#bc i almost kept this one to write a full thing about but also i needed to say this right now

[junkissed]

need to ride jun's abs so bad this isn't funny anymore . 💤

i soooo get you but also... what if you were riding jun's cock and right before you're about to cum he lifts your hips off of him and ruins your orgasm and instead makes you ride his abs and you have to cum from that before he'll let you have his cock again. honestly i think he would be just as into ab riding as you are, if not more (and trust me i am very into ab riding). it gives him a rush knowing you can easily get off merely by grinding against his stomach. he would hold onto your hips so tightly and drag your pussy back and forth, making sure your clit touches every single ridge of his toned abs. he would tense the muscles so it would give you something nice and hard to grind against and the entire time he would be praising you at how well you ride him (but also at the same time lowkey bragging about how good his abs are; we've seen his lives lolol and we know he loves to tease us about his abs). "does that feel good, sweetheart? which do you like more, riding my abs or riding my cock? silly question- i know it's a tough choice, baby. you want both. and i'll let you have both, if you keep being such a good girl and cum all over my abs. then you can have my cock, hm?" and then when you do finally cum, he'd make you move so you can see the trail of wetness you've left all over his body and he'd coo about how you're always so wet and beautiful and desperate for him. and only then he would let you ride his cock again

[bloodibambiidoll]

ok so hear me out. rafe and weird!girl get into an argument and rafe calls her weird or says something about her being normal for once and my girl gets all upset as she should.

Nonnie, are you in my walls? I’m very much having a day like this. This is heavily based on the day I had today and writing it made me feel sm better. Slight angst. Fluff. 1.8K words. NO MINORS!! (Note: weird!girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic)

You were extremely overwhelmed. It feels like every single thing is out to get you today. Before you and Rafe left to go on your first grocery shopping trip since you moved in together you got into a bit of a disagreement over the list. You are extremely picky. You have set safe foods that you like to stick to and you don’t like to stray from them. But Rafe on the other hand would eat almost anything. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that you wanted to live off of freezer waffles and chicken nuggets when he hired a professional chef for the two of you.

“Baby, why would I buy you the cheap freezer shit when I can have it made from scratch all fancy n shit?” It wasn’t about the price, you know that. It was just that Rafe wanted you to have the best of everything he could possibly give you and sometimes you just wanted the simpler things. Something that he’s still trying to understand.

“It’s just… I don’t want that. I want the ones from the store. That I always get. The ones I like.” Your lips were formed into a pout as you looked down at your lap and played with the rings on your fingers.

“Aight, Bats, if that’s what you want.” He shrugged and kissed your forehead before leaving you to finish getting ready. It was what you wanted. But you could tell it wasn’t what he wanted so you felt bad. You didn't want to be an inconvenience.

So after that you got in your head that you were too much for him. You spent the entire card ride to the grocery store thinking about how a normal girl wouldn’t want specific foods. A normal girl would be more than happy to have a personal chef make them anything and everything they wanted. A normal girl would be able to go to those fancy restaurants Rafe likes because she’d actually like anything on the menu. He tried to take you once and you spent the entire meal picking at your plate of chicken and veggies, so he never tried again settling to go places that had things you actually liked.

Then at the store you were so in your head that if you hadn’t made a list you probably wouldn’t have gotten a single thing you wanted. You couldn’t stop feeling like you were a burden to him because you needed him to buy you an entirely different grocery list from his own. You kept trying to put things back. Or tell him you didn’t need things that you did, in fact, need. You could tell Rafe was getting frustrated with you and it only made you want to shut down even more.

It didn’t help that the grocery store was easily one of your least favorite places. The lighting was awful. There were always so many people everywhere not looking where they’re going. The freezer section was always so cold that you spent that entire section of the shopping trip practically shaking. It was so goddamn loud. People talking. Kids crying. The squeaking of the old grocery cart wheels. So going there when you were already feeling overwhelmed was a recipe for disaster.

You fully lost it when you were checking out. The cart was extremely disorganized because you were too checked out to keep it in order the entire trip. The store you were at had it so you bagged your own groceries so the fact that the cart was a complete disaster made bagging them incredibly difficult. You were struggling to keep up with the cashier and also bag the groceries efficiently. He kept pushing the conveyor belt button, rolling the groceries that you haven’t bagged yet to pile up on top of each other at the end of it. The cart was full of bags and you weren’t even half done so you had to run and grab another one, only letting the pile grow further.

Rafe bought a case of beer and it the midst of you trying to frantically bag everything in a timely manner the cashier also asked you for your I.D. Which only frustrates you more. You don’t even drink beer. And it made you have to pause bagging again to dig in your purse. The cashier kept looking from the card to you and back again, like he thought it was fake.

“I know I look nothing like that, that was 7 years ago.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were pretty much at your limit.

“Baby, it’s fine, he’s just lookin’ for the date.” Rafe shot you a look and it only pissed you off more.

“Well he’s looking at it like it’s fake or some shit!” You scoffed as you slammed a full bag into the cart. Which only earned you another look from Rafe.

On the way home he hardly talked to you, instead he decided to blast trap music when you were clearly already overstimulated so you decided to put your headphones on and drown him out.

“Bats, the fuck is going on with you today, huh?” Rafe is towering over you the minute you enter the kitchen, backing you up against the counter.

“I just don’t like the grocery store. And you made me feel bad about the food. And everything was just so loud in there. And I felt like you hardly talked to me the entire time. I’ve felt like an inconvenience to you all day!” You snap at him as you stomp your foot in frustration, glaring up at him.

“All we did was go to the fuckin’ store. You’re seriously that worked up over it?” Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes! I am! The grocery store is extremely stressful for me and you’re not being considerate of that!!”

“That’s ridiculous, people go to the grocery store every day. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you can’t just be fuckin’ normal sometimes.” Rafe throws his hands up, letting them fall against his thighs with a smack. The minute the words leave his mouth your bottom lip starts to quiver as tears brim your eyes. And he knows he fucked up. Immediately he knows he fucked up.

“You know what? Why don’t you go find a normal girlfriend then!?” You push against his chest, running past him to your shared bedroom. You slam the door behind you, sliding down it as the tears in your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks. You knew it.

“Baby…” Rafe’s voice travels through the thick wood as he lightly taps on it. “ I’m sorry… that was- I shouldn’t have- Bats, can you open the door, please?”

“No. Go away.” You whimper as you curl further into yourself against the door.

“Baby girl, please? Just wanna talk. Lemme see you.” He turns the knob, pushing on the door lightly causing you to shift forward slightly. “C’mon, get away from the door, let me in.”

“Why don’t you go find a normal girl to talk to.” You snap at him before trying to push back against the wood but he’s so much stronger than you that it doesn’t even budge. Rafe shoves his foot into the crack of the door, pushing it until he can slip through. It slams shut behind him from your weight, causing you to yelp. He drops to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands. “Baby, look at me.”

“No.” You shake your head, subconsciously nuzzling into his touch. Your lips are quivering so bad your teeth are chattering as tears flow down your cheeks and Rafe kind of wants to kick his own ass.

“Listen I- I shouldn’t have said that, okay? I didn’t - fuck baby, I didn’t mean that shit. I was just frustrated. Doesn’t make it okay though, never wanna make my girl cry.” Rafe runs his thumbs down the apples of your cheeks, wiping away the salty tears that continue to fall. “I think I’ve gotten pretty damn good about knowing how you work. But with us living together now there's gonna be new shit that I’m gonna have to pick up on. I’m so sorry princess.”

“I just - I - just wanna be enough for you. Don’t wanna be a burden.” Your body tries to curl in on itself even more but Rafe doesn’t let it, he grips onto your hips and pulls you into his lap. He wraps his strong arms around you as he starts to rock you back and forth.

“Want you to listen to me baby, aight?” He takes your jaw in his hand, tilting your head towards his to get you to look at him. When you do it nearly cracks his heart. He hates that he made you feel like everyone else always has. “I never should’ve fucking said that shit. I didn’t mean it. Not even a little bit. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I fuckin’ love you and all your weird little shit. Your weird little shit just makes me love you more. I’ve never known anyone like you. You’ve taught me so much. I guess I’ve just still got some shit to learn. But I’m trying, Bats. I’ll never stop trying.”

“You really mean it?” You sniffle as you look up at him through your teary eyes and Rafe has never felt more bad than he does at this moment. If he saw anybody else making you cry like this they would be so fucked and here he is, doing it.

“Of course I fuckin’ mean that shit, baby girl. I’m sorry for losing my patience with you today. I never, ever, wanna hurt you. Never wanna make you feel like all these other douchebags on the island do. Kind of want to run them all over, including myself right now.” Rafe lets out a dry chuckle when he sees the corner of your lips tilt up slightly. His large hand runs down the back of your head, smoothing down your hair as he continues to rock the both of you. “You know I love you more than anything, right?”

“It’s okay, Rafey. I know I can be too much sometimes. But I do know that you love me.” And you do. Especially right now. Rafe never opens up to you like this. And you kind of want to blow him right now.

“Hey, you aren’t too much, aight? Don’t ever let anyone make you feel that way. Including me, put my ass in check baby. God knows I need it.” He smiles down at you before leaning to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Want me to put some nuggets in the air fryer for you and we can watch that movie you’ve been trying to get me to watch?”

“Mhm, that sounds perfect daddy.”

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you become friends with Skye Riley and watch her grow into the pop star she is, that unfortunately means you get a front row seat into her demise.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, injury and death.

author's note: okay so this took forever and i’m very sorry for the wait! i started writing it but it just kept getting longer so now it's 3 parts 😂

a few things to note - the smile demon thing doesn't exist, it's just a story about her bc why not. Also her friend Gemma (?) also doesn't exist bc i couldn't think of a way to include her in the story lol

okay that's it, enjoy!!

The thing with Skye Riley was she was always so full of hope and passion and optimism for her craft. From the very first day we met, I knew she would become something special to so many people out there. I just never intended for her to become something special to me.

She was just starting out, some rising star doing a performance for a local TV station in the city. I didn't even know who she was, never having heard of nor seen her before. The reason I was at the station was because it was another one of my odd behind-the-scenes photography jobs I'd landed, fresh out of university at twenty-two years old.

I was messing with my camera near the snacks table when I felt a presence and looked up to see her grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl. She didn't notice me at first, but I definitely did a double take, not knowing she was the talent at first, but thinking how pretty this girl was. She must have felt my gaze as she looked up and flashed me a picture-perfect smile, almost making me melt there and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

I blinked before smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She chuckled before nodding to my camera. "You work here?"

I glanced down at my camera. "Yeah. Well, kind of. It's only temporary. I'm doing some stills for their website. You?"

She hummed, intrigued. "Nice. I'm performing, so it might be me you're shooting. Do get my good side, please."

It was then that I realised she was Skye Riley, the talent booked for the day. "Shit, you're the guest."

She began to laugh, in a sweet, reserved kind of way. "I am, yeah. I'm Skye."

"My apologies, Skye," I said sheepishly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," she repeated, before smiling softly. "It's all good." She picked at another grape before continuing, "Between you and me, this is my first ever TV appearance and I'm scared shitless."

I realised she wasn't kidding when she didn't smile. Clearing my throat, I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be great. Clearly you're here for a reason. Just... try not to overthink it. Be yourself."

She glanced out at the stage. "I suppose you're right." Her gaze returned to mine with a half smile. "Thanks."

"At least if the interview goes south, you know you'll get some good photos from it," I joked, lifting my camera in the air playfully.

She laughed wholeheartedly, thankfully not offended. "Gee, thanks. Can't wait to see 'em."

I couldn't help but smile as I said, "I'm kidding. I'm sure you'll be great, Skye."

Before she could respond, someone called her name and she looked out to them before giving me a nervous smile. "I guess that's me. Was nice meeting you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You too," I responded. "And yeah, maybe. Break a leg out there."

She gave me a final smile before leaving to join her manager – who I eventually discovered was her mum – by the stage. I wasn't expecting to see her again, though I was definitely blown away by her talent when she performed that night. And as far as TV appearances went, she nailed it.

I suppose that being the same age in a world of adults and both starting out in our careers at the same time made it easy to talk to her. Especially when I was covering another last-minute paying photography gig at some flashy charity event that she just happened to be at.

It was her who spotted me this time, as I got some shots of the guests dancing around on the dance floor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and straightened up, wondering who it could be.

"Y/N?" her voice called as I turned around, certainly surprised to see her. When she saw me, her smile widened. "Yes, I knew I recognised you. It's me, Skye! Not sure if you remember me from the TV thing last month."

I was surprised to see her, but equally thrilled, returning her smile. "Skye, yes, of course I remember you. I didn't expect to see you again if I'm being honest, let alone so soon."

She chuckled. "At least you're honest. I'm glad though. I really enjoyed our chat last time." Her eyes looked me up and down. "You look good."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing she didn't mean it like that but still unable to accept compliments from pretty girls. "Thanks, so do you."

And I wasn't lying. She looked amazing in her glitzy purple dress, long, curled dark hair and smokey eye makeup. In just the month since we'd last seen each other, her music was already blowing up more and more, and she was really starting to come into herself as a star.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, are you working this event too? That's so cool for you!"

"Yeah, it's definitely a great opportunity," I replied, glancing around. "Just trying to get the best gigs I can, y'know? Get my name out there."

"Well, I personally loved the stills you took of me," she complimented sincerely, dark eyes glittering under the lights. "I think you're really talented."

"I think you might be biased," I said, unable to take the compliment, "but thank you."

She rolled her eyes playfully before nodding behind her. "Do you wanna get a drink and chat or are you not allowed? You're actually the only person I know here."

I was surprised she wanted to talk more, but also felt the same way. "Erm...," I paused, checking my watch and glancing around. "I should really work or I might get told off. But I finish in an hour, before the event ends. I don't know if you're still around then?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she said with a bright smile. "I'll be hanging around if you wanna find me? I'd love to know more about these photography gigs of yours."

I exhaled softly, nodding. "Sounds good. Only fair you tell me all about this becoming-a-celebrity gig of yours then." She laughed at this and it brought a smile to my lips. "I'll catch you later, Skye."

She nodded, satisfied. "See you in a bit."

And from there, it was safe to say we became friends. After getting to know each other better and exchanging numbers, it was easy enough to make a friend in the same boat as me, even if her boat was slightly different to mine. Of course, it was my mistake to be even mildly attracted to my new friend because that was not a good starting point for our friendship.

Because of how close we got, close enough for us to consider each other a best friend, she invited me to join her on tour as a documentary-style photographer. I was still building my experience and portfolio whilst she claimed she just really didn't want to be alone on her first ever international tour, so it was a win-win.

It was during the tour that I realised how much I actually liked her, in a dangerously non-platonic kind of way. And any little thing she did that was slightly touchy had me stumbling over my words – which was almost all the time because she was the touchiest friend I'd ever had.

It could be something as simple as braiding my hair for me and I'd forget how to breathe, or one time I was sat in her dressing room, listening to her mum talk about the show when she decided she wanted sit on my lap. Such casual friend things and yet I was malfunctioning every time.

Naturally, I forced myself to get over it.

—

Spending our 20s together meant I got a front row seat to her eventual decline into substance abuse. She was already an anxious person, though did well to disguise it, but her quick rise to fame and the constant pressures of her team did her no favours.

The first time I truly witnessed just how much she dealt with was about a year later, when she lost her voice in the midst of preparing for another tour. I was hanging around the side of the stage as they did a rehearsal a few nights prior to her first show, simply showing my support, when everybody noticed the croak in her throat as she attempted to sing a verse. After realising she couldn't, she was taken to a doctor.

"She's been under too much stress and her vocal cords are worn," the doctor explained to her mum in her dressing room, Skye sat opposite her. "She needs vocal rest."

Her mum seemed uncertain. "How long will that take?"

The doctor began to pack her things away as she spoke, "I'd advise a minimum of a few days, but she probably needs a week."

"She doesn't have a week," her mum snapped. "Her first show is in a couple of days. Thousands of fans are expecting to hear her sing."

I glanced at Skye, noticing the guilty expression she wore as she looked down to her hands. Her mum was always putting pressure on her like this and it was never nice to see her. I settled for resting my hand on hers, earning her attention, and squeezing it gently to let her know I was there for her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley, but your daughter is in a lot of pain and if she keeps going like this, she won't even have a tour," the doctor said impatiently. "Give her the rest she needs and she'll be okay."

Her mum sighed. "Fine. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded before giving Skye a reassuring smile and leaving the four of us alone – including Skye's mum's assistant.

"Sorry, mum," Skye muttered, and I nudged her gently in warning.

"You just heard the doctor," I reminded her. "No talking."

Her mum merely massaged the bridge of her nose with frustration, as if working out what to do next. It was harsh, insensitive even, but it wasn't my place to intervene.

"Okay, it's okay," she decided, before looking to her daughter. "You can still rehearse everything else. No vocals until the first show."

Skye nodded, standing up, but I quirked a brow as I looked to her mum.

"Shouldn't she rest?" I said, holding back my critique as much as I could. "If anything, it'll help her recover quicker. The doctor said she's already under stress."

"Dancing won't kill her," her mum said dismissively, before nodding to Skye. "I'll see you back out there, okay?"

Skye nodded as I raised my brows with disbelief, watching her mum and mum's assistant leave. Only when they were gone did I scoff and look to Skye.

"Are you serious? You need to rest, Skye," I told her. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."

Skye closed her eyes, frowning as she shook her head. I then realised my complaining wasn't helping and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But it's not right. And if you were hurting, you should've said."

She swallowed thickly before opening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach them.

"Skye...," I started, but didn't want to upset her anymore than she clearly already was. Instead, I gave her a hug, hoping it would mean something.

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't let go, not until I did, and I only did because we were hugging way too long and I didn't want to piss her mum off even more.

"Take it easy," I said to her when we pulled apart, searching her gaze. "Stop if it's too much, alright?"

She nodded, squeezing my hands gently, but I knew deep down that she was only saying what I wanted to hear, or rather doing what I wanted to see. She was too obedient to her mum and didn't want to let everyone down, even if it meant working herself to death.

It was all of these little things adding up that inevitably pushed her to seek out an escape where I just couldn't help her anymore.

The first time I realised it might be an issue was that same tour, about halfway through, when I was photographing some of the crew the day before a concert to eventually use in the tour documentary they were making of Skye. It was a fun day for me since I loved hanging out with the people who made the magic happen, and I was excited to show my photos to Skye back at the hotel like I always did. Only, this time, when she let me into her room, I realised she was drunk.

If it wasn't the acrid scent of alcohol that clung to her clothes that gave it away, or her giddy nature as she flopped on her bed, it was the countless mini bar bottles and cocktail glasses littered around her room.

"Did you... have a party with yourself or something?" I asked with confusion, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughed like I'd said the funniest thing ever smacking my hand gently as she stared at the ceiling. "Something like that."

I watched her, mildly concerned. "Are you gonna be okay for sound check tomorrow? Your mum might actually kill you if you show up with a hangover."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's a one-off, honest. I just wanted some fun."

Stupidly, I believed her. "Okay, well... maybe we should attempt to sober you up. C'mon."

She groaned, rolling over to stick her head under her pillow. "Later."

"Skye, please," I tried to reason. "Have you eaten anything?"

She ignored me and I took that as a no.

"I'll order some room service, yeah? Get some food in you," I said, talking to air as she continued to ignore me.

I had it easy enough that evening, looking after her. And even though she did wake up with a hangover the next morning, she promised she'd never act so irresponsibly again. I didn't care, I just didn't want her to struggle.

Of course, that was only the start. Whereas we'd usually hang out together after her shows, she began to leave to hang out with some of the crew and their friends. I wouldn't have minded since she was her own person, but it meant she'd come back absolutely hammered and it only worried me. It kept happening, to the point that it was a regular thing. Even after the tour ended, it was almost impossible to see her without a drink in her hand.

We fought about it at first, but I didn't want to push her away even more, especially into the arms of her shitty Hollywood friends. She was once open but now she'd hide things from me, making it difficult to know exactly what she was up to. I couldn't control her and I didn't want to, but she didn't seem to understand the severity of her actions.

It kept getting worse as the years went on, especially when she got a new boyfriend. They were awful for one another, terrible influences. Skye became more irritable to everyone around her, including me. It was like being friends with a completely new girl. Between the drinking and the partying and the drugs, I couldn't keep up. And as much as I cared about her, I wasn't important enough in her life for her to even consider listening to.

The final straw was when the paparazzi released some photos of her having a breakdown, screaming at some poor makeup artist for no reason at all. A joint was in her hand, she looked a mess, and it was enough to send her mum in a livid spiral. I wanted to stay out of it, but when her mum practically forced me to go to her and try to knock some sense into her, I had no choice.

When I knocked on the door of Skye's apartment, she saw it was me and rolled her eyes but let me in.

"She send you to fix me, did she?" she asked, walking to the kitchen.

I tried not to get offended as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. "It's bad, Skye. You look insane."

She faked a laugh. "Wow, way to fuckin' sugarcoat it."

I sighed, leaning on her kitchen island and looking over at her. "Are you gonna act childish with me right now or are we gonna have an actual conversation?"

She raised her brows, surprised and irritated. "Seriously?"

Maybe it was the years of putting up with her on-again off-again mood swings, or maybe it was just her complete disregard to listen to anyone who cared about her, but I'd had enough in that moment.

"Skye, you're embarrassing yourself," I said sternly, meeting her red-rimmed gaze. Of course she was high. "It's concerning and these pictures should be a wake up call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Good job I didn't ask your opinion."

I rubbed my face, fed up of her anger. "Skye, I'm not trying to argue."

"Then stay out of my fucking business, Y/N! You're always on my back about this shit and it's getting old."

Ignoring her tantrum, I said, "I'm worried about you."

Suddenly, she began to laugh slowly, quietly, mockingly. "I bet."

Confused, I watched her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She tilted her head as she nodded at me, arms crossed over her chest condescendingly. "It's written all over your face. You're in love with me."

I couldn't really comprehend what she'd said, not at first, but then my face felt hot and I felt like I'd been caught out.

"God, you're so obvious!" she whined loudly, approaching me. "You've been obvious with it. All these fucking years."

How did she know? How could she?

"You- you don't even know what you're saying," I finally spoke, cursing inwardly when I stumbled. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning, you're that fucking high."

"Oh, I'll remember," she assured me with a smile so cruel that it looked nothing like my best friend. "Because it's written all over your face."

She poked me in the cheek and I swatted her finger away instinctively, ashamedly, making her laugh.

"You're terrible at hiding it," she continued, eyes flickering between mine. "It's laughable."

Every part of me was screaming to leave, to run away and never come back. My skin was crawling and I wanted the earth to swallow me up, hot with shame. Tears pricked my eyes, embarrassed and hurt by how cruel she was being, how careless she was with my feelings.

"Did you think there was a shot?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you stuck around all this time?"

I frowned, attempting to glare at her, but it was a foolish one. "I stuck around because I care. Because you're my friend."

"You're lying." She laughed again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Forget it."

"It's forgotten."

I couldn't even look at her, turning around to leave. Never had she been so hurtful with her words.

"Oh, fine, fuck off like you want!" she shouted as I opened the front door.

I clenched my jaw as I glanced back at her. "You've become such a bitch."

She glared at me. "Better a bitch than a shitty admirer."

My heart crumbled, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

And with that, I slammed the door and left. Though, not without breaking down on the lift down to the lobby.

—

She never called to apologise. She never texted to check in. And I wasn't going to crawl back to her, not out of worry or friendship or anything. She'd made a fool of me, hurt me so much that I felt like an idiot. Because I was. I was the idiot who had my love for her practically tattooed all over my face. How could I have been so foolish?

An almost ten-year friendship gone, just like that.

Months passed and it was admittedly strange not to have her in my life. Even though our relationship had drastically changed for the worst, she'd been a consistent part of my life. And now she was just... gone.

The anger and embarrassment easily turned into hurt, which turned into sadness, and I found myself missing her greatly. But she made no effort to get in touch, so I knew I needed to move on.

It was those few months later when her car accident was all over the news. That was how I'd found out. She'd been on a drive with her boyfriend who unfortunately died, and she was in hospital. Or, at least, that was all the press knew.

As frustrated as I was with her, none of it mattered when I found out what had happened. Every part of me was concerned, wanting to know if she was okay. I was so close to calling her mum and asking to visit Skye in hospital, but I was too cowardly to do it. I'd convinced myself that she wouldn't want me there. Still, I missed her greatly.

A year passed soon enough and the only connection that I had with Skye Riley was the same as all of her fans – through a TV screen. Her story was in the headlines for ages – her public breakdown, her accident, her rise back to stardom. Interviews, the announcement of her new album, her new tour... I avoided it where I could, but she was a superstar and it wasn't always easy.

I'd gotten over her. I had. I never expected to hear from her again and that was okay.

Until I got a call out of the blue and it just so happened to be her.

"Hello?" I answered the unknown number with confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you might still...," the girl on the other side mumbled, before clearing her throat. "It's Skye. Erm, Skye Riley."

I stopped what I was doing, surprised to hear her voice. "Oh."

"Sorry, I know this is really random," she said quickly, nervous, "but, erm, I... I wanted to– I'd like to see you." She paused, then added, "If that's possible."

My brain was still playing catch up from the fact that she'd even called, let alone that she wanted to see me. I didn't know what to think.

"Why?" I finally asked, not trying to be hostile, but genuinely surprised.

She paused, and then spoke, "I miss you. A lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down. "Skye, it's been a year."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I've been in rehab for half of it..." When I didn't laugh, she continued, "Sorry. I just– I want to apologise. To explain. Ideally in person."

It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Please," she said quietly, noticing my silence.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As easy (and satisfying) as it would've been to tell her no and hang up, a part of me still cared. And annoyingly enough, I'd never gotten closure which had haunted me for a while. Maybe this could be it.

"Okay," I breathed out.

"Really?" She was as surprised as I sounded when I'd answered.

"Yeah," I said before I could change my mind. "Maybe this–?"

"Tomorrow?" she cut me off without meaning to.

"Oh," I started, but she spoke again.

"Sorry, never mind," she said nervously. "When did you want to meet?"

"No, tomorrow should be fine," I agreed.

I heard her exhale with relief. "Great. Good. Is around three okay? Maybe we can get a coffee or something."

"Sure."

"Great, thanks," she said quietly. "I'll text you."

"I'll save your number," I said without thinking.

She laughed awkwardly, making me cringe at my own discomfort. "Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

After saying my goodbyes and ending on an awkward note, I took a moment to acknowledge what just happened. Getting a call from her was genuinely the last thing I'd expected, but I was willing to hear her out. If not for her sake, then for my own.

—

I couldn't stop spinning the ring on my finger, a nervous habit of mine, as I walked into the bistro downstairs to Skye's dance studio. We'd agreed to meet there after her rehearsals since it was usually only staff that frequented it so it wouldn't draw attention from her fans.

When I walked in, I glanced around, seeing it was empty for the most part, save for one or two patrons. And then I finally spotted her sat at a booth on the side, looking a lot different to how I'd last seen her, though still very similar to the girl I once knew.

When she saw me, she perked up, looking as nervous as I felt, and I had no choice but to walk over to her. She stood up, blinking, unsure whether to speak first.

"Hi," I said, when she didn't, meeting her flittering eyes.

"Hi," she responded, before swallowing thickly and glancing at the table and then me again. "Erm..." She leaned in to give me a hug, which I had no choice but to return, but it was awkward on both sides. When we pulled apart, she smiled uncomfortably. "I– sorry, I–"

"It's fine," I said quickly, before nodding awkwardly.

She slid into her side of the booth so I did the same, hoping she couldn't hear my irregular heartbeat. I looked over at her, noticing her new look. She'd cut off the long, dark hair she'd had as long as I knew her, donning a pixie cut that was now dyed blonde. I'd seen it in the press, but it still took some getting used to. Suited her though. Annoyingly, she was still as beautiful as she was the day I'd met her.

"The new look is nice," I spoke, breaking the silence and nodding to her.

A nervous smile crept on her lips. "Thanks." A pause and then: "You look good, Y/N."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling just as nervously.

She pushed an iced coffee towards me, saying, "I ordered for you, but I'm now realising your favourite order could've changed since we last... yeah. I can get you something different if you want."

I looked at the drink, reading the label, surprised she'd even remembered. "No, no, this is still my favourite. Thanks, Skye. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do," she replied with a shrug, playing with the lid of her own coffee. "I... thanks for meeting with me."

I glanced up at her. "I thought I'd never hear from you again to be honest."

She frowned, looking down. "I know. I debated calling sooner. I... I owe you a huge apology." Her eyes met mine with the utmost sincerity. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For the way I took advantage of your kindness, your friendship. The way I ignored your warnings and support. And–"

She stopped, eyes flickering to her drink guiltily, and she didn't even need to say it for me to know what she was remembering next. Everything she'd said to me before I left for good. How horrible it was, how embarrassing it was. Even now, I couldn't look at her, my face growing warm. After all this time, it was still so humiliating.

"It was awful, I know," she said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say other than, "It was."

At this, she sighed. "I know it's unforgivable and that this isn't an excuse, but I wasn't in the right head space then. I just– I miss you. After the accident..."

When she was quiet for a second longer than usual, I looked up at her, seeing a faraway look in her expression.

"Skye?" I prompted, a hint of concern in my voice.

She shook her head, glancing at the table before meeting my gaze. "Sorry. I just– I miss you and I wanted to see you."

"You keep saying that you miss me, but you had a phone," I pointed out gently, not trying to argue but unsure how to believe her. "You could've called. Especially after the accident."

I wanted you to call, I so badly wanted to add, but it was embarrassing to admit.

"I tried to," she said with a frown. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again after what I said."

I searched her gaze, saddened to hear that. "You thought I wouldn't have wanted to make sure you were okay? Just because of one argument? That I wouldn't have put all of that bullshit aside to make sure you were actually alive?"

She didn't meet my eyes, but she shook her head weakly, and I realised I was a being a little unfair despite it all.

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, drawing shapes in the condensation of my cup mindlessly. "It's not fair of me to say you should've called. It was a lot, I can imagine. And I had a phone too, I know. I just... I didn't think you cared  anymore. After everything, I thought the last person you'd want to see in hospital was me."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," she muttered, picking at her coffee cup lid again. "It's far from the truth though."

A quiet fell between us as neither of knew what to say nor where to go. It was a lot to digest, knowing she regretted how things had ended up. Selfishly, it was all I'd wanted all this time – an apology and some closure.

"I want to make things right," she said, eyes flickering up to mine.

I met her halfway, exhaling gently. "I forgive you, Skye. I appreciate your apology."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, as did her expression, and she nodded slightly. "I'd like to try again. If you would."

"I figured that's where this was going," I admitted, before nodding slowly. "I'd like that too."

She breathed out with relief, containing it behind a simple nod, and it meant a lot to me that this meant a lot to her, more than I thought it would.

"I really missed you," I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Her eyes were glassy as she gave me a small smile. "I really missed you too, Y/N."

I stood up, as did she, and hugged her properly. It was unlike the previous one and she returned it with just as much relief, the two of us clinging tightly to one another like it was the last.

It was still a mystery to me as to whether rebuilding a friendship with Skye would be for the better, but my heart was saying to do it and I couldn't help myself. She was so easy to give into, so easy to fall back into place with.

[sitp-recs]

top 10 drarry fics by the sheer force of the feels they gave you? not necessarily good feels! things you remember primarily because they hit hard in some way.

obviously, i'd also love to hear exactly how/why they hit hard if you're up for sharing that!

Oh that’s such a wonderful ask, thank you! I’m sorry for the late reply, the 10 fics came easily bc whenever I see those titles I get immediately transported back to where I was and what I felt reading them for the first time. But putting into words what exactly makes them heartkick-y for me was a bit more challengeging. It’s usually a “when you feel it you know it” kind of thing (and quite literally too, as sometimes it manifests as an actual physical reaction!) but more often than not the fic just clicks for me and there’s no rationale behind it. As Clarice Lispector said: “I suppose that understanding myself is not a question of intelligence but of feeling. It either touches you, or it doesn't."

Anyhoo, I tried my best to keep this short and sweet but since I’ve written individual recs for almost all these fics, I thought I’d include them too :) thanks again, this was super fun! And I’d love to read about your picks as well 👀

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned | my rec

it doesn’t get more romantic than star-crossed lovers doomed by time travel!!!! (see also: my thoughts on The Eighth Tale by lettered). this is my brand of melancholy, something about the constant yearning, the beauty of stolen moments in liminal space, the unfairness of it all… ugh

Far From the Tree by aideomai | my rec

fft has altered my brain chemistry and ruined me forever with its tender devastation, I had such a visceral reaction to it - to the point of feeling dizzy and feverish. a simple time travel concept (this is my kryptonite istg) but the epic storytelling! the gratification! the bittersweet ending! rereading it would kill me but what a way to go

Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren

easily one of the most haunting and terrifying fics I’ve ever read, one jumpscare after the other but so creative and well-written I was too busy collecting my jaw from the floor to talk myself out of it lol

Little Compton Street by writcraft | my rec

as a queer woman, this one feels extremely personal and is very dear to my heart. I’ll never forget the emotions I felt learning about queer history and finding a sense of peace and belonging. lcs feels like coming home 🏳️‍🌈

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton

this was my first bb fic and their sense of humor just blew my mind. I was so impressed by the smooth world building, by their wit and clever political commentary. I just couldn’t stop laughing. the dialogue is so good it makes me wanna weep, I can’t explain how much joy and comfort this fic gave me

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore

full disclosure: my reading experience was shaped by the fact that I didn’t realize the tagged disability would be major and permanent 🤡 by the time I noticed I was so emotionally invested I couldn’t stop. one of the most painful reads I’ve ever endured, worth it tho

Running on Air by eleventy7 | my rec

introspective fics are my jam and this one was just what I needed while working through some shit at a turning point in my life. so I guess it was more about finding the right fic at the right time, and I’m hit by mixed feelings of catharsis and nostalgia every time I revisit roa.

Still Life (orphaned) | my rec

my definition of a perfect shortfic. gorgeous prose, flawless execution, the “nothing is happening but everything is changing” vibes I live for, one of the best Harry pov I’ve ever read and an ending that always makes me gasp in awe. few authors can write complex emotions so effortlessly as seefin, absolute masterclass

Super Rich Kids by trishjames | my rec

criminally underrated, this story broke my heart but also gave me such a THRILL. I usually avoid substance abuse in fic but something about Draco’s spiral journey felt so raw it kept me at the edge of my seat. devastating but also a surprisingly funny and exciting thriller. the range!!!

The Long Fall by tackytiger | my rec

as someone who’s never been into kid fic and family dynamics, this was a punch on the solar plexus and rearranged my whole view about this trope. I was deeply moved by Harry’s longing for a family of his own and despite not having or wanting kids, this still felt really cathartic and changed me in a way I can’t quite explain.

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[riordanness]

bad blood - [h.haddock]

8.2K wordcount

warnings: death mention, panic attack mentions

requested: no

a/n: i usually don’t do author’s notes on my fics bc i don’t think i have really anything to say lmao. however. i wanted to say a quick word about this one, as it’s a kind of old piece but one i was extremely proud of and worked really hard to complete. i loved the humorous parts i wrote, loved the character arc i gave y/n, and just in general really liked how my writing turned out. also, it’s the second longest one-shot (currently) i’ve ever written! anyways, enjoy my lovelies <3

I disliked Hiccup Haddock more than anything else in the entire world. I didn’t like him at all for a very long time, but… well, here is our story.

“Hey love.” A voice appeared next to my shoulder, and I rolled my eyes.

“Go away, Hiccup,��� I demanded, refusing to look at him. I was carving a spear out of a wooden stick, so I kept my focus on my knife running back and forth along the wood.

Even without looking at him, I could tell he had a smirk on his face. “Oh love,” he whined. “I want to talk to you.”

He tugged on one of my small braids that ran down the sides of my hair. I whacked his hand away, still not looking at him. “I said go away,” I said again.

He laughed. “I know.”

“So leave me alone.”

A moment’s pause. “But why?”

“Because I hate you and don’t want you around, annoying me to death. I’m busy.”

“But you’re fun to annoy.”

I turned on him, fiercely glaring up at him. The worst thing about Hiccup was how tall he was compared to me. He wasn’t even that tall, I was just super short. Hiccup was a full head higher than me.

Hiccup had a smirk playing around his mouth. “Hey shortcake.”

I hit him. “Shut up, Hiccup.”

“Aww, c’mon sweetheart. I’m bored.”

“That’s nice.” I crossed my arms protectively. Not that Hiccup would ever actually hurt me. Honestly, if it came down to me being in danger, I was pretty sure he’d defend me. I’d known him longer than anybody else I knew.

I might hate him, but it was the truth. Hiccup was an asshole, but I knew deep down he didn’t absolutely hate me. I guess I didn’t hate him, either. He was just a total pain.

“Go ride Toothless or make a friend or do something. Just leave me alone. I don’t care to see you.”

Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his ruffled brown hair. His green eyes flickered with amusement. “Okay, love. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He winked. “Sorry love.”

I resisted the childish urge to stamp my foot. “Hiccup!”

He held up his hands. “Okay… okay.” I almost thought he might actually be genuine, until he smirked. “I’ll stop calling you love… darling.”

I knew there was no shutting him up. I turned on my heel without a word, and stamped angrily into my cabin, slamming the door behind me.

Three seconds passed, then there was a knock on the door. I opened it. “Hiccup, go away!”

Hiccup stood there, grinning mischievously. “Fine, fine. Bye, you.”

I rolled my eyes and shut the door. I’d only just turned around when another knock sounded. I gritted my teeth. “Stupid little —“

I opened the door again and stopped short. “Oh! Stoick. Um, hi.” I swallowed. “Sorry, I, uh, I thought you were Hiccup.”

Stoick looked amused. “That’s alright, y/n.”

“Um, would you like to come in?” I offered.

Stoick nodded, and stepped inside. I suddenly felt very conscious of how messy the place was. I didn’t spend much time here, preferring to roam outside or stay at Astrid, my best friend’s house.

“How are you faring up?” Stoick asked.

I shrugged. “I’m okay. Still getting used to the fact that they’re gone, but, you know. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Stoick nodded. “If you ever need anything, feel free to let me or Hiccup know.”

I groaned internally. “Yeah, like I’d ever ask him for help,” I muttered.

I hadn’t intended for him to hear, but Stoick chuckled softly. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

“Sure,” I said. “Because he thinks I’m fun to annoy.”

“That’s not it.”

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “O…kay…” I said slowly. “Um. Great. Well, it’s getting late, so if you don’t mind, uh…”

“Oh! Sure, sure,” Stoick said. “Have a good night, y/n.”

A long time after he left, I stood in my empty, cold house, staring at the door, wishing for something to come and fill the hole that was forming inside of me.

“Y/n, did you hear?”

I turned to my best friend. “Um. No. What happened?”

Astrid brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Stoick just told Hiccup he’s going to become chief soon.”

“Cool.” I returned to making the leather straps I’d been softening for my future dragon’s saddle.

See, the thing is, I don’t have a dragon. I know, that’s so weird, everyone in Berk has one, but I’m, well… a dragon killed my parents a few years ago. I’ve never liked them anyways, but after that, I’ve struggled a lot with my feelings about dragons. I’m sure one day I will overcome this fear inside me and own a dragon, but right now? No way.

“That’s all?” Astrid looked offended. “Y/n, that’s so much cooler than cool.” She suddenly laughed. “You know what this means?”

I frowned a little. “No..?”

“Hiccup has to choose a bride.”

I blinked. “Really? Um, so?”

Astrid rolled her eyes, elbowing me as she sat beside me on the ground. “You know you’re in love with him, y/n/n.”

I pretended to gag. “Ugh, as if! Astrid, you know I hate him. I don’t care at all about him in any way, especially not in a romantic way. I don’t care a single little bit if he has to choose a bride.”

“Sure.” Astrid smirked. “You’re secretly hoping he’ll choose you, aren’t you?”

I shot her a glare that warned her to shut up. “He’ll choose you and you know it,” I said.

Astrid wrinkled her nose. “I doubt it,” she said. “Hiccup and I literally never talk. Besides, everybody knows that me and Stormfly are a forever couple.”

I shook my head at her, but I had to smile. “Well, he won’t choose me, and I don’t care about it anyway.”

Astrid looked like she wanted to argue, but she shut her mouth when she noticed someone walking over to us. When I saw who it was, I sighed.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“Gee, you’re lovely today, darling,” Hiccup teased, plopping himself down next to us.

“Excuse me,” I pointed out. “We didn’t invite you to sit with us.”

Astrid glanced at me, a smirk playing around her mouth. Her eyes were twinkling. I glared at her. I hate you, I mouthed.

I swung one leg over the log so my back was to Hiccup. “So, Astrid,” I said, a little too loudly. “What do you want to do this afternoon?”

“I’m taking Stormfly out for a ride,” Astrid replied. “You’re welcome to join —“

“No,” I said instantly. “Uh, I mean. No thank you. I’m good.” My hands trembled ever so slightly. I coughed, swallowed, and picked up my leather strap, gripping it tightly to stop the shaking.

Hiccup poked his head over my shoulder. “You know—“

I elbowed him in the ribs so hard he tumbled off the log. “Whoa!” he yelped. “Jeez, y/n!”

“Sorry,” I apologised. “I- you startled me.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “No I didn’t. You just like hitting people.”

My mouth tightened. “No I don’t. And stop calling me a liar!”

“When did I call you a liar?” He got to his feet, one arm cradling his ribcage. “You’re violent for literally no reason.”

I glared at him. “You just said I was lying. And I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

Hiccup winced. “Uh- yeah you actually did. I think you broke a rib or something.”

I slammed my work to the ground, getting to my feet and facing the boy. “Stop avoiding the fact that you called me a liar! I never ever ever make up anything.”

My eyes glittered with unwanted tears. Involuntary memories sprang into my mind. My parents hugging me. My father’s voice in my hair, my younger voice begging them to promise to return soon. “Of course we will return, darling,” my father said. “We’ve never lied to you, have we now?”

I blinked, forcing the tears away. I hated crying in any situation, but I wouldn’t be able to stand crying in front of Hiccup. I’d never live it down.

“Whatever.” Hiccup glanced at me. His voice suddenly changed. “Want to see something amazing?”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “The retreating back of your head would be great, thanks.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I!” I turned away from him, and only then did I realise Astrid was nowhere to be seen. She must’ve snuck away while Hiccup and I were arguing.

Hiccup’s hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “C’mon,” he pleaded, and his voice sounded genuinely kind. “It’ll be fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “If I come with you, do you promise to leave me alone after?”

Hiccup nodded.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Where are we going?”

He grinned mischievously. “You’ll see.”

Hiccup turned, and I had no choice but to follow; partly because I was curious, and partly because I wanted him to leave me alone, and this was the only way to guarantee that.

We entered the woods that surrounded the village, and I began to get suspicious. “Hiccup?” I asked. “Where exactly are we going?”

He didn’t answer for almost a minute. “You’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes. “First, that’s not a proper answer. Two, don’t you think that you should tell me before you drag me off somewhere?”

He laughed. “C’mon. Don’t you ever do anything adventurous or risky?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I talk to you.”

“Hey!” He shot me a playful glare.

I managed a smirk. “No, but seriously. Where are you taking me?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Okay. Just stay here a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I frowned, and opened my mouth to complain, but before I could say anything, Hiccup had disappeared into the trees. I had no choice but to wait where I was.

Only a few minutes later, I heard a rush of wind, and a midnight-black dragon landed in front of me. Hiccup sat astride Toothless, one hand in the air.

I yelped, taking a few quick steps backward. “I- shoot, Hiccup. Why are you…” My voice died as Toothless stared at me. A shiver ran down my spine, making me feel sick to my stomach.

“Y/n, it’s fine,” Hiccup assured. “He won’t hurt you. Will ya, bud?”

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I- no. I can’t do this, Hiccup.” I took another step back, my entire body beginning to shake. This. This what had killed my parents. Dragons couldn’t be trusted. No matter how much Hiccup had tried to convince the village, I would never trust anyone, or anything, ever again.

Hiccup frowned. “Fine.” He leaned down and patted Toothless on the neck. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go.”

Without another word, Toothless spread his wings and they soared into the air.

I stood stock still for a whole minute before I realised I was holding my breath. I let it out all in a rush, and staggered a little. I reached out to hold onto a tree truck for support. My legs felt wobbly and unstable.

I decided it was best if I headed back for the village. I didn’t want to hang around in the woods today anymore. I had a sour taste in my mouth, and I needed some water.

I was twenty meters away from my cabin door when suddenly the ground beneath me was swept away. The village got smaller and smaller, and then I realised what was happening.

“Hiccup Haddock!” I shrieked. Toothless was holding onto my forearms, and I was suspended in the air.

“Yes, m’lady?”

“I am going to kill you!” I yelled up at him, panic temporarily pushing aside my utter agony at being defenceless against a dragon.

“Toothless, put her down,” Hiccup commanded.

Toothless flew around a huge pine tree that was significantly taller than most of the forest, and promptly dropped me onto its highest branches.

I clung to the tree truck, shaking. Tears clogged up my throat, and my legs were so trembly I thought I was going to fall and die.

“Y/n.”

At the sound of Hiccup’s voice, I slowly turned to face him. He looked almost sorry, but I knew that was impossible. The little wretch was trying to make me terrified, for what reason I could only guess. This was his biggest prank yet.

“Hiccup,” I said, trying to keep my voice level (and failing), “you will get me down from here, now.” I gripped the tree tighter. “You will take me home this instant, and you will never ever talk to me again. Do you understand?”

He blinked. “But—“

“Do you understand?!” I yelled.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Here.” He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a second, then gingerly reached out and rested my fingertips on his palm. A tingle ran up the length of my arm. He gripped my wrist, and pulled me up onto the dragon behind him.

Every part of my body that was in contact with the dragon’s felt heated up, like I could burst into flames at any moment. My head pounded in sync with my heartbeat, and my palms were getting sweaty. I was, in short, absolutely terrified.

“… let her down slowly.”

I realised Hiccup was talking. “You got that, bud?”

Toothless made an exasperated grunt, sounding more like a sarcastic teenager than a dragon. That didn’t make me feel any better.

Toothless slowly spread his wings, and for a second, I almost relaxed. Maybe he would fly down gently like Hiccup had asked.

The next second, my illusion shattered. Toothless took off so fast I almost toppled off. I was forced to grab onto the nearest thing to stay onboard (on-dragon?). Unfortunately, that thing happened to be Hiccup.

Whatever. I’d rather not die today. I gripped his shoulders so tightly my knuckles turned white. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, as if not seeing would make it better for me.

The wind whipped in my ears, blowing my dark hair all around my face. I was so scared, so worried, so distraught I felt like crying. I couldn’t, though. I wasn’t dumb enough to cry in front of Hiccup. He would never let me hear the end of it.

Suddenly, I felt the dragon beneath me twisting sideways. We started spinning, twirling in tight circles. My grip tightened on Hiccup’s shoulders.

Someone was screaming, and I was like eighty-five percent sure it was me.

“Toothless!” Hiccup yelled. “Stop this right now! You’re scaring her!”

Toothless took that as a challenge, and dove toward the ocean a hundred feet below. He showed absolutely no signs of slowing or stopping in any way. I opened my eyes, wanting to at least be able to see something in case I died because of this.

“Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile,” Hiccup muttered. I slowly began to realise that maybe Hiccup wasn’t the one at fault here. Of course. It was the dragon’s fault. Dragons weren’t to be trusted, which was exactly what I’d been thinking this whole time.

Just as we were about to hit the water, Toothless opened up his wings. We shot upward, soaring towards the sugar-spun clouds above us.

We levelled out, and my muscles lost some of their tension. Toothless floated in the air, almost flying gently now. I remembered how to breathe, and let out a long, breathless sigh.

“Hiccup,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “I am going to murder you.”

I melted into him, partly in relief that I wasn’t dead, partly in exhausted terror. My arms went around his waist, my forehead falling to rest on his back. My eyes fluttered shut, and a lone tear streaked down my cheek.

Hiccup didn’t say anything for a long while, and so neither did I. Toothless flew long and slow and level, giving me the slightest chance of not murdering him, too.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that. All I remember is Hiccup’s voice saying softly, “Sweet dreams, love,” before I fell into the welcome arms of sleep.

I woke slowly, curled in a ball inside a warm, soft bed that didn’t feel like mine. When I finally opened my eyes, I realised why it didn’t feel familiar. I wasn’t even in my house.

I sat up, looking around, trying to work out where I was. With a start, I couldn’t even think of a time I’d been inside any other houses in the village except for Astrid’s. I had no idea whose house this was.

“Morning, m’lady,” said a deep voice from the top of the stairs.

I groaned internally. “Oh, gosh, of course it’s you.” I found myself pulling my fingers through my hair, brushing it as nearly as I could, straightening my shirt, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

I dragged myself out of the bed. I was still dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, my usual top and skirt combo, with leggings underneath for warmth. My boots were lying on the floor, so I yanked them on.

I glanced up at Hiccup, who was hanging over the banisters, watching me. With a jolt, all the memories of yesterday flooded in.

Red-hot anger filled me. I clenched my fists. “Are you gonna come down here, or should I just murder you up there?”

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “I- what?”

“You heard me,” I muttered. My knife was missing from my belt, which was just great. I’d probably lost in on that horrific flight yesterday.

I stomped up the stairs, stopping on the one below the one Hiccup was standing on. He leaned against the banister, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Hey shortcake,” he whispered teasingly. “Sleep well?”

I gritted my teeth. “You are so beyond dead right now, Hiccup.”

He chuckled. “Hey. Blame Toothless, alright? There was nothing I could do!”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “Um, okay. And he’s your dragon.”

“That doesn’t mean I can control him!”

I didn’t answer, my gaze sliding away from Hiccup. I sighed, laid my palm on the cold wood banister. “I don’t ever want you to talk to me again, okay? I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to hear you. I don’t even want to know you exist.”

I felt a glistening tear streak its way down my cheek, dripping off the bottom of my chin. “Just—“ My voice broke. “Just leave me alone.”

I turned, and ran out of the house, leaving his door wide open. I headed for the only place I could think of; the woods.

I didn’t stop running until I was deep in the forest, surrounded by unfamiliar trees. I dropped to my knees in the dirt, buried my face in my hands and cried.

Hours later, I slowly rose to my feet. It was growing steadily dark, and the cold was seeping into my bone. I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself as I walked around in a small circle.

I realised, horrified, that I was completely lost. I had no idea whatsoever where I was, which direction the village was, or what time of day it even was right now.

I eventually sat down on a rock, pulling my knees up to my chest. The darkness was growing. Soon, I didn’t think I would be able to see a thing. I began to get worried.

Who knew what things might be hiding in the shadows? My hand instinctively went to my belt, my my knife was gone. I cursed under my breath, and stood, pressing my back against a tree. I figured it would be safer than sitting on an exposed rock.

I shivered, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, my eyes turning towards the sky, hoping, for some insane reason, that someone might be out there looking for me.

Who was I kidding? Who was there that even cared about me that much? I didn’t have parents who were waiting back at home, wondering how late I was going to stay out. I didn’t have siblings who would notice my absence.

Astrid wouldn’t notice this late at night. I tended to wander during the day; she was used to that, but at night it wouldn’t even occur to her that I was anywhere but home.

Hiccup briefly crossed my mind, but I truly did not think he cared about me that much. I didn’t even want him to. I was still so mad at Hiccup, thinking about him made it hard to breathe. I hated him.

“I hate Hiccup Haddock,” I whispered under my breath, trying to make myself feel better. My breath made a wisp of steam in the cold air. I watched it as it floated into nothingness.

My vision suddenly blurred, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of exhaustion or tears. I slumped down to the ground, my legs giving way. I drew my knees close to my chest, hugging them to me. My chin rested on my knees, gazing out at the woods, though I could barely make out anything anymore. I couldn’t even see my own hand clearly, let alone anything else.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, but eventually, I slipped into a deep sleep, half-frozen, chilled to the bone, alone and crying in the darkness.

“Y/n! Y/n? Y/n/n?!”

My eyes fluttered open. I groaned in pain. I felt someone’s arms encircling me, carrying me, but I couldn’t make out anything. Everything was blurred, hazy. The person carrying me was talking, but it sounded far away and watery.

I slumped against the person’s shoulder, closing my eyes. I was tired: so, so tired. Everything ached; my head pounded and throbbed.

I don’t think I feel back asleep, but I wasn’t really aware of anything for a long while. Finally, the person slowed to a walk, and laid me down on a couch or a bed or something. A cup was held to my lips, and I gratefully accepted the water.

I blinked several times, and my eyes focused on a very familiar looking boy, who’s green eyes were staring down at me, full of concern.

“Hiccup?” I asked weakly. “What are you…?”

“I found you in the middle of the woods,” Hiccup replied, his eyes darkening slightly. “Are you okay? Do you need anything else? More water? Are-are you warm enough?”

I laid my head back, rubbing my thumb against my throbbing temple. I let out a long sigh, whether it was of annoyance or exhaustion or pain, I wasn’t sure.

“I hate you so much,” I muttered.

“Gee, thanks,” Hiccup answered. He held the back of his hand against my forehead, testing my temperature. “You don’t seem to be too sick. I think you’re going to be okay,” he said, almost to himself.

“I’m not sick at all,” I said firmly. “I don’t even know why you’re taking care of me. I don’t need you. You—“ My voice suddenly broke with emotion. “You did this to me.”

Hiccup’s eyes filled with sorrow. “Look, Y/n/n—“

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

He blinked. “Y/n. I-I am so sorry for what happened yesterday. I, well, I thought it might make it better if you saw that dragons aren’t always vicious. Um…” He glanced down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Toothless didn’t really get the memo.”

He looked at me. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. And I hope that maybe someday you can find it in you to forgive me.” He stood, brushed off his pants, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

I lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but Hiccup had brought me home. I was in my bed, in my house. I could hear small noises from downstairs, which meant that Hiccup was still here. I wasn’t sure what he was doing down there, but I didn’t really care.

What I cared about right now was what he’d said. And what it had made happen inside of me. Was I really as mad at him as I thought I was? After all, he’d gone out and found me, brought me home, taken care of me. Maybe he’d been trying to be nice, and it really was Toothless who had been doing all those things to me. (Which just proved all my theories that dragons weren’t to be trusted).

I thought again of Hiccup’s eyes staring down at me, his sad voice asking me for forgiveness. The worry in his expression when he asked if I was okay. I hated how much I’d liked that. I hadn’t ever been in love, or even had a crush on anyone. I wasn’t sure if this even was a crush, but if it was, I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like the swirling in my stomach when I heard Hiccup’s voice. I hated how much I suddenly wanted him near me. I disliked how I kind of trusted him. I didn’t want to be in love. I didn’t want to have somebody I believed in again.

Last time I’d loved someone, trusted someone, all they’d done was break my heart and leave me forever. My parents. I wondered if part of my hatred inside was because I’d never truly forgiven them for leaving. For dying and not coming back for me like they’d sworn they would. I blinked back tears, brushing my cheeks with the back of my hand.

I swung my legs out of the bed, standing. I swayed a bit at first, but I forced myself to be steady. I yanked on my boots and slowly pushed open my bedroom door. I stepped out onto the landing, peeping over the edge of the banisters.

Hiccup was down in the kitchen. I was shocked at how much cleaner everything looked. I barely ever tidied up. Not that things got particularly dirty, as I spent little time here, but dust had certainly stocked up over the years. Hiccup had scrubbed away the five years of dirt from my home, and it was sparkling.

Something smelled good, too. It hit me like a brick wall that the fire was going, and Hiccup was cooking something over it. It looked like soup or something similar. I hadn’t had a home cooked meal for ages. I hated cooking, so I just lived on things I grew in the garden, or tidbits from friends.

I shifted slightly, and a floorboard underneath me creaked. Hiccup glanced up, and when he saw me, a slight smile flickered across his face. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back, not sure what else to say. I mean, I’d just yelled at him, and made it pretty clear I didn’t ever want to talk to him again. What do you say to someone who’s just cleaned your entire house and taken care of you after you told them that? “What are you making?”

Hiccup glanced down at the pot he was stirring, then back up at me. “Chicken and potato soup. Want some?”

I hesitated, but nodded, with a small shrug. “Why not.” I slowly walked down the stairs, my eyes on Hiccup the whole time. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from him.

He noticed me staring and smiled nervously. “What? Am I in trouble?”

I found myself slowly shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.” I allowed myself a small, watery smile. “At least not yet.”

Hiccup grinned. “Good. Now sit down and eat.”

I obeyed, setting myself down at the old dining table. I wiped my palm on the wood, expecting it to be coated it dirt, but it shone with new cleanliness. My eyes suddenly filled with tears.

“Hiccup…” was all I could manage.

Immediately, Hiccup knelt in front of me. “What’s wrong?” he asked, almost urgently, staring up into my eyes. “Are you alright?”

I swallowed. “You-you cleaned the house… you’re cooking… I- you…” I let out a broken sob.

For so long, so one had cared. Astrid cared the most, but she was busy with Stormfly and her new baby brother and life in general. She’d offered a few times to have me stay with her and her family, but I’d known that would be far too hard for them. I’d always politely told her I was just fine on my own, thank you. But I wasn’t. I knew that. I needed someone to care so badly that now that someone did, someone cared, it almost hurt.

“Hey, hey,” Hiccup said softly, grabbing me by the shoulders. I realised I was shaking.

“It’s alright,” he assured me. “Come here.” He brought me into a hug, which at first both startled and scared me, but then I melted into it. The hug felt unfamiliar, different, awkward. But nice, somehow.

But this was Hiccup. I untangled myself from him. “Uh,” I stammered, tucking my hair behind my ear, eyes flitting away. “Thanks.”

Hiccup shrugged. “It’s fine.” He stood slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yes. I mean, no. I-I guess? I’m not sure…” I stared up at him. “Hiccup, why are you doing this?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean?” He gestured around. “You needed help. You need help. I am the son of the chief; soon to be the chief myself. It’s my job to help the village.”

Something inside me wilted a little. So this was just part of the job to him? The rest of me internally yelled at that bit to shut up, and that we hated Hiccup, so it doesn’t matter what he does. But why did I hate Hiccup?

Thinking back on it now, I really didn’t think he had ever done anything truly bad towards me. Yeah, sure, he’d been a total tease, but I was a rude, bitter, secluded brat to be honest. I didn’t deserve any help from him.

I blinked back unwanted tears. “Um, well, I really appreciate it,” I said. “It was really nice of you to come looking for me.”

Hiccup studied my face for a moment, then pursed his lips and nodded once. “It’s okay, Y/n/n.”

Something inside me jolted. No one had called me that in years before today, when Hiccup had started to. It was the nickname my father had given me. Hearing Hiccup use it had just opened up a deep wound inside me I hadn’t even remembered.

“Please don’t call me that,” I whispered, staring at the floorboards. My feet hung limply in the air just above the floor.

Hiccup glanced over at me from where he was standing, stirring the soup. “Um, okay. Sorry, Y/n.” He stressed my name, saying it slightly slower than the rest of his words.

There was so much tension in the air, and I realised it was all my fault. I made the room awkward and made Hiccup have to watch everything he said. I was a terrible person.

I’d even told Hiccup never to talk to me again, right after I’d woken up in his house. It hit me that he must’ve taken me there after the awful flight on Toothless. Then, I’d screamed in his face that I hated him, and gotten myself lost in the woods because I was selfish and prideful and full of hate.

Even then, Hiccup had gone out and found me. Who knew how long that had taken him? He’d brought me back here, cleaned my house, made me food, and for what? For me to be snappy, harsh, and rude.

I ran my tongue over my lower lip, staring resolutely at the floor. “Hiccup?” I managed finally.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?” I looked at him, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Be honest.”

Hiccup hesitated, stirring the wooden spoon listlessly around the soup. “What do you mean?” he said finally.

I sighed, sitting up straight and brushing off my skirts. “You know… helping me.” I have a little laugh. “Heavens knows you don’t need to. So why are you really doing all this?”

Hiccup chewed his lip. “Because I’m going to be the Chief of Berk pretty soon. I need to be able to protect my people.” His gaze fixed on mine. “Even when they don’t like me, or want me to.”

Under his fierce eyes, my insides crinkled. I felt exposed, as if I was being examined under a bright light. I dropped my gaze.

“I’m sorry…” I managed, the words sounding funny in my mouth. I hadn’t apologised to Hiccup, for anything, ever.

“It’s okay.” His voice sounded surprisingly even, like he wasn’t even bothered about all this. So it was just me feeling all these things, was it? He was truly just doing this out of a sense of duty. And honestly, why shouldn’t he? I’d already told myself I was a rude little brat, to be totally honest. I didn’t deserve to have people look after me, at all.

I didn’t meet Hiccup’s eyes. “Um, that’s cool. But thank you, really.”

Hiccup nodded, and handed me a steaming mug of hot soup. “Eat up,” he said. “I’ll leave you the rest… have a good night, Y/n.”

And with that, he disappeared. The house felt suddenly very small and lonely, and I shrunk into myself, staring into the fire, sipping tiny bits of soup until I was all warmed up inside.

I gazed around the cabin. It looked so different, all shining and clean. It made me feel like maybe I might be able to move on; get over them leaving me. I shook my head. That would never happen. I didn’t think I was capable of letting it go, of moving forward with my life. I was seventeen years old, and I still held a grudge against my parents for ‘abandoning’ me when I was twelve.

Thoughts whirled through my brain, at an almost dizzying rate. I left my mug on the table, and went to stand by the open window, facing out into the main road of Berk.

A few children were playing in it, kicking a round wooden ball to each other. I watched them for a minute or two, before an absurd idea struck me. I pushed open the front door. “Hey!” I yelled.

The kids turned to look at me, momentarily forgetting their game. “Can I join you guys?” I asked, feeling brave.

The oldest girl looked confused for a moment, then after a brief pause, gave me a smile and a nod. “Sure!” she called.

I grinned, and shut my door behind me, jogging over to them. Playing ball was something I hadn’t done in years, but it felt good to just relax for a while. Plus, it was amazing to see others doing an activity that didn’t revolve around dragons, so I could join in.

Dragons. I shuddered a little, remembering the awful ride on Toothless, and making my feelings around Hiccup even more complicated.

After a good long play, I collapsed to the ground in a heap, blowing up my breath. “Gosh,” I managed. “I can see why kids like playing ball. It’s fun.” I offered the girl who’d let me come play with them a small smile.

“You’re Y/n, aren’t you?” the girl asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated. How did they know who I was? I never really talked to anyone except Astrid, Hiccup and a few other people. Certainly not the children.

“Yeah, I am,” I said slowly. “How do you know my name?”

The little girl allowed herself a smug smile. “Hiccup told us about you.” Turning, she threw the ball to one of her friends.

I was dumbfounded. “Hiccup?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah. He told us you guys used to be friends but now you’re mean to him and won’t let him be nice to you anymore. He said he misses being your friend.”

I wrinkled my nose, staring at her. “Hiccup said he misses me?” I scoffed finally. “There’s no way. You must have heard him wrong. Hiccup hurt me incredibly badly when we were six years old, and ever since then he’s teased and bothered me almost to death. I will never be his friend again.”

I stood, suddenly angry all over again. Angry about how hurt I was, how much I hated Hiccup and my parents for hurting me. I clenched my teeth. “Thank you for letting me join you. Bye.”

I turned and began the walk uphill to Astrid’s house. Right now, I really needed to see my best friend.

When Astrid opened the door, she immediately noticed something was wrong. She frowned. “Are you alright?”

I shook my head. “Everything is so hopeless, A.”

Astrid made a sympathetic face and pulled me into a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Come on, come inside. It’s freezing.”

Maybe it was. I felt so numb I didn’t think I would’ve noticed even if it was cold enough to give me frostbite. I felt like my insides were frozen, unable to feel anything at all.

Astrid pulled me inside, sitting me down on a chair beside the roaring fire. She knelt down in front of me. “What happened?” she asked, staring into my face.

I shook my head, looking away from her. “I… I don’t even know…” I began to cry, dropping my head in my hands.

Astrid pursed her lips, hugging me again. “Is it your parents? Hiccup? Tell me.”

I took a deep breath, and slowly began to tell her the entire story, beginning yesterday, when Hiccup took me into the woods and the whole, horrible ride on Toothless began. I kept my eyes steadily fixed on the fire as I spoke, quietly recounting the flight, the fight, being lost in the woods and then Hiccup rescuing me and cleaning my house. I even told her about the awkward hug.

The only thing I couldn’t manage to admit to Astrid was how I felt about Hiccup. I couldn’t decide if I hated his guts, or if I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again.

When I was finished, Astrid let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, babe,” she said. “But if you ask me… Hiccup wasn’t at fault for what Toothless was doing during that flight. I think he might be telling you the truth; that he just wanted you to see that dragons aren’t dangerous.”

I nodded slowly. I was beginning to believe that. Of course, that just made me hate dragons even more, but there was no point saying that aloud. Astrid knew I hated dragons even more than I hated Hiccup. I would never, ever trust a dragon.

Astrid studied me. “Do you want to know what else I think?”

I glanced at her. “By the look on your face, no. But I guess you’re going to tell me anyway, so… sure.”

Astrid suppressed a smile. “You know me too well,” she said. “But, what I think is, you don’t hate Hiccup at all. You’re just angry. At your parents mostly. But Hiccup hurt you too, years ago. You’re alone now, so you’re taking out your anger on the only person you have any sort of justification to do so to.”

I was silent. Sadly, her words rang hard and true. I could finally see that, yes, my hatred of Hiccup was really just anger at myself, and my parents. It had honestly nothing to do with Hiccup himself. He’d just been unfortunate enough to annoy me all those years ago, so now I’d decided to hate him because of it.

I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve been so stupid,” I muttered.

“Not stupid,” Astrid said. “Kinda crazy, maybe, but not stupid.”

I looked at her. “I think… I think I should go and apologize to someone.”

She smiled. “Go.”

I jumped to my feet and ran, leaving her front door swinging open in the wind.

I didn’t stop running until I reached Hiccup’s house. I burst inside without thinking about knocking, but stopped short on the threshold.

“Stoick!” I gaped, trying to find the right words. “I, I am so sorry—“

“Y/n,” Stoick replied, getting to his feet. “What brings you here in such a hurry?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”

I nodded breathlessly. “What? Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thanks, I just —“

“Were you looking for Hiccup?”

I pursed my lips. “I might’ve been.”

Stoick chuckled. “You’ve got spirit, lass. I like that about you.”

I blinked. “Um, thank you?”

“He’s at the beach.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Chief.”

The path that ran towards the beach was thin and steep, covered in loose rocks that skidded under my shoes. More than once I almost fell off the cliff side.

When I reached the beach, I was surprised at how small it seemed. Then again, I hadn’t been here since I was little. I guess my memories of it had faded. With a start, I realised that the last time I had been here was probably with Hiccup himself, back when we were small and best friends.

I spotted Hiccup’s figure walking through the surf a few hundred meters away. I started toward him, slowly in case I scared him with a sudden approach.

The beach itself was small and rocky, round black stones instead of proper sand. The waves here were little and inconsistent, barely making a splash. Sometimes in the summer, we would have a day or two of good weather, and the waves would be bigger, but that was a pretty rare occurrence.

I reached Hiccup, who was now standing with his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“What do you see?” I whispered.

“Freedom,” he replied softly, turning to look at me. “When I’m riding Toothless, nothing is impossible. Me, a human, can fly on the back of a dragon. There is something magical about that, Y/n.”

I chewed my lip, considering his words. I guess there was something amazing about that fact, but still… dragons.

“Um,” I said. “I came here to apologise.”

Hiccup’s green eyes turned a darker shade. “For what?”

I dug the side of my shoe in the sand, my eyes sliding away from his. “For… everything.”

He waited, his eyes roaming my face.

I swallowed. “For not being your friend when I should have been. For hating you and your love for dragons. For being a terrible person. For hitting you and hating you and making your life miserable.” During this little speech, my voice had gotten higher and louder. Now it broke, and I felt tears brimming to my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hiccup,” I cried.

Hiccup didn’t say anything. He stared at me for a count of five, while tears began to stream down my cheeks. What was wrong with me this week? For years, I’d barely cried at all, hiding my emotions inside. Now I was crying, again.

Hiccup did something I didn’t expect. He grabbed my face between his hands. They were tougher than I would’ve thought, calloused and hard from working with metals and wood and materials. He stared into my eyes for long enough for my tears to stop flowing. “Y/n,” he said. “It’s okay. You were forgiven years ago.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace. A week ago, I would’ve fought and hit and yelled at him, but now? I melted into Hiccup’s body, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms tightly around him, letting my tears flow freely.

For the first time since my parents died, I felt at peace.

For the next three weeks, I tried my hardest to start a routine. To start cleaning my house, cooking meals every day, and (the hardest part of all), going out and talking to someone each and every morning.

Sometimes I just talked to Astrid, when it got bad and I truly couldn’t get enough emotion energy to talk to anyone else. But sometimes I managed. I talked to the kids playing in the streets, to the other girls I never really talked to before, to the guys helping out in the dragon-saddle-making workshop.

But mostly, I talked to Hiccup. I talked to him as if we’d never stopped being friends, as if we were six years old again. It honestly surprised me how easy it was to get along with him now that I didn’t have an eternal grudge against him. Hiccup was still the same person he’d always been. It was me who had changed.

I made an effort to even start working. I’d never done anything like it before, really, but it was honestly alright. I had a few shifts at the dragon workshop a week, and it was kind of fun after a while. Yeah, sure, I still got terrified when someone actually brought their dragon to the shop, but for the most part it was good.

Hiccup worked there sometimes as well, and so did Stoick. Astrid didn’t, because she was a dragon trainer and didn’t really have the time. I would’ve liked it if we were able to work together, but there was no way I would be able to train dragons. At all.

But, you know, life was pretty alright. I still had scars, deep and hidden and probably incurable, but I also had friends. And hope. And maybe, just maybe, a future.

I woke up screaming. My bedsheets were clutched tight in my fists, a tangled mess around my legs. Hot tears were still rolling down my cheeks, and my chest heaved, as if I’d just run the length of the island in my sleep.

I tried to swallow, tried to even out my breathing. My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow properly. I reached for the glass of water that I always had beside my bed, and gulped it down.

I could still evision the awful images from my dreams. Hiccup, Astrid, my parents, all trapped in a circle of flaming dragons. They were screaming for me, calling my name. I couldn’t move, my legs seemingly stuck to the ground. I could do nothing but watch as the dragons slowly spread over the bodies of my loved ones, devouring them. I sank to my knees, screaming in agony.

I shivered, climbing out from under the sheets. I needed to get out of this empty house. I didn’t care if it was the middle of the night, I had to see someone.

I hurried down the stairs, bursting out into the night. Stars glittered in the sky, the night quiet and bright. The cold wind hit me like a wall, and I shuddered. I hadn’t thought of grabbing my jacket.

My feet moved faster than my mind, taking me somewhere that I didn’t even know I wanted to be. I slipped inside Hiccup’s house, tiptoeing to where I knew his room was.

Outside his door, I finally realised what I was doing. Sneaking into Hiccup’s room in the dead of night? What was I thinking? Was I crazy?

Maybe I am, I thought, slowly pushing open Hiccup’s door. I stood still on his doorway for a moment, before quietly slipping over to the side of his bed.

“Hiccup?” I breathed, almost soundlessly.

“Y/n?” Hiccup was instantly awake, sitting up in his bed. “What are you…? Why are you here? Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse from sleep, and he squinted at me.

I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? Oh, I just had a dream about you dying and it terrified me so I’m here to make sure you’re still alive? Of course I wasn’t going to say that.

“I had a nightmare.” I bit my lip, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

Hiccup’s dark eyes gazed into mine. He leaned back slightly, so he could see me more clearly. “Why did you come to me?” he asked quietly, his voice ragged and raspy.

I dropped my gaze. “You were the only one I thought of coming to,” I whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Hiccup said. “Do… do you want to stay here? Or do you want me to walk you back to your house?”

I hesitated. “Could I please just stay here, with you?” I met his eyes for a brief second.

He smiled. “Anything for you.” He said it so flippantly, I might’ve missed it any other time. But my brains snagged on the words, turning them over and over in my mind. Anything for you…

“Thank you, Hiccup,” I whispered. We were both silent for a while. “Can I… can I stay with you until morning?” I asked.

Hiccup stared at me, then nodded. I slowly crawled onto his bed, leaning against the bed-head. Hiccup glanced at me, then lay back down on his pillow. After a moment, I snuggled down next to him, hyper aware of every part of my body under the sheets.

We were nose to nose. I could feel his hot breath on my face. His green eyes glittered in the darkness.

“Goodnight y/n,” he whispered groggily. “I hope you don’t have any more nightmares.” With that, he closed his eyes, and I heard no more from him.

[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[sunroxic]

pairing: logan howlett x mutant! fem oc

warning: a bit depiction of blood and wounds, protective logan, oc is erik's daughter, NOT BETA READ ( idk maybe missed something )

word count: 1,7k

a/n: i'm not the best writer, i just write this bcs logan is the loml so sorry if this is terrible

“I know, cut him some slack, Lo,” She chuckles to the phone line as she drive her car back to the mansion. She just finished buying some things from the grocery store as she called Logan on her way home.

“Nah, it's fun seeing lil’ Scotty get all riled up,” The older man replied from the other side of the call. His low chuckles quickly follows. “On your way home, bub?”

“Yep, already close. I’ll get there in maybe 2 minutes. Got your be-” She answered, but her answer was cut off by a loud crashing sound.

From her right side, a drunk driver drove in a high speed carelessly as he was barely sober. It’s too late for her to realise as he already crashed his car onto hers.

“Bub? What's goin’ on? Nan?” Hearing the crashing sound, Logan began to worry. It makes it even worse that she didn't answer him but he can still hear the other end of the call.

A groan of pain. Her voice. Logan puts the piece together and he quickly goes downstairs to get where she is. He met with Scott as he walked at such a speed.

“Why the rush?” Scott asked as he quickly just walked past him when he usually bicker with him first.

“Nanda got into accident.” He replied as he look was looking for the bike key. Hearing that, Scott quickly turned around and follow him. He doesn't need anymore explanation, all the unusual from Logan is enough tell.

Scott snatched the car keys from the table, “I'll drive. Too dangerous if you drive.” He quickly open his car and start the engine. In normal circumstances, Logan would not agree to this but right now what matters is they get to her fast and also safe. His head is way too hazy because of his worry.

On their way to her, Logan kept the call line connected and kept talking to her even though he's unsure whether she can hear him or not, “Baby, hang on, we're almost there.”, “Bub, i'm almost there.” His voice cracks ever so slightly from trying to hold back his tears.

When they arrived at the scene, Logan quickly jumped out of the car, walking through the crowd trying to find his girl, Scott swiftly followed from behind.

In the centre of the scene, there's the car she drove, severely damaged. The drunk guy's car who crashed into her seems to not take that much damage, but hers seems very bad.

“Sir you cannot be here.” A police officer trying to push Logan behind the barrier the police has put. “Get the fuck away from me!” Logan pushed him away at ease. He spotted her inside an ambulance was about to be taken to hospital. He quickly ran to it.

“Are you family?” A paramedic asked him. “Yes, yes i'm her boyfriend.” He answered but his eyes still locked on her. The paramedic let him in to travel along in the ambulance to the hospital.

He never expect he would see her in such state. Covered with blood and cuts, almost unconscious, barely any pulse on her. He reached to held her hand gently,

“Please, i can't lose you, baby, i can't.” The tears that he has been holding finally caught up. He can't cope if he has to lose her.

As they arrive at the hospital, she immediately get brought to the operating room. Logan waited outside, his head still unable to fully work. Doesn't take long til Scott and the others arrive there, they waited there with him.

“Logan, how is she? Is she going to be okay?” Erik came in rushed, his face full of worry. That's his daughter that is getting operated inside that room.

“No idea, they just brought her in.” His voice sounded rough and hoarse, probably because of the crying before everyone arrived.

While everyone was sitting in silence, waiting for any news about her, a police officer came approaching.

“Family of Nanda Lehnsherr?” He asked. This officer is the one who try to push Logan way back in the scene. But he's not alone, he's with a guy who Logan remember seeing back in the crime scene too. He has a few freshly treated cut on his face and arms but nothing much.

“I would like to ask if family would be pressing charges against Mr. ( l/n ).” The police officer asked.

“This fucking guy is who did it?” Logan stand up as he ask the officer, which alert everyone at that very second, he seems like he smell something, “You're fucking drunk, asshole?” Now his eyes are toward the drunk guy.

His claws stick out, he walks forward to the guy wanting to hurt him so bad for what he did to her. Scott stopped him by standing in front him and held back his shoulder.

“Not worth it, Logan, let's focus on her and get this guy the punishment he deserves through justice.” Scott said in a low voice, trying to calm him.

He still looks at that guy like he's gonna rip the guy's heart out of his body alive. But he did retract his claws and slowly back off to where he was.

On the other side, there's also someone that is very close to killing that guy for what he did to his daughter but he knows he needs to collect himself for her.

“Yes. We would like to fucking press charges.” Erik said in a very sharp tone as he gave the drunk guy a threatening glare.

After that the police officer left with that guy, leaving the x-men in there, still waiting for any news about her condition.

It took about 2 and a half hour until the door open, revealing the doctor coming out. They all stand in unison, anxious about the news gonna's she's about to tell.

“How is she? Is she gonna be okay?” Logan is the one who asks, his tone is a mix of worry and hopeful.

“The operation was a success. She already went through her critical condition and now we just have to wait until she wakes up.”

Those two sentences. Everyone felt relieved. For the first time after their phone call, Logan seems to finally take a breath. He thought he was gonna lose her for a moment.

“She will be moved into a room immediately.” The doctor continued. She then went back inside the operating room.

For what seems like eternity, she is finally moved to a room where they can finally see her. Her eyes closed, her face looks very peaceful as she is still in deep sleep. Yet everyone is so grateful that she made it, after what she went through.

Logan is sitting beside her, unmoving despite his friends telling him he needs some food or bath or even sleep properly, ready for her when she wakes up. He has her hand on his, softly caressing her hand, not wanting to let go.

For a whole two days Logan sat there, he kept whispering to her, asking her to wake up soon, apologising for not being there sooner, telling her how much he loves her, everything.

Even the big wolverine can eventually fall asleep after two whole days staying awake, but his hand never let her hand go even in his sleep.

Slow but surely, her eyes flutter open. She winced as her eyes were hit by the light of the lamp after being in deep sleep for days. She could feel her body felt like it was hit by a car. Her eyes roamed around, looking at the room she was in. Eventually her eyes found him, her boyfriend, sitting on a chair next to her, holding her hand.

A small smile appear on her chapped lips, she wiggle the fingers of her hand that he is holding which easily wake him up by how alert he is in his sleep.

“Baby? You awake?” His eyes beamed, he looks at her and after such a long time not seeing her beautiful eyes, he finally get too see that again.

“You smell like shit.” She said in a hoarse voice. Come to think of it, she probably should say something else after she woke up.

“Yeah, like I fucking care,” He replied with a smile on his lips. He scoots his chair closer to her bed, “How’re you feeling, bub?” His hand gently strokes her hair then moves to stroke her cheek.

“Like I just got hit by a fucking car,” She throw a terrible joke followed by a smile on her lips, “God my throat hurt so bad.” She whined, still in a very hoarse voice. It has been days since she could physically drink water, of course her throat would hurt

Logan chuckled, this girl just woke up from a coma and she could make a terrible joke. He then helped her to drink some water from the glass next to her.

He kissed her hand that is still in his, “Thought I'd lose you, baby,” Tears rolling down his cheeks. Though losing her eventually will be inevitable, he still never could be ready for when the time comes.

“Hey, James, look at me.” She softly calls him out with his first name, the one she loves to call him when she is being very affectionate.

He lifted his head up, meeting her gaze which also glazed with tears. “You won’t lose me that easily, I promise you, love.” She assured him as her fingers softly wiped his tears.

He leaned to her touch, giving her hand more kisses, “I’ll protect you, bub. From anything in this world, i’ll fucking protect you.” He promised, not only to her, but also himself. He would do whatever it takes to give his girl anything in this world.

“I know, love, I know. I love you, James.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said it. It’s a lie if she says she wasn’t scared back there, she thought she was gonna die and she was gonna die alone, without him.

“I love you too, bub.” He replied as he moves forward to give her lips a gentle and soft kiss.

Fin.

[realcube]

hiii my sweet toe bunny😍😚🤎 i have an upcoming gigahuge exam bc it will determine whether i have to go to school for another whole damn year or not so im getting the stress hornies big time!! your requests seem to be open for some reason?! good writers like you are usually busy with a flood of them so i can never request anything😭 but anyways i was gonna throw you this little peanut, a classic really: size kink with lev! dont even know if you write for him lol, couldnt see it on ur profile🥲 i think he’d have the size kink more than any of us ever could, i just feel like he goes crazy especially if its a much shorter person. bc having a size difference from far away is one thing, but being right next to the person and interacting with them and putting your hand on their back and realizing you’re nearly twice their size… is another.

feel free to ignore this pookie butt im soo sorry if this is too specific or something ☹️☹️ writing is hard and getting inspired by someone elses idea is even harder, so yeah. stay hydrated and keep emitting gamma rays☃️

LEV HAIBA + SIZE KINK

a/n → not the sweet toe bunny 😭 stress hornies is so real, sorry for replying so late rah. but i hope your exam went well. or if you haven't sat it yet , good luck and i hope this helps :) also thank you so much for i compliments i can'tttt aaa 😩 wc — 2.5k

tags/tws → size kink (ofc lol), petite!reader, breeding, vaginal, fingering, oral (giving), frenching, petnames, semi-public, pregnancy implications & no beta

you've seen haiba lev before, in magazines and on billboards. sometimes even on television, promoting luxury perfumes in advertisements or modelling designer clothes on the runway.

you knew he was tall — most models are — but it was only when you saw him in person that you realised how truly big he is, how he towers over everyone else on set.

you work as an intern for a famous fashion brand, and you met haiba during a photoshoot he was doing for their new office wear campaign. your job was mostly fetching food or drinks for the models; making sure they were comfortable at all times.

the first interaction you ever had with him was when you were handing out water bottles to the models as they walked onto set, and as soon as you saw his huge frame saunter in, you almost froze from shock. he flashes you a polite smile and mouthed a quick "thank you" as he followed the director to where ever she was leading him.

and though it was brief, that was enough to have you fixated on him for the rest of the photoshoot. you were attentive to your duties but still so mesmerised by him. his lean figure and silvery hair. you had always known lev haiba was exceptionally attractive — he's a model, for fucks' sake — but something about seeing him in person made you feral.

and little did you know, after he first saw you, lev kept an eye out for you too. admiring from afar how hard you worked, and making sure to flex just a little bit more for the photos whenever you were nearby. he just thought you were so cute.

you assumed this whole situation would end as a little temporary work crush. you can fangirl over him for now and blush whenever he smirks at you from across the room, but once this shoot was over, he would never think of you again, while you'd go back to seeing his face plastered nearly everywhere and fantasize about what could've been.

but that wasn't lev's idea. he was used to pursing what he wants.

when the shoot is nearing completion for the day, lev has a long conversation with the photographer and is one of the last models to leave the set.

you were tasked with helping the models remove the designer's clothes, if they needed it. thankfully the majority of them didn't and by the time lev entered the changing room, all the others were leaving to go home, and you were wishing them a safe journey.

"excuse me, ms?" you hear a voice call from the changing room, followed by lev stepping out from behind curtain. he was previously wearing a full suit, but you can see he's shedded the black blazer and was now in only the fitted white shirt, black trousers and dress shoes.

he was looking down and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "could you help with this, please?" he asks with an awkward chuckle.

lips slightly parted at his unexpected inquiry, once the initial shock fades, you hastily nod and guide him back into the changing room, and this time you enter with him.

it's a confined area but still somewhat big. there's enough space for the two of you to stand, a stool, a clothes rack and full length mirror. he stands before you while you work on unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the top.

"sorry for asking you do this. the buttons are just too small for me." he holds his hands up as a size comparison, and they're undoubtly big.

"it's okay," you stutter, not daring to break your intense stare with his buttons because you know if you were to look up at his face, you might die. "i know these can be very fiddly sometimes."

"exactly." he nods in agreement.

it takes you quite a while to even reach his mid-torso because your hands are shaking so much from being in such close proximity to a celebrity you admire so much. and not only that, but you're literally taking his clothes off. and lev takes notice of his and comments, "nervous?"

your eyes widen and you freeze, heart jumping to your throat. eventually, you're able to squeak, "kinda."

"why?" he laughs, but not in a mocking way. he's genuinely confused as to why you'd be scared of someone like him. it's funny because people usually praise him for being very friendly and approachable.

"you're just.." your voice trails off, trying to think of a way to explain yourself without sounding offensive. "intimidating, y'know, in stature."

lev laughs even harder this time, "woah, that takes me back to when i was in high school. people used to be scared of me because i was the tallest kid in class." he explains, and you detect a hint of pride in his tone.

"that makes sense." you muse, continuing to work on his buttons but it becomes increasingly difficult. especially as he captures your chin between his fingers and pushed your head up so you meet his fiery gaze.

"doesn't make any sense to me." after soaking up your cute flustered expression, he glances down and sees you've only got one button left to do, so he prompts, "go on."

since your fingers are already latched onto it, you're somehow able to undo it without looking. he then releases his grip on your chin so he can slip the shirt off, hanging it up on the adjacent rack.

now shirtless, he turns to you and hums, "your turn?"

lips pressed into a line and heat burning your cheek, the only response you're physically able to give is a meek squeak accompanied by an eager nod. which doesn't even begin to encompass your enthusiasm but perhaps that's for the best.

he smiles at your agreement and grabs the bottom of your top and pulls it off in one swift motion, leaving you standing in your bra in front of him. and before you have a moment to process any of this, he slips one arm behind your shoulder and his other hand reclaims its spot on your jaw to manoeuvre your head upwards, so it's ready to receive his kiss when his lips suddenly come crashing down onto yours.

despite your tact, now that his lips have locked with yours, you find yourself melting into his touch and moving your against him rhythmically. your bodies — though vastly different in proportions — arching into each other desperately.

while one hand sloppily undoes his belt and pulls his cock free from the designer trouser, the other hand on your jaw slowly moves to hold your cheek as the two of you kiss fervently, then it shifts up to your ear, then tangles itself in your hair which he uses to gently pull you away.

you whine quietly at the seperation, missing his hot lips against your own, and he smirks at your reaction. eyes glued to yours, he rasps, "you want it, pretty?"

he motions downwards and you bite your lip at the sight; his size alone is enough to leave you dumdfounded and nodding pathetically, eager to hop on to his monstrous length.

"good girl. think you can handle it?"

"uhuh." you whisper, shaky hands wandering down to take hold of him, and he lets you. in fact, with his grip on your hair, he yanks you down until your face is mere inches away from his tip, "taste first."

with hesitation, you drop to your knees and graciously accept as much of him as you can into your mouth, though that is barely even half. lev still appreciates it; the warmth of your mouth causing his breath to hitch. his cock even twitches at the sight of your cheeks puffed out, struggling to hold him inside.

when his tip prods the back of your throat, it causes you to gag a little, so you immediately jerk away from his cock and cough into your arm.

a concerned look crosses his features and he lightly rubs your back to aid your coughing, "ah, sorry." he apologises, as if it was his fault his cock was so huge that you were gagging on it.

"it's okay." you grate once your coughing fit has calmed down, throat still a bit dry.

he offers you his hand to help you stand up, "c'mon, cutie, that's enough teasing." he reassures you.

you place your hand upon his and as he guides you to your feet , you can't help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours. your thoughts suddenly becomes flooded with fantasties of what you want those big hands to do to you, which he notes by how your touch lingers for a couple moments extra after he lets go.

identifying what your longing for, he presses his lips against yours once more, engaging in a heated make-out while his hands wander down to unzip your jeans and tug them off, leaving you in only your underwear.

while he creeps in tongue into your mouth to make for a french, his long slender fingers rubs your labia through the fabric of your panties, amused by how wet you are already. "still think you can take it?" he basically breathes into the kiss, parting for barely a second to mutter his inquiry.

you reply with an affirmitive moan into the kiss. and just in case that wasn't clear enough, you hook your leg around his hips to give him better access.

he gladly slides the damp strip of material out of the way and sticks his two fingers into your hole, silently snickering at how you writhe at the stimulation of his fingers alone. but you can't help it; they're just so long at push against your walls in just the right way that makes your needy pussy flutter.

the wet noises from your pussy fill the changing room, shortly followed by your stifled moans — afraid other staff might be nearby to hear. his palms rubs against your throbbing clit, as his fingers shallowly thrust inside you. the minimum amount of stimulation needed to make you squim.

lev simply stares at you, enchanted by how your tight hole clings to him, and how the size of his palm compares to your pussy. it's like he could scoop you all up in one hand; hold you tenderly in his hand like a precious doll.

"sweet girl.." he idles, fingers stirring inside you, "fit me so well."

just as he says that, a hiss is drawn from you at how he harshly pulls his fingers out of your hole.

"bend over for me." he commands nicely, and without a second thought, you turn around and bend over, positioning your forearms against the changing room walls to balance you. while you do this, lev has already hooked a finger under the lace of your panties and dragged them down until they fell to your ankles.

his fingers rubbed over your labia, occasionally teasing your clit and soaking up your slick with each seductive movement. his other hand worked on aligning his cock with your glistening hole, until the bulbous tip was prodding against your enterance, at which you let out a low whine of confirmation.

however you didn't fully understand the capacity of what you were giving yourself up for until it was halfway stuffed inside you, contorting your plushing walls to accomodate his massive size and creating a slight buldge in your abdomen. truly it had knocked the wind out of you and despite him no longer being crammed down your throat, you were still choking on it.

as you writhe and mewl in attempt to cope with the intrusion, lev pauses and takes a moment to admire your figure beneath him. how you're so kindly bent over for him, and your tight cunt is struggling to accept his cock.

you were just the right size. with you bent over, he was still tall enough to place his hands on the wall above you, essentially capturing you under him. his sweet angel ready to take him all, and he couldn't help his eagerness to give you what you want.

before he knows it, his hips start to move autonomously against yours, ramming his length into sopping pussy repeatedly, making a lewd squelching noise with every sharp thrust. the volume of which made it clear to anybody nearby what was going on in this changing room, though you didn't have the power to try and silence it, as the hot arousal pooling by your pussy was the only lubricant that facilitated lev's entrance into you, and main reason it was possible for him to move within your homey walls.

his dick stabbed into you over and over, while his slender fingers drew lazy circles over your clit. you were trying your best to stay hushed in fear of being overheard, but lev didn't seem to care. he was allowing the moans, profanities and obscene exclamations to flow freely off his tongue with out a care in the world for who might hear.

"fuck, cutie, so tight." he squeezes the flesh of your ass, then lets his hand wander up so it rests on the small of your back. he's just so much bigger than you, if he wanted he could probably pick you up and fuck you at his height so he doesn't have to bend his knees so much. it's a miracle you're even able to fit him all inside that petite little pussy.

it gets him so hard so see you like this. stripped bare and trembling under him, stifled moans brewing behind your lips and legs trembling as his colossal dick thrashes against your insides. relentless and bruising your cervix with each fervish thrust. completely fucked out from being impaled by his dick, your arms have given out which levaes your cheek pressed lazily against the wall of the changing room. the cold plastic making contact with your skin, hardly enough to combat the waves of searing pleasure he sends rushing through your quivering body.

"can't take it, huh?" he leans over you, his breathy words tickling your shoulder, "too much for this little pussy? too big for my sweet girl?" mindless dirty talk spills from his mouth as his eyes squeeze shut and he basks in the warmth of your walls clamping down on him.

and he pries them open again only so he can get another look at your shaking body, struggling to take him all but persevering. and with the friction of your hole , along with the sight of your small waist held in his soft hands, it wasn't long until lev finished inside you, spilling his hefty load within the confines of your gummy walls.

his cock was pushes out in the process, which made you sigh of relief, but with his hand already positioned on your clit, he was hasty to stuff his fingers right back into your creamed pussy, causing you to gasp.

"sorry," he whispered, straightening his posture and shuffling back, "just don't want to get any on my trousers. they're designer." he chuckles to himself, meanwhile you are still bend over with his load filling your insides; fully exposed and panting.

"maybe i should've used a condom." he muses, playfully curling his fingers, resulting in an erotic moan departing from your lips.

lev laughs heartily, as though he had just cracked the funniest joke, "nah. raw's more fun." he yanks his fingers out, leaving you to feel the full force of his cum stirring within you, "who knows, maybe next time i come back here, there will a tiny version of me."

he places a final kiss to the nape of your neck before heading to pick up his shirt, "and i don't just mean tiny because of your genes."

[shiki-jin]

sweet cruelty ♡

summary : you & horror protag fulfill some of your shared fantasies

specific cws: heavy violence, cannibalism, reader is mean and sadistic, eroguro, general yandere themes

AGELESS BLOGS & MINORS DNI

i got brainworms about @koinotame 's horror protag oc because i got reminded of a thing they wrote. (stopped writing this but continued when they got this ask). probably not that good but it was going to stay in my brain forever if i didn't write it all out

reader is. sort of immortal? they can live even if they're injured, but can technically die, it's based on nana's lore for horror protag so read that too. horror protag is also pseudo-immortal

(also will be using sylvie which is horror protags name bc i feel like it flows a lot better, but her name isnt mentioned much)

both characters have obv consented beforehand, sylvie is just feeling a bit silly

honestly not sure i included the gore in this as "romantically" (eroguro instead of just plain gore) as I'd hoped, so any feedback there is appreciated !!

again, HEAVY gore under the cut. like this ENTIRE thing is gore. 900 words of it.

you've got your weapon embedded though sylvie’s lung, secured into the wall behind her. your claw-like hands are digging their fingernails into her skull, not stopping until you see the blood flowing down her forehead.

she's smiling enthusiastically as every move you make elicits a moan far too sexual for the situation, but she doesn't care. finally. finally you're using her, torturing her, loving her -- indulging her.

finally you're ripping apart her skin and digging your hands in like she's a full course meal about to be ravaged by you.

finally you're putting your mouth to her neck, biting her flesh and tearing it out, finally you're doing everything she's ever wanted.

she's thanking you, praising you, begging you for god knows what, unafraid to loudly voice her pleasure.

what a fucking masochist, you think, smirking as you decide to go further.

you put your hands to her chest, teasingly running your fingers softly over her nipples before ripping her chest open.

you tear through the tissue of her body as easily as a bear does through steak, and you eventually reach her ribs as they poke out through her bloody mess of a chest now, deciding that you wanted to break every last one in half.

you take the crimson stained white into your hands, and twist.

you let it fall to the floor, and sylvie makes a loud, almost indecipherable noise.

you go to hold one of her hands to the wall with one of your own, as if comforting her.

you bring your other hand to the next rib you've decided to get rid of, and twist again.

sylvie lets out another half-moan, half-scream.

you don't care.

you break another rib.

she screams again.

you twist another.

and another, and another, and another.

you ignore her cries of pain and of thanks and dig deeper while her tears mix with her blood.

and there it is.

her beating, red, juicy heart.

unprotected by her ribcage that was scattered on the ground, and yours to rip apart. yours to eat, grab and to throw away, yours to toy with. just like her.

you decide on leaving it for now, taking off your clothes to dig into your own chest.

you barely seemed to register the pain, quickly tearing through your flesh and blood until you reached your own ribs.

you pushed your body forwards, trapping her to the wall roughly. you let your ribs pierce her body and what was left of her chest, half of her lungs gone.

your ribs cut through her flesh with ease, and to say she felt like she was in heaven was the understatement of the century.

you were inside of her. your body was inside of her, and even though she could barely focus on anything but the pain, she couldn't be happier.

with her (now probably broken from screaming so much) voice still loud and moaning, whimpering, crying out - she professed her love to you endlessly.

it was like a mantra with the way she kept repeating "thank you, i love you," without pause.

you pressed yourself harder, further against her, as deeply as you possibly could.

your ribs encircled hers, rubbing against them as you went to hold her cheek lovingly.

her own hands stayed obediently against the wall, while her cheek was now smeared with her own blood. you leaned in to kiss her, biting on her bottom lip the moment you could, savouring the taste of blood that flowed from it.

god, it tasted so excruciatingly perfect. you could barely wait to have another taste.

she did her best to kiss back, albeit sloppily, and her smile widened even further. you didn't let her get a word in between kisses, but it seemed she was too busy enjoying herself to even try.

you paused for a moment, putting your hand dirtied with blood to your lips to lick it off.

it was too much to bear, to resist, so you didn't.

instead, you dove straight for her heart, mouth gently kissing it, before taking a small bite of the vital, scarlet organ.

the flavours mixed well, you noted. the various types of tissue and fluids making it up made you crave more and more.

so, you indulged the both of you.

you bit piece after piece apart, swallowing them swiftly down your throat once they'd lost their flavour.

eventually, her heart was replaced with an empty space, her broken ribs now having nothing to protect.

you looked at her body, and your eyes settled on her cute, pained, yet exhilarated face.

your hand softly caressed her cheek, thumb landing on her eye before you pressed onto it, a gasp leaving her mouth.

you almost cut her eyeball with your fingernail, but suddenly stopped.

you let out a content sigh, before sticking your thumb and index finger above and below her eye, determined to gouge it out.

sylvie was drooling beneath you, and the deeper you went, the louder her cries got, but she was putting all of her energy into staying in place — making sure to not move a single inch in order to let you rip her eye out as easily as possible.

seeing her enjoy herself so much was already more than enough satisfaction, but you were far from done.

she still had half of her body left, after all. and you’d break her until you no longer could.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

as someone obsessed with pussy steve, it drives me insane because i was doing my final exam today and all i was thinking about is "am i going to read the same pussy steve blog of S? yeah tf i am" and im here requesting from u some more pussy steve bc goddamn thats my obsessionnnnn. plus it's my first time asking u to write anything (i dont do shit but read things here and trying not fail school at the same time)

related to this pussy Steve ask

also... we're channeling this vibe shamelessly as we continue on from that last post, still set during WWII

Good job with your finals!! Let's dive in 👀

Steve can't fucking take it anymore, groaning as he flops back onto the squeaky, lumpy mattress that's supposed to be his bed. They've been holed up in this goddamn remote rubble city for what feels like years after clearing the town of HYDRA and Nazi agents with no action to burn off his excessive energy. The once standing city has long since been evacuated because of the air raids. The bombs have flattened almost half of it, shaking the other half immensely, but without orders to go elsewhere, the Howling Commandos are lying low, trying to plan their next move on their own. It feels like a waste just to march all the way back to camp but they don't have any other leads. Not yet.

And the Howlies have scavenged the area already, gathering any remaining, surviving food that isn't their shit MREs, plus having made sure no civilians were left behind before sitting down to talk and plan.

And talk and plan and talk and plan.

Steve can only strategize for so long, he can only play card games for so long, he can only draw on scraps of paper for so long; the serum has left him even more hot blooded than he was with all this vivacity he couldn't've dreamed of before, as thin and sickly as he was. So it's a fucking problem. Sitting still.

Waiting.

They should be doing something. Seeing action. Doing good. This is war. It feels so bizarre to sit between what they have just seen and what they're going to see. Bad things.

So, yeah, Steve is having a hard time unhelped by the fact that they're stuck in the one reliable structure that happens to be a small inn with thin walls. It's a blessing to have their own rooms and real beds, just enough rooms that they only have to pair up rather than sleeping in a dog pile together, but they might as well be together with these paper walls. Thus, Steve is being extra careful as he attempts to burn off some steam, alone while the others do... whatever... out in the main room (maybe a game of poker?) by stuffing the undershirt he's been wearing beneath his red white and blue uniform into his mouth.

The shirt tastes of salt and musk, balled up and packed between his teeth, filling his mouth, keeping his jaw open. Keeping the sounds he wants to make down. Most of the sounds. He can't help the sounds his body makes that don't come out of his mouth... wet, slick squelching sounds from between his legs, his fingers plunging deep into himself as if he's trying to get to his heart. In the scenario where he wanted to get off and be done with it, he'd be making tight, hard circles around his clit, pressing down against it hard, impatient and rough with himself, making himself a little raw with it but a lot sensitive--but that's not what he wants right now. He wants to burn through energy now. So, he has two fingers crooked inside his pussy, plunging them in and drawing them out slow enough that it makes him crazy. It's enough to feel good, so, so good, but not enough to get him off.

Steve's not wearing his uniform without the undershirt while he fingers himself. Well, he's not wearing it in full. He's kept his pants and boots on in case they need to get up and go, but... his pants are gaping open.

He's undone the long zip and aaall the latching buttons, ripping the taps as wide apart as he can get them without just taking his pants off. His hand shoved beneath both layers--pants and underwear.

His boxers are ruined. Wet. Soaked.

Registering just how sticky and wet he is, pulling his fingers out of his cunt to trace his puffy, swollen slit, he plays with his own wetness. He's dripping. He doesn't touch his aching clit directly, but he does put pressure on the legs of it, tracing the v down his vulva, spreading his legs wider, just a tiny bit, so his lips are out of the way as much as they can be, exposing himself, touching himself, and--

Choking on a whimper as electric pleasure shoots through him.

That's the closest he's let himself get to touching his clit in, in... however long it's been? An hour? Two? Ten minutes?

Steve doesn't let it last. Instead, blearily, he presses his middle and ring fingers back into himself. Back into the scorching, melted heat of his body. His foot kicks out, restless, needing something to do with the thick lust building inside him. Groaning softly through his shirt, Steve arches his neck, lifting his head off the bed just enough to let it come crashing back down heavily, giving his sweat-soaked blonde hair an impressively ruffled style.

As thoughts as he feels--his coherency consumed by pleasure--Steve suddenly flushes, wondering if Bucky will be able to smell it on him when he's done (if he doesn't already know what he's locked himself into their room to do). Once he's worn himself out, cumming on his own fingers after too much build up to be comfortable, leaving himself hurting with too much tension and desire, will Bucky know? Steve will button and zip up his pants and put his shirt back on and waltz back out there, but will it all be only for Bucky to corner him away from the other guys and maybe tip his chin up, fingers on his jaw, eye-to-eye, give him those dark eyes that say, I know what you did, maybe Bucky will kiss his neck and murmur to him hotly, or maybe he'll bend him over, their clothes still on, his cock a hot, thick line in his trousers, pressed against his slit, sweet talking him with his players voice, saying filthy things about how he can smell it on him like he's a bitch in heat with the most syrupy tone, crooning so Steve will get stickier, wetter, and gooey-er. Melted in the center like some kind of oozing, chocolate dessert. Hot and ready to be devoured.

Bitten.

Licked.

Swallowed.

Steve is thinking about his best guy's cock and he's thinking about his mouth, too, now. He's thinking about those sweet talking, wicked lips. He's thinking about his immaculately styled head of hair between his thighs, going to town. Not an ounce of reservation in the way he dives into him, in how he licks, how he slurps, how he fucks.

Jesus Christ.

Steve's jaw works around his balled up shirt, clenching. His throat contracts as he swallows thickly, praying that he doesn't wail like he wants to. The sound is in his chest, rattling around, building into this aching pressure. He can't fit anymore arousal inside himself. He's gonna burst.

Then, when he's weak and he just can't fucking stop himself, Bucky on his mind like always, Steve curls his fingers just enough to catch the raised spot inside him, spongy and sensitive. So fucking sensitive. His sweet spot that causes his hips to involuntarily buck up, searching for more, needing more. If he weren't gagged, he'd be moaning for it.

Moaning Bucky's name.

Bucky's on his mind already, so, of course, he wants Bucky on his tongue, too. Worse, he wants Bucky inside him. He wants him so bad that he's fucking aching, clenching around his fingers, hips squirming, toes curling, panting. He wants Bucky's cock in him so bad, slamming home so he's leaking around it, wetting his balls and smearing all over both of their thighs. He's a slippery mess.

He wants Bucky so bad that he has to stop thrusting his fingers in and out of his tight cunt to work a third finger into himself, chasing the girth of his dick. He can't get as deep as Bucky does, and it's just not the same to the point that, that--

Steve garbles out something of a sob. His eyes sting with tears. His head is so hot with frustration. Hazy and smoking. He can't think. He can't keep his rhythm. He's shaking.

Fuck.

When he pulls out to add another fingertip--stretching before he eases the entire length of his own finger in--he realizes he can smell himself. Already, he could smell himself wafting up from his unwashed shirt, sweaty, but now he can smell the hot, briny musk of his own arousal, carried on the sex-thick air of the quaint inn room. Humid and heavy.

He can smell himself. Sweat, musk, and leaking slick. It's an unmistable scent that turns Steve on more than it should, considering it's his own smell, twisting up in his gut and making him feel tighter, tenser, hotter. He can taste himself. Sweat, musk, and dirty, unwashed cotton coating his tongue, dripping down his throat, joining the lust already pooled low in his belly. He can hear himself. Slick, squelching, and lewd with his fingers curling inside himself. Muffled and drowning with sounds dying in the back of his throat before they have the chance to come out of his mouth. The soft snuffling, shuffling sounds of his pants folding and brushing against the bed sheets, fabric rustling and creaking as his thighs spread instinctively until the the seams groan. Every sound is another piece of wood added to the fire, burning hotter until it crackles and pops with the explosions of hot sap. Steve is feasting on these sensations as much as he's feasting on the slick, velvet feeling of the inside of his own pussy. He can touch himself. Smooth, wet inner walls that cling so tightly to his own fingers. If he could lift his head, the weight of his empty skull, so weakened, he could see himself, too--his hand moving in his pants, the veins running over his muscled forearms bulging with the effort of working his fingers so much.

God, he wants more in him.

His fingers work faster, curling a little harder, plunging deeper until he's erupting with another garbled cry.

He wants Bucky's cock in his pussy, throbbing with the pound of his best guy's heart, at the same time that he wants Bucky's thumb to sneak down between where their sweaty bodies collide with every frantic thrust, slicking the digit up with Steve's overpouring wetness until he reaches back, traces the sensitive, pink flesh between his legs to get to his asshole and pops it inside him, too, giving him something extra. Extra stuffing, his thumb in his ass, pressing back against his pussy. The thin wall between his holes. Giving him something more to clench down on while he wails, crashing over the edge as Bucky grinds so deep he can taste it, choke on it, so deep that his pelvis rubs on Steve's swollen clit and makes it impossible not to cum.

Guh.

Steve is drooling, soaking into his own shirt, thinking about Bucky.

Drowning in pleasure from his own hand.

Steve is rocking up into his hand, his hips with a mind of their own, or, rather, mindless in the pursuit of pleasure, instinctively rutting, humping, rolling, and just going. He's trying to swallow moans and gasps to varying degrees of success. He knows not all of them stay down in his tight, heaving chest, but he doesn't know how loud his noises are, his heartbeat is too loud in his ears.

Regardless of his noises, he keeps chasing his pleasure, his clit swollen and peaking out as much as it can from it's hood--leaving it vulnerable and draaagging just lightly against the heel of his hand. It's agonizing. With every feathered drag of his sensitive clit against his hand, it's making his sounds grow worse. He will be wailing soon no matter what he does. No matter how much he tries to keep it down.

It aches.

It hurts.

It feels sofuckinggood.

His jaw is working so hard that it feels like his teeth will rip into his shirt soon. Gah. Oh, ah, yeahh--

The temperature keeps going up and up in and all around Steve, fever hot, when the door swings open.

Steve is so tightly wound that he can't freeze. There is no way to stop the forest fire within him. It's going to have to come to its own conclusion when it has burned through everything he has, only ash left. Nothing can put him out.

So it's a damn good thing that it's Bucky that walks through the open door, hurriedly slamming it behind him when his eyes land on Steve's debauched, twitching form on the bed they've been sharing. A cold rush of air comes in with him, leaving all the hair on Steve's body to stand on end in salute. He quivers harder.

Bucky wastes no time. He is deadly, vicious in his pursuit--the sound of the door slamming hits Steve's ears, delayed with his mushy brain, and then Bucky is immediately on him like a predator pouncing.

His body is heavy on top of him, pinning him with the drag of his uniform against Steve's sensitive, sweat-glistening skin.

Real.

He's so real that it's visceral. It's not just Steve's heated, out-of-control fantasies as he approaches his orgasm without breaks.

Bucky cages him in with his body, one of his hands planted by Steve's head, steadying himself, while his other hand grabs ahold of Steve's forearm to rip his hand out of his pants.

Steve does wail then, through his makeshift gag.

The look on Bucky's face is evil, mocking him playfully, asking, oh, really, is that how it is?

After all these years, they read each other like open books. Steve knows he knows how turned on he is, and it's devastating. Bucky probably knows just based on how much he's blushing and how he can't keep his eyes open, how long he's been going at it for. He knows how much it aches to be untouched when he gets like this. Especially now. Post-serum. It's all he can think about. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his pussy. He's hot and swollen and so wet that it brings stinging tears to his eyes. God.

He's so fucking needy.

He needs Bucky. He needs--

Bucky sticks both of Steve's hands above his head, crossed at the wrist, and uses one of his own to pin them there. Steve could easily break away any time, but now. He's so worn down. He's weak. His brain has gone out of his head, and all of his super-strength has drained from his body out of his weeping cunt. He's depleted. He can do nothing by lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as Bucky shoves and pushes and shimmies his pants and underwear down. He barely gets them halfway down his thighs before he stops, and because of it, Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his balled up shirt. The air of the room is shocking against his soaked, sticky center.

Guh.

GUH!

Steve makes a fucking stupid sound when Bucky quits messing with his tangled up pants to instead mess with his pussy. He slips one, then two, then three inside him. Fast. A predator tearing through prey, no time to think, just do. His shit eating grin tells Steve that he's impressed with how sloppy he's gotten himself, and he wants to cry in embarrassment but also pride.

With three fingers inside him, Bucky curls them and grinds them deeper, deeper, curls, deep, curl, deep--

Steve's head is spinning. He doesn't even know what Bucky is doing to him. It just, it, it, ohgod, his eyes roll back so far, so hard it hurts, it feels so good. It's wrecking him. Whatever he's doing to him. Maybe it's Bucky's reckless thirst for him. Maybe it's the serum burning like venom in his veins. Maybe it's both of them mixing together into one harsh cocktail, so intoxicating it immediately makes him drunk.

The things Bucky is doing to his body make Steve want to shriek in pleasure. He's letting go of his wrists but it's not like Steve can move anyway and it's for good reason that he's not pinning him anymore because instead he's pressing down on his belly with that hand as he curls his fingers more, more, more, curling them towards himself hard, pressing so hard on that spot inside him that Steve doesn't even, he's not even sure he can comprehend the pleasure cutting through him, it's so much pressure building up inside him, taking more space than he realized he had even inside this bigger, stronger body, he can't, he's not strong enough, he--

Steve gasps and squirms, not understanding, wanting to babble, oh, oh, Bucky, what-I, I'm-! Wait! What is that feeling? Why does it feel like that? Wh--he can't, though, he can't say anything, his mouth stuffed.

He screams behind his teeth and--

Steve fucking whites out.

He's there one minute and then he's gone in a flash. Too much pleasure. Too much pressure. Too good. He's half convinced, totally out of his mind, that he's exploded or, or...

Oh.

As Steve returns to himself in bits and pieces, still shattered in the aftermath, he's almost sure he's lost so much control of himself that he's pissed himself. He's so fucking wet. Soaked down his thighs and down Bucky's wrist. If he has pissed himself, then he's given everything up to Bucky, his body entirely his lover's, every part of it, but then.

JesusfuckingChrist.

Then, Bucky's voice breaks through the ringing in his ears, and he's softly, quietly purring to him, mindful of their thin walls in a way Steve has not been while being stripped down to the bone in exhausting, overwhelming pleasure. Bucky's voice is all low and hot, too turned on as he works Steve through it, touching him much softer, nicer, lighter while he tells him how fucking hot that was, watching him, feeling him squirt around his fingers. And, holy shit, he's gonna make him do that on his dick. He will.

It's a promise.

Now that he knows he can make Steve squirt, he's gonna do it all. the. fucking. time.

Steve whines through his gag, his body trembling hard with his fading fever. Oh. It hits like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He's going to die. Bucky is gonna kill him, making him squirt, making him writhe, making him want to crawl out of his own body, giving him too much gutteral, visceral pleasure.

Bonus:

I've had a draft sitting here on Tumblr for a while that simply says:

Lil pussy Steve domming big, beefy Bucky. Steve's wearing a pair of panties to a party, getting them messy in a closet or bathroom or... both... where Bucky fingers him until he cums, then, once they've finished and Steve is desperately wet, he makes Bucky put swap underwear with him. Bucky obeys because of course he's done--he's big and he falls hard. Steve's wet, dirty panties, though, they're much too tight and remind him for the next few hours (hours that Steve, the introvert, suspiciously makes them stick around the party for) exactly of what they did. How he made his dom squirt and make these panties wet and smell musky and hot like his pussy does. Ruin them. Ruining the panties, ruining Bucky.

Plus, the whole rest of the party, Bucky has to live with the fact that Steve doesn't have any underwear on because rather than put Bucky's boxers on, he shoved them into his pocket where he could take them out at any time. Fuck, they could fall out at any moment! Bucky can't focus on a single fucking conversation.

And it's not until they get home that Bucky gets to cum.

When they're finally, finally home, Steve pushes Bucky down onto the floor, mounts his lap, and grinds into his hard, hard cock bursting out of his teeny-tiny, too-tight panties. The underwear is so little and delicate, all wet lace, that Bucky nearly ripped them putting on his bigger body. Demanding him to cum and ruin them further, one of Steve's thin, bony hands constricts around his throat.

Oh, yeah, he owns this big, subby mess of a man.

So... do with that what you will 😏

[1whore1gang]

it's the little things 🤍

This is part 4!!

Read parts 1-3 HERE

Warnings: more angst, I'm so sorry BUT BUT BUT theres sickeningly sweet fluff at the end so bare with me ;), cussing, emotions, mentions of SA

I tried to make this one longer bc i feel like part 1 was so good and then 2 and 3 kinda flopped so heres me trying to write more than I usually do.

Also, I'm surprised no one has noticed a small writing detail I did last chapter regarding Price. I'll do it again in this chapter to see if anyone can catch on hehehehe :)

EDIT: not me saying I wanted to attempt to make this as long as part one when part one was 2,437 words and this one ended up 4,314 words....oops

Taglist: @gaymistakeboi @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @almightywdm @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream @darkangel4121 @vreselia @llemes @stargaliz @rockcollector3000 @nottrosaxx

(sorry if i forgot anyone!!! please yell at me if I did!!)

"Stop that!" Your voice was almost begging as Soap kept grabbing at Ghost's little hoodie strings. Soap kept fighting with Ghost all day and you couldn't handle it anymore. You finally picked up Soap and put him alone in the playpen. "You're in time out."

He began to wail, making you shed tears of your own. You were exhausted from the three little boys. They'd been causing trouble lately and keeping you up all night this week.

Gaz looked up at you with a little toy car shoved halfway in his mouth, blinking innocently as Ghost continues to play with his blocks as he was before Soap grabbed him. "At least you two are giving me a break today." Soap continued to wail dramatically, not even crying, just wanting your attention.

Laswell had told you that he needed to learn that he's not the only one you take care of, so you sometimes have to leave him to cry it out on his own to teach him. She'd stopped by the other day to brief you on a new group of recruits.

She was definitely questioning why you of all people had your Captain's so-called 'nephews' and you had to think on your feet, but she didn't buy it.

"Tell me the truth, who's kids are these Y/N?" Her voice was in that motherly tone she had mastered with all of you.

"You wouldn't believe me." You said, trying to quiet Soap's crying, which led to her advice about letting him cry it out.

"If you're going to tell me they're yours, yeah I won't." She shook her head, becoming increasingly more annoyed with you.

"Promise you won't report me for drugs?"

"Depends."

You had told her everything about finding the boys like this, and she had to take some time to think it over until she noticed how Soap only plays with Ghost, and how Gaz keeps to himself and didn't cry once while she was there. She took a day before she texted you again telling you she was there if you needed any help.

That was 3 days ago, and you didn't want to bother her since she had taken over some of your duties since your hands were quite full.

You leaned against the foot of your bed as you finally heard Soap's cries die down, turning around to see he had tuckered himself out into a sleep. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to dry your tears when you felt little hands on your feet.

You opened your eyes to see Gaz and Simon grabbing at your toes. They both sit down at your attention. You went to go move to see what they needed when Gaz gave you a goofy smile.

Smiling back, you swopped him up to your chest to rock him, almost thanking him for bringing a smile to your face. You heard the familiar little grunt from Simon as you looked at him.

His hand was just outstretched towards you with one of his little blocks, offering it to you. Laughing a little, you took it and noticed the letter on the block was your initial.

Your eyes went wide as you looked back at Simon. "You know...or do you?" The question was more for yourself than him. You knew Simon couldn't understand you, he was a baby, there's no way he could.

"Is this me?" You cooed, pointing to the block he gave you. He grunted in response. "There's no way." Was he actually coherent? Was your Simon in there, he just couldn't express properly? Or had little Simon heard your name enough times that he knew? You felt something wet on your neck and saw Gaz drooling, thanking the universe that two of the boys so far have gone down for a nap.

Setting him in the playpen, you return to Simon, wanting to see if there was any way you could find out if he was cognitively adult Simon. "Do you know what's going on?" Your voice was gentle and quiet. Watching adamantly, you waited for him to give you any reaction. "Simon?"

His wide eyes looked up at you, focused shifted from his toys. "Do you know?" He blinked a couple of times, then looked around the room. He grunted a couple of times before looking down at his blocks.

"Simon?" You said again sweetly. You watched as Simon's lip began to quiver as he looked over his blocks, he began to cry, grabbing at the blocks and then throwing one before beginning to cry. "Oh honey, I'm sorry."

He reached out for you and you picked him up, comforting him. "It's okay honey, I'm sorry." You could tell something had bothered him, but what?

He wasn't wailing or screaming, just a silent whine of a cry. Almost like he was sad or frustrated. "Are you mad at something?" You moved to where you could see his face, cradling him.

You watched his breathing catch in his chest at your question. You ran two of your fingers over his little chest, rubbing circles to calm him. "Breathe Simon, don't hold your breath on me. You're okay, work through the cry sweetheart."

Your touch immediately helped him take in a good sized breath. "That's it." You watched him slowly calm himself down as you shushed him and held him. "Did your blocks make you mad?"

He crawled out of your arms clumsily, the most movement you've seen from him. He threw another block, not aggressively or at anything, but at the ground. "Yeah? Do you not like your blocks?" You reached for another toy for him to play with but he grunted.

You snapped your attention back to him, "What's wrong? I wish you could tell me." You felt helpless. He clearly was distraught over something, and you had no way of knowing what was happening.

He stared down at his blocks again, breathing in huffs. He held one out to you after picking it out. It was a 'Y' block. "What does this mean? Does this mean you understand?" He grunts.

You feel tears sting your eyes. "You know..." He grunts again. "Oh my God!!" You pick him up and stare at him. You bring him to your chest in a small hug, teary eyed. "I'm gonna get you boys back to normal, I promise."

Some hours passed and you had attempted to get a sign out of Gaz or Soap to no avail. It seems as if Simon was the only one who was cognitive of what was going on, but you still were unsure of the extent of his knowledge and awareness.

It's been a week since you had seen the Captain, and as much as you told yourself you wanted to keep it that way, deep down you wanted the softness he had when the boys were were first found. At night, you'd catch yourself dreaming about the way he looked that evening he popped into your office to ask if you were hungry, or the way he speak quietly to you in the mornings knowing you were up late with one of the boys.

Laswell hasn't mention anything about him either but you didn't know if that was a personal choice, or if she actually had no information regarding him.

You wanted to know where he was. Not only did you miss the warmth he held when you two were handling this situation, but you missed his help. He would always let you sleep in or let you take a rest. He cooked and stepped up so you weren't overexerting yourself.

You missed the companionship.

You glanced over to the clock to see it was nearly midnight, but when you scanned the time stamp on your phone, you saw a message from your email.

It was from General Shephard. It was sent hours ago.

Dear Lieutenant L/N,

I am writing this to you to pass it on that the Private you sent to me regarding sexual harassment has been found innocent. There was no camera footage found after review and he has no background violations or any previous infarctions.

Best Regards,

General Shephard

You felt your heart sink in your chest. There's cameras all over the training room, how could they not see it? The familiar sting landed in your throat as your emotions took over you.

Innocent? After what he did? How could Shephard not see that?!

You felt like you were going to scream, the pain unbearable.

It made you think back to Dubai. The severity of that event would've landed that man in jail. The way you had bruises on your neck and hips from the harsh grip of his hands for weeks, the way you limped for days. You remember the cold stare of your Captain when you told him, the nonchalant "Brush it off."

You were crushed.

You had lost.

The sun shone through the windows of your room as you woke up, looking over to see Gaz and Ghost already up. You picked them up to change them and then situated them in holsters, one on your chest, one on your back.

You did the same with Soap and then placed him on your hip, taking them to the kitchen to feed them.

Taking a moment while the bottles warmed, you took in the sight of all three boys in their highchairs, drowsy. Their little eyelashes fluttering as they struggled to stay awake, babbling and cooing.

It made you take a step back and really breathe in the moment, this may be the only time in your life that you're able to have this motherly role, even if they aren't your kids.

The microwave beeped and you shook the bottles, handing each one to the littles, watching as the half-hazardly drank the bottles. You felt a joy spark in your chest, enjoying this time with them despite the trouble they cause.

And here you thought they were troublesome as adults. Jokes on you.

You sat down at the breakfast bar as you waited, your mind drifting to distant memories.

"Y/N!!!" You could hear Soap's voice as you fell to your knees clutching your shoulder in pain. Removing your hand, you saw the blood seeping into the cotton material of your uniform. The sounds of warfare around you felt muffled as the pain radiated through your body from the gunshot wound.

You leaned on your hand to steady yourself, trying to breathe through the pain as the sound of skidding sounded in your ears. Looking up, you saw Soap sliding over to you, firing to cover you. "Get on my back! We gotta get ya outta here lass!" You moved slowly, trying to stay off your right arm. You winced as you climbed onto his back, squeezing your legs to keep yourself up as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He had carried you out of the fire into a safe house not too far away as he immediately performed first aid to your shoulder. You remember the way he remained calm when his face was in your eyeline, but you could watch his muscles tense as he worried about your state.

The memory made you smile. Soap was always there for you, like he had eyes in the back of his head. Anytime you got hurt out in the field, he was worrying himself sick. He cared so much, and had such a big heart of gold.

"How dare you?!" You laughed, slamming down your Uno cards.

Gaz taunted you as he celebrated his win. You two were in a tent on a mission trying to boost both of your morales. Uno was your favorite game, but he was too good at it for your own good. No matter how strategic you were, he would always win.

Gaz was like that at every game, the rest of the team dreading game nights. Once in awhile though, you'd catch him letting you win because he enjoyed seeing you rub it in everyone's faces. It brought him joy to see you smile, so if he had to take a loss, he would.

You heard a whine as Soap finished his bottle. The other two boys were still working on theirs, so you went to go wash out the empty one.

"Ghost! How copy?" Your voice was panicked as you frantically looked around Las Almas. You were completely separated from Soap and Ghost. Soap had ended up around two miles from you, but Ghost wouldn't come through the radio. It had you so anxious you were going to be sick.

"Soap, do you have visual on Ghost?"

"No," his voice was strained from his shot wound. "There's a church about halfway between us, let's meet there and regroup."

For the next hour and some, you and Soap worked together to find a church, and when you did, Soap was already there. You rushed to him, relief washing over you until you heard a familiar hum.

Turning around, you say Ghost. "Don't fucking scare me like that ever again!" You punched his chest. "I thought you were dead!" You were angry with him, trying to land a hard hit on him.

He grabbed his arms and wrapped them around his waist as he silently brought you into an embrace. You cried into his chest as he brushed his hand over your head, the other drawing shapes into your back. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easy." He let out.

"You scared me so bad, I thought I lost you." You said through sobs.

"You'll never lose me."

Once the boys were finished with their bottles, you washed everything out and put the boys in some fresh clothes. You had decided you were going to take them out as you needed more supplies.

Maybe you'd stop by a park on the far end of town so they could get some fresh air too.

And everything had gone according to plan while you were out.

You even stopped to get ice cream, giving the boys a bite or two each of your own cup.

The day was full of fun and laughter, the sun was bright and the boys were well-behaved.

When you arrived back to base, you opened your door and set your bags down and put the boys in their playpen when you heard someone clear their throat.

"Y/N..." You turned around to greet the person in your room.

"Laswell, what's wrong?" You saw the solemn look ridden on her face.

"It's John, we need to talk about him."

You had brought her into the kitchen of the compound, brewing some coffee as you both sat down. "I don't really wish to talk about him right now." You said as you scoot your chair in.

"I know what happened, he told me everything. But, there's something you need to know. I know where he is, and I'm worried about him." She looked at you, silently asking you to hear her out. "I know he's not your favorite person but-"

"He disregarded my sexual assault in Dubai and prevented me from reporting it and when I called him out, he walked out on me. On top on everything else he's done, of course he's not my favorite person, he never has been." You were already fired up.

"I know what he did. I found him yesterday in his office, passed out drunk. He had your file pulled up on his computer. When I finally got him up and had him sober up, he spilled everything. He was crying. John doesn't cry Y/N." Laswell was trying to get to you through your emotions. You weren't falling for that.

"Why would I give a shit?"

"I've never seen you this fired up over him, there's something you're not telling me." That motherly tone is back. Your mind went to his kind smile, the gentle look in his eyes.

"He let me in." Your voice was quiet.

"Excuse me?!"

"When I brought the boys to him, hoping to find some help or answers, he wasn't the man I've come to know through my time of service. He wasn't Captain Price anymore, I saw John. He was kind and warm and gentle. He was sweet to me and helped with the boys, always letting me rest. I saw his smile, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything I've seen before. I've had a glimpse and now I'll never see it again." You felt hot tears sting your cheeks.

"I wouldn't say that." Laswell shook her head. "There is so much you don't know about him dear, you should go talk to him."

"I can't even look at him after he walked out."

"Give him a chance to explain himself." Laswell put her hand on yours. "Let him tell you for himself."

Your eyes widened at the gesture. "Tell me what?"

"What's got him so in his head. Please." She begged you to go see your Captain in his office. After some convincing and more tears, you finally gave in, just to get her off of you.

Your footsteps were loud in your ears as you approached his door, knocking lightly. There was no response. You slowly turned the doorknob, entering the room, closing the door behind you.

You froze at the sight before you. There were files all over his desk, most of them with your name on it. Your Captain was sitting with his head in his hands. "Captain?" Your voice was meek.

His head shot up, wide eyes staring into you. You could see the bags under his eyes, his eyes red from crying. He had a bottle of bourbon on his desk, only a droplet or two left in it. "Laswell said you had something to tell me." You said, not wanting to make anymore eye contact.

He remained silent, the room thick with it. You heard him stand from his chair, but you remained with your gaze on your shoes. "I-" He began. "I won you the case."

That's when your head snapped up. "What?"

"The Dubai case. With that guy. I, uh, I filed everything together and he's being put in jail."

You were confused. "You're 3 years too late."

"It's taken me three years." His words cut you deep. "I went straight to Shephard and Laswell when we got back from the mission. I filed a case against him in your name."

You stood dumbfounded. "That doesn't explain the way you reacted, nor the way you walked out on me." You were still hurt. You couldn't forgive him.

"Understandable." He sniffled as he began to fiddle with the files on his desk. "There's no excuse for the way I reacted, but you do deserve an explanation." He cleared his throat and looked up at you. When you didn't say anything, he continued. "When you came to me about it, at first I didn't think anything of it. I had a lot of female soldiers doing that to me that trip just so they could get sent home early or get a fat check. I caught them lying and they'd immediately back down. My mind told me you were doing the same thing." He takes in a shaky breath. "That was until I came to find you one morning and caught you changing. You were putting your shirt on when I saw your bruising. It looked like you had been beaten, I watched your walls come up that day and I watched you cower into a shell of yourself. That's when I know you were telling the truth."

"Why didn't you say anything?" You spoke up.

He sighed and took a second to collect himself, on the verge of tears. "I knew the statistics of women winning these types of cases, especially with the lack of proof. I snuck pictures of you to document your marks, and I asked every soldier I could to find a witness. No one came forward. The case would've never won, and I knew that. That's why I never said anything to you, I couldn't stand to watch you feel the pain of not getting the justice you deserved. Shephard and Laswell told me how poor the evidence was, and the three of us spent years trying to dig up anything we could." He paused, pulling out a piece of paper. "6 months ago, a witness came forward. That put the case over the edge and we won. I found out this morning."

You scanned the paper, the woman was a victim of the same man, same situation. Reading over it, you related to every word. This woman won you the case. "So what's your reasoning behind you being an asshole the entire time I've worked with you? Even as a Lieutenant yourself, you were always an asshole to me."

Price sighs, then walks around his desk to face you. "I was angry. All these years, I've been angry. Before my promotion, when I met you, you were just a Sergeant. I watched you in the field and around the male soldiers and I felt angry. I knew you'd be a problem and I knew I'd have to deal with it."

"Then why did you invite me to join the 141?" You were confused.

"The anger only multiplied when your case came to be, I was angry at the thought you'd lose and the son of a bitch who hurt you would still be loose to hurt others. I've been angry with you all these years because I knew one of these days, I'd run the risk of losing my rank." Price took a step towards you. "I was angry at the thought of losing you."

You continued to stare at him in confusion. "What're you on about?"

"I would never be able to have you the way I want, it'd be frowned upon." Your eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" You took a step backwards as his hand cupped your face.

"You haunt me. Your smile, your eyes. The way you laugh from your chest. My dreams are littered with images of you, reminding me of what I can't have."

"Why can't you 'have me'? I'm on your squad?" You were oblivious to his insinuations, confused as could be.

"Because I could never ask you to love a man you hate."

His words shook you to your core. "I love you Y/N, I have since I found you out in that shack in the mountains abandoned by your unit. I love the way you effortlessly care for others, the way your perfume lingers in a room. As soon as I thought I had suppressed by feelings, you show up at my door with three children. Yes, they're our coworkers, but I couldn't help but see the big picture. I see the way you interact with them, the way you molded into this figure that had nothing but admiration and love. It was so different from the woman I know in the field, the woman behind the rank."

He was staring into your eyes when it all hit you.

The way you played images of him shirtless that one night you opened the door, his kind smile, his gentle eyes. The way you dreamed of him in the kitchen cooking for you.

You loved him too.

You glanced down to his lips and without another word, John pulled you into a kiss. Your lips molded into his, his kiss warm and passionate. He kissed you like he'd never get to again.

The kiss slowed down time, and all you could think of was his hands holding you tightly against him like you'd disappear if he let go.

"John..." You said as you backed away. "I love you too, I've missed you." He kissed you again before sliding his hand down to hold yours.

"Let's go home."

The ride was silent back to the compound, even as you both approached your room. Laswell left with a nod and a wink to you.

You thanked your lucky stars you listened to her.

All three boys looked up at John from the playpen, wide eyed. Gaz began to cry as John swooped him up and comforted him. "They missed you too. It was tough doing this alone."

"I'm so sorry I walked out, I should've told you then and there, stayed around."

"You're here now." You smiled up at him as he leaned in to plant yet another kiss to your lips. You giggled as you heard Gaz giggle and Soap and Ghost let out little babbles and flailed their arms in excitement. John chuckled too.

"Do you think they saw this coming?" He asked.

"Probably." You moved to go change into your pajamas, John doing the same. Coming out of his bathroom, you saw him shirtless and wearing his signature flannel pants. You took in a deep breath.

"Like the view? Cause, I'm loving mine. C'mere." John sat on the edge of his bed as his hands ran over your thighs. "Do you feel comfortable sleeping here? Or do you still want the couch?"

You thought for a moment. "Can I have one more night on the couch?"

"Whatever makes you feel at home." John smiled as he crawled back into bed, wishing you a goodnight.

You smiled back as you climbed under the blankets on the couch. As much as you wanted to sleep next to him, it was intimidating for you. You needed to muster up the courage to be that close to him like that.

For now, you were just happy you found your feelings for him and you learned how his behavior all these years was because he was fighting for your honor.

You had John back, and that's all you could ask for.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: WITERLLY WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!! You have made my heart so full! Almost 100 notes in under 24 hours😭❤️ yall gon make me cry! I am truly and utterly grateful that y'all are liking it so far! I'm a little insecure with my writing, but it's only because i'm so new. I am open to any kind of advice you can give me or constructive criticism that will help make this fic better for you readers. With practice comes improvement!! Also, look i'm evolving with my tumbler knowledge and added dividers, a tag list, and a masterlist that i hope works! Look at me go😭🤧 ANYWHOOOO... are y'all ready for this one?? I fully planned on posting this next week but i'm too freaking excited! Eheheheh writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! Enjoy my loves<3

Summary: You and Lucien decided to leave Rita's after discovering your mates kissing each other. With no reason to stay, Lucien offers you the comfort of his home and a glass of your favorite wine to help decompress the stress of both your mates. How could you say no?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: usage of profanity, sexual tension growing between Lucien and y/n, some fluff bc why not, sharing a bed, potential grammar and spelling issues

Word Count: around 3,350

Chapter 2: "Scream my name..."

As you and Lucien walked out of Rita’s, neither of you had noticed two pairs of eyes lingering watching you both leave after they heard Rhys’ commotion questioning Mor into oblivion about what the hell was going on. Mor had almost smirked at the fact that all it took was for you and Lucien to leave together to make Az and Elain both glance at y’alls receding figures. If it weren't for Rhysand in her face, she well would have. Even as Rhys is trying to get her to talk, she could not wait to tell you the plan had worked! Even if it was just a glance, it was still something! Small progress is still progress, right? Oh, she wishes she could have Feyre paint their reactions to you two leaving because it was priceless. Maybe Mor would and give it to you for solstice? But for now, she has a very upset cousin to deal with.

You and Lucien stopped at a local market to grab snacks and your favorite wine for your impromptu evening at his apartment. As you walk out of the market towards his place, Lucien can’t help but to ask about Azriel. 

“So... The shadowsinger is your mate huh?” Lucien asks while tucking his hands in his front pockets glancing to your face as he asked you his question. 

“Yeah... When I first met Az, it was when Rhys had offered me a room to stay in for a night. Rhys and I had quite literally run into each other a moment prior. I was traveling through the night court and was so distracted by the beauty that I ended up running right into Rhysand. I had knocked his freshly bought paint that he was planning to give Feyre all over us. I felt so bad that I kept offering to pay him for the cost of the paint along with his clothes, but he kindly refused. I had no mental shields back then, so he easily saw I was a nomadic traveler that had no place to stay or wash up. He offered me a room in his home for a night and a training over mental shields as payment, and I kindly accepted. I hadn't had a nice place to stay in such a long time. But, little did I know it would not be my peace and that my mate lived in the home I was about to stay at.” you said as you walked in tandem with Lucien down the streets towards his apartment.  

“Always so generous that high lord. And, I assume you know who my mate is then?”  

“That he is. And yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t she want the bond?” 

“The same reason your mate doesn’t see yours... She’s too busy being enamored by him to try and pursue or explore things with me.” He finds a rock on the pavement to kick along as you two walk. Lucien kicks it towards you. 

“At least she knows you’re her mate.” you shrug, kick the rock back, and Lucien chuckles. 

“You have a point, and Azriel would know if you would just tell him.” 

“Yeah, but would it change anything between us? Probably not. It would most likely end up like you and Elain if I told him...” Lucien stops and goes silent for a moment. “No offense of course!” 

“None taken. How did we even end up in this mess? You and I both having mates who do not reciprocate any kind of feelings toward us because they like each other is almost ironic.” He laughs at this situation you are both in. 

“You know now that you're saying it out loud, it is quite ridiculous.” You giggle. For a moment you had completely forgotten about Azriel and Elain. Lucien once again, being so alluring that you forgotten what you had just seen at Rita’s.  

Lucien glances at you and finally takes in your appearance. Your cheeks start to turn rosy at the sight of his eyes trailing over your body. Your dress still leaving little imagination for Lucien. Your body grows hot from the sudden attention. 

“He’s absolutely dumb as rocks for not looking at you tonight, because you look ravishing.” and gives you a playful wink. 

“Lucien you're just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“Y/n I kid you not, I truly mean it. You are one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen!” 

“Thank you Lucien, that means so much more to me than you will ever know,” as you look into his eyes and smile at him. He stares at you, smiles and dips his head to say you're welcome before continuing. 

“Almost there, it is right around this corner.” 

“Perfect, because I am freezing and in dire of more alcohol. I am too sober for all this emotional shit,” you say as Lucien laughs at your comment and you both turn the corner. 

“And we're here! Home sweet home!” 

You walk into his apartment and your senses are engulfed by the smell of cinnamon sticks, crisp apples, cedarwood, and roasted chestnuts. It felt like home. Everything in his apartment felt so warm and welcoming. You sat down the groceries you had gotten on the center table near the living room couch, and slowly took in his décor. You were surprised everything looked so coordinated. His apartment was filled with warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded you of your brief stay in the autumn court. You wondered if that’s why Lucien decorated it this way. Maybe he had found a sense of belonging in those colors. While you were taking in his apartment, you hadn’t noticed him grabbing you a change of clothes to wear along with a warm woolly blanket.  

“Here, these are for you to change into, and this is for you when you get cold later because I know you,” Lucien handed you the clothes and sat the blanket down on the couch. “The bathroom is through the hall on your left! Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Okay, thank you!” 

You started walking to the bathroom, the floor creaking beneath your feet as you opened the door. You stepped inside and quietly shut the door. You could hear Lucien in the kitchen popping the bottle of wine and pouring you both glasses, but what you forgot to realize is how you were going to take this dress off. After Mor’s last minute dress change, you had to call Nuala and Cerridwen to help you into it. You had not thought about how you were going to get it off. You slightly began to panic. “It’s okay... you can do this. It’s just a dress, can't be that hard right?” You tried to maneuver your arms into reaching the back of your dress but to no avail, Mor had to pick the most complicated thing you have ever seen. She was right though, this dress did look hot as fuck on you. You struggled a few times more before huffing and giving up. So, you had to do what you had to do...  

“LUCIEN, I NEED HELP!” You could practically hear him sprinting down the hall to get to you in the bathroom. Without thinking he pushes the door wide open. 

“WHAT IS IT? Are you alright?” His face scans you for any kind of injuries but finds none. The only thing he finds is you still in that damn dress that drove him crazy. “Why are you not in the clothes I gave you?” 

“First of all, I could have been indecent. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock! Secondly, you see, as a male you would not understand this predicament, but I cannot get my dress off by myself. I need help unfortunately... I swear this is all Mor’s fault!” 

Cauldron boil him... “So, you mean to tell me, you screamed my name to help you with your dress because you cannot do it yourself?” 

“Yes...” you can hear Lucien sigh. 

“There are much better ways to scream my name y/n and you know that but for the sake that you are quite literally stuck in that dress, I’ll help you. Turn around.” Your face turns hot at his comment, and you swat at his arm. 

“LUCIEN! This is not funny!” he can't help but chuckle at your flustered state. 

“Okay, okay, you being stuck in a dress is not funny. Got it! Now stop being stubborn and turn around so I can help.” 

“No, wait! You have to close your eyes!” 

“Y/n, how am I supposed to help you with your dress if I cannot see? Besides you act like I haven't seen you naked.” Again, your face betrays you as your cheeks turn bright red at the thought. You huff. 

“Fine, okay you can keep your eyes open but no funny business Mr. Vanserra. I am watching you!” Lucien chuckles at how flustered he had made you and he is living for it.  

You slowly turn your back to him and lock eyes with him through the bathroom mirror. Lucien takes the back of his knuckles and traces them delicately down the skin of your spine, almost like if you were made of glass and that you'd break at the slightest touch. His hand radiates so much warmth you must stop yourself from letting out a couple of sighs. The entire time he does this his eyes do not leave from yours through the mirror. His hand finally reaches the back of your dress, and he looks away to start undoing the claps. Thank the mother because his stare was driving you crazy. Each clasp he undoes, he makes sure to take his sweet time on. He doesn't miss the way your skin crawls with goosebumps at the slightest touch of his hands against your back. Gods, you had missed his fiery touch. It had felt like forever since he last touched you.

You slowly felt the dress getting heavier with each clasp undone. You could tell Lucien was near the end when your dress had almost slipped off your chest threatening to expose your naked breasts to him. Luckily, Lucien was too preoccupied to have noticed you trying to regather it back up for coverage. You couldn’t help but to selfishly think about turning around to look at him as your dress falls to the floor. Heat slowly began to warm your lower abdomen. You had to clench your thighs together in hope of Lucien not catching your growing scent of arousal. What would Lucien do to you if you did that? Would he pin you against the sink and truly make you scream his name? Gods you wished. Just then you caught a whiff of your scent. Damn your mind and body for betraying you! You were so worried about Lucien this whole time, when you should've been worrying about yourself. However, you decide that this is probably not the time to be thinking about such lewd things after what happened with Az.

As he was on the last clasp, Lucien couldn’t help catching your lingering scent in the air. You were going to be the death of him. He kisses the newly exposed skin of your back as his scent starts to slightly change and mix in with yours. Your head fell back as your eyes closed in anticipation. His eyes had wandered back to the mirror to see your eyes shut reeling in his touch as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. He marveled at this moment for a brief second before unclasping the last clasp of your dress. Your eyes met his as the last clasp was undone, and you let your dress pool to the floor as a test of restraint. For you or him, you didn’t know which. He held you gaze for a moment, never looking away from your eyes, before ghosting his lips on the nape of your neck. 

“All done...” he whispered as he slowly turned around, shut the door, and walked away back to the kitchen. Cruel wicked male.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to recompose yourself. Gods would drinking more wine be safe anymore after what just happened? You sighed and you picked your dress up off the floor and folded it as nicely as you could. You grabbed the clothes Lucien had given you to change into and started putting them on. Immediately you are swallowed by the musk of Lucien's clothes. It is almost overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that you loved the smell of the autumn court male.

You laughed at yourself in the mirror as you looked and saw his t hanging so loose on you, it was practically a dress. But let's be honest, you loved it. You slowly opened the bathroom door and made your way out with your former dress folded nicely in your hands. You sat your dress down on the table and turned towards Lucien with a smile. 

“So... how do I look?” and give him a twirl. Lucien looks at you and smiles. Gods, you looked even better in his clothes than in that dress but he wasn’t about to give in that easily. 

“Like a little boy.” Lucien said with a playful gleam in his eyes. 

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” as you shake a finger at his face. He laughs. 

“Fine... You look like a very cute little boy!” he says grinning from ear to ear loving the effects his teasing was having on you tonight. You instead stick out your tongue and give him that all too well known finger gesture. He is practically hurled over in laughter, but you just huff and plop yourself on his couch.  

“Be useful and get this “cute little boy” more wine! I'm definitely too sober now.” He laughs again and it warms your chest. You cant help but to grin back.

“Are you sure you can drink wine? You look a little young to be drinking such adult drinks” as he grabs the wine glasses along with the bottle for refills later.  

“LUCIEN, I WILL STRANGLE YOU IF I HEAR ONE MORE LITTLE BOY JOKE!” 

“Okay, okay. Here’s your wine doll.” He hands you your glass with a smile, “You actually look even more beautiful now that you’re in my clothes.” As he sends you a wink before sipping some of his wine. 

“Thank you...” you smile as you take a sip from your own glass. 

“So, other than your mate being an enigma to you, what else has happened since I saw you last?” you both get comfy on the couch and sip on your wine. 

You had failed to realize how long you and Lucien were apart. You told him about your travels through all the different courts, and he told you about his part in the war along with how he became a part of the night court. You both sat there and exchanged every story you could possibly think of, trying to catch up on every moment you missed together. Soon the stories turn into giggling. Neither of you could hold it together as one of you would say something slurred and the other could cry out in laughter. It was the wine-speaking now, but neither of you had minded. You both had forgotten what it was like to be in each other's presence. It was nice to rekindle old flames with your friend, but you had to be careful. Recatching old feelings would not be good for you with this whole Azriel situation. You looked out the corner of your eye to see Lucien trying to fight off a yawn.  

“Oh, don't tell me my lil fox boy has grown tired of me?” as you slightly pinch his cheeks. He grins as he sees you also fighting off your own tiredness. 

“Mmmm seems like my yawns are contagious then, because I could’ve sworn I saw you do one just now.” he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Okay, maybe I did. All this catching up and wine drinking has made me sleepy.” You decide to grab the blanket Lucien sat on the couch for you earlier this evening.  

“I don’t blame you... Now if you excuse me, I am going to go change into something more comfortable, these clothes are killing me, and then we will call it a night.” he says as he sticks a finger in his collared shirt to loosen the neck and walks off still in the clothes he wore at Rita’s. You chuckle at his figure walking down the hallway to what you would assume to be his room. You don’t know how long he was in there, but you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes were too heavy, and you were too drunk to stop your movements down the hallway towards where Lucien disappeared. You find the door he dipped into and see it is cracked a smidge. You decide to knock, unlike Lucien earlier.  

“Hey Lu? Can I come in?” No answer. “Lucien I’m really tired and I don’t know where you want me to sleep...” you slowly push the door open but put too much weight on it and tumble forward into his room. Unlike your knocking, Lucien heard you tumble and was at your side to catch you in a heartbeat. You let out a laugh. “Oh, I'm too drunk for this shit... I'm sorry, I only came here too-” you look up to see him in gray sweat pants, hair loose, and no shirt. Mother blessed this man too much! Oh fuck. Get me out of here.  

“Y/n, you were saying something?” He looks down at you with mischief in his eyes knowing you couldn’t keep yours off his bare chest and gray sweatpants. Your eyes blink rapidly, and you shake your head trying to get that image out your mind but its seared its way in.

“Oh yes. I was just- um, why did I- OH! Where do you want me to sleep? I’m like minutes away from passing out on the damn floor!” Lucien laughs. 

“You can sleep in here, and I can stay on the couch for tonight. Is that alright?” 

“This is your bed and home Lucien. I can't let you sleep on the couch as I take your bed... it just feels wrong. I'll take the couch and you can keep your bed for tonight.” you say as you turn around to head back into the living room before you feel Lucien's hand around your waist stopping you.  

“Y/n I swear to the mother, do not be stubborn and take the damn bed please. It’s too late for this, I promise you it’s okay! I insist.” 

“I guess old habits never die. Always trying to get me in your bed Lu.” you smirk as you crawl in and wrap up in his silk auburn sheets. You thought his house and clothes smelled nice, but his sheets, his sheets were heavenly. You almost fell asleep then and there because it was so calming. Lucien walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead. 

“Goodnight doll, I am truly sorry for your mates behavior tonight. Sleep well...” He turns around, turns out the lights, and is about to walk out the door but hesitates as he hears you say-- 

“Lucien wait-” 

“Yes?” 

“We’re both adults here, right?”  

“Well one of us looks like a little boy, but yes. Why?” Lucien replied. You rolled your eyes at his playful remark from earlier. 

“Adults can share a bed, and nothing has to happen.” 

“Y/n are you saying you want me to sleep next to you?” 

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you sigh. 

“Always so persuasive... scoot over.” You open the sheets and scoot over in the bed to make room for Lucien. You feel the bed dip down as he crawls in. You both lay there for a moment reeling in that you two are sharing a bed again. The only difference is now the lingering heartbreak you both feel from your mates. You turn around to face Lucien and ask- 

“Can I lay on your chest?” He doesn’t verbally respond but wraps his hands around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and look up at his face. You tuck a couple of stray hairs that had fallen in his face and tuck them behind his ears and say, “Thank you for tonight, Lucien. Elain is so lucky to have you, she just doesn’t know it yet.” 

“Thank you doll, neither does Azriel. Now let's get some much needed rest. Goodnight,” said Lucien. 

“Goodnight Lu,” as you rest your hand on his bare chest next to your head and you feel Lucien's arms tighten around you. You can't help but to feel so at peace in his presence, and neither can he, as you both fell asleep holding each other all night.  

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

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

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

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

[synintheraven]

Okay let's clear some things out; 1) I don't write smut bc I suck at it 2) this is part of a bigger story where the main character/reader gets to know Sihtric throughout several situations, so this is perfect if you want to read about Sihtric & reader's little made-up adventures but not so much if you're only here to read naughty stuff 😅 3) I have no idea what I'm doing :p

pic credits to myself, feel free to use them too/ask for originals (:

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary/small introduction: reader (she/her) is a Norse, Sihtric is a (actual, as in born there) Dane. Sihtric & reader meet each other for the very first time, but I kept it simple and kinda short so you'll have to keep on reading to find out how this goes (; [Side note: Yggr is one of my ocs and the Jarl/Chief of the group, but will not be a current character other than to accompany/give orders to Sihtric and reader]

✵tw: mentions of violence

✵word count: 1,5k

characters info | part two

We were near; the tall cliffs once casting shadows over the sea were far behind us and the fog was getting thicker over the marshes. East Anglia was a land of fishermen huts, distant trees and bad weather: yet somewhere in this muddy land, a band of fiery fighters were hiding and getting ready to fight for their lord.

I recognized the stranded ship half covered in sand, which Yggr had described to me, surrounded by muddy rocks and a small spot of land untouched by the sea waters. Near the rocks, among tall reeds, the camp was set and a handful of men were sat around the bonfire in an attempt to fight the cold wind.

Except for one man.

A tall, dark haired man, covered in a fur cloak; his left hand was resting over the hilt of his sword as he stood near the coast, staring cautiously at our ship as if he was trying to tell who we were. But, as we approached the small island and the fog revealed Yggr’s wild hair, the mysterious man prepared to greet us.

The sail was taken down and the crew started to row against the current, sliding through the rather calm waves to take the ship towards the land. It didn’t take long for the prow to reach the sand and before we were fully beached, Yggr jumped off our ship to meet with the dark haired stranger.

He had a concerned expression and his hand remained over the hilt of his sword, ready to fight should the need arise. Yet, unlike him, Yggr was quick to smile and open his arms, embracing the now smirking Dane like a brother.

The man was Sihtric Kjartansson, a warrior that served the long haired blonde, though he treated him like a big stupid brother rather than as his lord and jarl. Both Danes had grew up together, sticking to each other as their parents seemed to care little next to nothing for the young boys, making it no surprise the concerned stranger was in command during the jarl’s absence.

I didn’t know much about him back then, only that he was a fine warrior and a loyal man; but I had also been told he was rather friendly and welcoming, yet Sihtric looked at me with wary eyes. I stared back at him, almost trying to decipher what was going on inside his mind: studying his gaze, the storm brewing inside his blue eye and the dancing flames around the pupil of his brown eye.

He had the face of a warrior, with scars running down from his forehead and marking the flesh over his deep cheekbones, making me wonder if he was hiding any other under the strands of hair over his temple or under the scarce beard around his rather full lips.

I had jumped on the wet sand of the island shortly after Yggr, however being the only woman among all those men, suddenly the warriors resting around the fire seemed eager to welcome our crew. Everyone but Sihtric, who embraced his lord for a while but pushed him away as his men came along with curious looks.

Unfortunately for everyone else, I was not to be touched or harmed: for I was there merely to help build the camp and eventually, should the strings of my destiny allow it, find the man that killed my family.

The first birds of the day were singing their songs and the sun was setting, the land slowly revealing itself from the fog. It was a cold morning and it got worse as we had to get our feet wet in order to cross from shore to shore, but we were to stay unnoticed and therefore not to use our ship.

We were scouting the surrounding area, following the shore in hopes to find a bigger place to set a new camp. I was walking beside Yggr, with Sihtric a few paces before us to guide our way around; the rest of our group were either guarding our current camp or exploring other areas, though all of us were after the same goal.

The best hiding spots were among reeds, trees and muddy rocks, but those often surrounded water and the rising tides could be treacherous.

We saw stone ruins, abandoned churches and half burnt farms, all a consequence of folk escaping their homes in order to keep their lives, to escape the horrors brought by the monsters from across the sea.

Danes like us were plundering all of Britain; they came with the promise of riches and vengeance but stayed to become kings and killed anyone who opposed them. They had come here to do what that mad man had done to my family, my people.

 I trusted Yggr’s words when he said he didn’t care about a title. He lost his chance to be king and decided to embrace a simple life, only hoping to find a nice place to thrive and stay unbothered by Saxons. Or so it was until the Great Heathen Army decided to terrorize the country, turning our heads into targets for anyone who caught us, Danes and Norse alike, wandering around.

We had stopped, suddenly. We were standing atop a small hill that went deeper in land, hoping to get a better view; the wind was blowing hard and the sun shone upon the land, easily revealing all areas of the territory.

Yggr remained silent, his mind lost somewhere in the dark blue waters from the ocean as the cold wind blew on his hair and beard. Sihtric stood next to me, his eyes narrowed because of the sun while he pointed his finger towards the tall roman ruins to the north.

—That looks like a good spot. —He said to Yggr then quickly looked my way, noticing I was the only one truly listening to him. It was, probably, the very first time he wasn’t eyeing me as if expecting me to take a knife to their throats. —I saw it before, but rain soaked the mud. It will take some work to stop that from happening again.

He had a very calming voice and explained all the work that had to be done for that old ruin to be a proper camp, though in truth all I could think about was the scars on his face: suggesting the man had been in many battles, despite being only a few winters older than Halfdan’s son.

—You two can go. —The blonde man interrupted, resting a hand on mine and Sihtric’s shoulder. —Find some horses and secure the camp, I’ll go find the men and meet you there with the ship.

—Just the two of us? —Sihtric sighed, despite trying to hide his discomfort. —What if the place has been taken? I can’t fight them with, no offense, a woman. —He glanced at me for a split second then stared back at Yggr, hoping to be released of my company.

—I am Norse. And my father raised a warrior, not a weak girl that needs some Dane’s protection. —I snarled back, watching as my words damaged his pride and brought a wide smile to our Jarl.

The only horses we could find belonged to a group of Danes camping in Theotford, a small town with thatched roofs and a run-down church that once sheltered Saxons.

There was about twenty of them, maybe more, standing watch in every corner and every small gap they could find.

—I am not “some Dane”, I’m a warrior too. —He finally added, remembering our earlier conversation.

—You’re the son of Kjartan, right? —I let out and he gave me a grim look then proceeded to avoid my glance, still walking between the tall grasses.

—We’re never going to make it out alive if we try to take one of their horses. There’s too many of them. —And he was right, those were trained warriors and we were merely a pair of lost dogs to them. —The ruins are not too far, we should get there before Yggr if we walk in a straight line and avoid following main roads.

And just like that, our short journey through the autumnal forests of East Anglia began. We walked through shrubs, trees, short walls made of stone and saw a few deer, but there was no sight of other people anywhere. We avoided getting too close to farms or church ruins, trying to remain silent whenever our surroundings were suspiciously quiet.

—So tell me, Dane, how did you end up in Norway? —I interrupted, getting a judging stare from him when he caught me walking closely by his side.

—He told you we should get to know each other, right? —He asked dismissively, moving a few steps ahead of me.

—He suggested we should get along if we’re to live together in the same camp, but you’re not as friendly as he promised.

A hint of a smirk showed on his face, though it didn’t last long. —My father sold information to Halfdan and left me in Alrekstad to either die or be raised by the king’s servants. —He admitted after a while, looking troubled as he spoke.

—There are worst destinies than to be raised with Yggr, I suppose. —I said and saw him grinning at my comment, finally showing some sort of emotion in my presence.

—What about you, Stavanger? —He taunted, making it obvious that our fool of a Jarl told him about my homeland and, therefore, my newly acquired nickname.

—That’s my homeland, yes. But I come from the Isle of Ikke, a once thriving city to the north of Stavanger.

—Then what brought you to Alrekstad?

—Vengeance. —I said cheerfully, but he gave me a concerned look in return.

Some bonus fun facts:

✯Yggr is the son of Halfdan, King of Alrekstad (modern Årstad, in Norway). He's not inspired by any TLK character, though he has a similar personality and looks to Ragnar The Younger, with some of Cnut's silly sense of humour. Yggr was to inherit his father's throne, but has no issue embracing a simpler life - even though his former position as a prince and charisma turned him into his Clan's Jarl (basically an english Earl, but a Jarl can also be someone trusted by its people and chosen as a chief).

✯Reader was born in a small island in Norway (Ikke, which is totally made up hehe) but her family was massacred when she was a baby, so she grew up seeking vengeance.

✯Sihtric isn't a bastard but his mother died giving birth to him and so Kjartan despises him/never properly treated him as his son (nor did he to Sven but he grew up to be just as his father and so Kjartan eventually accepted him as his son).

✯As this story is unrelated to what happens in TLK, I had Kjartan vanished from Denmark; though he became wealthy again by playing the pirate in other territories and selling information to kings as Halfdan, Harald Fairhair and few more across the sea...

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Set in an alternate universe where Silas accepted his NRC letter, another student recounts his time observing this strange first year (repost bc I didn't like the original but I'm still not too happy with it so idk anymore lol)

Warnings: Violence, blood, ableism, self-harm (mentioned), probably full of mistakes. Word count: 2408

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Silas

During my three years at NRC, never has a student caught my interest the way Silas did.

The kid didn't have any last name. He was called up to the mirror dead last, after most students had lost interest in the repetitive ceremony and began talking amongst themselves.

You didn't get a good look at him from your seat, but even you could tell he was small. Tiny, even.

He was dwarfed in size by even average height first years, and he was incredibly skinny. He stood with his hands at his sides, long black claws catching the light of the candles.

He was placed in Diasomnia, the same dorm as I. He didn't have any reaction to

his placement that I could see.

I kept my eye on him as we all filed out the mirror chamber and made our way to our respective dorms. He kept away from the others, glancing at his surroundings and flexing his fingers.

I got a better look at him then. He was pale as death, the only darker shades being the scars and dark purple scales covering his face. His hood was pulled down, revealing the tangled rats nest that was his hair. He was a merfolk, large purple earfins rugged, damaged, and torn. His cheeks, well, they were skeletal. Hollowed out, giving his cheekbones more definition than what was comfortable. He wore large black sunglasses, and that fascinated me because it meant we finally had a deep sea merfolk student.

Our dorm leader gave his little welcome speech, and it was hard to tell if Silas was even listening.

Silas was fascinating to me. Silent as a grave and very anti-social, even for a member of Diasomnia, he was a mystery waiting to be solved.

He had an intense, threatening aura that made other students steer clear.

I thought I just felt a passing curiosity at first. But I soon found myself listening in whenever Silas' name was mentioned, taking note of any detail, or silently observing him... I didn't follow him! I wasn't stalking, of course not, but sometimes I just had to know where he was doing or what he was doing. It was simple curiosity.

Silas turned out to be a troublemaker. He rarely obeyed his professors and never came to the many detentions he was given. He ignored curfew and wandered around at night, even leaving the premises entirely. Nobody knew where he went, but he was always oddly... wet when he got back.

He never wore the uniform properly, either. When he first put on our dorm uniform, it truly showed how small he was. It hung off him, loose and baggy despite being such a small size, showing off his all too frail and bony body.

He spent his nights working, too. I once found him in Diasomnia's lounge at about 3am, doing homework.

He was holding his pen so tightly I feared it would snap, writing at a painstakingly slow pace. Every letter was drawn one careful line at a time, and for once, his expression changed, brows furrowing in a mix of frustration and intense concentration.

I watched him work for a long time. He worked in utter darkness without any lamps or even candles, and he didn't stop until his he was finished, though his earfins would flick every now and then, and I feared he'd noticed me, but... he didn't turn around. So I relaxed.

Silas was hot gossip often. Every week or so, there was some new shocking thing he had done that had everyone's tongues flapping as they whispered amongst themselves and tried to understand the utter mystery that was this odd student.

It was funny how quickly every incident escalated.

At first, it was when he was cleared to take off the sunglasses. His light amethyst eyes were soul-piercing, but also so... dead. It was almost disturbing to look at, even for me. Although his gaze was intense and frightening, his eyes were dull and lifeless, accentuated by his heavy eyebags.

He would silently stare at his professors throughout his entire lesson, every lesson. He rarely wrote things down. It was creepy, and even our esteemed teachers were uncomfortable with him and dreaded having class with him.

Then, it was his obedience. Silas never responded to his professors when they spoke, apart from maybe some vague gestures. I've seen him interact with them before. He looked wary whenever they spoke directly to him, his hands twitching at his sides whenever they moved suddenly or raised their voice at him. After some time, they'd give up and give him detention if he had gotten in trouble, even if it was in vain since he never came to detention at all.

After that, it was his cane, an unexpected development. I supposed it was because he was a merfolk, but it seemed to be for another medical reason. Of course, that isn't the shocking part. The shocking part is how quick he was to raise it against another student when they tried to kick it out from under him. Deserved, if you ask me.

Then, there was the incident that seemed to send shock waves through the entire school, after the first vears began doing duels.

"He stabbed himself," said one of Silas' classmates, looking pale and disturbed. "H-He slashed his palm open and used to the blood to... to cast some fucked up spell. He tried to kill his opponent a-and didn't stop casting until the professors stopped him by force."

"What the hell kind of magic was that?" Said another. "The professor didn't even know what it was!"

"He stained his fingertips with blood and used it to draw something in the air and..."

"His opponent nearly died from whatever the hell that was... how do you even describe something like that?"

Silas wielded some unknown, foreign form of magic that he would not explain no matter how much he was prodded and pushed. He would simply stare back at whoever was talking to him, his fingers flexing and claws tapping against his sides.

"It's abyssal magic," was the quiet whisper against the uproar of theories, from a prince of the Sunset Savanna. "You need blood or animal remains to use it. It sounds just like abyssal magic."

How fascinating.

I tried researching it. Nothing came up. Whenever I asked professors or fellow students, they would look at me in confusion or ask if I meant cosmic magic. Even now, I know almost nothing about it.

This just made me infinitely more curious about Silas and my... well, not stalking, my observations extended to mealtimes.

Silas was very rarely seen in the cafeteria. Apart from the few times he went there, nobody has seen him eat anything at all.

When he did go to the cafeteria, it was always the same procedure. Show up, get whatever seafood was there, then sit in the furthest corner of the cafeteria, where the crowd was sparse and the lighting was dim.

He'd pick at his food, eating tiny pieces one at a time and acting like he was afraid it would suddenly disappear.

I always made sure to be discreet in my observations, even if I felt confident that I would go unnoticed.

I wasn't careful enough, though. One night, when I once again found myself watching Silas do homework, he stopped his mind-numbingly slow writing and turned to stare right at me.

The full weight of his gaze was terrifying.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" He rasped, and my stomach churned, and my skin crawled. Those dull dead eyes bore into me with no visible emotion, and his voice was deep and strained, but so very soft.

I remember being shocked as well. That was the first time I had ever heard or seen Silas speak. My mind was a mess, scrambling to wrap itself around the idea of Silas not being deaf or mute like I had thought.

"You can talk?!"I squeaked out before I could stop myself.

"Yeah."Said Silas. "And I can see, too. Ya think I don't notice ya standing in the corner n' starin' at me all the time?"

He spoke slowly, putting careful effort into pronouncing each word.

"Stop."

I stared at him, slack-jawed.

"Leave me alone," Silas continued, his voice just as soft as it was before. He didn't say anything further, but he did start flexing his fingers like he always did when talking to people, and I suddenly realised that I was very alone with Silas in the middle of night, and no-one knew I had left my room.

A sudden sense of dread that filled me, and every alarm bell went off in my brain at once. I left, walking so that my back was never to him, slowly edging towards the door to the hallway. Those awful eyes, shrouded in shadows, followed me the entire way. I still felt watched even as I closed the door.

I cannot fully explain the fear I felt that night. It was almost primal, like my brain was telling me I was prey being stalked by a predator. I never felt afraid of him before, not even with the stories.

Was it because it was so late and dark? Was it because of those claws, long and sharp and startlingly similar to Cleacoves'? Was it those eyes, those eyes that looked so haunted?

I don't know. I just don't know.

I ceased my observations after that. "Curiosity killed the cat" is a phrase I never cared for, but it felt very much applicable here considering Silas' unpredictable nature.

It was odd, though. This sense that something would happen to me if I ignored him. Apart from one or two incidents that were really not that serious, he's never attacked anyone out of nowhere before. At least, aside from the whole duel situation.

Anyways, my days of playing detective were done, and I only spared Silas a passing glance from then on.

Everything seemed to calm down. Stories about Silas got lesser as his odd behaviour became boring and repetitive, and the gossip was replaced with something new. Everything was normal again.

Then, something happened.

It happened in the cafeteria. A group of older students had decided to make it their business to harass Silas, taking glee in messing with this small, quiet first year.

Students trying to bully and pick on Silas wasn't anything new, and I knew better than trying to observe, but... I couldn't help it. The moment I heard their loud, obnoxious voices, my attention was fully on them.

"Hey, speak up, pipsqueak!" The laughs and jeers of the crowd of third years gathered around where Silas was sitting could be heard even from where I sat, raising above the din of the cafeteria.

Silas ignored them.

"Come on, you're meant to look your seniors in the eye when they talk to you!" Said one.

Silas didn't respond. He simply stared at his lap, visibly tense, with his hands pressed flat against the table top.

"C'mon, answer! You aren't deaf, are you?" Said another, who then turned to the rest and asked, "Is he a mute or something?"

"No, he talks." Someone answered. "Barely. Not much worth listening to, though. He ain't all that clever. Sounds like he's never been to school in his life."

"That so?" The group's de facto leader, whose name I think was Cade Stobek, leaned down and jabbed Silas in the shoulder. "Come on, then, talk. You won't last long here if you don't learn to respect your seniors."

I wondered if I should intervene... and maybe check Silas' pulse. His deceivingly pale face and lifeless eyes made him look like he'd died right there.

"Maybe he's one of those prudes who don't talk till they're done eating." Someone else said. "Eric's family is like that. Silence at the table until everyone's finished."

"Eh? Is that it, then?" Stobek asked Silas. "Your fish is more important than your seniors?"

He made a grab at the plate of sushi in front of Silas and held it above his head, and suddenly, the sound of glass breaking pierced through the noise of the cafeteria, closely followed by a muffled scream.

Absolutely silence befell the room as students turned from where they were standing or sitting or walking to find Silas gripping Stobek by the hair and holding him in place.

Choked gasps and muffled gurgles filled the silence as blood slowly dribbled from the now broken bottom end of the table's small flower vase being being forced into his throat and onto his pristine uniform, staining it red.

Silas took the plate out of Stobek's trembling hands and released him, letting him fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Stobek's buddies exploded into a series of screams and shouts of alarm, gathering around him and waving their pens.

There was a brief pause, a moment of stillness, and then the rest of the student body followed, a wailing upoar of shock and confusion bouncing off the walls and reaching a crescendo of panicked chaos.

Silas drew his lips back and stared at them all in a silent hiss, earfins pinned back and monstrously sharp teeth glinting in the light. Then, he popped a piece of sushi into his mouth and walked away.

I never saw Silas after that. I don't know what happened, but I'm pretty sure he was expelled or at least suspended as the school desperately tried to scrub the stain a student's murder left on their image.

School was suspended for a few days as the mess with dealt with, but eventually, life carried on. At least, for the rest of us, it did. I'm sure it was a horrible time for Mr Stobek's family and friends. Eventually, I graduated, and my NRC days and the ever lingering memories of Silas' presence were left behind.

I still think about him, though. It's been years, and still, I cannot forget those eyes. That night. I think....I think if I haven't left, I probably would have ended up like Stobek. In a casket, my family demanding justice from someone who... doesn't exist. Silas has no ID, nor does the Coral Sea have any records of his birth.

I can't help but wonder if I went to school with a ghost, or maybe it was all a bad dream that I'm confusing with real life.

Hah... I really hope it's the latter

...........................................

A/N: I hope you guys like this ons better though I didn't change much

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