mud and earth that the footsteps threw into the air. His eyes...just as empty of any light and life that might exist.

His jaw was clenched as well as one of his fists, I didn't find any sign his hand was hurt or his palm was bleeding and dropping a few drops to the floor, so I assumed it wasn’t in his plans to transform here and now. But that didn’t mean that I could be calm.

As for me, surely Eren was looking at me the same way a wolf looks at a little sheep or a poor dwarf white rabbit, one of the most defenseless animals in the food chain. Apparently I was the meal and it was time for lunch. But I was very sure that Eren hadn’t limited himself to looking at me with that horrible analogy, he’d surely noticed my torn and bloody clothes, as well as dirty with mud and some other things that I wanted not to investigate or put my nose in them. He had probably also noticed the multiple scratches on the skin of my arms and on my face, wounds already dry and in the process of healing thanks to the sweat from adrenaline and the race through the forest made in a few minutes. He had probably noticed little strands sticking to the crook of my neck and cold sweat dripping down my spine.

I don't doubt he surely noticed the fire burning in my eyes, my gaze radiating determination, a determination to get out of this place as unscathed as possible and find a way to fix this whole damn situation. He would have noticed how my figure was a reflection of his, I wouldn’t move if he didn’t move, I wouldn’t stop squeezing a finger if I didn’t see he stopped squeezing his. It was like being on the other side of a mirror, copying each and every one of the other's movements.

"So ... wanna make the first move?" My breathing was ragged, however neutral my face might be. Inside I was afraid, I was always afraid, it was a normal feeling and sensation. I was already used to feeling this unconditional fear when going out into the world.

The wind blew around us again, it was like a sweet melody cradling my ears, it was like feeling a hand caressing my battered face, a caress that I hadn't felt for a long time. If the moment had been different, it would have taken me some time to close my eyes and enjoy the breeze. If I did that right now, I would end up badly beaten and dejected, perhaps dead as well.

The breeze was dancing for a few seconds and stopped short, as if the world and time itself had stopped, only the two of us were able to move and yet neither did. Everything around us was silent, not the chirping of a cricket or the footsteps of an animal could be heard. Neither did any footsteps or voices from the other Jaegeristas, completely ignoring their locations, while ignoring the whereabouts of my beloved horse. It was just me and Eren in this little airless bubble.

Seconds of silence and in an instant Eren stepped forward and instinctively I stepped back, letting my left foot hold much of my weight on this. I was leaning back with the possibility of running if necessary, but knowing Eren I would only run a couple of meters before having him on my back and holding me like we’re playing hide and seek. My hands were raised to my torso, palms facing the ground and in position to become fists or grab something, whatever was out of the trees to counter or defend myself.

It wasn’t a position that I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with, was like reliving the old days as cadets in training, each one trying to search for the opponent's strengths and weaknesses, evaluating the chances of attack and their effectiveness. It really was like self-defense practices, practices that Eren put so much effort and determination into. I used to watch him from afar when my partner ended up on the ground given the multiple blows to the stomach that I had so proudly learned from my father. I used to see his frustrated face when Annie managed to knock him down with a simple leg movement or when Reiner was too abrupt to the point of knocking him to the ground from his high height. And yet, no matter how many blows and humiliations the poor boy felt when practicing self-defense, he never stopped fighting and asking for more blows, as if violence and physical damage were his only form of training. Already in the first practices I knew he was completely crazy, that he had something bad in the head, but his determination and that sparkle in his eyes when he got angry at losing, in the same way that a small child gets angry when they don’t have what they wants, was what caught my attention the most.

I used to fight him repeatedly in these same practices, being positioned in the same places we are now, one of us with a flabby wooden knife, but capable of doing a lot of damage if we didn’t use it properly. I was already used to the agile movements that I could perform with a simple kitchen and hunting knife, living much of my lifetime in the middle of a small town lost in the woods. I was used to defending myself and attacking animals with little rational intelligence, which made them much more dangerous than a simple human. I was equally used to dodging punches, and punches, able to redirect them and hit the weakest points of my prey. But I wasn't used to the low blows this boy was capable of. I always had to cover my back because I didn't know when he was going to jump on me and throw me to the ground, like the first time I knocked him down with a blow to the chin and when I was about to change partners, he grabbed my back and neck to throw myself on the floor and make me eat dirt. I didn't know if even throwing him to the ground multiple times he would go against my leg and bend it, hitting my head not only against the floor but also against his shoulder. I didn't know when he would apply the same technique Annie had taught him weeks ago. Unarmed or with a damn wooden knife Eren was dangerous because he was willing to keep fighting, even if he was going to fight dirty, without rules or codes.

I have faced him multiple times throughout the three years of training and in each confrontation there was something new that surprised us both, be it his various angry movements or my simple stances and punches capable of stopping the fight in any way. And that same uncertainty was also reflected in the times we went out to fight with what, at that time, we thought were simple and common titans, unable to deduce the actions of the other, evading death many more times than we could count.

And all that uncertainty and determination on the battlefield started with simple training with the wooden knife. A wooden knife.

A knife.

I withdrew my hand from in front of me and with great care I directed it towards the back pocket of my pants, without stopping looking at Eren who had taken advantage while I wandered in my imagination to approach and settle half the distance that separated us. When my hand reached the pocket, I stuck my thumb and forefinger inside it, grasping a small doctor's knife which I apparently had unconsciously put away in the morning when I finished treating my last patient. I secured it tightly and kept my hand behind my back until Eren again took a big step towards me and, in a protective movement, I positioned the knife in attack mode, eye level, as if was a real fight knife.

"Well that's not very fair-"

With a clean flick of the wrist the small knife rested on my thumb and forefinger and I tossed it to the side, striking perfectly even on the bark of a tree. It had been nailed cleanly and the sound it generated on impact gave certainty that it would be difficult to get it out of that place. Eren never moved from where he was, he simply followed the movements of my hand and at the moment of impact he inspected the cut on the bark before turning his gaze to me.

“I am unarmed… without weapons, without my movement gear, just my bare hands. But it still wouldn't be a fair fight, would it?"

In the four years that we were officially in the legion, at no point had we taken a day to practice our close combat as we did before. You could say that our fighting days were over on the night of our graduation. Although those days were behind us, I was completely sure he had never stopped training, he would continue to launch those unpredictable movements at any moment, let alone his unnatural power.

"You have your titan powers and each hit that hits you will heal, instead I will continue to bleed and spend days with a black eye and broken bones, if that is the case"

I saw what his fists could do to someone like Armin and what they had done to my neck and nose, if this fight went on longer than it should or turned in a bad movement, my body was going to end much worse than it already was; I was even beginning to think that maybe Eren would go as far as turning into a titan and crushing me once and for all. I had to be careful and hoped luck was on my side to make it out alive a second time.

“Come on, let's finish it once and for all” In position and waiting for the first hit, this is how they taught us and this is how I would be mentally prepared from now on, until the moment of my death, even if it were in a few minutes.

He was the first to cut the distance between us, raising his fist to my face. His knuckles slammed into my arm, propelling it toward the contour of my face by the wave and force of the impact. His other fist tried to hit the pit of my stomach, but I could catch his movement and block him with my other arm, hitting him to no effect with the bone. I raised my left leg to hit him on the ribs, but like me, Eren was faster and dodged just in time, avoiding my foot and moved it to the side. As I touched the ground again, I raised my leg again and this time I managed to hit him on the hip, propelling him forward and hitting his body again, this time with my right knee on his face.

His body didn’t move from where he had fallen to the floor, sensing that my blow hadn’t been strong enough to unbalance him, but to mislead him for a second. His face was thrown back by the impact of my knee and I hit him again in the same way, this time right in the center of the face, right on the septum and the mouth. My hand lunged for his hair, grabbing his already disheveled manbun and pushing his head back, my other hand was about to hit right in the neck area, but before I could even put my fingertips on him, his fingers closed tightly on my wrist and twisted it outward, drawing an uncomfortable groan from my throat.

His other fist managed to make a hook towards my chin causing me to loose the grip on the manbun, my legs were unbalanced and I felt blood spurt into my mouth, and one of his feet rose high enough to hit me in the chest and pull me towards him. back and hitting the head squarely against the hard dirt floor. Eren wasted no time and took a short leap towards my figure and placed his hands on my neck for the third time that day. It was like reliving the restaurant scene, me on the floor and him finding a way to position himself on me and immobilize me.

"God, what about you and your choke kink?" With my throat so battered in such a short time, I could barely speak and what I managed to get out was nothing more than hoarse and breathy moans, as if my voice was breaking little by little.

Both of my hands went straight under his armpits holding them in the shape of a sword and digging the bony ends into his weak skin. His arms loosened, giving me the chance to elbow him on the back of his neck and push him away from my body. I put my hands on the ground and got back to my feet with my arms and legs now muddy and dirty, but what was my intention to put myself on guard ended up turning into a new face fall down to the floor, having one of his legs hooked on my knee and making any escape movement impossible. I hit him hard with my free leg on the knee that was hooking me, managing to displace it and perhaps break it on the spot given the creaking sound that echoed through the bark of the trees. With my leg released, I turned around and now that same leg was on his broken knee, applying pressure to the floor, and my other leg took a moment to impact right on his face. His body was now flat on the floor and I positioned myself on top of him without wasting time, pulling his arm back and hitting his ribs with the elbow of my free arm. One, two, three blows, until I felt an impulse bring my body back to the floor as well as a blow on my left cheekbone. I hadn't seen his fist come to my face when he lunged against my body to get me off.

His knee hit me in the pit of my stomach, curling into a fetal position and his fist slammed again into my cheekbone. I tried to scratch his arm the same way I did with his face hours ago, but I failed miserably, as if the pain of the flesh peeling off his skin didn't affect him at all. So I hit his knee with mine, moving him off my stomach, driving him to the ground, and back hitting him on the ribs. Eren lifted his body for a moment to avoid taking any more impacts and gave me enough time to place my legs under his chest and stretch them towards and send him flying against the tree behind him.

Now I could easily stand up, but the pain in my stomach made it difficult for me to breathe and to be able to stand firmly on the ground. I took quick strides towards his body and when my foot was about to hit his face, Eren wiped away a considerably thick branch from the ground and struck my face with the tip, impacting the leaves and small branches on my wounds and throwing me to the ground from the burning. I was in four against a tree, behind me I heard how the dry leaves crunched under Eren's feet and how he was getting up to jump on my back; But this time, I was faster and managed to turn around to hit my leg on his neck for a good time and throw him again towards a crooked tree on our side, hitting his neck against the bark and tearing the skin with friction. From where I was lying I could see blood coming out of his neck, it seems he had torn the jugular area and was bleeding. I could also see the pain on his face and how his body was getting rid of the tension that the fight had caused.

We were both gasping for air, at the moment neither of us could take it anymore and both bodies were asking for a limit, but I knew it was a matter of time before Eren fully recovered and a new fight would take place again. If there was a moment to act, this was perfect. I tried to get up, but my back didn’t give in to my directions and I was thrown back to the floor. My eyes were fixed on the tops of the trees, which let a few rays of the sun slip into our little forest bubble. The sight was almost angelic, if it weren't for the multiple blows that were burning like a bonfire. I saw how some leaves fell slightly accompanied by the wind which had blown again when our fight ended. I felt physical and mental relief as I listened as the smoke rose from Eren's skin, quickly healing his wounds, but still suffering from the bleeding in his neck. My vision began to blur, nothing that was in front of me was seen clearly and I was afraid I was about to faint.

Ahead of me I began to see a familiar sight, quite familiar indeed; the training days, Eren and me in our younger years. I saw us in one of our first confrontations, being completely dirty from the sandy earth but still standing on our two feet, our eyes like daggers about to be thrown at our opponent. Each one prepared to deliver what seemed like the last blow and define the confrontation before ending the day and heading off to the canteen for dinner, ready to define our fifth confrontation with hatred for the other in the veins. Eren, as not, was the first to approach and to be dodged by a young me and give him a poor punch in the face. He complained about the impact, backing off for the next instant to pounce on my shoulder and hook me on the knee to finally throw me sideways to the ground for the fourth time in that three-hour workout. I groaned in pain and grabbed onto my shoulder, injured and battered from so many blows. I stretched out on the floor, in the same way that presumably I was now and I stared at the orange sky, observing how little by little the sun was setting on the horizon and fine dark blue lines welcomed the night.

"Ha, how many times have I beat you today?" his voice and breathing were ragged but still I could tell the false vanity and self-centeredness in his words. He had hunched over his knees resting his tangled hands on them and brought his face closer to mine, covering my beautiful sight and replacing it with his horrible green eyes. I fixed my gaze on his damn crooked smile, the same one he gave to any asshole he had the guts to challenge and finish. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him and in less than a second I moved my leg over his, hitting his balance and causing him to fall headlong to the floor, hitting the side of his temple. The blow echoed across the ground, earning laughter from some of our friends and whispers around us. I didn't stop to listen to what stupid people might be saying about what had just happened, but stood up heavily, still having a semi air of victory over my body, I wiped my hands on my pants, which deserved a full-fledged clean, and I ducked down to his figure on the floor.

"Not so bad for a country one, huh?" and with that I turned and walked towards the canteen, hoping to be in time before Sasha ate my slice of bread like most nights.

Back at my self lying on the muddy, doughy ground, my breathing come back to normal before my vision returned to having the leaves of the trees in sharp focus. I felt a great heaviness on my body and at the same time I felt like a feather, as if I was experiencing an out-of-body episode ... or was simply rambling. I got up in the same way as in that wonderful memory which for some strange reason happened to appear in my consciousness, and I leaned back on a tree before compiling myself and dragging my feet on the leaves.

"That’s it, I’m done" To be honest, I couldn’t do this anymore. To be honest, I wanted to disappear from the face of the earth and reincarnate in another life, many years in the future. To be honest, my sanity couldn't keep fighting anymore, but I was too cowardly to take my own life. I was tired, not only tired of fighting, but tired of this damn world that the only thing that achieved was to put us in a circle of hatred and anger between each other.

I took a few more steps towards some side of the forest, knowing that I had no idea where I was going, if it was the same side I came from or another completely different, heading right towards the hands of the Jaegeristas. Likewise, if they caught me, they would take me to the others. Would it have been worth it to have escaped from the beginning? Surely not, but I was praying with my few walking neurons that I had managed to take a little time out of them.

"I can still going"

I heard him say a few meters behind me. I could still hear the smoke coming from his veins, this time with much more vigor, a sign that he was about to heal completely. Damn bastard, he'd perfected his healing technique over the years and it didn't take more than five minutes to heal all of his wounds.

"Well I can't!" I screamed reluctantly, as if I was trying to convince myself to give me a break, even if that break meant losing the battle against a terrorist group.

My feet kept moving over the leaves until they hit a fallen tree branch and half caught up with it, causing me to lose my balance and fall sideways onto the bark of the same tree. I instinctively placed my hand and with the fall, the hand didn’t stay sufficiently attached to the surface and drifted to the side, scratching my skin and exposing the raw flesh. I rested my healthiest shoulder on the surface and held my hand. The blood came out slowly, in time with the rapid pumping of my heart, the palm was throbbing and I felt that throbbing not only in that area but also in my ears and in my chest. I blew on the wound to remove the small traces of dirt and grime on the flesh.

"I'm tired of continue fighting, I'm tired of fighting with you and I'm tired of this world, I'm going home"

"What home?" ok, of all the things Eren could have said right now, or all the things he said to me over the past few weeks, this was the one that had hurt the most, the one that had touched my heart the most.

The image of my mother being killed in front of me by a bullet in the head at the age of ten, the image of my father or what was left of him returning to my village after years in training, the image of my family's house destroyed and split in half, while parts of the steps were burned and made charcoal. The image of a cabin in the middle of a field, far from the city, calm, empty and silent, the one that for a couple of years was my residence and now it was used by the queen herself to give birth to the heir. All those images appeared in my mind without invitation to haunt me in a matter of seconds until I gave my answer.

"To what is left of it" I broke away from the surface of the tree and devoted myself to looking ahead and following the path that at first I was taking.

“Wait” behind me the sound of the smoke had stopped and the only thing I could hear was the rustling of the leaves under Eren, who was getting up and standing on his feet.

I ignored his claim and kept walking, always looking ahead and taking good care of where I stepped, I wasn’t in the mood to rip my other hand or fall back on the one that was already badly hurt.

“I said fucking wait” was the only thing I heard before feeling his hands on mine and my shoulder.

I no longer know how many times my back was hit against a surface, I just knew that at this point it would be full of bruises or most likely my back would be a whole bruise, having all the skin covered in a nice purple or black color. My head suffered the same fate, chunks of bark digging into my scalp and some snagging on my hair. Strands got tangled over small branches halfway out of the trunk and pulled my head that way, putting me in a very uncomfortable position. The hand Eren was holding stretched forward, threatening to stretch it further and dislocate my shoulder in the process, the other hand holding my shoulder tightening more and more against my flesh while holding the bone in an impossible way with his long, slender fingers.

If my heart wasn’t already racing too much, the pulsations went crazy when I felt his hand leave mine calmy and position my arm at my side with great care to move to free a lock of hair from the bark and position it behind my ear. Then he stroked my cheek in the same way he had done so many times before. His thumb wandered over my shallow cuts, pulling out the dried blood that had accumulated, and made circular motions over my badly injured cheekbone, as if he was trying to remove the pain that he himself had caused. I leaned my head to the side trying to prevent him from keep touching me, fixing my gaze on the floor, on his feet, on mine, and I hid my face behind the few strands that were loose.

“Look at me” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, only the silence of the forest gave the opportunity to hear him clearly.

My gaze remained embedded in the grass that surrounded the tree below our feet. His thumb, now positioned on my lower lip, forcefully applied pressure downward on the open flesh, parting my two lips and sticking his finger in just enough to play with the tips of my teeth. His index finger came under my chin and forced me to turn my head in his direction.

“Fuck. Look at me! ” His eyes penetrated mine and for the first time in a long time I could see a small glow reflected in them. But that glow, I guessed, wasn’t good at all. It wasn’t the same kind Eren had when he was fifteen, knowing he had the whole world ahead of him and he could be of use to humanity, but instead was the same kind he had before annihilating with extreme anger his opponent.

We stare at each other, his face getting closer to mine. I could feel his breath on my skin and his thumb was still playing with my teeth. The hand that was holding my shoulder began to caress the skin that was visible outside the shirt, over my neck, also sore and full of scratches.

In an attempt to get him to leave my lip alone, I bit down on the tip of his thumb, not hard enough to rip off a piece of meat, but hard enough to make him fucking pull his finger out of my mouth. He waved his hand trying to ease the pain and grabbed my other cheek, stretched it out, pinched it and left a red mark on the area, burning me for a few seconds.

"I missed you back in Liberio" He grabbed a lock of my neck and twisted it between his fingers, playing for a moment and pulling the roots so that my head leaned forward.

The fingers on the skin of my neck continued it’s movements, sometimes going towards the back of my neck, scratching the beginning of the root and pulling a few strands. The caresses were soft, like the massage of a feather, it gave me chills up my spine at the same time that I was having trouble breathing with each step of his fingertips on the bone of my neck. He stopped playing with my lock and cupped one of my cheeks in the palm of his hand, his skin cold compared to mine, warm from adrenaline. It was a somewhat invasive sensation, but at the same time, comforting and uncertain. His thumb again made circular motions over the wounded skin but this time avoiding the scratch marks.

"I missed the warmth of your cheeks and the shapes of your hands" His face moved closer to my neck, his nose brushing against the bruised skin and his breath tickling the tender spots between my neck and collarbone. His breathing made me shudder from head to toe, as if lightning had struck my body.

"Eren" it was pathetic to see how with a simple touch, my body responded so submissively.

I was trembling and not from the wind that blew from time to time over us, but from the multiple caresses on my neck; my cheek being forgotten and now the waist was being the focus point, his lips playing with my mental stability as he delicately rested on me neck, but not enough to lean on and kiss it. My brain was telling me everything was wrong, that I shouldn't be doing this, but my body asked for more, asking for a break, relax and let go. My innermost desires were screaming, begging, to be released, imploring me to succumb and break the tension that was obvious to them, but less to me.

What seemed like endless minutes, were limited seconds before I felt Eren's lips on my warm skin, his hand now resting completely on my neck and my waist, drawing me closer to him, at the same time that he imprisoned me against the tree. I was in the middle of two hard walls and unconsciously I didn't feel like moving. His soft lips compared to his hands and his acting from the last year, roamed under my chin and collarbone, making a path up and down, always repeating the same line of kisses that he left behind. The more kisses he implanted, the more aggressive, open and needy they were, all the while getting wetter and leaving a trail of saliva all around. His knee shifted between my legs, separating them and lifting me to sit barely on his leg, my crotch gently placed on his covered flesh and with each movement his leg applied the necessary pressure to begin get pathetic moans out of me.

"Better keep quiet, you don't want others to find out about our whereabouts" he growled through his teeth as he continued attacking my neck. Now I was sure that, not only would I end up with scratches, but also a few hickeys if Eren wasn't careful enough. What would be more embarrassing? They founding us hot and bothered against a tree or the fact that I was getting carried away sexually with the most wanted person in Paradis?

"Fuck, Eren ..." the hand on my waist tightened and I grabbed onto him, pulling me impossibly closer, fusing both bodies, one against the other's chest.

His hand guided my body back and forth, continuing to generate pressure on my core, a sweet agony that built very slowly, too slow for my liking. My legs were starting to feel numb from the bad posture Eren had me in and were shaking as his leg touched a weak spot. His fingers intertwined with my locks, tightening them and pulling my head back, having better access to my neck and being able to run his teeth through the fine skin. Eren always had a damn habit of biting, and biting hard, not to the point of bleeding, but under the circumstances, I doubted he had enough self-control to even mind ripping the skin. When his fangs aggressively bit my collarbone I grunted in discomfort, but even that feeling, the pleasure was much better. It hurt and it felt good.

Another bite, this time reaching the shoulder. His hand left my hair in peace and stretched the shirt, revealing more clearly his work on my neck and how the curve of my shoulder became more visible under the fabric.

My breathing was shaking, my hands resting on his biceps trying to find a point of balance, my nails dug into his jacket and my leg trying to curl over his for fear of falling. When his teeth came into contact with my shoulder again, aiming for the bone, I screamed in pain, pressing my body against his to dissipate the burning of his teeth on the broken skin. He let go of my shirt and squeezed my cheeks, fixing his eyes on mine violently and commanding me to shut up.

"Stay quiet if you don't want me to fuck you raw until you bleed" Before such a comment I was speechless, my neurons could not connect and I was left blank; the only thing in command now was my animalistic desire.

"Make me"

His lips slammed against mine, needy and eager. They were dry, too dry, and every brush against mine hurt, but neither of us cared about having two pairs of chapped and possibly bleeding lips. All we cared about was melting into each other. My hands dug into the hollow of his neck and his bun, which was already disarmed and strands fell on his forehead and sides, some fell right in front of his eyes, tickling my forehead and eyelashes.

I felt his hands descend to the curve of my butt and grab a good chunk of both cheeks before fully holding them. A little pressure and I was already jumping so I could hold on comfortably. Now we could both feel the center of each other, hot, throbbing and twitching. Every move Eren made to hold us together against the tree sent chills through my entire body, his notoriously erect and hard member rose in the right places and my moans were drowned out by his savage lips.

My nails dug into the back of his neck as I felt a stronger and more violent thrust on my sweet spot. I wanted it, needed it, and desired it. I wished this lustful feeling was the only thing I felt, that I would succumb and refuse to feel any other feelings. I wanted to give myself to him and use me if it meant letting go of all the negativity that had accumulated for weeks. I wanted to remove his clothes from him, to feel his sculpted, chunky muscles on the palms of my hand, wanted to feel his chest throbbing and warm on mine, wanted him completely. I pulled the jacket off his shoulders, getting stuck in his arms. Eren dropped me on the floor with a spear and took off his jacket to leave it god knows where.

"Hey! What the fuck- ”He didn't take long to kiss me again, now with his colossal body on top of mine.

I felt small under him, much more submissive, the sensation of his hands prowling the ends of my torso, reaching under the shirt and feeling my skin burning didn’t fix anything to the situation. His fingertips tickled my stomach, making me shudder every time they made their way to my abdomen. His tongue played with mine, distracting me from his deft fingers and his wickedness as he moved towards my chest and began to work on my nipples. He was a teassing bastard. His fingers poked and twisted one of my red, erect pebble. It was torturous to feel like between the puncture and the circular movement he took the time to stretch it and make it harder. With his other hand, he held my hip next to his, keeping it in it’s place as he balanced his hips against my pelvis. My legs opened involuntarily to better feel his member and in an agile movement he positioned himself between them, reconnecting both hips and placing them on both sides and holding him at the waist. With this, neither could escape the grasp of the other and we slowly melted away with each thrust and twist.

His hand came out from under my shirt and he started unbuttoning my shirt, one damn slow button at a time. Having my chest semi-exposed, his lips wandered towards my clavicle, passing the corner of my lips, the cheek, the jaw and the already sensitive neck, causing a groan to come out unexpectedly. His lips on the crook of my neck, his hands on the skin of my abdomen and his crotch on mine, I felt like I was exploding. I didn’t know where to put my hands, they went through his tousled hair, his shoulders, his biceps until they ended up under his shirt, feeling insecurely on the fingertips as touching his marked abs.

Every time I had the opportunity to admire his sturdy and worked body, it never ceased to amaze me how well puberty had done to him. His body able to surround me and cover me against the floor, pressing so that we could both feel the heat emanating from the other. I hadn't been able to tell him when he was in prison, but seeing him hunched over and exposing his torso and back muscles really had a great effect on me, seeing him wet, being able to discern some drops falling from his head onto his neck, was like seeing an oasis and I was a thirsty one, eager to sink my face into its sweet waters. I had been deprived of touching them at the time, but now that I was doing it, it wasn’t enough, I needed to see them with my own eyes as my fingers ran over them, while I ran my nails and left small marks that would dissipate in seconds. 

The hand back on my chest was the boost I needed to lift his shirt up to his neck. Eren detached himself from me for a few seconds and got rid of the garment in the same way as his jacket, but he didn’t attack my neck like I so much wanted. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to my chest, seeing the work his deft fingers had done on my swollen nipples.

"Fuck" he growled as he ran his eyes over my semi-naked submissive body on the grass.

He bent down to level with his desired pebbles and caressed them with both hands, both giving them equal attention. I let my head fall back, closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation, but there was a moment when his fingers weren't enough anymore. I brought my hand up to his head, running my nails over his scalp, and pulled him forward, leaving him inches from my needy nipples. Eren got the hint because he quickly ran his tongue over one of them while the other was still torturing with his thumb and index finger. His mouth closed on the nipple and he sucked like it’s the only thing able to keep him alive, too painful but that didn't matter to me. He left a trail of saliva when he separated from the bundle with a 'pop' and dedicated himself to giving the other the same attention. I groaned at the needed action, causing his dick to hit my core. I was losing his mind, it was too much and at the same time, it wasn’t enough. I needed to continue, I wanted it with every fiber of my being. My nails had nothing better to do than run down his back and my legs wedged closer to his waist. I felt his dick throb and couldn't help thinking of the veins that ran through it, ending on his pretty and red head, he pre-sum that was surely coming out and wetting his pants, I couldn't help but wish to had him inside me and feel those same veins brush my velvet walls and go crazy with each thrust.

As my thoughts wandered of what was to come, Eren's lips left my nipples and focused back on my neck, this time on the side where my scar was. He left little kisses around the shoulder and around the mark, running up and down the shape, ending a little above the chest. His action was too sweet, too tender compared to his wild and hungry movements. My eyes widened instantly, if his intention was to make me uncomfortable, he had done it. If the intention was to ruin the fervid and hectic moment by reliving the scariest moment of my life, he was damned succeeding. How could I keep my composure when he was kissing the mark I had "earned" by going on a mission to rescue him? How could I stay calm when the memories of an onslaught of titans haunted my mind again, ready to devour me while I was lying on the ground with my movement equipment displaced and my shoulder immobilized by the bleeding wound? The memory of a stone flying towards my face, dodging it at the last moment and ending up hitting my shoulder bone, dislocating it, tearing the skin and flesh and noticing how the blood spurted out, soaking my shirt and jacket. My breathing started to hit, and not in the good way, and apparently Eren wasn’t realizing or hadn't taken it the wrong way.

It was like a bucket of cold water in pure winter. My mind suddenly cleared and every trace of heat my body ever had dissipated, leaving only a cold, stiff container.

"Wait, wait...no, no, this is bad" I put my hands on his shoulders and jerked him off.

"Why?" His eyes didn’t deign to inspect mine. Any normal person in their right mind, just by looking at my pale face could deduct that something was wrong.

"Why? I- You are the number one enemy in the world and of the military police, I would have to give you up and not making up with you right now"

I was babbling as well as shaking. I got up and settled onto my legs, sitting stiffly on the ground. Eren had come to the side before my body crashed against his when I got up and he was looking at me without any expression, as if nothing had happened, as if the only one who had been feeling something, even if it was a minimal sensation of pleasure, it was me, and that made me feel sick.

"I would have to be angry, make you shit on the floor and take you to pieces towards the wall Sina" at any moment I was going to throw up, I knew it. I knew my body perfectly to know that in every moment of tension and panic, my stomach would start to annoy me, to go into spasms and hit me internally. "I shouldn't be doing this with you"

"Is that so bad? Listen to your desires, follow your instincts? " His hands came to rest on my waist and without any permission from me, he placed me on his lap, both of us being face to face, chest to chest.

His words entered my ears and stayed reverberating in my mind. What to do? I was doing everything wrong, but at the same time they felt so good. I wanted to continue thoroughly, but I knew that morally it was wrong, more than wrong, it was horrible what I was doing, anyone could tell me that. I felt bad about myself, but ... deep inside me, there was a small feeling that was getting bigger and bigger and wanted, screamed, to be released. I was so indecisive and overwhelmed that all I could do was cry.

Pathetic. I was really pathetic.

I lowered my head on his shoulder, keeping the tears from being visible to this callous shit. His hands on my waist didn't feel at all comforting as he began to move his thumb in a circular motion. My hands formed into fists and I hit his shoulders repeatedly, each hit receiving a kiss on the head. My energies were exhausted at the very begining and I rested my fists on my waist, my head now barely suspended in front of him, not looking at him.

"I hate you" he kissed my shoulder.

"I know" another kiss, this time on the other shoulder, on my scar.

"I fucking hate you" my knuckles turned white from how hard I was clenching my fists.

"I know" he kissed a tear that had escaped my lashes and was running freely down my cheek.

"You're a piece of shit"

I opened my eyes to find a pair of beautiful turquoise eyes, bright and full of life. Eren placed his hand on my cheek, running his thumb every time a tear fell down it. He leaned down and captured my lips with his sweetly, the tears falling and falling, faster and faster and more forming in my closed eyes. The kiss had a salty taste, my heart was about to leave my chest and when Eren broke away I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to take it anymore.

"…I know"

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[missamyrisa2]

If Miss Amy loves those metal tap sound from her belt and those sound tickle her ears, maybe she should put taps on her favorite shoes so she can hear them everywhere she goes. It might even get people to take a closer look which could lead to very tickly scenarios. Then when they find out why they can tap on your belt too

Mmmmmmhh~~ you're all killing me with these tappy scenarios ~<333 How am I supposed to tickle all my ticklees to blushing giggly whimpering fuzzies when you do this to meee~!! The taps are sooo nefarious because I wouldn't notice some loving prankster has modified my footwear in such a way until I'm in a hallway with the right flooring to really set them off. I hear it immediately, but I am always reluctant to acknowledge the tinglies especially the ear tinglies. I always think I can shrug them off, that I can best them ~ this time. But oooh, everything ends the same way ~ the clacking, the metal tap, it finds its way in no matter how many mental blocks I throw up. The sounds are like a ball of feathers, combining forces with every step to grow larger and larger, rearing back and pushing their tickles into the walls I've set up until they start gliding right through the gaps one after another sailing into my mind to start fluttering with delight. Step, step, step. Tap, tap, tappa. I feel them breach inside, the aural tickles. My tummy is activated. My crop on my top is small today, framed by a comfy black sweater but visible enough to betray the bounces. That line of skin trembles and quakes. Tap tap tap. My lips seal, just barely stopping a squeaker at the gates. I go faster, always lured into the trap that if I move as quickly as possible to my destination it'll be less tickly. It's more tickly, my locomotion becomes frantic and unstable. I think of tossing my shoes but it would draw more attention from the already curious onlookers. I could run, I could dart into one of the random offices but I risk being tripped and trapped. I keep my steady pace, the blush blooms spread further down my neck, I feel the gentle burning of my skin on the collar, eased out further by the soft velvet of my dark top. My thighs are starting their sympathetic wiggles to my belly's helpless bounces ~ and though they remain covered under my bottoms, the gyrations are enough to send my hips twisting in my steps. Tappa tappa tappa~ that pinging, the metal on the floor. It's so much, so bad. My lips falter. The pent up gang of squeaking giggles celebrates their victory making me throw my head back slightly. The laughs expel triumphantly, for they have summoned a far worse foe. Tap tap t~ my stride stops, the glittery blushy feeling spread over my face and neck and collar magnifies tenfold.

I catch eyes with one of them, the boldest. They have a mark of supposed concern, but the thinly veiled smirk in the smile betrays intent. They sense the ticklishness in the air. Others move in for support, asking if I need help. I stammer, I try to find the words that will defuse this momentum. But it's too late, I wiggle and make a tap and giggle out. Someone catches me before I fall. Fingers are curiously moving over me, asking what's wrong. Comments are made that I might be ticklish, but what is tickling me? Then the worst evolution in the taunting happens ~ someone remarks about that cute belt. The shiny flower was waiting for her moment, such a perfect accessory that nets me the attention I love but at the most terrible price. I might have been able to shake this off, gather some strength and tell a tale about a joke I heard that just got me giggly, tell it to them and have them laugh and we all leave as friends who don't gang up and tickle Amy to madness. But, the one of the summoned villains who taps the belt first has long nails. The pinging sound is mostly inaudible to them, but the electric effect on my body is blatant. My back stiffens, my legs wiggle, I throw my head back. The first one is the worst. Well, actually the next ones are the worst. Because their curiosity, their want for more of those giggles summons a finger to every petal in record time. The one behind me supports me from falling ~ supposedly looking supportive but also gently holding my arms from blocking the taps. Remarks about giggle buttons, words about it being like a piano playing different notes in my voice as I squeak and gasp and giggle. There's no hope now. My feet kick uselessly and make more taps on the floor which puts me further into the hopeless tickles.

Everything clicks, their fingers on my accessory, the shoes on the floor, and their understanding of the situation as I watch each of their smiles transfigure from helpful to helping themselves to all my tickles. Hands squeeze at my knees to make me kick more and tap the floor to tickle my ears further. Fingers trace the outline of the belt to taunt, others start tapping my bellybutton as it bounces in endless protest to this forced workout which coerces its surface to flex and tighten and release repeatedly. I start to complain and stammer that they don't know what they're doing to me. I get tutted with a now now embarrassing retort, a wagging finger rebuking me as it wiggles back and forth, and sets course for my increasingly prominent princess part. The final act was always a possibility, but some glimmer deep inside my tummy had hoped I could duck out before the climax. Instead, I'm struggling in this loving gentle grip, fingers poke and stroke and massage my hottest aural tickle spots, force me to tap the floor, taunt my tummy and neck ~ and lastly, begin to tickle the outline of my arousal. The flower is bouncing with my hips now, my legs are on autopilot as I become overwhelmed with gaspy sensations. One of them is ridiculously adept at stimulating through the material of my pants, using a thumb and forefinger to tickle at my tip with tiny little pinches. Their face, the motion of their fingers, and just that tactic alone is too much. It puts me over the edge with ridiculous expediency. The taps continue as my giggle gasps become a million times more desperate and moany. I struggle madly requiring extra hands to hold me steady, to keep me from escaping the sensations. The cooing and sympathy rains down as a wet spot dews, putting my total loss of control on full display.

By now this spectacle has summoned countless onlookers, and summoned more assistance. A stretcher wheels up from the distance, a helpful medical team has arrived to give me the treatments I need in their vehicle. My new friends bid me well as I'm strapped to a padded surface and wheeled off, dizzy and giggling and gently moaning. Naturally, inside the vehicle is a new gang of masked friends, donning their medical gloves and preparing an endless line of tools to help me get over this fit of desperate ticklish giggles. My protests and wiggling with renewed strength is met with their tuning forks. With gentle strikes, the buzzing audio is held to my ear to still my words. Another is struck and applied to the flower. The buzzing metal on metal puts me into bouncing giggling shock. They restrained me for a reason. I'm giggling worse than before. Worse still, as more forks are pinged to life and taken to the taps in my shoes. It's like a legion of vibrating fingers are tickling my soles and under my toes. Though masked, I can see the smirks and smiles in their faces. A note taker hums nearby, their perkiness and scratching pen driving me further insane. Someone is typing on a keyboard. Someone is tapping on their phone taking pictures and sending them, the vibrations of the virtual keyboard twirling in my ears. I'm giggling in a dreamlike state now. The forks make another round. A buzzing tool is in my navel, it feels like a mascara wand but every soft spike is quaking with tickles. Another tool is on my princess part. It's all a blur now of procedure and taunting experimentation on my wiggling body.

[ericsonclan]

Hey, how's it going? I really liked your answer to my request regarding a crossover between TWD and Star Wars, sooo... more xD

Of course you can add as many children as you like, but I'm mainly asking for Marlon, Louis, Mitch and Brody:

-Last time you wrote, that actually all of them have a tendency to the dark side, which I totally agree on. But do you think one/some of them will really fall and become Sith?

-After Order 66, what do they do? Do they stay together, do they split up? Will they join the rebellion, become lonely bounty hunters or just disappear and hide somewhere?

-Any changes regarding their lightsabers and fighting style as they grow up? (if they live long enough of course)

-And last but not least - how do each of them die in the end? A fierce battle with some inquisitors? Old and withered, chilling on some rocks and becoming a force ghost? Or something completely different?

As always, thanks for your answers, alsways love reading your stuff ;) Have a nice day!

Ooo! More Jedi au, let's go!

Do any fall and become Sith?

The answer is yes. Everyone assumed it would be Mitch but he actually stays solid on the light side. After Order 66 Brody disappears and Marlon does sometime later which really concerns the group that was with him especially Louis, Sophie, and Ruby to name a few. Others had been taken by the Sith too such as Violet, Prisha, and Minnie. Minnie fell to the dark side fairly quickly being taken after desperately trying to protect Sophie. Marlon and Minnie more fell to the dark side willingly while the others were forced to through intense methods. Violet and Prisha's safety was used against each other and Brody was isolated for a long time and broke. All five become Jedi hunters, hunting those they care about most.

What occurred after Order 66?

Aasim wanted to keep the Jedi Council as intake as possible and suggests they find those who are force sensitive to become Jedi. So he heads out and searches for new potential Jedi. He finds some more strange ones like Renata and Oakley who had been tossed out of the Order for being too eccentric. Mitch stays behind and cares entirely about keeping the young padawans safe and finding Brody. Louis is focused on finding his missing friends both those who fell and those who were rumored to be dead but no one had solid proof. Javi is with the rebellion and some Jedi join him while others like Sarita and Tripp start a new order of gray Jedi. Clementine who was told she was the chosen one for as long as she remembered disappeared after her Jedi master Lee died. She couldn't handle the pressure of the galaxy's expectations on her. As for Brody and Marlon, they are Sith now and trying to come to terms with their new orders. Brody gets in an intense fight with Mitch and also clashes with Ruby. Both try to remind Brody of who she was and what she stood for. Louis also gets into a confrontation with Marlon and later with Violet. He along with Sophie desperately try to get Marlon and Violet back. Willy is the one to try and save Prisha even though everyone says its too dangerous.

Any changes in lightsabers or fighting styles?

For Louis and Mitch, no. They stay as wild and flamboyant as always with their fighting styles and their lightsabers stay the same. As for Marlon he discards his old lightsaber and picks up a red lightsaber. His fighting style switches from a firm, normal grip to a reverse grip depending on his emotional state. He is incredibly easy to read in battle but also extremely dangerous. As for Brody she keeps her yellow lightsaber since her loyalty to the Dark Side is shaky and unstable but she also has a red lightsaber. In battles when she is extremely emotional she recklessly pairs the two lightsabers together. Does it always work? No, but she is extreme when emotional in battle.

How do they die?

Louis- Dies at an old, old age super peaceful and surrounded by his loved ones.

Brody- Also dies at an old age, and becomes a force ghost.

Mitch- Dies at an older age protecting his kids and his friends' kids some of who are all padawans in training.

Marlon- Dies around late 50's from old battle injuries that have finally caught up to him. He gets to have his redemption and a family so while he of course wanted more time he couldn't complain since he got a happier ending than he thought possible for himself.

Thanks for the ask! As always feel free to send in more asks whether it's for this au or if anyone has anymore aus they'd be curious about our inbox is always open.

[sparetimeimagines]

Patience

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Part 2 of Habits

Tags; soft core, smut, fluff, Soft Tsuki

Masterlist

“Go home, Tsukishima.”

It had been weeks since you’ve seen him.

No text messages.

No phone calls.

Nothing.

You felt yourself being played.

He finally got what he wanted, for you to confess to him once again that he was right.

Condescending asshole.

Why does this keep happening to me? You thought as though this time around things were supposed to change.

However, this time it felt different. This time, you felt him picking at the stitches he swore he wasn’t going to play with.

And now you feel stupid.

You feel stupid for driving all the way up there at two in the morning.

You feel stupid for believing he meant what he said and falling for every word of it.

“I broke my phone. I swear. I swear I wasn’t blowing you off. I had exams and my phone was broken. I didn’t have time to come down and see you. I promise you I wasn’t going to fuck this up again. God, you have to believe me.”

“Go home, Tsukishima.”

“No. Not until you let me explain.”

He shows up with flowers and you slam the door in his face.

“Baby, please.” You hear him through the door. “Open up.”

“No fuck you, Tsukishima.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/n.”

He had to manipulate you. You thought as long as you cut off everyone else, everything would work out right.

Some fool you are.

He can’t stay out there for long. Eventually he’ll have to go away, go home and leave you alone.

You open the door hours later to walk your dog; the same one he bought you for your birthday a year ago.

“I figured you’d still be here.” Unamused, you stare at the blond who waits with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Just let me explain.”

You sigh, letting him tag along.

“You can walk with us. She needs to go out.”

“What about the flowers?”

“Hold them. Toss them. I don’t care.”

He holds them the entire walk, them wilting in the process.

“She’s gotten big.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe you still have her.” He watches the fluffy black dog sniff around a tree.

“Her dad fucked up. Not her.”

“I know.” He frowns pushing his glasses up by the bridge. “I’m doing that a lot lately.”

You pay attention to him from the corner of your eye with nothing to counter him with, so you remain silent.

“You should have called.” Ten minutes have passed and he’s like a kid waiting to be lectured; quiet and focusing on anything to keep his attention. In this case, it’s the rocks he kicks from under his shoe.

“How could I have called if I didn’t know your number?”

“Find a way!” Your outburst catches you by surprise as you turn to him. “You could have found a way.” You turn away from him hiding your face. You didn’t mean to get emotional. It was supposed be quiet.

“Y/n.” He sighs, the tips of his ears growing red. “I had no way of getting to you. It was finals. What was I supposed to do?”

You had no intentions of letting him know how badly he hurt you.

You thought better of him.

You thought he knew that.

“I don’t know. You could have tried.” You sniffle trying to hold back tears, looking at the sky.

Are you crying because you’re sensitive? Are your feelings hurt? Are you upset with him? Why now? Why not earlier when he was locked outside of your apartment.

“I did try.”

“How?”

You turn to him with a stray falling from your eye. “I trusted you, Kei. You made me feel safe. Then you tarnished that.”

You focus on his face, red like yours.

“Do you know how that made me feel, Tsuki? Of course not. Because you only think about yourself.”

You point your finger at him, he remaining silent. Simultaneously, the four legged creature decided to run after a squirrel. The leash splits from your hand and instantly Kei starts chasing her.

You follow after them, he much faster than you. Following the duo on unstable ground, you step in a dip rolling your ankle.

Beside you, you welcome the bouquet of flowers Tsuki dropped chasing after your dog.

Minutes later he comes back with your dog on the leash and you sitting on the ground with an ankle starting to bruise.

“You’ve always been clumsy.” He chuckles looking over your ankle. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t walk on it. Here let me help you.” He extends his hand to you but you whisk it away instead.

“I got it, Tsuki.”

You attempt to collect your ground, instantly failing when it came to applying any pressure to your ankle.

“See. Bad liar.” He scoffs.

“Shut up, Tsuki.”

He extends his hand once more, those long fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Just let me help you.”

“Fine. Fine.” You give up. “Don’t you dare drop me.”

He hands you the dog leash, scooping you into his arms.

“You’re making it really hard not to.”

Inside the home, he lays you on the couch letting the dog free.

“I try to make things right and you end up hurting yourself.” He groans giving you the side eye.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Well it’s your fault.”

“Whatever Tsuki. You’re so full of shit.” You roll your eyes throwing an arm over your face.

“Aww she’s sorry.”

You look out from your arm seeing Kei laughing at your pup dropping toys on your stomach.

“Yeah acts just like her dad.” You throw the ball with slight frustration while he watches amused.

He loves her. Always had. She always listened better to him too.

The pup brings her toy to Tsuki this time, begging for someone to play with her. He leaves out of your sight and returns with something frozen wrapped in a towel. He lifts your leg with ease and sets it in his lap.

“Now. Since there was so much to talk about. You know, from you ghosting me after I confessed to you, again, to how you rejected me, again. Explain yourself. And it better be good because I’m hurting really bad right now.”

He presses the cold compress hard against your skin making you jump, hissing in reaction.

“Tsukiiii.... shit.” You hiss throwing your head back.

“Mmm that’s not the first time I heard that.” He smirks watching you. “Besides woman, how many times do I need to explain this to you. I. BROKE. MY. PHONE.” He glares running his hand along your leg. “Take it or leave it. That’s my story.”

You return his glare and sigh.

“I hate you, Tsukishima Kei.” You groan with your eyes sealing shut.

“That’s not what you said last time.” His deadpan eyes were audible.

“Well, I take it back.” You allow your ears to guide you, his touch secondary to your hearing.

“You can’t just that it back.”

“Watch me.” You fold your arms across your chest, not bothering to look at him. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

“So it’s my fault.” He scoffs as you feel his eyes watching you.

“Yes, its your fault.” You sigh scooting closer to him.

“So I see.” He says. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“I’m hurting so bad right now.”

He lifts the ice pack exposing your purple ankle.

“It’s going to hurt a lot more when you have my kids.”

That caught you off guard. Not that you haven’t mentioned having a family more than once in the time you dated...

“Your kids?” You sit up on your elbows watching him watch you.

It’s just been awhile.

“I’m six feet tall. Did you think they were going to be bite size like you?”

“There’s a chance. Besides, who said I’m still having your kids? Maybe I want someone else’s.”

Tsukishima bursts out laughing. “There’s no one in this world who’s going to put up with you. You’re whiney.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“And yet you sound surprised.”

“I’d kick you right now.” You roll your hips further in the couch, simultaneously closer to Tsuki. “You’re a jerk and I hate you.”

“Again with the catch phrase. News flash. You don’t mean it.” He sighs running a hand over your foot.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How about here?”

“Yes.”

He’s trying to massage your ankle, kisses on it, working up to your core.

“Here?”

“No. Tsuki, what are you doing?”

“Good. I think I should inspect this area a little longer.” He completely ignores your question. “You know, just to be on the safe side.”

His long fingers brush against the edge of your shorts, him receiving a moan as his lips touch your skin.

“Tsuki no, I’m hurting.” You moan, your mouth disagreeing with your body.

“I’ll be gentle.” His voice, soft and reassuring, matches the look in his eyes, those caramel irises rolling to you in a daze. He takes his glasses off placing them on the coffee table nearby. His fingers trace up your leg, delicate gestures along the curve of your body, feeling the tension building from the inside.

Those eyes reconnect with yours, he crawling on top of you with a leg on each side, straddling your waist but it’s obvious he’s holding back. His fingers trace along your jawline, guiding your lips into his.

This toxic, mesmerizing affect he has on you leaves you obedient and purring.

“Will you forgive me?” He hums into your neck leaving soft kisses in trail to your breast where he takes your shirt off.

“I’ve always loved your body.” He runs the back of his hand across your skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

His lips pepper you to your nipples, one hand caressing your skin in circles, the other massaging the free breast.

“Maybe this will distract you some. You know. From the pain.” He moans between the light bites.

The separate hand travels south to your navel, the backside painfully slow until he meets your shorts.

“Is this ok? I’m not hurting you right?” He stops, eyeing you as you exhale with a long relaxed moan. “I just want to make you feel good.”

You nod generously, your eyes closing ready to relax.

He slides your shorts off your hips.

“I never get tired of seeing this.” He moans leaving open mouth kisses on your hip bones. “You’re beautiful.”

His cold fingers trace along the exterior of your lips watching how you react. His hot breath teases your heat as he slides down into his stomach, wrapping an arm around your thigh pulling you closer.

“Mmm Kei.”

“Yeah? Baby girl you like this?”

“You said you were going to be nice.”

“No, no I said gentle. Purr for me.” He smirks exposing his teeth in glee.

“Tsukiii.” You pout arching your hips into him.

“Patience Baby.” He runs his index along your slit. “We have no where to be.”

“Kei, you know I’m impatient.”

“Yes, Baby Girl.” He slides the finger along the outside. “But I also know you’ve been neglected, and I need to fix that.” He spreads your lips. “And I am truly sorry.”

He slides his tongue over your clit, watching your eyes roll back in your head. Your body trembles preparing for him.

He brings the same finger from earlier to your entrance slowly stretching your needy hole.

“Fuck Tsuki.”

“Shhh Shh. Baby Girl.” He counters your long exaggerated moan. “I just want you to feel good.” Kei releases his finger from your core, watching your eyes open in distaste.

“Relax. I’m just tasting you.” Sliding his finger in his mouth, he keeps your eyes locked, sliding it back inside your ravishing flower. “You taste so good.” He moans feeling himself grow hard. “So damn good.”

Pumping your core, he slides a second finger into you adding more tension.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles, his insecurities exposing him.

You smile running your fingers through his curls as he lean in closer, licking your folds.

His left hand finally releases your breast, sliding to your adjacent thigh, barricade himself into your core.

He laps your slit too many times to count, the ecstasy overwhelming you as you buck your hips against his hold.

“Tsuki.” You moan while he pins your hips down.

“Patience Baby. This is all for you.”

“I need you. You have this control over me. And I hate it.” You pant with needy eyes. He stops what he’s doing, pulling out of your lubed heat, leaning over your body.

Chest to chest, nose to nose.

You grab his neck pulling him into you. Your taste on his lips, your tongue attacking his with needy lust.

Your fingers trace his face, cupping a cheek and you moan into his mouth.

“You drive me crazy.”

You break, turning to his neck licking the sweat from his skin.

“Can I have you?” You shutter, your words caught in your throat.

“Baby Girl, you can have whatever you want.” He hums kissing your lips tenderly.

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“Baby... you’re hurt.”

“I just want to feel you. Tsuki please. I want this.” He sighs and sits up.

“Somewhere else. I don’t have enough room on this couch. I’ll hurt you.” He eyes your bedroom door and back to you.

“Please, Kei.” You moan rolling your hips against his clothed bottoms.

He relocates you to the bedroom taking off his shirt. You stop to admire his chiseled body from volleyball, releasing a painful moan, sliding your fingers over your clit.

“Fuck... baby girl that’s my job.” He dives down in between your legs clasping his hands over yours, pinning them to the side, continuing laps from before.

“You feel so good Tsuki.” You moan as he sits up.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“You’re saying this like it’s my first time.” You smirk with a giggle.

“Look, Baby Girl. I really don’t want to hurt you. I can get... distracted.”

“I’m fine Kei. I promise you I’ll let you know if it’s too much, ok?”

He leans over your body, kissing your lips, your breast, your core and sits up, losing his bottoms.

“Promise?”

“I promise Kei.” You smile feeling him line up with you.

It was different this time. The lust was different. His touch is sensitive. He runs his hand along your thigh as he presses into you.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He moans with his head thrown back. “You’re perfect.” You feel your breath hitch inside you with the new found pressure. He leans forward, slowly rolling his hips into yours again. His runs his fingers in your hair as he begins thrusting slowly.

Open mouth kisses, he hears your breath getting caught in your throat.

“Are you ok? Is this fine?” He asks and you nod.

“You’re just big. Give me time.” You adjust your hips and he slows his pace. “No... Kei. Keep going.”

He bottoms inside you scraping your cervix and causing you to gasp.

“Oh my.” You catch yourself and he pulls himself out halfway.

“Are you ok?” He watches your eyes and you nod with an embarrassed giggle.

“Oh my goodness, Kei. Just go. I’m fine.” You laugh frustrated while he smirks.

“Ok ok.” He kisses you and sets a steady tempo.

Are you ready to trust him again? Your heart races in your ears as thousands of things run through your head.

He’s feels amazing.

I want to trust him again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But can you trust him?

He leans into your neck leaving kisses too many to count.

“I’ve missed you.” His groan, so low you could have ignored it, sends chills down your spine. Your core tightens and he notices.

The cocky blond leans down and places his lips to yours. His thrusts are clean and he pulls you in. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.” He’s breathy and his body gives under pressure, collapsing as he finishes inside you.

His broad shoulders cover your body while he leaves kisses across your skin to your lips.

“Then don’t leave, Kei.” You bury your head into his chest as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby Girl.”

Tag List:

@kellyisalone

@girlyluke

Hopefully it’s something you will enjoy ☺️

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

~

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He��s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

*

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

*

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

*

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”