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fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months ago

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Rusty | Chapter 10 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Luke has a heart to heart with Emily. Spencer takes you on a little trip where you both come to an understanding before he takes a serious step on the road to his recovery.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of sexual assault and use the term “rape”, tears, dissociation, blood, self harm, making out, swearing, detailed therapy, medication. WC - 6.6k

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

“Tell me everything you know.” Luke spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone as he hid over the back of the San Antonio Police Department.

Over the swell of people coming and going, phones ringing off their hooks and keyboards clacking, he heard Phil sigh.

“I don’t really know much at all, Alvez.” Phil’s tone was laced with his frustration. “She stole a car in New York after her escape, it was found abandoned down your neck of the woods, just outside of Richmond. But from there…man I don’t know. I can only assume she must have gotten her hands on another vehicle but there weren’t any reported stolen within a fifty mile radius.

“If she’s smart she would have headed for Mexico. But if she did that’ll make finding her that much harder. We know she had money after her first escape, we found the empty safe at mom’s house. She must have known I was close when I apprehended her and stashed it somewhere, so we have to assume she has it again. There have been no sightings of her for the last few days and you know as well as I do that without sightings, there’s nothing I can do.”

“I wish I could help.” Luke pushed the fingers of his free hand against his temple. “But with the whole network thing we’re swamped. Not to mention we’re short on the ground. I want to be kept in the loop though. If you hear anything…”

“Of course, of course.” Phil agreed. “Knowing how she operates she’s probably worked her magic on some poor, unexpected sap who’s taken pity on her. Her face is plastered everywhere up and down the country. Someone has to recognise her.”

“If she’s in some small Mexican town, hell if she’s in some small American town, those kinds of things don’t reach everyone.” Luke continued kneading his temple aggressively. “I hate this, I hate feeling so powerless.”

“We’ll get her Alvez. It might not be today or tomorrow, hell it might not even be this year. But we will get her.” Phil sounded determined and it was one of the things Luke admired most about his old partner.

Even after all he’d been through with Daniel Cullen, even after his rehabilitation had almost destroyed his spirit entirely, he was one determined son of a bitch.

“Keep me posted.” Luke replied before hanging up the phone.

He turned away from the corner wall he’d been staring at, ready to rejoin the team but a set of hauntingly intense dark eyes full of irritation were staring back at him.

She had her arms folded over her chest, her greying hair tied back into a ponytail which made her features appear more stern.

“So it’s true, you are working your own cases?” Emily clucked, tilting her head at him.

“Does Garcia ever keep her mouth shut?” Luke scoffed. “It’s just an old case from back in my FTF days, I’m sorry.”

Emily softened slightly, dropping her arms to her sides with a huffed out breath. She quipped her head to the left.

“Walk with me.” She said before she was already leaving.

Luke quickly followed, falling into step with her. He walked with her until they reached the doors of the precinct. She shoved it open and the two stepped outside into the blistering, humid Texan heat.

She stopped on the pavement a few feet away from the door and once again folded her arms across her chest.

“Is this affecting your ability to be an effective member of this team?” She asked him outright.

“No.” He shook his head, jaw set. “Just some unfinished business is all.”

“She got under your skin?” She narrowed her eyes on him, profiling him.

“They all do.” Luke’s jaw tensed. “But yeah, I supposed she did more than most. She had everyone falling at her feet, treating her with kid gloves. Everyone seemed to forget the fact she murdered a guy. We got close to her, I’m sure we did, right before I got the call from Hotch to help out the BAU.

“We got a tip that she’d been seen in this tiny little town of Magnolia Springs, Alabama. A guy reported he’d seen a person matching her description coming and going from his neighbours house. Someone musta tipped her off because when we arrived she was gone and the woman whose house she was supposedly staying in wasn’t talking.

“I felt her, Emily, she was close, so close. But she slipped out of my reach. And then I joined the BAU and I wasn’t able to be there when Phil finally caught up to her. I wanted to be the one to arrest her, I don’t know why. She got to me and I have no idea why, but the thought of her escaping again is eating me up inside. And now we’re here, in Texas of all places and I…I just…” He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat.

He coughed to try and dislodge it, rubbed his hand up and down his neck. Emily once again let her arms fall from their folded position and her shoulders slumped a little.

“We’re right on his doorstep. Practically in his backyard.” She smiled despondently.

She didn’t need to say his name, saying his name in fact might make matters worse. But she knew Luke understood who she meant. In truth, as soon as she’d gotten the call to come out here she had thought of Spencer. And if she was thinking about him, Luke most definitely was.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I wish it wasn’t still this…hard, you know? Two years and I still feel like it was yesterday you were telling us he left.”

“You never got closure.” Emily shrugged, sucking in a breath. “It’s hard to move on without it. It's like a book with its end pages missing. You just keep flicking through it and hoping they will appear. There was no end for you and him, not a fleshed out one anyway. One day it was and the next it simply wasn’t.”

“I know the rest of the team didn’t see his medical reports from Milburn but as Unit Chief, I imagine you had to?” He straightened his back.

They’d never talked about it, there was no reason to. It wouldn’t have undone what Spencer had to endure and so they just didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was to protect Spencer’s autonomy, or maybe it was to protect themselves from it.

Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded her head stiffly.

“Yeah, I had to read them. Unfortunately it’s part of the job. Why did you read them?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” Luke shook his head. “He wouldn’t talk to me and I knew I was missing something. I had to know. Although I wish I didn’t.”

“Palatal petechiae, indicative of forced oral sex.” Emily’s eyes welled with unshed tears as she said it out loud. “It’s a form of rape.”

Luke visibly crumbled as she spoke the word, the one word he’d tried to keep out of his head for all these years.

But that’s what it was. Spencer had been raped, probably repeatedly. And Luke had turned his back on him.

He slumped against the wall to keep himself balanced, the weight of Emily’s words crashing into him and forcing all the air from his lungs.

His head was pounding. He felt his stomach turn violently.

“I broke up with him. He was struggling through an immense amount of trauma, a trauma I knew he suffered and I still broke up with him. What kind of a person does that?” His voice cracked.

“He didn’t want your help, Luke. He didn’t want anyone’s help. You know Reid as well as I do, probably better, and you know he was never going to admit what happened to him. He’s too proud. He’s a protector, he’s spent his entire adult life in that role. He speaks for the people who can’t speak for themselves. But when something like that happens to him, he feels he has no one to speak for him.”

“I would have.” Luke swallowed. “I would have done anything for him.”

“I’m sure deep down he knows that.” Emily took a step closer and gripped Luke’s shoulder tightly. He needed grounding. “But he is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met and if he thinks he can get through this on his own, that’s what he’ll do. We need to let him figure this out however he sees fit.”

“I thought he’d come back.” A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. “I thought he’d take some time but that he’d come back. I deluded myself into thinking that one day he’d just show up and we could pick up where we left off. I still love him, Em. I still love him with every goddamn beat of my heart.”

Emily’s fingers coiled into his shoulder blade, kneading his tense muscle in her hand.

“We’re really short on the ground and this case is a matter of urgency.” She spoke but Luke’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “But once we’re wrapped up here, whenever that might be, I think you owe yourself a vacation day. Bandera is only forty something miles from here. And I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

Luke’s lip quivered in understanding and he melted into her touch.

“You’re sure?”

“I mean you’ll have to clear it with Rossi as he’s your Unit Chief but I can’t foresee it being an issue. And if I remember rightly, it’s Reid’s birthday soon, Garcia is already working on overnighting a bunch of gifts out here. It would be good if someone could give them to him.” She smiled sadly, letting go of his shoulder and taking a step backwards.

Luke closed his eyes briefly to stem any more tears, nodding his head in thanks at his old boss and feeling a swell of emotion in that moment.

Emily was surprised to say the least when Luke suddenly engulfed her in a tight embrace. Her arms hovered at her sides for a few seconds, while she comprehended what was happening.

In all the years she’d know Luke Alvez, she didn’t think he’d ever hugged her before.

When he started shaking against her, sobbing into her shoulder, she wrapped him in her arms, and held him.

She gave him a few minutes, allowed him a brief window in which he could let himself feel the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for two years.

Emily Prentiss was the FBI Section Chief, but that was the secondary facet of her personality. Above all else, Emily was a friend. And a damn good one at that.

***

You heard him coming before you saw him, noting his gait was faster than you’d grown accustomed to. He didn’t sound as though he was limping too much this morning, at least he was starting to heal.

You had your back to him and kept it that way, hoping if you didn’t engage him he may well leave you alone.

But you had no such luck.

“What the hell are you doing?” The irritation in his voice was ripe.

You swallowed thickly before tugging lightly on Rusty’s rein to turn her about to face him. You commanded the flaxen mare to trot closer to where Spencer stood glaring at you on the other side of the enclosure.

“I mean, I think it’s pretty clear what I’m doing.” You huffed as you got closer. “I'm riding my horse.”

“You’ve had two lessons. Do you know how dangerous it is to ride without supervision?” He spat, unlocking the gate and stepping inside the fenced area. “Get down.”

“No.” You scoffed. “I’m fine. You said it yourself, I’m a natural.”

“For the love of god, you are going to be the death of me.” He shook his head, rubbing his brow beneath his stetson.

“I’ll feed you to Rusty when that happens.” You smirked sarcastically.

“We need to talk.” He exhaled, not at all sounding like that was something he wanted to do.

“I’m good.” You shook your head.

“It wasn’t a question. We need to talk.” He glanced around the area and only really registered for the first time all four of the horses were grazing in the field. “Why are my horses out here?”

“So I could clean the stable.” You shrugged, patting Rusty’s neck. “I refilled their troughs, got them fresh water. Even cleaned out the cattle barn.”

Spencer’s brows pinched as he looked up at you.

“It’s eight am, how long have you been up?”

“Never went to sleep.” You shrugged again.

The look you gave him told him it was his fault you hadn’t slept. In truth he hadn’t either.

He came around from his dissociation still on his bathroom floor as though he hadn’t moved but clearly at some point he must have because he had the razor in his hands.

He was bleeding from a self-inflicted wound on his stomach, just left of his belly button. Once again he’d patched himself up with the use of butterfly stitches and stuck a large gauze pad over the wound.

After that he couldn’t sleep, just sat up staring at the wall thinking about where his life went so drastically wrong.

Three times now he’d dissociated in startlingly quick succession. Three times he’d come to with unintentional cuts on his body. He was starting to scare himself if truth be told. Perhaps he needed to consider seeking out his old therapist and getting a higher dosage of his medication.

“Can we…take a ride or something?” He spoke again, voice cracking.

“Should you be riding?” You frowned at him.

“My leg is feeling something akin to normal again. It's the least pain I’ve been in anyway. The doctor told me I could ride again when I felt ready. And there’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”

“Fine,” you huffed out a breath so he knew you weren’t thrilled by the idea.

“Super, just let me grab Willow’s saddle. Oh, could you maybe help get Frank and Wilbur back to the stable?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’re taking Willow?” Your brows furrowed.

“Yeah?” He returned your expression.

“And I’m taking Rusty.”

“Again, yeah?”

“Have you forgotten that they hate each other?” You glared at him.

“It’s a long trek to where I want to take you and Willow is the only one strong enough and determined enough to make it there and back. Frank or Wilbur would not be able to handle it.” He shrugged.

“Can Rusty handle it?” You looked down at the mare between your legs who was eyeing Spencer warily.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” He chuckled, but there was a nervousness to his tone.

Soon though he was meandering over towards Wilbur, ready to take him back down to the stable. And without another word you turned Rusty around again and went about helping him.

***

Medina Lake wasn’t just a trek away as Spencer had put it. It was located nearly twenty miles south of Bandera, on the other side of Lakehills. It was a crescent shaped reservoir on the Medina River, eighteen miles wide at its broadest point and contained by the Medina Dam at the lakes south end.

Spencer told you all about it as you rode together, giving Willow and Rusty enough space so as they wouldn’t cause another incident like the one that had broken Spencer’s arm.

Apparently at the time of its construction, it was the largest concrete dam in the country, and fourth largest in the world. He told you that the dam was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

As you barely spoke in reply, Spencer continued. He went on to tell you that Medina Lake had been stocked with species of fish intended to improve the reservoir for recreational fishing. He listed largemouth bass, white bass, hybrid striped bass, catfish and carp among the species found in the lake.

But he didn’t stop there.

He continued to fill the dead air between you by telling you about the state of the lake. According to Spencer as part of the 2010 to 2013 Southern United States drought, the lake water levels dropped below five percent capacity. As a result he told you many cracks, oil drums and a Jeep are visible due to the low water level.

He continued with telling you that thanks to some showers in the summer of 2013 the lake levels had risen to five point two percent. But many businesses had been closed, many residents left and Lakehills had been somewhat of a ghost town ever since.

He still carried on, despite your obvious lack of interest. Going on to tell you with an almost excited flurry, that due to heavy rainfall in the region, as of May 2015 the levels rose to forty six percent. And again due to more heavy rain, by May 2016 the lake was at one hundred percent capacity. He went to continue but by this point you held up a silencing hand.

“I can’t, Spencer. Please? Please just stop talking for five minutes?”

He’d huffed but yet he didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey.

He took you all the way down to Bandera County Medina Lake Park. He paid the twenty dollar fee for you both to enter. He led you and Rusty down to a quiet alcove away from the flood of tourists.

He found some hitching posts where you tied up your steeds, keeping enough distance between them so they couldn’t bother one another.

Spencer couldn’t deny that his thigh was causing him aggravation by this point and his knee ached dully. You could tell by the grimace on his face that he was struggling but didn’t say anything.

As much as you hated to admit it, the place was stunning. It combined the natural beauty of the Texas Hill Country with a picturesque watery wonderland. People in the distance were on the lake swimming, riding jet-skis and other boats. Some people on land had BBQ’s, picnics and the like.

Spencer led you down towards the lakes edge, still ensuring to have a clear view of your two mares at the top of the bank. He found a secluded spot, away from other lake goers so the two of you could be alone.

You took a seat on the ground, stretching your legs out in front of you and groaning a little at the chafing in your thighs from the long ride. The water was clear and the sun above caused it to sparkle. In this heat it looked positively intoxicating.

Spencer removed his denim shirt, his black t-shirt underneath marked with sweat stains under the pits and around the collar. He lowered his stetson over his eyes to keep the sun out of them.

Neither of you spoke for some time. Far off you could hear the sounds of other people splashing in the lake, laughing and having fun. Behind you could make out Rusty snuffling around in the grass.

If you focused in front of you, you could easily believe that you and Spencer were the only two people in the world. Perhaps that was why he brought you here in the first place.

After long stretches of uncomfortable silence, Spencer huffed from beside you and forced himself to speak.

“We need to talk about last night.” He saw your back straighten at his words but you didn’t even so much as look at him. “I promise you, it had nothing to do with you. I don’t even have the words to describe what it was like for me getting to be with you like that, getting to make you feel like that. But, uh, after I…completed, my thoughts went into overdrive and I panicked.

“I don’t know how to explain it other than that I’m not well. Mentally I am extremely sick. I told you last night that I need to test my boundaries, and I guess I pushed them a little farther than I was ready for. I really am sorry, Y/N. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.”

The sincerity in his voice caused you to turn your head to the side and look at him. His eyes were full of uncertainty, fear and mild terror. You could see he had a heavy weight upon him and that talking about this wasn’t easy for him.

“Am I just some kind of experiment to you, Spencer? I don’t mind helping you get over whatever it is that happened to you, but if all I am to you is a test subject, please let me know before I get in over my head here.” You hated how sorry for yourself you sounded.

“You are so much more to me than that.” He frowned, shocked you would even suggest that. “But I suppose in a way, this is experimental to me. I have no idea how I’m going to react to any given situation of intimacy until I’m right in the middle of it. But please believe me when I say I would not be able to have even considered this kind of relationship with anyone else. Because of you, I’ve managed to actually maintain an erection long enough to orgasm, twice. That hasn’t happened to me in nearly four years.” His cheeks flushed in candour.

“If it offers you any kind of comfort, last night was the first time I’ve been with a man in almost two years. And it’s the first time I have ever come by someone else's hand other than my own.” Your own cheeks reddened at your confession.

“Oh,” Spencer’s voice shot up several octaves. “Oh.”

“To be perfectly honest with you Spencer, had the opportunity presented itself, I would have jumped you that first night we met. And I can’t pretend that I don’t want more out of this, but I am not going to push you if you’re not ready. I think if we are going to continue whatever this is, we just have to take things slowly. Like at a snail's pace.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, feeling perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Agreed,” he nodded. “I do want to move past this. I want to be able to give you every part of myself. It's just going to take some time.” He smiled meekly.

“I got nothing but time.” You smiled back.

Spencer chuckled a little, shuffling closer to you in the dirt. You felt your breath hitch as he got nearer.

“Would kissing you be entirely out of the question right now?” He rolled his lip between his teeth in his scepticism.

“Not entirely out of the question, no.” You shook your head.

The easiest thing to do would be to put space between you and Spencer, draw a line in the sand and remain strictly as friends. But you never did make a habit of travelling the path of least resistance.

He leaned closer, removing his stetson and dropping it down next to him. And then his hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers brushing lightly across your skin. He pressed his lips to yours cautiously at first but within a second or two he got carried away.

His tongue brushed along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him to gain entrance. His hand weaved into your hair, fingers burying in your locks. You kissed him back with as much passion as he showed you.

You brought your own hands to his face, holding him close. With his grip in your hair he tugged you a little, trying to convey that he needed you nearer.

Keeping your lips attached you shuffled so you were straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. The fingers peeking out from his cast brushed along your back, under the hem of your shirt. You moved your own hands to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced.

It wasn’t long before you lowered yourself into his lap and your hips undulated against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth and gripped your hair tighter as you felt a stirring in his pants.

He started moving backwards, bringing you with him until you were laying on top of him. But when your full weight was flush against him, he suddenly pulled away from your lips and growled in pain.

“What’s wrong?” You panted, sitting back a little as his face contorted.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m sorry…I did something dumb.”

Frowning, you rolled off of him and knelt next to him while he cautiously rolled up the hem of his t-shirt to reveal the large band aid across the left side of his stomach.

“You dissociated again?” You whimpered.

“Yeah.” He nodded, rolling his shirt back down and sitting up. “And please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault.”

“I noticed last night you had a bandage on your thigh. Was that…?”

“Self-inflicted? Yes.” He rubbed one eye. “I’ve never hurt myself like that outside of those dissociative states. My brain is extremely fucked in many, many ways but I am not suicidal or anything like that.”

“Do you ever remember anything from those states?” You found yourself asking.

“It’s hazy.” He sighed. “And I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I can recall messy pieces sometimes, but it’s not clear. It’s like I’m watching myself, like an out of body experience. I’m completely disconnected from my own mind, my own body. Its fucking terrifying. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

“You said you’d been to therapy before?” You asked softly.

“Twice.” He nodded. “Once back in DC, and once again when I moved here. Before you say anything, I am aware I need to go back. I guess I at least get to tell her the good news that my dick seems to be working again. Now we’ve just gotta focus on stopping me from having a panic attack, crying or dissociating after I come.”

You glared at him and the candid nature in which he spoke. His lip quirked at the corner and then surprisingly he started to laugh. You just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You’ve got to laugh, it’s so absurd.” He chuckled, probably the most you’d heard him laugh before. “I’m a fucking basket case, it’s okay to laugh. If I don’t laugh I’ll…”

“Dissociate?” You quipped back.

“Exactly.” He laughed harder, amused tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Oh god I’m a mess.”

His laugh was infectious and you found yourself joining in despite yourself. It really wasn’t at all funny but sometimes you had to laugh in the face of extreme adversity or you would crumble.

The two of you sat by the lakes edge laughing until you were crying, crying until you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the laughter subsided that you realised Spencer was holding your hand.

It grew quiet again and he simply stared at you, clutching your hand in his own. You reached forward tentatively with your other hand, waiting for his okay in the form of a nod before you touched him.

You gently wiped his tears from his cheeks and he hummed at your feather light caress. For a few minutes you stayed like this until you were ripped apart by the sound of content neighing from behind you.

You sprung apart as though burned and you both looked up towards your horses who had managed to manoeuvre themselves closer together.

It was hard to say who was more surprised by the sight of Willow amicably nuzzling her face against Rusty’s.

“Are they…?”

“Making friends.” Spencer nodded with a smile.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You smiled too.

“That horse of yours has some kind of magic about her.” Spencer sighed wistfully, leaning closer to you again. “Just like you.”

And when he kissed you again, you were certain that it was him and not you who was magic.

***

Doctor Camilla Ortega was a local therapist who specialised in anxiety, depression, trauma and PTSD. Her practice was in Pipe Creek but she had clinic hours out of the Essential Mental Wellness centre right in Bandera town once a week.

Spencer didn’t know if he was fortunate or not that she happened to be able to fit him in the very next day.

It had been some year and a half since he last sat in her office and was overcome with anxiety just being here. He ran his fingers over his cast, back and forth, back and forth, trying to remain tethered long enough to be able to speak.

She was probably less than ten years Spencer’s senior, with sharp green eyes and a discerning stare. She had a resting bitch face if Spencer had ever seen one, but she was surprisingly soft spoken and had a contrasting calmness about her.

“It’s good to see you again, Spencer. Although I can only assume the reason you’ve come to see me again means that you’re not doing so well?” She narrowed her eyes on him.

“Not exactly, no.” He admitted.

He didn’t want to open up about this but he also didn’t want to have to be visiting her every week. The quicker he got this out, the less time he might have to spend on her couch.

“I met someone.” He blurted out, eyes trained just above her head so he didn’t have to look at her. “I met someone and she’s incredible but I can’t…I still can’t take that next step.”

Doctor Ortega was silent for a beat or two, mulling over his words briefly.

“Have you initiated any form of intimacy thus far?” She jumped right in.

“I, uh, I still can’t let her touch me and we haven’t had intercourse. But we kissed and, uh, I touched her. And I have gotten…erect. Twice. And uh, I also reached completion twice.” His cheeks and neck flushed red. God how he hated talking about this.

“Without penile stimulation?”

His face scrunched up and he nodded reluctantly.

“And how did you feel after?” She prodded.

“Well, uh, the first time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom. The second time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom, cried and vomited and then dissociated.” He forced the words out rapidly. “Typical stuff.”

Ortega sucked in a breath and he heard her scrawling some notes down.

“You hadn’t had a dissociative break in a while last time I saw you, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. But I’ve had three as of late.” He spoke but then continued. “It’s not her fault. I just…I can’t allow myself to enjoy being aroused without hearing their voices.”

He didn’t need to divulge anymore than that, she knew who he meant.

“Does she know what you suffered in prison? Have you spoken to her about it?” Doctor Ortega asked gently.

“No,” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“How do you think she would look at you if she knew?”

Spencer’s eyes flit to the doctor, his brows pinched together tightly.

“Like I’m broken.” He said as though it was obvious. “Like I’m dirty.”

Doctor Ortega put her pen down and laced her fingers together, sitting further forward in her chair.

“Spencer, that is not how other people look at you. That is how you view yourself. Unfortunately it is a common sentiment in rape survivors to feel this way, like they are of no good to anyone, unworthy of affection. I think you would be surprised how she would react if you were just honest with her.” Doctor Ortega’s eyes were piercing into him.

“I’m not telling her and that is the end of it.” He shook his head. “I just want to know how to move past this. It’s been nearly four years and I don’t feel any closer to getting over what happened to me now than I did then.”

“Spencer, that’s not true.” She offered him a soft smile. “Eighteen months ago when I last saw you, you couldn’t even go on a date with someone. But now you’ve not only met someone but you have opened yourself up to intimacy again, even if it isn’t going as you planned. I for one am proud of how far you’ve come, I think you should be too.”

“Proud?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I should be proud that I can’t come without being so overwhelmed with guilt that my brain has to divorce itself just to cope? I should be proud that I managed to bring her to orgasm before I had a complete mental breakdown which ended in me cutting myself? I should be goddamn proud that I can’t have sex with a wonderful, beautiful woman because I am so utterly broken that I can stop hearing the voices, seeing the faces of my rapists? Proud? Are you fucking kidding me!” He was on his feet, he didn’t remember standing up.

The rage bubble was expanding, filling, moving higher up to his chest. His vision blurred and he wobbled on his feet.

Here we fucking go, was his last coherent thought before the world around him became shrouded in darkness.

***

He blinked several times, sitting up with a start. His heart was racing and his breathing was heavy. He glanced around the nondescript room through hazy eyes, trying to work out where he was.

He detected movement in the corner of his vision, a body edging closer until they were right in front of him, dropping to a crouch so their eyelines could meet. Doctor Ortega smiled sadly at Spencer as she held his gaze.

“Are you okay?” She spoke softly and then something was being placed in his hand.

He looked down to see the plastic cup of water he now held and quickly tossed it back.

“How long was I out?” He croaked despite the hydration.

“Only about ten minutes.” She pushed herself to stand but came and sat next to him on the couch. “Do you remember anything?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“You wanted to hurt yourself. You asked me several times to give you something sharp.” Ortega’s voice was a little strained. Spencer shook his head. “And you were yelling that you weren’t whole.”

“Makes sense.” He grumbled. “I found a note you had me write myself, for my guided self talk.” And then he spoke verbatim. “I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life. I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole. I am still whole.”

“But you don’t believe a word of it.” She stated.

“No.” He agreed. “How the fuck can I still be whole when they took such a large piece of me?”

He looked at her pleadingly as though she had all the answers. As if there was one thing she could say which would be the key to his recovery. Of course there was no such thing and he knew that. But he needed something, anything.

“They only took from you what you let them take. What those men did to you was traumatic but you are the one in control of your own reactions to that trauma. You have let them take up this space in your brain for the last four years and every time you let them win, they grow and grow. The only way you are ever going to get over what happened to you is by persevering and I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but it's the truth.

“I know you don’t see it but you have taken huge strides since the last time I saw you. You may keep experiencing this guilt during intimate moments but it will not last forever. I think you need to continue doing what you’re doing, putting yourself in scary situations and seeing how you react to them. Next time your experience will probably be much the same, and no doubt the time after that too.

“But eventually, and I can promise you this, eventually you will be able to push yourself further without repercussions. You will find one day you are able to give yourself over completely to this woman and what happened to you will be the furthest thing from your mind. The reason you are still struggling so much after all this time is because you couldn’t put yourself back out there. And although this seems terrifying, I can assure it is the first step towards healing. And I’m proud of you whether you like it or not.”

Spencer was crying by the time she finished speaking and he was nodding his head slowly in understanding. Perhaps she was right, perhaps now he was allowing himself to get close to someone he would eventually be able to move past this.

It might get a hell of a lot harder before it gets any better, but if he didn’t keep pushing through he would be at square one forever. Like anything in life worth having, it was going to be difficult, but for the first time he believed it might actually be possible.

“Th-thank you.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“I do believe you can get better, Spencer and I don’t think you need my help to do that. I’ve given you all the tools, you have to be willing to put in the work now.” She pushed herself up and made her way across to her desk. “That being said, I would like to up your dosage of paroxetine just a little. And I want you to make a concerted effort to remember your grounding exercises when you feel a dissociative episode coming on.”

“I’ll try.” He nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later he was leaving with a new prescription, sore eyes and a new perspective on his situation.

He found you in the driver’s seat of your car, thumbing through a book he recognised from his own collection. You closed it when the door opened and smiled softly at him.

“How did it go?” You asked as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

Spencer didn’t reply. He was too exhausted to speak. Instead he leaned across the central console and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and he edged his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only lasted a minute or so but it was more charged than any kiss you’d ever shared before. When he pulled back, you were looking at him in shock.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” You chuckled a little.

“A thank you, I guess.” He shrugged. “It might not seem like it but I am making progress. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Your eyes welled at his sentiment and without thinking about it you reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

And it wasn’t lost on either of you that for the first time, he didn’t flinch at your unexpected touch.

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hughiecampbelle · 6 months ago

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Waves Pt. 1 (Kendall Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Kendall, Logan

Word Count: 1,518

Inspired By: Liquid Smooth - Mitski (Audiotree Live Version)

Requested: Ok I have no idea why I was so drawn to these but if any inspiration strikes, maybe a fic or something with Shrink from the description prompts and Clawfoot Tub from Object/Thing prompts. To me it vibes with Kendall but I'd be happy seeing it written with anyone that comes to mind - @locke-writes

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: Noah I'm sorry it's literally been a million years. I got bit by the writing bug this morning and I saw your request and I just wanted to hurt everyone's feelings lol. Please forgive me!!! I hope you're doing okay and that this isn't too late/total garbage!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist / REQUESTS ARE OPEN / Waves Pt. 2

He can close his eyes, he can plunge himself beneath the water, he can hold his breath until his lungs begin to burn, set fire in in his chest, exhaling smoke and ash, but, he cannot forget. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak. Pure, genuine heartbreak. It was visceral and agonizing and bloody. You were shattering before him, across the room for him, and he could do nothing but watch. Stare. Like a fool. An onlooker to the breakdown of a stranger, a pedestrian, instead of the love of his life. Shrinking deeper, smaller, until you were nothing but a mite atop the fabric of the cushions. Wine stem in shaking hand, a coffee table between you littered with various glasses and room-temperature alcohol. There was sweat of the outside, the ice cubes long forgotten, beading down into the coaster. Behind him, faintly, he can hear the rest of the party. A steady, low murmur of voices fills the pulsing air between you. His father, a man made of rot and stone, spoke those awful words to you, about you, right in front of you. He berated you. He spat at you. He called you a worthless nothing, an appendage growing from his son, sucking the life out of him. Sucking the blood and money from this family. Then, to him, he insists that he could find someone better, smarter, better looking. There is no rebuttal, there is no last straw, there is only a cowering of his spine, as if this lecture has been triggered by the roundness, proudness of his shoulders, his posture and chest. He braces for impact. He flinches. When his show is over, when the last lines have been spoken, he takes his bow and exits off stage.

There is an audience of two and no one is clapping.

Siently, your eyes widen and well up in tears. He swears, though he can't say definitely, he cannot verify yes, it truly happened, you let out a single gasp of air. A wretched sound to anyone listening. The screech of tires before it crashes. The burst of porcelain across the hard wood floors, the remnants scattering, running, scraping on impact. The wet squelch of a someone rummaging around inside of someone’s open torso, trying to find and stop a bleed before the patient dies on the table. It is unfinished. It is dirty. It is obscene. It is a sound one wishes to take back, to unhear. Childishly, he wants to press his hands over his ears. He wants to beg you to stop, please, please! But just as it occurs, it is over. A single gasp. A single breath. Proof of life. You were never one for the dramatics. Your personality had always been shy. This was no different. Wounded animals did not announce their wounds. Instead, they dragged themselves off into solitude and assessed the damage. He’s not sure why he knew this was happening, why this was going to happen, only that he does. He stands, his eyes never leaving you. As if on cue, you set your drink down and take your place parallel to him, on your feet. You don’t wipe your tears away. You don’t even realize they’ve fallen. You move towards the closet by the entrance. He tries to stop you, to help you, to comfort you, but all that comes out is begging. Pleading. Please don’t go. Please, y/n. Excuses. You know dad, he wasn’t- he didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Please. . . You find your coat on the hanger and slip your arms through. It was beautiful today, the weather, but the nights get cold and vengeful and you have already been bitten. Your skin resembles the inside of Logan’s mouth: you are covered in teeth marks and spit. You were his chew toy, for a little while, for a long time, before he decided he was bored. Before he decided he was done with you.

He catches your arm, places his fingers around your bicep as if you are a lifevest and he a survivor of drowning. Scared. No, petrified, he cannot make full sentences. He stutters his way through something that does not resemble anything else. There are no apologies, from him or his father, so it must not be an apology. There is bargaining, but there is no deal. There is only a smattering of words that come to mind, a mess, a diaster of drastic proportions. No one else has notice the mess before you, preventing you from leaving. They have not bled out from the dining room yet. If you want this to be quick, painless, you have to do it soon. Wordlessly, you tug yourself free. You meet his eyes: hazel, warm, pooling with conflictions. You know this. You have seen this before. Torn in half: his left goes to Logan, promises that he will one day make him proud, his right throws himself into you, at you, and you must clean him up. You must clean up the crime scene. Even now, after what his father’s said, after what he’s been saying all the years you’ve been together, and still he can’t make up his mind. He can’t decide. You’ve grown tired of half. Half of him, his love, his attention. Half of the man you endured pain, and hatred, and disgust for. This family never liked you. This family never gave you a second thought. It was supposed to be worth it, being ith him, staying with him. How foolish you feel. How stupid you are, standing here, watching him go back and forth. You put your hand on his, squeeze it, before pulling away from him. You eye his form before the elevator doors shut. He wore the suit you loved, with the tie his father had chosen for him so long ago. His shoes resembled Logan’s, but his socks, the one’s you’d watched him pick out this morning, were one’s you’d gotten him this past Christmas. If he could have, if he had the ability, he would have cut himself to pieces and gifted half to you, half to Logan. He was already doing that, just without the wrapping paper and bow. Without the hacksaw. Without the gore.

He’d call your phone, over and over, listening to the familiar of your voice as it directs him to leave a message. He doesn’t stop until the box is full. His siblings make their jokes when they notice your absence. Cruel, harsh, Roy-like. He is grateful you are not here to listen, to hurt anymore than you already are. Logan pats him on the back, inviting him into his good graces as if the past hour hadn’t happened, as if your entire marriage hadn’t happened. Stunned, shocked, Kendall goes along with it. He tries to speak up, to stand up, but it is ill timed, ill received, and Logan shuts it down before it has the potential be anything impactful. I see y/n had better plans than to be here with their family. His defense gets stuck in his throat. He nearly chokes.

The water is cold, frozen, and he splashes in over his face. The look in your eyes. The gasp. Stop, he thinks, stop, stop, stop. You took the car and disappeared. He called and called and you never picked up. He thought, he hoped, you might be home, but when he let himself in the place was dark and uninviting. He searched for signs, clues you might have left him, but everything lay undisturbed. Tipsy and full of regret, he lets the faucet run in the tub. Had you been here. Had this whole night not happened, you might’ve joined him. He always felt the most at home here, with you, in the bath. You would have laughed at him, yelped that the water was too cold, before dipping your head under. You were so much braver than him. Now he sits, knees to chest, his back arched into a C. He is shivering and unhappy and cursing himself. If he could just say something, anything. If he had been doing it since you got together, all those years ago, instead of making you his fathers personal pin cushion. If, if, if. If he had been a better man, a better husband, a better son. Isn’t that what’s wrong, though? He was a good son, he was better than good, but he was not a worthy husband. All these years he watched you get torn down. He watched as something withered and died inside of you. But you still showed up. You braced yourself for impact. You laughed along to jokes made at you expense. And at the end of every night, every party, every event, you went home with him. Hand in loving hand. He didn’t know where you were, what you were doing, only that he was overwhelmed with the terrible feeling, while staring at the empty side of the tub, that he had made a horrific mistake that he could not take back.

#requested #writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #succession #succession x reader #succession imagine #succession fic #kendall roy fic #series

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ohnothisisathing · 6 months ago

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Fairytale

Finally at the end of finishing my unfinished fics from Hideduo Kiss Week, which I stopped because I was so behind. It’s been fun. You can see my previous ones in my temp fanfic tag.

Day 7: Free! I chose true love’s kiss. Ramon and Sunny are in this one with mentions of others.

Content warning: none at all. Rated All Ages

Once upon a time there was a mighty king whose armor was only as shiny as his bald head even when it was covered by the blood of his enemies. One day, walking through the woods after a long battle, he comes across a beautiful place with glowing vines and roses. In the middle of it was a man asleep in a glass box. Quickly a woman and her beautiful daughter come through the vines and point terrifying frying pans at him.

“It’s Em! She’s a princess, right?”

“She can be.”

“I’m a princess too, right? With my Pa?”

“Yes, you and Tubbo can be princesses :v”

“No no, I’m the princess and he’s a rich king.”

“Fit is already king in this story, but I will try. Anyways…”

Fit recognizes the two as Lady Bagi and Princess Empanada. He raises his hands in surrender and lets the light reflect off his head so they recognize him. They lower their frying pan and greet him as a friend. They tell him that their kingdom has fallen under a terrible curse where everyone but them has fallen into a permanent sleep and the only way to break the curse is to wake their prince with true love’s kiss.

The King looks closer at the glass box and he recognizes that face too. It’s Pac. They fought together to save a village on their border and spent time together in the aftermath laughing and telling stories and helping rebuild. Pac was funny and strong and wonderful, but Fit had his duties as king so they couldn’t stay together.

“Where are you in the story, Mustache Boy?”

“It’s a fairytale. Why would I be in it?”

“You’re always with your dads. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t think I’m in this story.”

“Em and I are in the story! I think you should be too.”

“I don’t want to be a princess.”

“You can be my royal bodyguard and protect me like you do in real life!”

“Yeah, I think I can do that :D. Now back to the story.”

King Fit looks down into the glass box and wonders what would happen if he kisses him. If it would save an entire kingdom it was worth a shot. Pac would understand, but the mighty king is nervous like he never was on the battlefield because if it works it means that his feelings are true love.

He leans down and kisses him softly on the lips. The lights on the vines seem to glow brighter, but the king barely notices.

The prince’s eyes open and he looks up, blinded by the light shining off the bald head until he sees the face of his true love.

Prince Pac gets out of the box with everybody’s help and he gives the king a hug and thanks him for breaking the curse. Pac holds the king’s hands and kisses him this time. He says that their kingdom already has a king and princesses and doesn't need a prince who gets curses put on them so maybe he can go to Fit’s kingdom and be with him. The king says that he would like that.

They travel through the awakening kingdom with Lady Bagi and Princess Empanada to meet King Tubbo. They reach the castle and are greeted by the prettiest princess in the world, Sunny, and her loyal guard Ramón. They thank King Fit for saving the kingdom.

They meet with King Tubbo and laugh with him as friends do, but King Tubbo does not approve of Pac going to live with King Fit, but their true love broke the curse so he could not stop them. So they left the kingdom hand-in-hand without the king’s blessing, and-

“And then Princess Sunny orders her brave knight to go with them to make them visit her.”

“That’s not how the story goes.”

“Yes it does! And they see how brave and kind he is and love him so much that they adopt him and he becomes prince of that kingdom.”

“Do they?”

“Duh. Obviously.”

“Okay :D”

Princess Sunny orders her knight to go with King Fit and Prince Pac, saying that she needs him to make sure they visit. Unknown to her, they had already made plans to visit often because they love the princess so much and would miss her and all their family in the kingdom, even King Tubbo. They eventually adopt the knight Ramón when they see how strong and brave he is and take him on adventures and tell him stories and hug him and give him gifts and love him like he never imagined anyone would. They become a family and visit Princess Sunny and their family in the neighboring kingdom often, and they lived happily ever after.

“Good Story Mustache Boy.”

“Thank you Diamond Girl. Now time for mimir. Buenas noches hermanita. Hasta mañana.”

“Sweet dreams! See you in the morning.”

#QSMP fanfic #hideduokisswk #FitPac #Hideduo #My temp fanfic tag

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thebawdybaldurian · 10 months ago

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More TavHalAstarion Drabbles

This was just supposed to be a cute few paragraphs about Astarion trying his best to be a part time dad to his, Tav, and Halsin’s kids (spoiler, Tav is going to have twins!) but then it snowballed.

Avaerua (‘joyous star’, as best I could make up with all the random DnD elven dictionaries out there) and Shantarion (little tree).

Quick Background: Halsin parents the kids full time, at the commune, and visits as often as he can stand to stay in the city. Tav and Astarion acquired a pair of rings that allow him to walk in the sun, as the rings transfer his sun affliction to his lover. The Silverboughs also had silver-white hair in their lineage, so no one is sure which man the father actually is and they don't really care.

Content: Playing in blood, blood drinking, PIV sex

Astarion went to the ice box to grab a bottle of blood, setting it on the counter so he could light the wood stove and begin boiling water to heat up his meal. He only drank cold blood if he absolutely had to. He didn’t notice Avaerua quietly toddle into the kitchen, her eye fixed on the dark red bottle. He turned around to grab it right as she was reaching up for it.

“No, that’s not for you!” Astarion snatched it off the counter before she could get to it. “You are supposed to be napping.”

“Paint!” She pouted, reaching her fingers out to him. She still only knew a few words and apparently paint was the newest one. Tav had been letting the twins finger paint at the kitchen table a few days ago, getting rid of some of her older pots.

“No, it’s not paint. It’s daddy’s special drink,” he held the bottle close to his chest. She looked on the verge of tears, her pale cheeks going red. “No, no, don’t cry. I’ll find you some paint, alright?”

He picked her up, holding the bottle under his arm and carried her over to the kitchen table. Her brother was still peacefully asleep on the nearby couch. “Now where in the Hells does your mother keep her paint?” He asked himself aloud as sorted through the mess on the table, setting the bottle down in the middle. Tav and Halsin had just slipped out to the market, hoping the kids would stay asleep for the short period of time they were gone.

There were empty and dried out pots of paint, crinkled sheets that had crude pictures on them, unfinished snacks, wayward socks, toys, and various other sundries that always seemed to pile up when Halsin brought the children to visit. He sighed and headed towards the loft, her feet kicking into his side impatiently. He tipped her upside down over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder one-handed, so she would stop kicking him. “Wee daddy!” She giggled, her long silver curls dangling into her face.

He tipped her back upright as he began to search through Tav’s other art supplies. There were pens and colorful chalks, but she didn’t yet have the dexterity to use them. “Noms?” She asked, putting her whole fist in her mouth.

“Yes, your daddy is hungry too, but you interrupted his snack,” he continued looking through the shelves, pulling her hand out gently. He saw nothing of use, heading back down the ladder to grab her a snack. “Eat this while daddy keeps looking,” he set her down and handed her a small bowl of dried fruit that had been left on the table.

He went to the closet in the hall where Tav kept a lot of random things, hoping there might be some paint there. He hadn’t been looking long when he heard the clatter of glass, peeking his head around the door to see Ava standing on her tiptoes, having pulled some papers and the bottle of blood off the table. The bottle hadn’t broken, luckily, but the stopper had come loose and dark red liquid was already pooling on the floor. “Paint!” She shouted happily, plopping down on her bottom and beginning to smear the blood across the floor with her fingers.

“Gods above,” he sighed heavily and shut the closet door. “Well, you’ve already made a mess,” he sat down beside her, picking up the bottle to prevent the entire thing from emptying onto the floor. “What do you want to paint?”

“Mommy!” She announced happily, drawing a rough circle with long squiggles for hair.

“You know, you are stubborn just like your mother,” he smiled, adding legs and arms to the drawing with a bloody finger.

Tav and Halsin returned home just in time to find the pair sitting around a pool of blood. “Dear Gods!” Tav shrieked, clutching her chest when she saw the child’s bloody hands.

“Hi mommy, hi daddy!” Ava waved them wildly. “We paint.”

Shantarion awoke from his nap after hearing his mother’s cry, joining her with a cranky whine. “I thought one of you was hurt! We were only gone for twenty minutes!” Tav sighed as Halsin picked up his son, rocking him gently to soothe him.

Tav set down the sack on her shoulder and knelt down to observe their work. “So how did this happen?” She mussed both Ava and Astarion’s curls, looking over the bloody mess on the floor.

“Because she’s stubborn and impatient just like you, and couldn’t wait until I could find more actual paint,” he smiled and kissed her.

“That sounds about right,” she laughed, getting back up and grabbing Ava under her arms. “Alright, you little hellion, let’s get you cleaned up and find something a little less gruesome to paint with.” She picked her up, holding her outward to avoid getting blood on anything.

“No! Paint with daddy!” She protested, kicking her feet again.

“Paint with daddy!” Shan added, squirming in Halsin’s arms.

“We’ll paint with daddy after you get cleaned up and he has a bite to eat,” she winked at Astarion as he went to find something to clean up the blood.

She rinsed and cleaned Ava’s hands in the kitchen basin, carrying her back to the table and setting her in a chair next to Shan. “Let’s eat something, little ones,” Halsin began trying to get them settled, while Tav searched for more paint and paper.

She found a box-full, shoved into the bottom back of the closet and returned to the kitchen with her prize. Halsin had given each child a honey treat from the market. “The last thing they need is more sweets,” she teased, setting the box of paints down on the table.

“You know I have to spoil them. And they are getting an entire dinner of fresh vegetables,” he leaned over to kiss her. “Speaking of, I can handle them for a bit if you two want to go out and…eat alone,” he added with a grin.

Astarion stuck with bottled blood when the children were around, because drinking directly from either Tav or Halsin typically made him a little over-excited and feeling extra virile. Tav eyed both her husbands and began helping Astarion finish cleaning up the blood. “Are you sure?” She rinsed a bloody rag out in the sink and went to grab some disinfectant. “We could just pop into the bedroom for…twenty minutes,” she grinned at Astarion.

“Please, I insist,” Halsin replied, taking some of the lids off the paint pots. “Enjoy the autumn air while it lasts. After we are done painting I can wear the children out with a game of ‘find of the bear cub.’ We can enjoy the rest of the evening together when they rest, before we head home in the morning.”

“Alright, love,” Tav kissed his ear lobe with a little extra tongue. “You two be good for your father,” she grabbed her and Astarion’s cloaks. Astarion returned from the bedroom with their blood bond rings.

“Thank you,” Astarion kissed Halsin as well, giving his ass a squeeze. He slipped the black gemmed ring onto Halsin’s pinky finger, the only one it would fit on, and stuck the yellow gemmed one on his.

“Of course, my heart,” Halsin pulled him in for another kiss before they left. “Don’t wear yourselves out too much,” he whispered in his ear.

“I’ll made sure we’re both well fed,” Astarion grinned and joined Tav at the door.

They headed out into the mid-afternoon sun, arm in arm. The autumn air was fresh and crisp, tickling their skin through their cloaks. “Is it too cold for a picnic and roll in the grass?” Tav asked, knowing the cool air affected him more. “We could just find an inn.”

“Your warmth will be enough,” he pulled her in for a kiss. “I’d love to fuck you in the sunlight again before it gets too cold.”

They searched for a place for Tav to grab some food to go and then headed to the park to find a secluded spot to ‘picnic’ together. They found a sheltered little spot where the sun still shined and spread out one of their cloaks, laying the other on top of them. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Astarion spoke, teasing his fingers up Tav’s dress while she ate. “We really need more space, especially as the children get older. I know how attached you are to the cottage, but the house next door just came up for sale.”

“Did we finally drive them away with our moans?” she smirked as his fingers reached her inner thighs.

“Most likely,” he smiled, letting his fingers linger near her sex. She’d taken her underpants off at some point before they’d left the house. “We’d likely have to sell the atelier, but I could set up shop at the front of the house, that street has plenty of foot traffic. And we could brick up the alleyway in between the cottage and the house and create a little garden for Halsin. He might be a little more comfortable in the city if he had some nature to enjoy.”

“That’s quite the plan,” she grinned at him. “Blocking up alleys. Zoning for business use. It sounds like a lot of permits and paperwork.”

“My love, my whole life was once paperwork. If I can forge the deed to an entire palace, I can get us the permits we need, no matter what.”

“How long has this been brewing in your mind?”

“Since before the children were born. In many hundred of years, when you finally join the white hair club and can no longer climb the ladder to the loft, you can still have a place to work…and I’ll be there by your side.”

She leaned over and kissed him, trying not to get sentimental and start crying. “I love you,” she pulled him closer. “And I will for the rest of my days.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her back, pressing her legs open with his own. He kissed down her neck, ready to taste and make love to her.

“Will you still fuck me hard when I’m so old, even if it risk breaking my hip?” she purred as he kissed her favorite spot.

“I intend to try that even now,” he smirked, nuzzling her neck before biting down on it. She let out a quiet moan, gripping tighter to him as the cold, sensual feeling of his mouth overcame her. She reached her other hand down to his cock, feeling him grow hard as her blood fed him. He took his fill, licking and kissing her neck after he finished. She groped at his pants, freeing his cock and letting her hand slid across it.

“Fuck me then, right now,” she grinned, wrapping her leg over his.

He complied, guiding his cock into her without even looking, his gaze fixed on hers. They fucked slowly, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies and the fresh air around them. They didn’t need to talk or guide one another, they just knew how to move with one another’s bodies. They came together, their cries married in each other mouths. They lingered in each other’s arms for a while before deciding to head home. “Let’s discuss this plan of yours with Halsin and perhaps take a peek at the house next door,” she leaned against him as they walked home. She couldn’t wait to spend hundreds more years with him.

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #astarion x tav x halsin #daddy astarion #daddy halsin #bg3 fic

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months ago

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Blood and sand - Chapter Eleven

“Why am I safe with you?” said Luke. “I mean, how am I safer with you than other people here?”

Arthur sighed. “Because Collins knows I'm… protective. I'll protect you.”

Written for the @malevolentmadnessmixup. Art by @aktrashpanda.

>>>>READ ON AO3 OR BELOW<<<<

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Chapter Eleven: The King in Yellow

“Keep it to yourself, lad,” Dennis murmured almost in his ear as they stepped back into the hall. “Anybody finds out the King has any interest in you at all, and they’d see a pressure point.”

“A pressure point?”

“A person they might think they could threaten to get him to obey.”

Luke scoffed. “That wouldn’t work.”

“No, it wouldn’t, and you and I both know that, but they don’t.”

For one moment, Luke was just so sick of other people. Slavers bothering him, bullies hounding him, now this? “What should I do?”

“We have to work on your magic. Get you some defense. Won’t be enough to just heal yourself, laddie.”

His eyes stung. “I can do this,” Luke said. “I have to.”

“So does everybody. The challenge is you’re not thinking offensively yet; you’re defensive. Responsive, not active. All someone needs to do is bite off your head, or eat you, or do something else you can’t heal. You’ve got to start thinking like a killer.”

And with a shock, Luke realized he did not want to do that.

His whole life had been doing what he had to do, miserable and mandated, but he did not want to do this. From school to work to household things to staying out of the way, he’d done what he was told, and hadn’t liked it. This was different. This mattered. “Do I have to kill?” he said, soft.

The look Dennis gave him wasn’t… disgusted. It wasn’t angry or disappointed. But it was less interested, distinctly distracted, and that seemed like some kind of warning. “Best advised, lad. Else, they’ll come after you again, with a grudge this time, and will know your tricks. You’d lose badly.”

It was so strange to find this barrier within himself. He didn’t want to have to kill. “Thank you. For… for helping me.”

The bad look went away. “We need to make you dangerous, lad. Willing to strike first. Fast.”

Luke felt a little sick.

They walked, and Dennis did not look toward the other warriors who peered, watching Luke with sharp and narrowed eyes. “I might know a guy,” Dennis said thoughtfully. “His boss owes me a favor.”

Luke looked up. “A guy?”

Dennis nodded. “You just stick by Arthur's side, all right? I ought be back in a few days.”

Luke glanced back over his shoulder. All of them were still watching. He gulped. “Are they going to attack me?” he whispered.

“Might try it if you're alone,” said Dennis, believably. “Not supposed to, but if there’s no witnesses…”

“Do you have to leave?” Luke squeaked.

“Arthur’s safe,” Dennis said, and stopped in front of a narrow, purple door. “In you go.”

“This isn’t the dorm,” said Luke.

“Arthur’s in there. Tell him I'm trusting you to him,” said Dennis, and this smile was wicked.

“Yes, sir,” said Luke, drooping, and didn’t think to say, Why don’t you tell him yourself? until it was too late and Dennis was gone. “I'm an idiot,” Luke mumbled, and pushed inside.

Very clearly, Arthur didn’t hear him enter.

“I don't care,” Arthur said, his back to the door, facing the uneven and sharp-edged punching dummy. “It’s fucking Parker.” He swung, slamming his left fist into the dummy with all his might. “Yes, it changes everything! You’re fucking wrong, John.”

He punched with his right hand. It missed the softer stuffed belly and slammed his knuckles right into the jagged, unfinished wood frame.

“Ow! Fuck!” Arthur shook his hand wildly; blood decorated his knuckles, which he had badly split. “That was your fault! Damn it, something broke.”

“I can help,” said Luke.

Arthur Lester jumped damn near out of his skull as he spun, head turned wrong, eyes turned right. “Luke?”

“Dennis says he’s trusting me to you,” Luke obediently mumbled.

Arthur stared. “Shit.” A pause. “Yes, very funny. Fine.” And lower, he muttered, “I need the medic.”

“No, you don’t,” said Luke, who’d been unable to heal a god, and was definitely not running on a full tank, but he’d clearly been handed off to Arthur Lester like a burden, and he was sick of being dismissed tonight. He looked at Arthur’s hands and applied his knack.

He was exhausted. It twinged in his chest a little, like the cost for this was a narrow slice of his cardiovascular. It was worth it, though, because both Arthur and his weird eyes seemed stunned.

“Better?” said Luke, who could clearly see it was healed if still bloody.

Arthur stared at his hands. Arthur stared at Luke (face to the side, eyes locked on Luke’s). “That wasn’t small magic.”

“It was my magic,” Luke said.

Arthur’s paleness returned. “You’re a natural healer,” he said in wonder. “This…” He turned his head. “I know, I know, give me a damn moment.”

Luke would not be doing that. “You were talking about Parker.”

Arthur’s mouth set. His eyes flashed. The lower half of his face looked stubborn. The top looked mad. “Yes.”

“Why?” said Luke.

“Because I want him back, too,” said Arthur, and then did something weird. His left hand shot toward Luke. His right gripped it, around the wrist and straining, and he said, “No!”

This man really was insane.

It wasn’t that scary. Luke had known so many people who were crazy after the Depression, struggling to survive on the streets. Dennis took Arthur seriously, too. “What did you come here to wish?” said Luke.

Arthur opened his mouth, stopped, and seemed to listen to something only he could hear. “What the fuck harm would it do, John?”

Luke waited. Imaginary voices did not, in his experience, like interruptions.

Arthur sighed. “I'm doing it anyway. Luke, we’re here because we’re trying to rescue someone.”

“Who?” said Luke, ignoring the thought that the King needed rescue because it obviously couldn’t be that.

“A man named Charlie Dowd,” said Arthur grimly. “He’s the King’s prisoner… and his best fighter.” Arthur sighed. “He’s had Charlie for over a decade. No one's been able to defeat him.”

Luke’s heart clenched. “But if no one’s won, there are no wishes. Are there?”

“If Charlie is defeated, there is,” said Arthur, “and we know how. We have to remove the spell the King has him under. We’re—I’m—uniquely suited to do that.”

“How come? And then you'll ask for Parker back?”

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. “The plan was to ask for Charlie. Removing the spell won’t technically gain him freedom. Just sanity.”

But the wish…

But Parker…

But…

Arthur muttered to the side. “Oh, does it feel bad? Does it? Well, that’s what you get for wanting to be mean to a child,” he said, then turned back to Luke. “Hey, it's okay. Don't cry, all right? I'm… not sure anymore.”

Luke wiped his eyes. “What’s so special about this Charlie, anyway?”

“We were… given help,” said Arthur. “In a terrible time of need. In turn, we were asked to help Charlie because he helped the one who helped us.”

“You owe him.” Luke’s heart sank.

“It's complicated now,” said Arthur. “Worse… we can’t both ask. One person wins this, Luke. I need to think about what to do.”

“Dennis is gone tonight,” blurted Luke. “He said he’s calling in a favor and he won’t be back for days.”

Arthur sort of perked up. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir,” said Luke, wiping his eyes again.

“No wonder he left you with me. A natural healer… people will get ideas.” Arthur sighed. “Come on. Let’s go have some dinner.”

Luke would not be alone. His exhaled, shoulders losing tension.

“So, Luke,” said Arthur as they left the little training room, and the blood he’d spilled vanished as though eaten by the arena itself. “Where did you say you came from?”

Luke wasn’t used to someone who wanted to hear what he had to say. Nobody was like that but Parker. But this had been Parker’s partner, so maybe that was why.

“That’s a lot of missed meals,” Arthur said gently, because he actually believed what Luke told him.

Which was good. Luke didn’t lie well. Deception was always his third or fourth thought, and never his first. “I'm fine,” he said.

“Sounds to me like you spent a lot of nights hungry.”

“Everyone does,” said Luke out of years of forced gratitude. “I was one of the lucky ones with a roof over my head.”

��So you want to go back?” said Arthur slyly.

“No!” said Luke.

“Sounds to me like you’re better off away from them,” said Arthur.

He wasn’t wrong. “I… I'm not ungrateful.”

“You’re not. I just know—as a parent—that if someone goes without food, it’s supposed to be you. It’s never supposed to be the kid.”

Luke blinked. His mouth opened and froze.

Arthur was right. He was right. Luke had never considered this, had accepted the scarcity, the choice to feed everyone in the apartment but him. But why? He didn’t deserve food over other people. He wasn’t better, or more special.

Except that Parker would have chosen to either give them both smaller meals, or that Luke—the one who was still growing—ate. Luke knew. Arthur was right.

“Well,” said Arthur, who seemed to know Luke had hit his limit tonight. “Let's go sleep. Stick with me, okay?”

“Why am I safe with you?” said Luke. “I mean, how am I safer with you than other people here?”

Arthur sighed. “Because Collins knows I'm… protective. I'll protect you.”

“Then I'll heal you,” said Luke, who refused to be useless (or ungrateful, which he’d been called all his life, or not pulling his weight, which had been lobbed at him like rocks).

“Sounds like a deal,” said Arthur, and offered his hand.

Luke shook it, feeling very adult.

He went with Arthur to the showers, and to clean their teeth. He followed him to the dorm, where Arthur waited until Luke was in his cot before climbing into his own.

It was nice, Luke decided. Nice not to be alone.

He was far too tired to even think about staying awake, and drifted off before most of the monsters had finished their threatening growls.

Battle began before breakfast.

That happened sometimes. Someone (usually the Butcher, but he wasn’t back yet) would step in, bellow orders—duels, free-for-all brawl, Conquer Rome (in which half the fighters were “pagans” and half were “Roman Soldiers”), or whatever—and everyone had to scurry.

Today, Luke stuck with Arthur, and they made a pretty good team.

Arthur was completely insane, but he was also completely vicious. Nobody seemed prepared for him, even true monsters. Arthur moved like he had no fear, without logic or reason, and with hands that worked weirdly independently of one another—and since no one knew where he’d lunge or what he’d do, no one had a really good defense.

He took plenty of damage, too. He had the past few fights, then dragged himself to the medic, talking to himself the whole way, but today… today, that would not be necessary.

Luke tried to avoid being hit. He ducked, spent his focus on looking around, dodging anyone who aimed for him, and fortunately, he wasn’t really much of a target: today’s game was “protect the general,” which meant two weird-looking idols with too many arms, sat at either end of the arena and under threat of destruction by the opposite team.

Arthur had no interest in the idol. His goal appeared to be thinning the herd.

And Luke kept him able.

It took so little to heal him; they were basic injuries, impact or tearing, though that one knife-wound was pretty nasty, and Luke had no trouble keeping up. After trying to heal a god, it was nothing.

Though there was something… wrong, going on with Arthur. Something that created a steady drain on Arthur’s lifeforce. It wasn’t really Luke’s wheelhouse, but he could see it, feel it, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint the source. It felt a little familiar, whatever it was, but it wasn’t good. It had to be harming Arthur over time. It had to, and he—

A trumpet blew. “Victory!” declared whoever the hell that masked cultist was, and the other team seemed to have won, and a lot of bodies littered the arena floor, and Luke tried so hard not to look at them, not to listen to the moans of those who still lived but weren’t going anywhere under their own power, and he pressed close to Arthur, fighting the urge to heal.

Arthur did the face that meant he was listening to John. “They’d just hurt you if you got near them,” he said, then, as if imaginary John somehow knew. “Don’t give them the opportunity.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke said, keeping his eyes fixed on his booted toes. The pressure (need, hunger, desire) to heal didn’t let up until they were some ways down the hall, and finally, he exhaled.

“You did really well,” Arthur said. “We make a good team.”

“We do, sir,” said Luke.

“John and I came to a conclusion last night,” said Arthur. “Here’s what I offer: let’s work together for now, as far as we can. We don’t have to decide what to do about the wish yet. We don’t have to figure out how to handle the last battle yet if it’s just you and me left.”

Oh, this didn’t feel safe at all. “We… we won’t have a plan?” Luke said, tiny.

“That is our plan,” said Arthur, moving a whole lot better than he usually did after one of these battles.

Luke didn’t like not having a plan. To be fair, he’d come into this without much of one, but that was only about him. That was not about risking another person, or trusting them when something screwball could happen.

He didn’t think Arthur would betray him. However they faced that last day, that last choice, they’d do it fairly. So. In the interest of being fair… “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Something’s… not quite right with you,” said Luke. “I don’t know what it is. First I thought it was cancer, but it isn’t. Something, though—maybe a curse, I don’t know—is draining your lifeforce. It’s not too bad, so you may not have even noticed, but it isn’t really good to see that in there.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. He kept walking, silent, brow knit. “That’s… unfortunate,” he said, low.

“I don’t know what it is,” Luke said quickly. “I’m not sure it’s something I can fix.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Arthur said very slowly. “I… I think I know what you’re feeling. It’s not a curse—no, John, it’s not. What you’re feeling is—”

“There you are,” said Dennis Collins, striding toward them with another man in his wake. “Saw some of that out there. Pretty good teamwork. That’s what I call entertainment.”

Arthur stared (mostly) in his direction. “No,” he said softly.

Luke glanced over. The other man was not very tall, but broad through the shoulders, and he walked with a solidity that made his black robe sway from side to side. He had black hair and light skin, and eyes that seemed kind, and…

He was missing an arm. Luke did a double take.

“Kids,” said Dennis, looking like the cat who got the cream. “This is—”

“Oscar?” said Arthur in a breathy voice.

“Hello, Arthur,” said the man in a heavy Scottish brogue.

And Arthur took one big step forward and slammed his fist into Dennis’ smiling face.

[chapter twelve] [masterpost]

#malevolent #malevolent au #malevolent fic #arthur lester #john doe #dennis collins #luke yang #kiy malevolent #malevolent madness mixup #blood and sand fic #kayne malevolent #oscar malevolent

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distinguisheddwarffriend · 6 months ago

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Hi! I know I'm late with this, but if you still feel like it, do these questions from the fanfic writers ask game maybe? 🫶

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

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

47. what story are you most proud of?

Hi & thanks for the questions, I'm always happy to do the fanfic writers ask game!

7. The first fanfic I ever wrote:

When I was 15 (so half a life ago) I discovered Tolkien & High Fantasy for myself, and started writing an original work called "Elven Blood", that may have had original characters& my own world, BUT almost all of it was inspired by Tolkien. Each "race"/ elven sub-race, the societies etc all were VERY Tolkien, it basically WAS a fanfic.

The plot was the beautiful cliché of a young girl waking up on a beach without any memories of who she is. She wanders & gets found by the wood elves(her best friend is an Arwen 2.0), a reclusive kind of the elves (there also were Firn-Elves, Light-Elves, Night-Elves, Blood-Elves), and later, for some reason, runs away from them and comes into the kingdoms of men, falls in love with a young king that travels the world in disguise of a Story-Teller(Aragorn), because he does not want to be king, and while there was a 'big evil' somewhere(Sauron), and the peoples fought that.

I had this really funny twist planned, where there is this legend of the Queen of the Light Elves(Galadriel), that was enchanted by someone evil (Annatar) & cheated on her husband, having a bastard child. Her husband killed the child in anger, and the Queen faded in grief.

However, the MC later finds out that she is said child from the story, the King of the Light Elves could not kill her after all, and her mother did not die but turned insane, leading her people into a hidden exile (Lorien) and secretly planning her revenge against all elf kind by teaming up with her Ex Lover (Sauron/Annatar).

Maybe one day I'll finish/ revamp it.

11. For one of my current WIPs "Homeward bound", I had to research certain parts of European and American history.

I learned about the war between Denmark & Schleswig Holstein around 1850, the Northernmost German state & close to where I live. I had no idea this war even existed!

If I do research, then I really research things, for example I now even know the exact dates& places of various battles, how the different uniforms looked, what happened to wounded sell-swords after battle etc.

20. My favourite trope to write BY FAR is Modern Girl in Middle Earth.

It's funny, because I used to think of it as cringy for years, because I mostly knew about the "messy-bun, blue-orbs Mary-Sues", but when I needed a change from my usual stuff, I gave it a try & now I'm forever lost.

47. What story I am mostly proud of?

Ooof, tough one.

It's easier to answer what idea I'm proud of the most, because much of my work is unpublished/unfinished, so I cannot be proud of it yet.

Therefore: I'm proud of the idea for my "Opus Magnus" that could be a Tolkien fanfic, but is also a very original work.

It's far from finished, but it combines the MGiME trope with The End of Our World, the "saving" of parts of our humanity by the Valar, the Building of a new, utopian society, the interaction of Tolkien & his characters, the moral question of 'what is the MC allowed to do/change' and the dangers of our world's knowledge encroaching into a fictional & medieval world.

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rosethornewrites · 8 months ago

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NR, E, & M reading since 3/18

Finished

Not Rated:

JC & WWX role swap (LWJ/WWX/JC), by nirejseki

Prompt: au where wwx comes from the old and respected yiling wei sect and jc and jyl are the children of rogue cultivators (or maybe madam yu ran away with rogue jfm?), taken in by sect leader wei

four letters: H-A-T-E (Wei Wuxian's POV), by Edith343redwood

What if the first night they met was rewritten?

Four letters. One word.

that's all it took to send Wei Wuxian spiralling.

They say words hold power, but what can words do?

If a word could be rewritten into a story, what would it be?

Possible works 1 - Ghost Child, by Hauntcats

Wei Ying returns to the day Jiang Fengmian found him and decides to do something different.

None of these are very Jiang Cheng friendly. I'm not even sure if they are Lan friendly. At least one of them is nicer to Jiang Yanli.

Explicit:

The Best Laid Plans, by Admiranda, Rynne (11th in a series)

After a long day traveling, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian just want to have a bath together. Those simple intentions don't last -- and neither does the bathtub.

and we can be anything, by Imatableclock (2nd in a series)

"You’re so good at this, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, panting.

From the look on Lan Zhan’s face, she probably considers it an offence that Wei Ying is still speaking. Wei Ying is very happy to learn this about Lan Zhan.

---

Two lesbians in one apartment, and their firsts.

Microphones and Camera Reels, by UseMyMuse

Wei Ying and Lan Wangji have been happily married for five years, their careers are at an all time high, and they really couldn't be happier. Purely by chance, the public is unaware of their relationship, and Lan Zhan's fans are severely misjudging his horny glare for hate and they decide to ban together to get rid of the thorn in their favorite star's side.

One Day We're Loving Each Other, by sami (2nd in a series, 2 chapters, reread)

The wedding is lovely, the bride is very beautiful, and Jiang Yanli comes to live at the Unclean Realm.

Mature:

Blood of the Black Earth, by wirevix (15 chapters)

By the time Jiang Cheng and his small rescue party managed to clear away the rubble at the cave's collapsed entrance, it was too late.

Wei Wuxian had already gone cold.

The Moon Reflected Upon Two Springs, by Rubberduckieassassin (🔒)

In many ways, this part of Wen Ning’s existence has felt like winter. Winter is the most Yin of all the seasons. It is a time of stillness and quiet reflection. Remembering how to ‘live’ again as best he could.

Possible Works 2 - Numb, by Hauntcats

Wei Ying returns to his teenage years, but can't shake the memories of what he has lost.

The Tamed, by pj_moonchild (7 chapters)

Wei Wuxian believes he can change the past for the better if he never misbehaved and remained considerate of the Jiang Yunmeng Sect the whole time. At the same time, he sacrifices meeting Lan Zhan but inevitably, they do meet again once the Wen Clan decides to take over the other sects.

Unfinished

Not Rated:

I'd Give You The Moon, by Teadrenched

Wei Wuxian is very smart, but you wouldn't think that if you saw him now, lost alone in the woods at night and being choked by a witch. Despite his predicament, all Wei Wuxian can think about is how pretty the witch looked, and that he didn't know boys were allowed to wear dresses (but after seeing Lan Wangji, definitely thinks more should)

Wei Ying finds fem witch Lan Zhan in the woods and goes to bother him whenever Madame Yu has been a bit too much

Friday Nights, by Autumn_leaf101

“A-Cheng there is someone I would like you to meet with this Friday. He is the successor to Lan Academies. I’ve spoken with his uncle and we shall see if you both are suitable for each other.” Said Yu-Jiang ZiYuan, with a tone of clarity and finality.

“Yes A-Niang” Having expected this he felt relieved to get it over with.

“The Lan Academies huh? The heirs are quite the handsome duo.” A cheeky Cangse Sanren pointed out. “Isn’t the younger, the pouty one you’re always talking about A-Xian?! Oh, and the older, he has the sweetest smile, doesn’t he?” She continued an excited rant, met with an equally excited Wei Wuxian.

As the conversation steered to the rumours of Jiang Cheng’s potential betrothed, he wanted to know what was being said but no amount of effort could help him concentrate. His only focus; convincing himself that a lifetime of neglect and passive-aggressive companionship wouldn’t be too bad, or maybe, just maybe he could love and be loved the way a husband and wife are meant to.

wing bones touching, by ShanaStoryteller

Mo Xuanyu is the hastily legitimized daughter of Jin Guangshan.

Wei Wuxian wakes up in her body the day before her wedding.

Explicit:

the long way back home, by Misila (🔒)

Wei Ying always knew he was the single discordant note in the Jiang household. That was why, after graduating from university, he didn’t return home. With him gone, Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have anyone to compare her son to, and Jiang Fengmian wouldn’t have to keep avoiding his own family to prevent further conflict.

…Right?

(Seven years later, married to the man of his life and with a four year-old son, Wei Ying returns to his hometown and tries to reconnect with his siblings and befriend his nephew; but, most of all, he struggles to figure out what’s wrong with his brother and how to help him, despite Jiang Cheng not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.)

Lupine, by Anonymous

It’s never been an option before��to see Wei Ying after that dream. Typically, Lan Wangji jolts awake in bed, alone with his quaking limbs, and resigns himself to reading or meditating until morning.

But here in Qinghe, dawn is far away, and Wei Ying’s room is so, so close.

The Second Hand Unwinds, by trulywicked (🔒)

Sent back in time without his husband after a night hunt gone wrong, Lan Wangji is determined to ensure that Wei Wuxian’s safety and in the process hopefully mitigate, if not prevent, the war.

Through marriage among other things.

Heart of the Beast, by WaitForTheSnitch

“Wei Ying?” Nie Mingjue prompted him gently. “Where are your parents?”

“They went on a night hunt,” Wei Ying said, a bit evasively.

“Your parents are cultivators?” Da-ge asked in surprise. “Did they leave you here while they hunted? When did they go on their night hunt?”

“Four summers ago,” Wei Ying said a bit uncomfortable.

“Four summers ago,” Nie Mingjue repeated. “What are your parents’ names?”

“My mama is Cangse Sanren and my baba is Wei Changze,” Wei Ying told him, and recognition registered in Nie Mingjue’s eyes.

“Wei Ying,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding a bit regretful, “Your parents aren’t coming back.”

Or, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang run into Wei Ying while in Yiling and decide to bring him home. And it changes everything.

Mature:

Dreams of Paradise, by Hauntcats

This on begins during the siege of the Burial Mound. Wei Ying is trying to destroy or nullify the tiger seal before anyone else can get it. The results don’t work out quite how he thought they would. His essence is trapped in between time where he witnesses different scenes of the lives of those he cares about. (The 13? 16? Years when he was dead.)

Then he wakes up in a place he didn't expect.

Once again, not Jiang friendly. If you don't like that, please, don't read.

Tragedy That Befall Upon Us, by xoxoholic

"Hey! What's this?" Jin Ling yelled, pointing at the glowing, black and red orb. Jiang Wanyin marched over to Jin Ling, but the young Jin sect leader had already touched the orb.

"Jin Ling!" Jiang Wanyin yelled in anger. If his golden core was not sealed, then Zidian would be cackling furiously.

"..Oops?" Jin Ling sheepishly smiled as he hid behind his friends. Lan Jingyi laughed at Jin Lings predicament while Lan Sizhui sighed. Ouyang Zizhen laughed with Lan Jingyi in amusement before he was hit in the back of his head by his father.

UNDER EDITING

【银劍探心】| Silver Jian Seeking Hearts, by stiltonbasket

“A ghost bridegroom?” Wei Wuxian asks, when he receives his latest night-hunting assignment from Uncle Jiang. “Have women been going missing?”

If brides have been going missing, this is the first that Wei Wuxian is hearing about it; which is strange, because the systematic kidnapping of brides should have quickly been recognized as spirits’ work and reported as such to the nearest cultivation sect as soon as possible.

“Three women and ten men have gone missing so far,” his uncle tells him. “Jinshan town is out of our jurisdiction, and the records say there hasn’t been a hunt in the area since before my grandfather’s time. But no one from Jinshan thought to report the disappearances until today, so the victims must be long dead by now.”

Four hundred years after the Sunshot Campaign, a reincarnated Wei Wuxian dresses himself in wedding red to defeat the ghost of a bridegroom.

Deep within the forests of Jinshan Mountain, the mourning calamity Yin Jian Tan Xin waits to marry his beloved.

What If..... Jiang Cheng Understood?, by ToxicAngel13

It didn't take a genius to realize just what had happened in the time that Wei Wuxian was gone. Not with that damn ribbon on his wrist and Jiang Cheng was not going to let his brother be taken advantage of!

Or a tale in which one insight sparks a world of change.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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scorpiongrassfield · 1 year ago

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Theo is Spooked... Again

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Pat laughs it off.

“I mean. It’s not really for us to decide, kid. Either it was or it wasn’t, factually. We have no say in the matter when it comes to reality,” they ramble.

This leaves Theo looking pensive, but less afraid.

It sounds like a distraction to you.

“Anyway, to answer your question, usually. Ghosts made from traumatic events are usually either angry or like. Sad and lost. Or both I guess,” Pat shrugs.

They gesture for you to eat more of your food.

You sigh, but dutifully comply.

Once you’ve eaten a few more bites you ask: “What kind of ghost is the shadow?”

“Dunno I’d have to meet them,” Pat say’s flippantly.

You give them a flat look.

A quick glance at Theo shows he’s doing the same.

Pat heaves a comical sigh. “Alright, I guess I can give you a hint this time since you’re having brain trouble,” they say, over dramatically.

Theo is trying not to laugh.

Pat winks at you.

“So. If I had to guess, I’d say this shadow is the sort of ghost with Unfinished Business,” Pat says.

“Oh?” Theo says, looking almost impressed.

“Yeah. This sort of ghost is usually pretty at peace with their own death, Except for they still feel like there’s something they still need to do. Look after their friend, feed their cat, tend their garden, stuff like that,” they explain.

That all makes sense to you.

But you aren’t sure it all adds up.

You can accept that the shadow is a ghost. And it does seem friendly and interested in helping you.

But you can’t reconcile that with the ghost you’re supposed to be looking for.

Your head kind of hurts as you think about it.

Theo and Pat both lapse into silence as you think, Pat chowing down and Theo simply staring off into space.

He fiddles with the glasses sticking out of his shirt pocket and its like something snaps inside your head.

You and Pat aren’t here to investigate a ghost. You’d forgotten that.

You still aren’t sure why Pat feels the need to lie to Theo to this extent, even as they begin to befriend him.

Maybe they’ve also forgotten? Memory issues do seem to be going around like the flu these days.

You run back over the conversation again. You can’t guess Pat’s motives for telling Theo his house is haunted.

It feels more like you’re the one that’s haunted.

“Oh. Myo-“ Theo cuts himself off. “Excise me, I misspoke. Sylv. It wasn’t your shadowy friend that lead you to my house today, was it?” Theo asks.

He suddenly seems… different. Like someone opened up photoshop and turned up the contrast and saturation on his very presence.

It seems that he remembers your earlier visit now. Had he been faking it before?

Pat wipes their mouth with a napkin before piping up. “I was wondering the same thing. I said you should stay in the cars since you… had a migraine,” Pat hesitates on the lie this time.

You realize you forgot to tell Pat about the woman.

Oops.

You could always lie.

It’s not like Pat doesn’t do it literally all the time.

But Theo is giving you this expectant look.

Like he knows what you’re supposed to say.

You sigh.

“I met this woman in the woods. She freaked out when she saw me and tried to attack me. So I went inside to get away from her,” you summarize.

Pat looks like their blood pressure just shot through the roof.

Upset would be an understatement.

“This Cannot keep happening,” they mutter.

“Patience,” Theo says reproachfully.

Pat deflates. “Okay. You’re right,” they nod, seemingly to themself.

They turn to you and look you right in the eye. “I’m not mad at you, especially since you don’t remember any promises you’ve made me about this. I’m glad you’re okay, good job getting to safety. We’ll discuss this further after I take a smoke break.” They say, like they’re checking phrases off a list.

Theo hands them a lighter on their way out.

That was… odd.

Now you’re alone with Theo again.

Except…

“You aren’t Theo, are you?” you say to the person who looks like Theo, but has entirely different body language from him.

“Oh. You’re observant, but are you connecting the dots?” says not-Theo.

“I’m trying,” you say. “Why’d you bring that up? You knew Pat would freak.”

“Ah. Pat cares about you though… They want to keep you safe,” not-Theo placates.

Something dawns on you.

“You’re the one that told me not to be alone!”

Not-Theo gives you a small smile.

“She’s a danger to all of us. There’s only so much I can do, off-script. Please go easy on me,” not-Theo pleads.

Then Pat is sidling back into the booth smelling of tobacco.

#choose your own adventure #interactive fiction #original writing #writeblr

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westiec · 2 years ago

Note

yesssss here have three that happened to all be next to each other anyway:

Matchmaker Matchmaker Plz Stop Multipoint time travel phoenix mountain reverse

Muahahaha okay so —

Matchmaker Matchmaker Plz Stop is the transcript/outline of a 5+1 that I chatficced approximately one million years ago, wherein a blissfully married postcanon wangxian decide that what Lan Xichen needs is a partner. It goes... poorly:

WWX: Lan Zhan, does your brother like women? Doesn't Sect Leader Yao have a daughter?

LWJ: Wei Ying, she hates you.

WWX: Most people do, that's okay.

LWJ: 'Your blood debt cannot be repaid even if you died ten thousand times' hates you.

WWX: Sure, but he dated Chifeng-zun, so we know he likes people passionate for justice!

MEANWHILE, however, Lan Xichen is becoming friends with Song Lan, who has come to the Cloud Recesses for Reasons and is sticking around because he's had a tough several years, so listening to Lan Xichen's low-stakes matchmaking woes is actually kinda nice. Song Lan is a really good listener! Lan Xichen finds him very pleasant company and easy to like. (He grew up with Wangji; he is used to a conversation partner who communicates primarily in Eyebrow.) The +1 is the perfect date Song Lan plans after hearing about everything Lan Xichen doesn't want. 😊

Multipoint Time Travel is an unfinished threadfic based on this poster featuring the unlikely grouping of Alive Wen Ning, baby Jiang-zongzhu, Lan Camp arc Wei Wuxian, and post-timeskip Lan bros:

Shufu waves them to their seats and resumes his lecture, and Lan Xichen spends the next shi alternating between distant panic at their situation and silent amusement at Wangji's clear struggle not to respond to Wei Wuxian’s pranks. When a little red paperman makes its way across the room, Lan Xichen has to disguise his giggle as a cough at Wei Wuxian’s stunned face as Wangji picks it up and does nothing more than smoothly tuck it into his robes, next to his heart.

When time comes for the midday meal, Lan Xichen rises, planning to rescue his brother from the cheerfully bewildered chirps of, "Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!" that started up as soon as Shufu dismissed them. He receives an unexpected assist in the form of Jiang Wanyin shoving his shixiong out the door with a growled, "Go find jiejie; see if she needs help."

Before he can extract Wangji, Jiang Wanyin spins around, flexing his right hand in the way Lan Xichen knows would have Zidian sparking in his time. For a moment, his student robes seem overlayed with purple. "One of you tell me—" Jiang Wanyin demands, looking older than he should but with an uncertain edge in his eyes Lan Xichen hasn't seen since the war, "just what the FUCK is going on?"

Phoenix Mountain Reverse is some postcanon wangxian roleplay:

Lan Wangji sat cross-legged with his hands poised over his qin and his back against the trunk of a broad, sturdy tree, blindfolded.

He was in these woods for a hunt, and he had entered them blindfolded to prove to a certain cocky young man that wicked tricks offered no true advantage over one properly dedicated to the righteous path. By Hanguang jun's example, that youth and all those tempted to imitate his dangerous new cultivation would come to see the error of their ways and return to the path of orthodoxy before they met a terrible and inevitable end.

Or at least that was the reason Wei Wuxian had devised. He was, more accurately, so seated and so attired because he wished to be so, because it pleased him and Wei Wuxian both to play these sorts of games, even if Lan Wangji required far less in the way of elaborate background story than did Wei Wuxian. The construction of the fantasy, he had come to realize, was part of the game for his husband, part of the pleasure of it. And Lan Wangji was not one to deny his Wei Ying even the smallest measure of pleasure.

So: here he was in the woods, waiting to be ravished.

ask me about my WIPs!

#wip titles #wip wednesday #sheesh some of these are DUSTY #westie writes #shadaras

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theharpermovieblog · 10 months ago

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#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2024 MOVIE LIST

www.tumblr.com/theharpermovieblog

JOHN CARPENTER WEEK

I re-watched John Carpenter's Vampires (1998)

The two lead actors in this movie are pretty awful people in real life. I just thought I should bring that up somewhere in this review.

John Carpenter. Master of the horror film. Now considered one of the "Great" filmmakers for his contributions to the genre, to soundtracks and to film in general. Carpenter is more appreciated and influential now than in his own time, but he's always had a solid fan base. He started in the 1970's with great films like "Assault On Precinct 13" and "Halloween". Carried on into the 1980's with his best work like, "Escape From New York" "The Thing" "They Live" "Big Trouble In Little China" "Starman" and more. The man is a legend.

In the 1990's and early 2000's Carpenter's work became less impressive. It felt less enthusiastic, and almost as if the seasoned director had given up a bit. Movies like "Escape From LA" and "In The Mouth Of Madness" had something of his old talent, but fell flat in a lot of areas. Others like "Village Of The Damned" and "Ghosts Of Mars" are almost unwatchable. And of course, the less said about "Memoirs Of An Invisible Man" the better.

"Vampires" is another 90's film from Carpenter. Some say it's proof that the decade was better for the director than he gets credit for. Some say it's not worth your time and is proof to the contrary.

This movie does have something of the old 1980's Carpenter, but not enough. I'd throw it in with "Escape From LA" and "In The Mouth Of Madness", as a film that's heavily flawed. It has an unfinished feel, a less than top-quality vibe.

Problem #1.

The character of Jack Crow (James Woods) should be a classic Carpenter leading man. Carpenter likes to almost parody the macho badass, and Crow is a true parody of machismo. But, Crow and his entire Crew come off as sleazy assholes more than badass vampire killers. Despite trying to make them regular Working-Joe types, they come off as unlikeable misogynistic goons.

Problem #2

Carpenter's direction and shots fall short in a lot of areas. His wides no longer feel big in scope and his daytime shots are sub-par. "Vampires" often looks cheap and lazy, which isn't in step with Carpenter's older work. This often feels like a straight to video film without enough of the director's personality.

Problem #3

The beginning is kind of cool and creepy with the vampires jumping out like rats from within the crevices of an old abandoned house. I liked the initial version of these classic monsters. But, from that point forward, we never really see a "nest" again, and the main big bad "Master Vampire" comes off as more of a cringey goth douchebag, than a threatening monster. I'd have loved if they found a huge nest and had to infiltrate it. Would have gave them something to do rather than just be annoying for half the movie.

Problem #4

A very basic problem. The writing isn't solid. The framework is there, but it's not 100%. Yes, this is based on a novel, but we judge movies here based on there own merit, not on their source material, and the writing here, even if it's following the novel, does not hold up.

As I said, there is some good here. Carpenter doesn't skimp on the blood and gore. I like the idea of Bloodsuckers living in "nests" scattered around the desert. I like the idea of a team of Vampire hunters and, overall, I like the framework that is set up in the film. But with lackluster execution and no characters I can get on board with, this is a less than stellar addition to Carpenter's body of work.

#JohnCarpenter #JohnCarpenterMarathon #vampires

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chocolatemilksmoothie · 3 years ago

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Edge of the World

I knew it was gonna be harsh for King this episode but ouch...

first of all shoutout to Hooty he really did protect these kids!

I do feel the need to mention I'm surprised Hunter wasn't mentioned or shown once (1)? like Eda I know he's not your kid but he did run alone into the woods, panicking, is anyone gonna go check up on him

King wants his demon family to meet his owl family and for them to play catch together :(

hugs <3

anyways poor Luz is having a hard time, understandably, so she must be thankful about the letter so that she feels like there's something she can do

LULU! I love her current design

I liked the little heart to heart with Eda, she is stressed about how serious this all is so it's nice there's anther adult there to talk to

I saw the promo images by the crew with the baseball and glove and I KNEW it was gonna be heartbreaking. I suspected King's dad was dead and I think that is very much the case now huh

getting an army def would've been helpful, but I guess that's out of the question now

thought if you think about it they're kinda losers too, Titan slayers trappers who have never even seen a live Titan

though considering they worship the Collector, and they got King to light up the uh, Round Boi, I am very much expecting to see these guys again

they have this teleporting magic thing, even if it was destroyed it's still interesting. so they're far, but they can travel

I always loved the concept of islands made of a giant carcass, it's fascinating and horrible. seems they can warp from the hand to the finger right? how'd they get the finger so far away

I thought we'd get an Eda+Lily B plot but we really didn't get much from them after leaving, so the cliffhanger makes me think they did something. the house may be empty, or they may have called someone, but who?

I knew there was something creepy or something bad was coming but the moment I realized they were WEARING the SKULLS my jaw dropped, that's dark

"he passed down that skull of yours" they assumed he was in disguise too

it's so sad because he thought he was learning about his family, about his culture, his people! but they were just going to hurt him

how long does a Titan live? how fast do they grow?? if King's dad was still around a few years ago before he hatched then I'm sure he's not the Titan we're living on but is he 100% dead??

is King really the last one...

EDIT because oh my god Titan Blood NO ONE LET BELOS KNOW

this kid's heart has been broken enough times!!! give him a break!!!

Luz and Hooty are actually a comedic duo bless

A couple things:

This dude has wings! I remember back in Eda's requiem I wondered if this meant King would get wings eventually but seeing as other people in the group don't have wings I think it's just him?

and it seems to me he was getting attached to King before realizing who he was, which is kinda sad

"can we play catch?"

look at how tiny he is :'(

"release the grand Huntsman from his prison" it's interesting they have the Round Boi and it's shattered. does Belos know where it is?

I thought the Collector would be freed in the Day of Unity but it seems these guys want to free them too hmmm Bill knew of Belos but doesn't seem to care or be for or against him, so they're not working together...

King lit the flame and his eyes glowed, he was somehow connected to the Collector but the ritual was thankfully left unfinished. but the fact that it started is VERY concerning

"tell Lulu how brave I was" I WILL HUN

this shot is gorgeous

and we end with the house surrounded.

Once again things get tense and the Day of Unity is a week away, so next week should be intense too. this was an Emotions Heavy episode for the main cast, especially King of course, and we finally get the confirmation that he is a Titan. the last one. poor baby

So, speaking of next week

so, ever since Hollow Mind I think it's clear we're on Season Finale Mode so all episodes will be intense. Next week we have Labyrinth Runners (is that a Maze Runner reference lmao) and it's a Gus episode which yesss I love my boy.

but it says the Emperor's Coven is going to Hexside, so I assume they're hunting for Luz and probably anyone who sides with her. Gus will team up with an "unlikely ally" and there's a lot of options there so we gotta wait and see.

Still, I noticed this one shot of the promo is definitely from next week's ep and it's the last shot from the promos we haven't seen as far as I can tell (do correct me if I'm wrong). Which means we're going blind into the last few episodes. ominous

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #edge of the world #long post #king clawthorne #eda the owl lady #edalyn clawthorne #luz noceda #hooty #lilith clawthorne

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racheloveyunho · 3 years ago

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Who am I - Part 1

"Who am I?" is a question that keeps coming up in Y/N's mind. Impossible for her to remember anything from her past since she was found by her adoptive parents in the woods, at the gates of death. A new family, a new identity, that's what Y/N has to be content with. However, the traces from her past remains in her and comes back to haunt her every night. What is the tattoo on her wrist? Who is this man in her dream that seems like the only escape of the harsh reality she lives in? Would she finds answers if she found out who is this handsome stranger?

Genre: Mafia AU, smut, angst, fluff

TW series: Please, be aware that this story will contains a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, attempt of murder, betraying, drugs, rape, kidnapping, sexual assault, human trafficking, memory loss and symptoms of PTSD. Do not read if you are under a legal age or if you are sensible!

TW chapter: memory loss, attempt of murder on Y/N, dark past, short mention of PTSD symptoms, human trafficking and rape. Once again, the reader as a really dark past so please read with caution..

Words: 2186

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Chapter 1:

Empty.

Everything feels just so empty. My heart, my mind, my memories…my life even is full of a heavy emptiness that I can’t get rid of.

Will I ever be able to pull the pieces of this unfinished puzzle together? Or is it just better to forget my past life and move on into a new one?

“Y/N? Honey, are you okay?” She waved her hand in front of my face, trying to catch my attention with a worried expression “Are you feeling sick maybe? Do you want some tea?”

“It’s okay mom” I smiled “I was just lost in my thoughts, as usual”

She nodded, her dark brown eyes full of compassion. She knew what I was referring to and even though she wanted to help me so bad, she couldn’t do anything for me, it was my own battle.

6 years ago, I was found by my parents in the woods, I was a bloody mess and when they brought me to the nearest hospital, the doctors said I was a miraculous child. I shouldn’t have survived, but I did.

When I woke up, the police were already by my side, asking me questions about had happened to me. The problem is that I had no memories, not even a single one.

“Who am I?” was my first question “Why does my body hurts so much?” was my second one.

I had been shot on my back, the bullet got stuck on my flesh and didn’t get all the way through my body, that’s why I was still alive. Whoever pulled the trigger wanted me dead, he targeted my heart and shot me when I was back facing him, when I was the most defenseless.

The doctors, the couple that I will call later my parents, the police…everyone had one question in mind “Who could try to kill a teenager?”

I stayed in the hospital during two months and I had rehabilitation during a whole year.

It would have been dangerous for me to search for my family, that’s for this reason that the police decided to hide my identity to the public. Fortunately, the couple who had found me in the woods welcomed me in their home, as a new member of their family.

So, now, I’m Lee Y/N, a 23 years old woman who is in her last year of college.

There are still a lot of inconsistencies in the police report. They concluded that I probably had been targeted by a mafia gang. They said that I must have witnessed something I shouldn’t have and that criminals tried to make sure I wouldn’t talk…Ever.

That’s it, not even a single research about the past me, nothing about my previous family and nothing about the tattoo on my wrist that shows what looks like a bar code with the numbers “1.18082014”

I just wish I could find the truth about my existence, wish I could erase my nightmares and live a peaceful life without the chains that still pulls me back to my unknown past.

“All good, students. The lesson ends now. Don’t think about partying the whole week-end, you have an exam on Monday” said the professor in a monotone tone.

I sighed in content and stretched my body, happy to see the end of the day.

I got up and left the facility, my legs carrying me without knowing where I was going. I saw in the distance one of my closest friend, she quickly noticed my presence and ran towards me with her usual demeanor “Yo, broo” she said, pushing me with her butt and making me lose my balance.

“You are so dumb, I swear” I laughed, pushing her back before hitting her playfully on her arm. She gasped and used all her acting skills to make me believe she was in real pain “Sorry, but I’m a better actress than you are” I giggled and started to head home.

“I know you are! Everyone sees you as a pure and untouched angel, they probably think you are still a virgin, but dude you are evil!”

Some people turned their heads towards our direction, intrigued by the noise my friend was making.

“Hyerin! Shut up already, will you?” I whispered yelled but she just shrugged it off without a care in the world “Are you working this weekend too?” I nodded.

“Jeez, Y/N. You need to take some rest too, how can you study and work at the same time?”

“I don’t study, it’s too easy for me”

“Right, you are a genius programmer” Hyerin rolled her eyes playfully “Why do you bother to get a degree while you could easily find a job with your skills?” she asked.

“My parents are…persistent” we both laughed after exchanging a knowing look. Parents could be stubborn when it comes to their child’s studies.

The weather was nice today, the sun was hidden by the grey clouds, it seemed like it could rain at any time. I couldn’t wait to smell this unique scent made by the meeting between rain and grass.

“Oh! Does it bother you if I come tomorrow with my boyfriend to the café you work at?” Hyerin asked after a few minutes passed in a pleasant silence “I could finally introduce you to him! It’s been two months already and you still have never met him” she cutely pouted while crossing her arms in a poor attempt to show her false annoyance.

I smiled and agreed to meet “the man of her life” as she liked to call her boyfriend.

After waving goodbye at Hyerin, I headed towards my home with light steps.

“Hey- Come back!”

I looked back and didn’t get the time to see his face before his chest crashed against my head, encircling my waist with his arms and hovering me with his much taller frame. I relaxed in his comforting grip, knowing I was in the safest place at the moment “How could you just leave me yesterday? I didn't even have the time to kiss you properly!” he whined before looking at me in the eye.

His tanned skin was perfectly matching his dark eyes and hair. His plump lips felt like an invitation, perfectly defined and – oh so kissable.

I passed my arms around his neck, attaching my body closer to his, and kissed him softly where he wanted me the most “happy now?” I chuckled.

His smile widened, showing his perfect white teeth. His sharp nose brushed against mine when I suddenly felt a warm feeling on my back. My head was dizzy, I was confused and scared, the man that was previously in front of me was long gone.

“I’m sorry miss, I’m so sorry. It’s not personal, I just have to get rid of you, or else I won’t be able to see the sunlight tomorrow either.” A much older voice came from behind me. I lost the little strength I had still left in my legs and fall loudly and heavily on the ground.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

“No! Let me go!”

“Shut up you whore!” a slap came across the beautiful girl’s face, making her cheek get swollen and way bigger than it was supposed to be.

I’m scared. Where am I?

“Now, you are just an object for whoever buys you, get it?” I looked down at the fresh tattoo on my wrist

Everything was too quick for me. I was nauseous and struggling against the naked man on top of me, screaming, begging him to stop using me and my body.

“NO! STOP IT!”

“Y/N!! Y/N Wake up!!”

My eyes shot wide open as I took notice of my surroundings. My mom and dad were in front of me, the small light of my nightstand lighting the room the best it could.

I breathed heavily, sweat covering my body, my hair sticking on my face messily while my mom hugged me, whispering soft words on my ear even though I couldn’t quite understand them.

They stayed there with me as usual, making me drink water and preparing me a hot bath at 4 in the morning.

It was a common thing, these nightmares happened almost every day but fortunately, it wasn’t always that bad. However, sometimes, on the bad nights, I was screaming and kicking not only in my dreams but in the reality too.

Usually, my parents had to wake up my screaming self only once or twice a month, except in August when my nightmares were out of control.

I finally calmed down in the hot water, my head resting on the wall behind me while my body relaxed the more I smelled the lavender scent from the shower gel my mom specially bought for me.

I stayed a long time - as usual - I already knew I couldn’t be able to sleep again today so why would I bother with trying?

When I got out of the bathroom, my mom was there with a cup of tea and a small smile completing her perfectly well-aged face.

“Thank you…” I smiled weakly at her, not able to hide the guilt I was feeling. I knew they hadn’t get enough sleep since I came into their lives, but they didn’t even once blame me for it. They were always so supportive and caring that I couldn’t help but feel my heart aches.

“Dad went back to sleep, do you want me to keep you company or-”

“Nope, I’m fine now and well awake! You need to sleep too, mom. Go! Quickly!” I cut her off, pushing her towards her bedroom with a small laugh.

I soon came back in the living room with the cup of tea my mom had previously made for me. I smiled after the first sip, it was a chamomile tea, my favorite.

I took my computer from my schoolbag and settled myself comfortably on the couch, waiting for the computer to load completely before using it.

My fingers danced at a delicate pace against the keyboard keys in a small tapping sound that I grow to like over the years. I did the same thing as I did every time I had a nightmare, taking a hot bath, opening my computer, drinking my tea, and hacking the site of the national police force in search of clues concerning my life of before. It had become a routine for me, I knew it was bad to hack an official website from the government but I had obviously no consideration when it came to the police. They didn’t even bother to try to find who I was, why would I be easy on them? Plus, I was confident in my hacking skills, I knew I wouldn’t be caught that easily.

However, my research ended with the same failure over and over again. Searching for a teen girl who disappeared 8 years ago was like looking for a needle in a haystack – an impossible mission.

“Nightmares again?”

I hummed, not stopping my research when my mind finally processed the information “What the hell are you doing at this early hour Yubin?” I looked up to see my little brother preparing his hot milk “It’s already 7 am you dummy!” I gasped and checked on the hour. He was right, I didn’t see the time passed by.

“Did you take your medicine?” he asked, not stopping what he was doing “I will, I don’t need a baby to remind me this!” I pulled out my tongue teasingly.

“I’m not a baby! I’m seventeen!” he scoffed and crossed his arms “Say the one who still drinks hot milk in the morning” I chuckled before closing my computer.

“I don’t like coffee neither do I like tea! You’re the one with shitty taste! Who drinks chamomile tea?”

“Hey! Language young man! And shut up, you are going to wake mom and dad up!” I said back, putting a finger on my mouth to shush him.

“I hate you”

“I know, I love you too baby bro~”

“I’m not…huh, whatever” he shook his head in a disapproving way and sat down to take his breakfast.

I stood up and quickly dressed in simple clothes, a red top, and black pants before heading back to the living room to eat with my brother.

“So, how is your girlfriend doing? Did you do the naughty with her yet?” I asked before I filled my mouth with a piece of bread.

My brother choked on his milk and coughed loudly “Careful kid! Don’t choke on your milk, what a shitty way to die” I hit his back to help him swallowed correctly “Why are you asking me this kind of stuff?? That’s…That’s!”

“That’s a natural thing, there’s no shame about sex, dude. Take it easy”

Yubin stuttered, his face and ears red. It was a cute sight but I hadn’t the chance to enjoy it for too long, he quickly stood up and ran away from our home, probably joining his girlfriend.

“Well, I should probably get ready for work”

------------------------------

Series masterlist: Here

Next chapter: Chap 2

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How are you guys doing? It’s been a long time since I last uploaded something. I finished “Until Death do us part” but my dumb computer deleted everything I’ve wrote. Yes I hate myself for this...

------------------------------

Hello loves~

I started a new series a while ago. I have wrote 4 chapters for now and it’s a mafia series - yes again lol.

This story has A LOT of dark themes, it was not easy to write and it’s probably not easier to read so please be careful.

Also, if you want to be added in the taglist, just let me know!

Kiss on you guys~

Tag list:

@hijirikaww - @pinkchampagne2 - @xduygu-arsx - @joongiebug - @leicy0756 - @thegracerammy - @kunlatte - @mingkisbitch -

#ateez x reader #mafia kpop #ateez scenario #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez mafia!au #ateez #angst #fluff #smut #series #who am i

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years ago

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Absolutely Nothing

I said I wouldn't post my new fic until after SWBQ is done, but I want to begin posting it before S4 drops. It won't update consistently atm, but it's there... I will only be posting the first two chapters to Tumblr. Everything else is going on AO3 because Tumblr is not longfic friendly.

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Original Angel Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, War, Trauma, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon is like a vampire, it can't enter this house unless I let it, Emotional Baggage, Lies, Manipulation, Ships not intended but I'm not stopping you

Summary: War is not unknown to the three realms, but that does not make them any less a tragedy of strategy. Though relations between the three have never been favorable, they have never truly gone to battle with each other. At least, not until now. The heavens have been planning for a long time and have finally decided to execute their machinations. Now it is time to see how every piece will play out this bloody battle.

A/N: These tags are for the overarching fic, not the first two chapters. Only Lucifer, Simeon, Micheal, and Gabriel show up in the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: I Will Not Go With You

“We’re heading for a war,” Lucifer warned, “and I want you to come with me.”

Simeon solemnly blinked a few times before closing his eyes. The weight of the choices laid before him pricked at the edges of his mind. He’d known this was coming. He’d known for a long time that this question would eventually be asked of him and for just as long he’d known what his answer would be, “I must decline.”

“Why?” Lucifer spat out, “Simeon, you have to know what’s about to happen. If we don’t fight then Lilith-”

“I am not stopping you from this rebellion.” He opened his eyes and looked to the pages stacked neatly in the corner of his desk, carefully flipping through the avalanche of writings he’d collected over the years. Somewhere, buried deep in the pile, he vaguely recalled his moment; where his brother would ask him to do the impossible. He’d hidden it away from prying eyes, afraid that others would find it and interpret it as he had. Though, even if they had read it and understood what the contents were, it was nigh impossible to change the events that were foretold.

He pulled the page from the pile, taking care so the others above it would not collapse onto the delicately inlaid wood of his desk, and perused the contents held within. The paper was so old that it had begun to grow fragile to the touch and discolor at the edges. Simeon desperately wished that time had chosen not to show its touch on this particular relic he would rather have forgotten about. It was frightening how long he’d known about this day and he would rather pretend he was shocked when Lucifer had come to him. Sometimes, having a glimpse into what would eventually be was a cruel reality.

That brother, who would come in need of his fellow, will find no quarter. So shall he return with hands left empty, but convictions emboldened by the forge of his stature. He shall take with him those who share his resolve and lead them to where metal sings and cries. Blood shall be shed but on one side, though the cost of the blood spilled shall

It was an old, short paragraph he wished he could forget. Though he could never truly put it out of his mind, because he knew it was left unfinished and his mind and pen longed to see the end of the story. However, his heart and will would prefer not to know every detail of this particular future. For so long, he’d clung to that final shall and hoped that not knowing the entirety of the story would somehow keep it from unfolding. However, his pen only put the stories to page. He was not responsible for the events that inspired him to write.

“You will have to make do with those who are already on your side. No one else will turn their back on Father for your cause.” It was the only warning he could give. In those words he hid the message that Lucifer should tell no one else. If war was approaching, then it was better he have the element of surprise.

Lucifer could only stare at him in disbelief, “Is that your answer?”

“It always was.” He placed the paper face down atop the pile, “I cannot aid you in this, Lucifer.”

“Then you would fight against me? You would condemn Lilith in the same way as our Father?” His voice shook, the rage building inside of him clearly beginning to boil over even as he tried to contain it.

“I will not betray my family.” Simeon’s face remained unchanged as he pushed his chair away from the desk and rose to his feet. Despite the malicious aura that began to circle around his fellow Seraphim, he approached with an unguarded stance until they were only an arm’s reach away from one another. No matter how upset Lucifer may become, Simeon would not fear him. Though, he did fear *for* him, “You and she are still of my kind and that means I will not meet you on the battlefield.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the declaration. This time, it was his turn to fear for the other, “You can’t stay out of this. You know they won’t allow you.” If he did try to remain on the sidelines, Simeon would still be seen as a traitor. Not in the same vein as him and his siblings, but a traitor nonetheless, “I won’t ask you to fight if you really refuse to lift your blade, but you can’t stay here.”

“As much as you and Lilith are my family, so are Micheal, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel. I cannot leave them.”

“Simeon…”

Simeon’s lips pulled back into a smile and he let out the shortest of laughs, “You worry far too much, Lucy. You are aware that I am still a Seraphim, are you not? Even if I do not step onto the battlefield, I do not believe I am in nearly as much danger as you are putting yourself in.” He wanted to reach out and touch his brother one last time as the fear of the unknown overtook him, but he kept his hand within his own space. He did not know what would happen at the end of all of this, but he knew it would not be the same and reaching out to hold onto what they had would only pain them both.

Lucifer looked over the other angel’s shoulder, toward the pile of papers where Simeon had placed one face down. Countless writings that revealed the future to their author and Lucifer did not envy that gift. Others often wished to know what would be, but he had seen far too many times the burden placed on Simeon for having such a skill; the amount of times he had been made to see both grace and tragedy was carved on his face, just behind that smile. That is why, despite knowing that whatever was on that page was related to this very discussion and his ultimate goal, he would not pry. It was not as if knowing the future allowed it to be changed anyway.

“We’ll still be on opposing sides, you know?” No matter how much Simeon proclaimed not to betray his family, that was an unavoidable truth.

He nodded, “I am aware.”

“And you refuse to go against your family?”

This time his confirmation was wordless.

Lucifer took in a deep breath, “Then once the battle begins, I believe we can hardly be considered family anymore.”

Large blue eyes shot up to look at his pale face. It seemed that Lucifer had said something Simeon hadn’t expected, “What?”

“You will not betray your family, but you know they will not allow you to remain neutral in this. As soon as the drums of war beat, it is fine to stop thinking of me as your brother.”

There was a long moment of silence before Simeon could reply, “You cannot ask me that.”

“I am not asking. I am stating a truth,” one that would hopefully allow Simeon a way to follow his morals and gain some leniency if he continued to insist on this path, “I refuse to be your brother from that moment on.”

“Please... you cannot ask that of me.”

“I am not asking anything of you. I am simply stating where we will stand.” And now he needed to leave before the hurt welling in Simeon’s eyes tugged at his heart anymore and shattered his resolve.

He dipped his head in a polite bow, “Thank you for your time, Simeon. I do hope we may speak like this again.” He turned on his heels, refusing to truly look at the other angel again. His only goal was the door, where he opened it wide and stepped through the threshold.

“Lucifer! Wait!”

It took far more will than Lucifer would ever care to admit as he shut the door behind him without saying another word, and even more to walk away.

-----------------------

Chapter 2: Traitor

“How long have you known?” Micheal nearly growled as he stared down Simeon where he kneeled. His pale blue eyes ran wild with rage and it was clear he was just barely holding himself together. That was to be expected after everything he had just been through. Lucifer was unapologetically his favorite brother so it was unimaginable the distress he was in right now as he came to terms with having lost a member of his family. They had been like two halves of a whole, and now they were fractured.

“How long have I known what?” Simeon asked, feigning ignorance.

“That Lucifer would lead a rebellion against Father!” Micheal’s voice raised so loud that the room literally shook around him.

“Calm yourself, Micheal,” a melodious voice shushed him and lithe hands rested on his shoulders to hold him steady, “We’ve lost enough of our siblings today. There is no reason to lose yourself and risk losing another.”

“You would call him our brother after that disgraceful scene, Gabriel?” The disgust in his voice was clear and overwhelming, “He knew this would happen and refused to warn us or lift a finger. Everything we lost today is because of him.” Simeon had to know about today. He was blessed with the gift of prophecy and spent his time writing what was to come. If he had simply shared whatever he knew about today, Micheal knows they could have prevented the rebellion. He knows that he could have convinced Lucifer to stay somehow. Instead, he was left to face his own brother on the battlefield. He could still recall the cold eyes Lucifer had looked at him with as if they barely knew one another. That sight would never leave the darkest parts of his mind.

“You are blinded by your pain, Micheal.” She removed her hand from his shoulders and moved to stand over Simeon, “He is clearly as much our brother as ever. If he were against us he would have joined Lucifer, but Father has deemed that he is still worthy of his halo. Is that not enough for you?”

Micheal chuckled darkly before answering, “Uriel nearly lost an arm and he’s one of the lucky ones.” Even with so few numbers on their side, the rebellion had a gifted Dominion that made the most of their small force.

“And everyone harmed will heal, but we gain nothing in dividing ourselves further, and our brother has already been punished for his transgressions.” She took a knee before Simeon, reaching out her hand and running her fingers through his silken hair, “Will you not put our brother’s worries at ease, Simeon?”

Simeon knew the threat in those words. As kind as Gabriel pretended to be, she was someone he feared far more than Micheal. Not because she was stronger, but because she knew exactly how to most hurt those who upset her. As such, he had no interest in declining her wish, even if what she was asking for was for him to show his shame.

He took a deep breath before unfurling his wings behind him. They shimmered golden in the neverending light of the Celestial Realm, a blessing bestowed upon him by their Father that reflected his very essence. Every angel had such a blessing; different colors, shapes, a range of sizes, and lays of their feathers all differed from angel to angel all dependent on their Father’s grace. That included how high in their Father’s favor they were, and it was obvious at a glance just how out of favor Simeon had fallen. His six beautiful wings, the blessing afforded to all Seraphim, had been reduced to a simple two.

Gabriel’s eyes filled with pity for him but Micheal’s face twisted in glee and disdain, “Is that all? You betray us and all Father does is reduce your rank.” The laugh that left his throat was so dry that it sounded like it hurt, “You must really be beloved to get off with such a light sentence.” If it was up to Micheal himself, Simeon would face the same punishment as Lilith.

“Still your anger, Micheal. As you can see, Father has spoken.” She raised to her feet once more, her nails pulling painfully at Simeon’s hair as she stepped away from him, “Simeon is still of our kind and as one of our subordinates it is our duty to shepherd him.”

A wicked smile crossed Micheal’s face as he continued to look down on Simeon and his now unsightly form that marked his betrayal, “You may be correct, Gabriel. It is only right that we guide lost sheep, especially those of our own flock.”

#obey me #Absolutely Nothing #mine #obey me simeon #obey me lucifer #hosted on AO3 #obey me michael #obey me raphael #original character

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kitkatd7 · 4 years ago

Text

What Could’ve Been; Broken Hearts & Whiskey Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky finally starts trying to get his shit together but when you show up with another man it throws everyone for a loop.

Warnings: Angst! Overprotective Bucky, Pissed reader, Threats, womanizing character who gets what he deserves, Talk of the breakup, Cursing that Steve would be ashamed of, Tiniest bit of fluff but not really.

Word Count: 3,331

A/N: I’m finally backkk!!! I’ve been wanting to work on this series for some time now and I’m finally getting a bit of motivation to do so! I hope you enjoy it!

A/N 2: Entire paragraphs of italics are flashbacks, single sentences of italics are internal thoughts, Bold italics are song lyrics. I used lyrics from the song What Could’ve Been by Gone West for this story.

Masterlist of Masterlists || Marvel Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Part 1

-----------------------------------------

**2 Months After Breakup**

Waltzing into the living room of the Avengers tower, you're met with a chorus of greetings from your adopted family. Despite you and Bucky being over you still spend time with everyone else- just when he isn’t around.

You haven’t seen him since you broke up and you’d like to keep it that way. Seeing him would just be more than you could handle; you already lost him so why remind yourself of it more often than you already do? But at the same time his absence from movie night is just as painful of a reminder- like a puzzle with a lost piece.

Snapping back to reality you give a halfhearted smile, joining Steve and Sam on the couch as Natasha hits play on ‘John Wick’.

----------------------------------------

2 hours later you’re standing in the kitchen making snacks with Sam before the next movie starts. “That’s ridiculous, Sammy!” You giggle, watching the microwave timer count down until the popcorn is ready. “Bacon does not belong in ice cream.”

You hear him chuckle behind you as he empties M&M’s into bowls. “Bacon belongs in everything, sweetheart. You're gonna try it sometime or else...”

“Or else what, Sa-” You cut off as you turn around, frozen on the spot as you peer over

Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey, y/n,” Bucky whispers. Your gaze travels up and down the man you used to know, but he’s different. His eyes have bags beneath them from lack of sleep, his hair longer and more unruly than it was the last time you saw him. The stubborn jawline you remembered was replaced by a nervous clenched jaw. His eyes once so bright were now timid and dull; no longer holding the same sparkle that used to make you smile.

In an instant your expression went from a carefree woman with her friends to the girl who’s heart was shattered by the stranger before you whose face you used to know so well.

“Can we talk?” Bucky asks gently, his expression hopeful yet dreading.

“What are you doing here, James?” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself as Sam looks between you both carefully.

“I live here,” Bucky nearly scoffs.

“Barnes,” Sam warns, his shoulders tense as he glances at you worriedly.

“I don’t want to talk to you, James. I have nothing to say.”

“All you have to do is listen. Please, doll.”

Despite your best efforts to appear unbothered, the nickname shatters your false bravado. “Don’t call me that,” your voice breaks as tears cloud your vision.

“Excuse me,” you whisper, rushing past both men, ignoring Bucky’s call of your name and attempt to stop you.

“Let her go, man. You’ve done enough,” you hear Sam say as you flee down the hallway, slamming the bathroom door behind you.

Locking the door you turn on the faucet as the tears begin to fall and the suppressed memories rush back:

**2 Months Before Breakup* Flashbacks*

“It’s midnight! Where the hell were you?” You yelled, tears pricking your eyes.

Bucky sighed in defeat, his expression resigned and cold. “Can we do this in the morning?” His tone more of an order than a request as he turns his back on you and begins to walk down the hallway of your apartment.

“No, we can’t do it in the morning. You owe me an explanation. You were supposed to be here when my parents got here. You promised.” You sniffled as Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a good enough reason,” he mumbles before walking away.

I haven't stopped thinking about you

Has it really been this long?

Two years and an ocean between us

And I don't know where it all went wrong

I know I coulda kissed you harder

And yeah, you coulda followed through

Shoulda talked a little bit softer

But we meant every "I love you"

**1 Month Before Breakup**

Glancing around the restaurant you see no sign of Bucky. Checking your phone for the 8th time in the past 10 minutes, you sigh. Where is he? You’ve been here for an hour; waiting in your new dress for the man who hadn’t bothered to show. You’re getting tired of the pitiful looks the waitress and the other customers are shooting you. Polishing off your second glass of wine you open your phone: no new messages.

You’ve already sent Bucky 5 texts and called him 4 times; you're done.

Paying for the wine quickly you all but flee the restaurant, trying to hold back your tears. If you weren’t so upset you would probably laugh; laugh at yourself for being so naive to think he would keep his word. But you can’t bring yourself to laugh, not while your heart slowly shatters at the hands of the man who swore never to hurt you.

I don't know what this is or what it isn't

But it feels like we've got unfinished business

**2 Months Ago; AKA Week of Breakup**

“Hey this is y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now cuz I’m out livin my life! Leave it at the beep.” He hears your all too familiar voicemail through the speaker. He had helped you come up with it, you hadn’t known what to put on it. He kicks himself, knowing you weren’t actually out living your life, just dodging his calls. Not that he blamed you- He deserved it and he knew it. Calling again, he’s not surprised when he hears your voicemail again.

“Hey… Um, listen, I know I was supposed to be at your place after the mission… I just wanted to unwind with the guys and- Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you would mind that much, I’ll be over in a bit to make it up to you, okay?” He leaves the message and ends the call before starting his car and driving towards your apartment, guilt heavy in his stomach.

You listen to his voicemail over and over, a strange mix of rage and sorrow weighing on your heart.

Tears roll slowly down your cheeks silently as you lay curled up in a defensive ball on your bed, trying to block out the unmistakable sound of Bucky begging you to open the front door; “Babe, please open the door,” He says, fist resting gently against the frame. “I’m sorry- really, really sorry. Please let me in and we can talk about it,” He sighs, resting his head against the door in defeat. He could break the lock and go in. You both know that. But he wouldn’t do that to you- All that would do is make you fear him and that’s the last thing he wants. He slides his back down the wall til he’s sitting on the floor next to your door, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair; Tears gathering in his lashes. He really messed up this time.

The next day you drag yourself out of bed, trying to forget last night and all the tears you shed. After a shower and breakfast, you head out the door for a coffee run before work. You stop in your tracks when you see Bucky still sitting there, eyes red from lack of sleep and regret written all over his face. He jumps up when you walk out, keys in hand, the door closing behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I came to apologize,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite, moving to step around him but stopping when he steps to block your path.

“Bucky, I’m going to be late for work,” you say coldly, glaring at him. “Move out of the way.”

“Please doll, just let me explain-”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I understand perfectly, James.” You watch as he flinches a little at the use of his first name. You only use it when you're really mad or really happy, and it isn’t the latter right now. “You were too busy with your beer buddies to come see your girlfriend after being gone for three weeks, but what’s new? It’s been like this for months. I guess it was naive of me to expect something else this time.”

'Cause we left blood the on the tracks

Sweat on the saddle

Fire in the hills

A bullet in the barrel

Words never said in a story that didn't end

Looks like you're on the mend and I'm on the bottle

We folded our hands with money on the table

**Present Day**

All the broken promises, nights alone and tears came rushing back as sobs racked your body. Sliding down the door you rest your head between your knees, eyes screwing shut tightly in a useless attempt to stop the bittersweet memories and tears.

Little do you know that outside the door sat a man with tears clouding his vision as he listened to your muffled sobs on the other side of the door. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and undo all of the agony he caused you and hold you like he's been wishing he could for the past 2 months. You were just on the other side of the door, separated from him by a few inches of wood and yet you had never been farther away. What did he do?

Tried moving on, but I keep coming back again

To what could've been

What could've been

Oh, what could've been

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

-------------------------------------------

Stumbling into your apartment you all but throw your keys and purse down before shuffling into the bathroom and turning on the hot water for a shower before turning back to the mirror.

The person you see looking back at you in the mirror isn’t who you remember- or at least not who you thought you were. The person you remember was carefree and happy; living in a dream with the love of their life. You don’t recognize the girl in the mirror with swollen, bloodshot eyes and shoulders that hold the weight of the world. What happened to the girl you used to know?

A single tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a mournful trail in its wake. Bucky. Bucky happened to that girl.

There had always been doubt hidden in the back of your mind; doubt that your beautifully woven reality would become nothing more than a tangled web of what once was and could’ve been, but you never thought it would end like this. You had imagined it being another girl that came between you, or perhaps his self loathing or the inadequacy you felt. Never did you think it would be the unexplainable, cold, unfeeling resentment that had taken over the gentle, sweet man you thought you knew. Where did it go wrong?

A couple more simple, "I'm sorry's"

A little less tryna be right

I wonder how many good mornings we wasted

'Cause we didn't say goodnight

One touch before we fell asleep

Just before our love was out of reach

Coulda been enough, coulda saved us from this loneliness

------------------------------------------

“Steve?” Bucky calls out as he strides into the training room, the door banging shut behind him. Whirling around Steve clutches a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Buck! You scared the hell out of me!”

“I need your help,” Bucky demands, jaw set in a firm line and his eyes glittering with determination.

Steve runs a hand over his face, letting out a sigh. “Is this about Y/N and the other night? Because if it is I am not apologizing to the poor girl for you, so you can just-”

“I want her back.”

“You what?!” Steve exclaimed, his jaw dropping.

“I want her back- I need her back. And I need you to help me.”

“Damn it, Bucky. It’s been 2 months and you saw how she still feels about what you did. How are we gonna fix that?”

“I don’t know yet, Steve… But I have to try. Please.”

-----------------------------

Strolling into Tony’s party happily, you smile up at your date, your arm linked with his.

You greet Tony with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek before turning towards the sound of Natasha calling your name. Sashaying towards her you give her a hug before turning to give Thor and Steve one as well.

“So, who’s this?” Nat asks, gesturing towards your date who’s eyeing her unabashedly, his gaze dropping to her neckline.

“Oh, sorry! This is Jordan!”

You roll your eyes as Thor begins lightly interrogating him, but he doesn’t pay much attention, his gaze fixed on Natasha’s retreating form.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, his hand resting gently on your forearm. Following him into a nearby corridor you give him a puzzled look. “Is something wrong, Steve?”

“Um, not exactly…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, what is it then?”

“It’s about Bucky.” Seeing your irritated expression he holds up his hands innocently. “Wait a minute. Just hear me out, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Look, he’s been spiraling since you guys broke up; not eating, always working and out on missions constantly, and his nightmares are getting worse again.”

“Why should I care?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you don’t still love hi- Actually, fine, Y/N. If you want to pretend that you don’t care then that’s your problem. Just know that seeing you the other night? Changed something. He’s trying again, and I don’t want to see him lose that. So even if you want to tell yourself that it doesn’t matter to you, at least think about it for me.” Steve turned away, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and by the way? Seeing you here tonight with someone else isn’t gonna be good for anyone… But why should you care, right?”

Taken aback by Steve’s lack of usual patience, you can only watch as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving you with mixed emotions and a hard decision ahead of you; what were you gonna do?

No matter how hard you tried to block out thoughts of Bucky they always managed to slip back in between the cracks in your shattered heart. Steve was right; you did care. But what were you supposed to do about it tonight? Especially about Jordan. Were you supposed to walk up to him and say ‘oh, by the way you have to leave because my ex is here and he may or may not rip your arms off? No, that wouldn’t work.

Racking your brain for a solution, you snag a glass of champagne from one of the passing trays, downing it in the hopes of drowning your mixed emotions - it didn’t work. Taking a deep breath, you start weaving between the sea of bodies towards where you left Jordan.

Spotting Thor and Tony you make your way towards them, smirking when you hear Tony arguing with Thor over… something.

“Where’s Jordan?” you ask, joining their small circle and trying to shake off your conversation with Steve.

“He was here a minute ago… I’m not sure though, kiddo,” Tony says, giving you a puzzled glance. “Speak of the devil, here he is!” Tony exclaims as you look over your shoulder to see a slightly ruffled Jordan walking towards you, his eyes holding an unnatural hazy look.

“Where were you?” You ask lightly, gaze raking his bedraggled form; his shirt slightly untucked, hair mused and lips pink.

“Oh um, nowhere. Just the bathroom.”

Accepting another glass of champagne, you push down the fury in your chest. You’d just taken a sip when an all too familiar figure came to stand beside you; a scotch glass in his hand and clad in an unfairly attractive black suit. “Hey Y/N, who’s this?”

Nearly choking on your drink, your eyes widen. “Bucky! What are you doing here? You hate these parties!” You say before you can stop yourself. Stupid. The offhanded statement would seem innocent to most, but to you- to you it was a reminder that you still knew him better than anyone else did, a reminder that you remembered all the nights alone together instead of at the noisy parties, a reminder that you still cared enough to remember.

You could see that he was thinking the same thing. “This is Jordan. My…” you faded off, not quite sure what to call him.”

“Date,” Jordan finishes for you, wrapping his left arm around your waist lazily, his hand traveling slightly further than appropriate for the first date. “But we’re keeping things loose, isn’t that right?” Jordan asks, glancing at you but not waiting for an answer. “And who the hell are you?”

Your eyes widen in shock, glancing back and forth between the two men; taking in Jordan’s cocky smirk and Bucky’s knowing look.

Bucky extended his hand, a malicious smirk on his lips and dark glint in his eyes as he took in the unprofessional state of Jordan- including the lipstick stain on his white button down- and the uncomfortable shift of your weight, leaning away from your sorry excuse of a date.

Jordan accepted the outstretched hand, wincing visibly and paling at Bucky’s iron grip. “Bucky Barnes,” Bucky offered, enjoying as the other man wriggled uncomfortably in his grip, his arrogance forgotten. His gaze lighted on Bucky’s metal arm, his eyes lighting with recognition and terror.

“Holy- you're the Winter Soldier! God man, I’ve heard so much about you-”

“An honor, I’m sure,” Bucky drawls, looking bored, his voice dropping an octave in warning. “Now get lost.”

You sputter defiantly as Jordan scurries off, his tail between his legs.

“What was that for?!” you fume,a fire burning in your eyes as you turn on Bucky.

“Oh c’mon. The guys’ been eyeing every other woman in here! He’s a douche! What was I supposed to do? Just let him feel you up after sneaking off with who knows what girl?”

“Who ‘feels me up’ is none of your concern anymore!”

“Come off it, Y/N! You didn’t even want him touching you! I was protecting you, so your welcome,” he huffed.

“I don’t need protecting, and I sure as hell don’t need you to protect me. So you can go fuck yourself, James. You can’t treat me like shit for months and then get mad when someone else does the same thing!” you snarl, spinning on your heel and storming off as Bucky watches you.

Bucky stalks across the floor, the crowd parting before him; not willing to get in the way of the 6 foot man on a mission. Locating his target- dancing with another girl no less- he grabs him roughly by the collar before pushing him against a pillar.

“What the hell, dude?” Jordan fumes, eyes locking on Bucky’s before he goes slack, his eyes widening in horror when he recognizes the former assassin.

“Every single thing you’ve ever heard about me is true, so shut up and listen closely,” Bucky growls, his arm braced against Jordans chest forcefully, a murderous glint in his eyes. “I expect you to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’ll know. First, you are going to get your sorry ass out of here, and then you are going to send Y/N an apology text, telling her what an asshole you are, and that you don’t deserve to even look at her. Then, you are not going to get within 1,000 feet of her, and you are not going to text, call, or even think about her ever again, or I swear to God I will hunt you down, cut your balls off and shove them down your goddamn throat, got it? Nod if you understand. Good. Now. Get. Out.”

Releasing Jordan, Bucky watches as he falls to the floor before scrambling towards the door with the fear of God instilled in him.

“What the hell did you just do, Bucky?”

-----------------------------------

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#broken hearts and whiskey #BH&W #what could've been #BH&W pt 2 #BH&W what could've been #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky series #bucky angst #angst #cursing #kits writing

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