#but i have this mental image where each one of them play mental rock paper scissors and who won got to control the body

[your-mom-green]

Saw a post mentioning how there's a version of captain marvel known as captain thunder) which are made up of six kids turning into one person and absurdly hilarious it is.

Like does each person control a specific part of the body or do all of them act at the same time? I feel like that would be chaotic as hell

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (58)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC fanfic - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 58: Switch - link to previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female Spidersona OC

Words: 3K+

Warnings: PG no major warnings, brief mention of abduction

Summary: Lisa learns a few secrets were being kept from her.

/////////

“You just got better and now you’re leaving us?” Hannah pouted as she hugged my arm tightly. 

After I could finally stop pretending my ankle was still healing, I started coming back to dance practice as of yesterday. I missed seeing my friends, dancing with them and hyping up the other teams in our studio. It was a lovely refresher, but soon I’d have to leave them again, albeit temporarily. 

It had been 2 weeks since Miguel agreed to go to Korea with me to visit my family, and more importantly, go see my step-father again. This would be our first time physically seeing each other in over 2 years. I hadn’t seen him since after my surgery, and upon that realization, my free arm subconsciously wrapped around myself, my thumb brushing over a spot on my shirt where one of my scars was. 

“It’s only for a few days. I’ll be back in no time.” I tried to reassure Hannah, offering her my sympathies. 

“Where are you going?” Kasey asked, looking me over.

While she didn’t outright say it, she was visibly the most worried for me. Kasey did everything to make sure I took breaks, didn’t apply too much pressure on my now healed ankle and foot when I moved, and made sure I stayed hydrated. Moments like this made me wonder why I was made our team's leader, when Kasey clearly should have been the better choice. I should have played something else in our rock paper scissors match. 

“I’m going to Seoul.” I managed a soft smile. It would be good to see some of my family that I hadn’t been in contact with for a while. It was everything else I was worried about. 

“You got family over there?” Toya asked me. 

I nodded lightly. “Yeah, from my. . . step-father’s side.”

“Is Miguel going with you?” Touga asked me, playfully nudging my arm. “Dude’s gotta get the blessing from somebody, eh?”

My cheeks flushed instantly. “Oh my god, shut up, dude!” I cackled, shoving him away. “We just started dating!”

“The looks don’t lie, Lis’,” Touga smirks proudly, looking confident as he straightens. “People get engaged within a year, it happens.”

“Not for us, I don’t think.” I glared back at him, though I failed to stop a smirk from forming on my lips. 

Just the mental image of Miguel getting down on one knee before me was enough to make my heart flutter, making my stomach do backflips. He said so himself during our talk just the other month, a part of me still grieves Xina, and misses her deeply, he said, but I’m also coming to the point where I can no longer deny how I feel about you, Lisa. Not anymore. 

With the new times Touga has been around Miguel, what looks has he been seeing that I haven’t?

“Moving on to the topic at hand,” Kasey playfully swats at Touga to chill out before looking over at me. “You’re visiting your step-family?”

“Yeah, just for a few days and I’ll be back.” I smiled, nodding along. 

“Is it someone’s birthday?” Hannah asked. “I hear they threw really big parties for that!”

I chuckled at Hannah’s innocence. “Something like that. . “

“Well, we’ll miss you while you’re gone, and hope you have fun!” Hannah smiled brightly, giving me a big hug. “Bring us back souvenirs?”

I chuckled softly as I hugged her back. “I’ll certainly try.”

When practice was over we gathered our things and said bye to one another at the entrance of the studio. Hannah was tagging along with the twins to check out a new cafe while Kasey and I walked together in the opposite direction. We made small talk with one another, catching up on our personal lives.

We made it to a stop light and as we waited for our turn to cross, Kasey looked over at me. “So, what’s going to happen while you’re there and not here?”

I raised a brow as I glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

“Who’s going to protect the city if Harry comes back?” She asked me. 

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and my body turned cold. How did she–?!

“It’s obviously not Miguel, cause he’s going with you,” Kasey went on as the light turned green and she started walking forward. “So will you have to call one of your other spider friends to help you?”

I gawked at her, fumbling with my words as I staggered catching up to her. “What are you talking about, Kasey?” I desperately tried to play dumb, but I knew it was a long shot. 

There was absolutely no way Kasey still remembered getting abducted by Chameleon. Us saving her, stopping Harry’s invasion of Earth-1218. 

I caught up to her at the opposite end of the cross walk and she looked over at me with a serious expression. “I remember everything, Lisa. That memory device Miguel talked about? I don’t know what I did for it to not work on me, but it didn’t. I still remember all of it.”

I stared at her, frozen. “Kasey. . .” 

“I haven’t told the others. I know they believed you before, but I’m not so sure if they would now, but I’ll let you explain it to them all again at some point when you’re ready to,” She went on, before offering me a soft smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Then it hits me. At one point during the encounter, she reached for my wrist and touched my gizmo. Did it protect her somehow?

My thoughts were interrupted when a loud horn startled me, making me jump as a bright yellow taxi drove by us. “I’m walkin’ here!” I yelled. 

I’ve always wanted to say that. 

“So,” I turned back to Kasey as we started walking again. “You know about–?”

“How Miguel is Spider-Man 2099, there’s a Spider Society, you occasionally hop to other dimensions to fight villains, and yes, I know that was you who stopped that Nike heist the other week on the news.” She grinned knowingly. 

“Oh shit.” I found myself saying it out loud. 

Kasey burst out laughing. “You should see your face!”

I laughed along with her, and for a moment, all seemed right in the world. 

///////////

The next day. . .

Over the week as we talked about the trip, we ultimately decided to be normal people and book plane tickets to Seoul. My reasoning was instead of using the Gizmo to teleport straight to the city (honestly that’s on me for not thinking it could do that and only lock in on different dimension’s versions of New York City), was that I wanted time to think of a plan and figure out what I would like to say and talk about with my step-father when I see him again. 

I found I work better under pressure which was why I was putting off my big speech and things until literally flying over there. 

I was even more surprised when Miguel agreed to the plan. Knowing him, I thought he’d be leaning towards the opposite, wanting to make things easier for me, but after hearing me out, he seemed to change his mind. 

I’m the first to get out of the taxi cab as we arrive at the departure gate of JFK International. I turn to face Miguel as he’s getting out. “Okay, game plan! We check in, get through security and munch on some pre-flight snacks I brought because airport food is not the greatest, and I’d rather not have something happen in the middle of a 15 hour flight.”

Miguel looks over at me, a calm smile on his face as he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he circles around the back of the taxi to grab our suitcases from the trunk. “Solid plan, enough to get our bearings.” He nodded nonchalantly before glancing my way again. “Or. . .”

“Or?” I repeated, seeming confused.  

“Mr. O’Hara, Ms. Kendrick?” A sweet sounding voice calls out. I turn around to see a well dressed uniformed airline attendant with her hair tied back in a bun and cherry red lipstick. She had a friendly demeanor about her. “Good afternoon.”

“Um, hello?” I greeted with an awkward expression. “I’m sorry, did we park in the wrong area?”

“Not at all miss, you’re right on time.” The woman shook her head before two more associates of hers approached. “We can take your bags for you as you check in with first class and head to security.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Miguel nodded his head towards them with a kind smile. 

“Huh?” I glanced around, confused as the attendants started to take our bags. “There must be a misunderstanding. I booked economy tickets, not–!”

“It’s alright, Lisa.” Miguel quickly cut in, brushing a hand at my waist as he gently pulled me along. “They’ll take care of it.”

“But-!” I thought my neck was going to snap with the amount of times my head whirled between Miguel and our luggage as he guided us away. 

“They’ll be fine.” He reassured me with a squeeze as we entered the airport. 

Miguel continued to be deliberately silent as we checked in, made it through security and walked right up to our gate and immediately boarded the plane, all while going through a ‘priority access’ lane. I did a double take on our plane tickets. It was the airline I had paid for my tickets for, yes, but this was a completely different plane that we were on. 

The plane was huge with two floors of seating. The first floor was for economy and business class, while the second floor was for first class. Guess which floor we ended up on?

“Mr. O’Hara, Ms. Kendrick, welcome aboard. Let me show you to your private cabin.” A flight attendant greeted us. 

I’m sorry, did she say a cabin? 

We followed the flight attendant down the aisle and I was blown away by the fancy and clean decor and interior of the plane. There was a full on seating area and a cocktail bar in the middle of the aisle! We were given complimentary champagne as we walked past and I had to steel myself and not accidentally drop it on the floor as we kept walking. 

“Here’s your cabin.” The attendant directed us inside.

The cabin had blue leather recliners, complete with cup holders with built-in cooling or heat settings, a remote, a flat screen TV, a closet with coat hangers, way more leg room that was necessary, and a panel in the floor opened up to a pull out dining table. 

“Thank you kindly.” I gaped at the sight as Miguel sauntered in and sat down in his seat without a care in the world, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

“We’ll be finishing boarding and taking off shortly.” The flight attendant informed us. “Would you like for me to convert your seats into the fold out bed now or after take off?”

I’m sorry, a fold out what now?!

I shoved my bag towards Miguel to stop him from speaking up, clearing my throat to cover his surprised yelp. “After, thank you.” I nodded politely to the attendant. 

“Enjoy your flight.” She smiled before walking away. 

I turned around to face Miguel, eyes wide, my body shaking from how anxious I was feeling about the last few minutes. “Miguel, I can’t afford this! There has to be a mistake with the check in!”

“What if it's not a mistake?” he shrugged, failing to see the problem as he set my bag down on the floor. 

“I mean, look at this place!” I swear I thought my eyes were going to fall right out of their sockets as I looked around the cabin. I opened the closest door to find folded pajamas, towels, and-! Too many expensive things. “This stuff is softer than everything I own!”

“Is that such a bad thing for a temporary convenience?” He asked me, a soft smile on his face.

I watched Miguel as he leaned back into his chair, swirling his glass of champagne around, and then it hit me. My eyes go wide as I approach him slowly, taking my seat next to him. “You switched our plane tickets, didn’t you?”

Miguel offered me side eyes as he sipped his drink.

I gawked at him. “Miguel O’Hara-!”

Miguel swallowed, lowering the glass from his lips as he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “I had to do something!”

“That also explains why you stopped me from looking at our check in details last night.” I realized, my eyes loosely glaring in his direction. 

Miguel playfully glared back at me, pointing a finger. “Only because you wouldn’t stop stressing over the flight and kept checking it for the 20th time last night.”

“You really changed them while I was asleep last night?” I asked him with genuine concern. 

Miguel said nothing, only shrugging his shoulders in defeat. 

I slouched into my chair with a sigh. “Miguel, this. . . this is too much. Our dates are one thing, but this? Don’t you need the money for the–” I pause briefly, glancing around before shutting and locking our cabin door before facing him again. “Spider Society?”

“I have plenty enough to fund the Spider Society, keep it running, and take care of personal needs.” Miguel shook his head, reaching for the plane’s magazine and browsing through it. “It’s alright, Lisa, really.”

Personal Needs?

Funding and running the Spider-Society, paying a rent or mortgage on his penthouse apartment, driving a Ferrari, taking care of himself, and paying for our dates? Sometimes expensive dates?

When it came to the topic of money, it was something Miguel seemed to avoid talking about with me. 

I look at him curiously as I raise a brow at him, and I know Miguel can feel me staring at him as I say, “Miguel, what did you say you did at Alchemax again?”

“I worked in their biology department, specializing in DNA splicing.” Miguel answered, flipping through the pages, and when he continued to feel my stare, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as he brought a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I. . . may have also worked my way up the corporate ladder.”

Both of my eyebrows went up in surprise. “You became head of the department?”

That could explain it. 

Miguel offered me a side glance before sighing, lowering the magazine into his lap. “The very top of the corporate ladder.” He emphasized, giving me a tired smile. 

Oh now that really explained it!! 

I sat up. “You were Alchemax’s CEO?!” I whispered in shock, resisting the urge to scream. 

Miguel seemed to stare at me for a good long minute before suddenly bursting into laughter. I sat there, confused, worried that if I had upset him somehow with how I reacted. He calmed himself down, shaking his head, even whipping a tear from his eye before meeting my gaze again. “You really are committed to the whole deal of getting to know me without looking at your dimensions comic books, are you?”

My heart fluttered at his statement. “Well, I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Miguel’s expression softened, giving me a smile that gave me butterflies. “That you did.” We both smiled at one another for a brief moment before Miguel cleared his throat and adjusted his composure. “So, regardless, I did this because I wanted to help you relax, and make this trip as stress free as I possibly could.”

“Miguel, it’s still a lot of money, I’m sure this didn’t come cheap.” I insisted with a worried look.

Miguel leaned forward, pointing at his mouth that curled into a proud smirk. "Read my lips. I did this because I. Wanted. To."

My mind was going haywire. Of all of the things he’s done for me, for some reason my mind couldn’t comprehend all of this. "B-B-B-But-!" A look of guilt washed over me as I tried to reach a hand for him, but he caught it gently and lowered it into my lap. 

"Don't give me that look. Let me spoil you and take care of you." His voice was lowered but comforting as he offered me a warm smile, squeezing my hand. 

"Spoiling me is buying me a new book or taking me to get coffee or chipotle when I'm sad.” I tried to rationalize, my eyes wandering the space of the cabin again before meeting his gaze again. “This is something else entirely!"

Miguel hummed, his head turning to the side as if he were deep in thought. “You know what? You’re right.”

I recoiled back slightly, taken back. “I am?” Was he finally coming to his senses? 

“Those times I was treating you, mi Mona Lisa. This is spoiling. There’s a difference between the two, and there’s nothing wrong with that, or either in fact.” He stated, giving me this longing look of pure adoration and affect that made my heart skip a beat. “Thank you for correcting me.”

“Miguel. . .” My face lowered into a small pout, utterly speechless as I struggled to find any more words to try and talk him out of this. 

"Lisa.” He stressed my name, taking my hands in his to settle me. 

I could see the look in his eyes, the way they seemed to pour into mine as I lowered myself back in my seat.

“You're meeting your step-father again for the first time in 2 years. Just focus on preparing yourself for that and seeing your family. Let me handle the rest.” He squeezed my hand once more, a little more tightly this time as he smiled, flashing one of his fangs. “Okay?"

Slowly, I nodded. 

“Now then.” Miguel reached over for the food menu tucked away in a side compartment on the wall, looking through it before turning back towards me. “Did you want the ravioli or the curry for dinner?”

Sighing in defeat, I put on a weak smile as I leaned on my side against my seat. ��The ravioli, please. . .”

Miguel smiles warmly at me, letting go of my hand before gently taking my chin gently in between his index finger and thumb and pecking my lips, then my forehead. “Then that’s what my smart girl gets.”

////////

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[romanarose]

Take Your Time: Learning to Let Go

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Fem!OC (Jana Fernandez)

Take Your Time Masterlist

Summary: Santi and Jana learn to let go.

Warnings: Drinking, getting drunk but its funsies, one small self-deprecating comment about weight, mentions of loneliness and a brief mention of sex trafficking but only in reference to Laci's past but in general a soft chapter, lots of dialogue.

**************

Jana loved Laci, and she loved Santi. She loved them together, they made a great couple… but sometimes they were a little strange.

Jana let herself in, like they all did in each other's houses. “Hey Lac-” As Jana nearly tripped over their cat, Slenderman, she was promptly shushed by a wide eyed Laci with a finger pressed to her lips, greeted by an interesting scene. Laci was sat on the couch, one of her cute little dresses all spread out, with Santiago laying on her lap… sleeping while Laci play with his hair. He looked like a toddler taking a nap after playtime.

Laci checked to make sure he was asleep, and carefully got up, taking his head off her lap and laying him down on the couch. Motioning Jana to her room, Laci put a blanket over Santi and kissed his forehead. Closing the door behind her, Laci spoke quietly as she began to gather her things. “He had a long day” she referenced her sleeping boyfriend.

Jana’s gaze was scrupulous. “What happened?”

“He had to go to the DMV. Was so frustrated about it he tuckered himself out.”

Oh yeah. Definitely a toddler.

She could picture it now. The short ball of hot temper hated the DMV. In fact, she had witnessed Santi ranting about a trip to the DMV time or two throughout the years. Will couldn’t understand it. ‘It’s just filling out paperwork Santi.’ Jana thought Will would be perfectly happy in a simple 9-5 filing papers all day.

It was a girls night. Laci didn’t have any “going out” clothes so they were going shopping; one more dress to fill up Santi’s closet(s). It was Jana’s goal to find her something she felt comfortable in, but sexy. Santi had mentioned Laci doesn’t think she’s sexy, and Jana thought that was insane, so it was time to dress her up. Of course, Laci had a very different taste. She likes girly things, pink, flowers, lace, where Jana, who was raised on grunge and hard rock, liked dark or neutral tones. If she was at work or home, generally, she didn’t wear makeup and stuck with comfortable, practical clothing that a toddler may or may not throw up on, peed on, chuck of bowl of spaghetti on… but when she went out? When she dressed up? Tight, leather, low cut, heavy dark make-up.

Even before Rosie, Jana opted for more comfort, but in a “sweatpants, sports bra, unbuttoned flannel” sort of way, and Jana had once overheard Tom ask Frankie why he let her dress like she does. Frankie’s response was that he didn’t ‘let’ her do anything. Santi, in very Santi fashion, said ‘Besides,’ he clapped Frankie on the back. ‘Frank can fight!’ to which Frankie replied, smiling into his glass, ‘so can she.’

Laci gathered up a few things and they headed out to find Laci a dress she’d feel good in, but not before Laci left a sleeping Santi a note that she was with Jana, and a kiss.

After a successful shopping trip, they found themselves in Jana’s room getting ready, Jana doing Laci’s make-up, contouring, eyebrows, fake lashes, all that. Santi had woken up and come over, him and Frankie were having a few drinks and watching Rosa in the living room while the girls got ready.

“Really?” Jana said and she painted on Laci’s blush. ”Whipped cream?”

Laci giggled. “Yeah, it was hot, just licking each other up.”

“Did you at least set down towels?”

“There wasn’t time! One minute we were making ice cream sundaes, the next his dick was inside me and I was licking whipped cream off his tits.”

The mental image of Santi having sex was never very appealing to her, but Laci was getting more comfortable discussing sex with her, so it was a small sacrifice to make. “Santi’s a man, Laci, men don’t have tits.”

She laughed again. “He absolutely does. Have you seen him shirtless? He’s got more tits than I do. He should be wearing a bra.”

Jana couldn’t help laugh at that, Santi would be mortified at this topic. “You know who I don’t think would ever mix food and sex?” She asked, reaching for the blending brush. 

No hesitation. “Will”

“Yeah, Will. The germaphobe.”

The girls laughter was so loud Frankie and Santi heard it and both turned in the direction of the bedroom.

Santi sipped his beer. “Think they're talking shit?” He joked.

“Oh yeah” Was Frankies sarcastic answer. “I’m sure Laci has all kinds of terrible things to say about you.”

After a little bit, Jana cracked the door open. “You boys ready?”

They stood up straight, and turned to watch the grand entrance as Frankie called for them to come out. Jana was first, and Frankie had to set down his drink in awe of her.

“Damn, mamacita, look at you…” Frankie looked her up and down as he approached her, arms out. “You gonna leave me home alone when you look like that?” but he was teasing, kissing the side of her face. Jana wore leather pants, a purple bra and a leather jacket, hugging her body perfectly, showing off the assets she had.

Jana beamed at his praise. “Gracias, mi cielo” she turned to Santi. “You ready, Santito?” 

With a cheeky smirk, he grinned excitedly at the door. “Probably not.”

With a smack to Santi’s curly head, she tell’s him he can’t fuck her in their bedroom, and called “Vamos a salir, bicho!”

“Une minute, vous êtes toujours pressée…”

Jana turned to Frankie. “I don’t think either of us understand what we’re saying.”

Laci opened the door, shyly walking out in a skimpy, tight little pink dress that barely covered her.

Santi was shellshocked, gapping at her while Jana smirked. “Hey baby, what-what are you wearing?”

She does a little twirl. “A dress.”

“Say’s who?” Santi coughed out.

“Calvin Klien!”

“I’m pretty sure you have lingerie that looks exactly like that at home…”

Laci looked up at him, pouting. “You don’t like it…” 

“No! No, no, no” He was quick to reassure. “You look stunning, princesa, I was just surprised is all.”

Satisfied, Laci gave him an innocent hug, Santi looking over at the culprit, Jana, and mouth ‘what the fuuuuuuck’

Jana simply smiled, and took Laci’s hand. “Our uber is almost here, let’s go!”

Santi looked worried. “You’re not driving?”

“You want Jana to drink and drive?” Frankie asked his friend. 

“No, of course not-” His eyes bugged out even more. “You’re drinking?”

Jana laughed at him as Laci giggled. “Well, we’re going to a dance club, so yeah.”

Santi looked at Laci. “Are you drinking?” Laci didn’t drink. Not because of trying to stay sober, but because after everything she’d been through, she didn’t like the loss of control.

But the tiny blonde just shrugged. “I might partake,” She joked.

Jana guided Laci towards the door, giving a quick peck on his cheek and leaving him with a purple lipstick print. “Adios, mi sol, no dejes que Santiago mantenga a Fátima despierta más allá de su hora de acostarse otra vez, lo descubriré.”

“Haré mi mejor amor mi, sin promesas”

Laci ran up to Santi and placed both hands on her face, giving him a big ol’ smooch before saying by and running off.

“You’ll have your location on, right princesa?” He called out to his girlfriend.

Jana answered for her. “No, I’m turning off her phone, relax for just one night!”And they were out the door.

When it closed, Frankie felt his phone buzz and when he pulled it out, it was a notification that Jana began sharing her location with him. He showed it to Santi. “Relax, amigo, Jana won’t let anything happen to Laci.”

Wringing his hands together, Santi looked on at the door with a worried expression. “I know, I know I just… she’s never gone out without me before… usually her and Jana go to our houses or places with Rosie, and when she hangs out with Ben they are home watching horror movies by like 8-”

“That’s because Ben can’t handle one drink without slipping into a chugging contest and blacking out 3 hours later, and he’d never put Laci in danger like that. Jana can handle her liquor.”

“I know.” Santi sighed, scrubbing his face. “And she is terrifying as hell when she wants to be. I just… worry.”

Reaching in the fridge, Frankie tossed a beer into Santi’s arms, but not one for himself. It’s not that he was quitting drinking, perse… but he recognized he’d substituted the coke for excessive drinking these last 9 months and was making a conscious effort to limit it. He didn’t want to have to stop drinking all together if it got out of hand, so he decided to be proactive. “Entiendo, it’s been a lot of changes lately, Laci beginning to work, being more independent-”

“It’s not that.” Santi groaned, flopping on the couch. “I’m happy she’s more independent, can go places without me without panicking. Frank, she wouldn’t even go outside without me for months! I’m happy, I’m sp proud of her…”

Frankie quit his teasing. “I know you are, Pope. Me, Jana, Ironhead and Benny are proud of her too. So what’s going on?”

He hung his head in embarrassment. “I dunno, I miss her…” He mumbled.

Of course he did. It had been over a year since meeting Laci the day they saved her, and the pair had been attached at the hip ever since. It was Frankie that found her, that day, half dead in the basement where she was being trafficked, starved so bad she never really recovered and skin a translucent gray. Santi took her in for no reason other than to care for the girl, and the two had fallen into a genuine, adoring love. Early on, there had been accusations that Santi liked her because she needed him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Both were amazing people who loved each other and him dearly, and e loved back; his brother and his little sister, manita as he called her.

“Have you told her how you’re feeling?” Frankie asked the obvious.

He shook his head. “I won’t do anything that might cause her to stay home more. She worries about me.” Santi chucked. “You think I’m the only one that worries, but she does too. I want her to be whatever the best version of normal for her looks like… a normal she never had. It’s just… If we don’t have a foster kid, it feel it’s just me talking to Slenderman all day.” It took a second for Frankie to remember that ‘Slenderman’ is what Laci and Benny named the cat Laci and Santi got. Awful name for a cat.

It struck Frankie that while he and everyone else was so wrapped up in his recovery, the people he cared about’s lives kept moving, and they had needs as much as he did. Frankie was switching to part time work- enough to keep him on a schedule which help his sobriety, but freeing up more time to be with his daughter, and as he promised to himself to reach out more to Santi, for Frankie to spend more time together, the three of them. “I know you’re nervous, this is a big step for both of you. But I’m gonna turn on the game, and before you know it, they’ll be back. And don’t let Jana fool you, I have their location.”

Santi breathed out a sigh of relief, and called to Rosie’s room that the game was starting soon and she needed to clean up her toys. A pantsless Rosie ran squealing out of the bathroom with a large Miami Heat jersey. Rosie loved basketball.

“Mija, ¿Limpiaste tu habitación?”

“Si, papi!”

“¿Es eso cierto? Porque no sonaba como si limpiaras nada.”

Santi interjected on behalf of hsi goddaughter. “Oh come on, old man, let the girl watch the game!” He scooped up the curly hair girl in his arms, swinging her around.

“Fine, you can go help her.”

Santi huffed, carrying Rosie off muttering something about “daddy is so mean, isn’t he?” before helping her shove everything under her new baby yoda toddler bed.

It was several hours later when Santi woke up to Frankie’s phone getting a call from ‘Luz de mis ojos’. Frankie was fast asleep on the couch where Santi had embarrassingly fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Jesus, Santito, you always answer the phone like that?” But Jana was giggling.

“Sorry Jan Jan, but why did you call me?”

“Well, I called my boyfriend, but you’ll do. Just letting you know we’re heading back, but… and don’t freak out…”

“Too late”

“Laci may have had a drink…” her words were slightly slurred.

Sani sighed, impatient. “Yes, she said she might, is that all?”

“Well… she may have had 4.”

“What?!”

“Don’t freak out!”

“Jana she’s 5 feet tall and barely 100 pounds, that’s like 8 drinks to a normal person.”

“I’m not her goddamn mom, Santiago, I’m not stopping her!”

He sighed again. “You’re right, you’re right.”

And just like that, Jana was laughing again. “Always am!”

“Can I talk to her, please?”

“Well, that’s what I was calling about. I got her in the uber, and she promptly passed out. Maybe I could carry her if I was sober, but-”

“We’ll meet you guys outside, chica.”

“Thanks, Santi.” She was sincere.

Santi and Frankie were waiting at the curb for their girlfriends as they pulled up. Frankie opened the door, holding his hand out for Jana and pulling her into a kiss that Jana quickly made illicit, shoving her tongue into his mouth as if Santi and Lacina weren’t right there. 

On the other end of the car, Santi was scooping a sleeping Laci into his arms as she stirred. “Hey there, sleepyhead” he greeted her.

“Daddy” Laci smiled and reached up for him, seemingly unaware of their friends and the uber driver. Santi gave the pair a look that said not to bring that up again, thanked the driver, and waved goodbye to Frankie and Jana and carried her off to his pick up.

“How was your night, baby girl?”

“Good, I’ll tell you about it when I can think clearly?”

“Of course.”

“How was your night with Frankie and Rosie.”

“Fun, but Frakie made me clean Rosie’s room.”

“Did you shove her stuff under her bed?” She curled up in his arms, resting on his chest.

Santi cradled her to him. “Maybe.” 

As Jana and Frankie stumbled inside, Frankie tried to hold her up as she wobbled in her high heel boots. “Wish I was as small as Laci so I could make you carry me.” She mumbled, in an extremely rare self deprecating comment. 

Francisco Morales would not let this stand. He was not as strong as he was in his 20’s to be sure, but he was no pathetic old man, and he scooped her right up. Jana laughed loudly, her voice, bright and beautiful, echoing through the suburban streets as she hung her head back. He loved her. He loved her so much it was indescribable. He could not get enough of her spirit, the way she was so very herself, the way she was bold and proud and beautiful the way she commanded a room but submitted her body to him, the way she feared nothing but feared for him in his addiction, the way she loved their daughter fiercely and put her above all, the way they were a unit, a family, and that they were friends through it all. Frankie was enamored, and thanked god every day that she was back, that he got to listen to her talk about her day again, that he gets to watch her do yoga, unravel on his fingers, twist her hair. He’s thankful he gets to see her breastfeed their child once more even as Rosie weens off. He’s thankful that although she never left his life, now they share one.

On the bed, Frankie undressed her and put her in PJ’s rubbing magnesium lotion on her feet to help with the inevitable aches the boots always brought now that she was in her 30’s, and put her hair up in a silk bonnet.

Jana drifted in and out of sleep on the bed and when She came to it was to a wet wipe on her face. “Baby, what are you doing?” Slowly, she registered that she was laying in Frankie’s lap.

“Taking off your makeup, hermosa.” he wiped with careful but firm strokes, taking better care of her skin than she did some days. She felt him shift, and then the familiar feeling of lotion being rubbed on her face. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

And Jana did relax, she let go and gave into him, because she knew that he always would take care of her for the rest of their lives.

***************

Hope you all enjoyed!! Im happy to see these two back together <3 and those who have been in this since lal probably get where santi is coming from.

@milkymoon2483 @trinkets01 @poeedameronn @luciannadraven33 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @itspdameronthings @ellenmunn @miraclesabound @whatthefishh @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @littlenosoul

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[thatgirlwritingficsatnight]

Odi et Amo II

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior  

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and  accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5764

A/N: It was supposed to be published last week, but I was unhappy with it and ended up rewriting it/adding some things. Sorry! (*_ _)人 P.S Sorry for my grammatical errors! Enjoy!

Chapter I

***

Currently sitting in front of your manager you eyed him. He seemed tired and you felt a pang of conscience it was probably because of your tweets last night and you wouldn’t even think of meeting him if you weren’t in dire need of getaway from the uncomfortable conversation with your neighbor. You didn’t meet in your agency’s building since both of you despised the place even though it was a new and flashy building made out of something that looked like a white marble. Both of you agreed on meeting outside it, so you were sitting in the café nearby while wondering how did your shitty boss manage to rent it. Last time you’ve been here, it was a few rooms in shabby, old building. You shivered while imagining going in, that place had an evil aura even from across the street.

"Where did you get all that money to rent it?" you asked.

"We actually bought it." 

"Well, business goes well then."

"Actually we are only able thanks to your movies. Don’t tell Kim Pd-nim I told you, he thinks you'll become arrogant."

"I already am." You smiled coldly.

"That's what I told him."

Your manager had a sarcastic smirk on. Both of you and hated your CEO and even mentioning him would bring up unpleasant memories. Kim Sanghoon was one of those bosses who wouldn't even think about trying to help idols and stars that were bringing him money. No matter what it was — crazy fans destroying your life, death threats, your collapsing mental health he didn’t care. Once you were attacked by media and netizens you were on your own and if it was too much for the company your contract was terminated. You often wondered when would you become too much for them to handle.

"How do you feel?" Your manager caught you off guard, even though you had known each other for a long time there was an unspoken rule between you not to talk about other things than work.

"Honesty..I'm fine I don't understand why everyone asks me that." You huffed a bit irritated and run fingers through your hair. 

"Well it's just.. I know it was important to you and you worked hard to earn the hearts of your Korean fa..."

"I'm fine." you didn't manage to hide irritation in your voice. You were not used to talking about it and you didn't like it one bit. Besides what were you supposed to say anyway? No one else was as hated as you. Of course there were idols and stars that were occasionally criticized but not one of them was constantly a target of such hatred. Even when you left there were still death threats send from your motherland to you, nothing changed. Not to mention no one else got such welcoming on the day of return to their home. It was unfair, stupid, infuriating and saddening. And yet you couldn’t understand what people were expecting of you? Both Mark and your manager knew you, or so you thought. What were you supposed to do? Cry? You wouldn't cry, that was what weak people do, that would show you actually care about what those assholes think about you. You were just fine. Ok. Neither sad nor happy. You'd endure whatever you had to but you won't conform to their image of idol and woman nor will you show any sign of weakness. You'd rather stay hated than do that. Your manager sighed and it pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Well then. If you're okay then I'm glad. So just as I told you I have this drama for you if you're interested." You weren't the slightest bit. Frankly you'd rather stay in bed for the next three months jobless than play some crazy villain or villainous second female lead. Then again you felt bad about the amount of work he probably had because of you. You looked him in the eyes and answered with a sigh.

"I can't promise anything but I can at least listen what it’s about.." Your manager seemed surprised, but he didn't wait long, perhaps in case you'd change your mind. He took out some papers and handed them to you. You cringed on the sole title "Love is your destiny" — it sounded sappy. 

"So it's a love story between fallen angel and this human..." he started.

"Angels...so who do they want me to play? Satan? Devil? Succubus?" You browsed through pages to find the villain.

"You'd know if you'd let me finish." You sent him a small apologetic smile. "They want you to play the main role." You stared at him confused before you burst with laughter.

"They want me to play cute girl in love with the angel?" The idea of you playing the sweet female lead was absurd, not that you weren’t able to do it, you were a good actress it wouldn’t be a problem for you, if anything it would most likely be a challenge for the audience.

"No, no! You'd play the angel. See this is drama with strong female lead. The origin of your character is fascinating. You had to watch the mistreatment of a woman extremely devoted to god. The lady prayed, but she still got beaten, almost killed even. Moreover, you had to be the guardian angel of her torturer — the aggressive husband. You pleaded to god, you asked him to let you guard her instead, but he didn’t agree and forbade you from intervening. One night when the husband got drunk, he beat her unconscious and you were sure he’d kill her. You decided to save her, you kill her husband and this is the moment when you fell. That's when you became deviant and promised yourself you'd help those who were denied it. You’d protect them and avenge them. Fast-forward a thousand years, and we are in Seoul and you meet a man, a painter..." He was so excited you almost didn't understand some words because of the speed. He was waiting for your response but you were too occupied with reading what he handed you. Once you finished it you looked at him with a mix of surprise and excitement.

"It's like it was made for me.." you said with bewildered tone.

"That's because it was made for you. The screenwriter wrote it with you in mind." You looked like a cartoon character, eyes wide, mouth in a shape of letter "o", once you heard him.

"Me?"

"Yes. She is apparently a big fan."

"And tvN is ok with that?" You furrowed your brows confused.

"Perhaps they aren't. But it is co-production with Netflix, and they pushed for you since you’re popular worldwide." 

Your heart fluttered and the tips of your fingers tingled from excitement as you rummaged through the pages once again, not only it would be showed in TV during the prime-time but also streamed on Netflix weekly.

"The screenwriter and producer kept calling me since yesterday as soon as it was known you came back. They almost cast someone else. They were sure you're staying in the USA. Isn't it amazing?" He was as excited as you were and you felt some remorse for being so rude to him before. You gave him your warmest smile, one you usually used only around Mark and your family.

"It really is. Thank you and I'm sorry for being rude earlier." He was clearly uncomfortable with your apology, red spreading on his cheeks as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah don't mention it. Does that mean I can call them and say you are interested." You looked at the pages in front of you once again and smiled broadly before simply saying.

"Yes!"

Jinyoung was still amused you threatened him in his own café. He couldn't focus on the book he had in his hands anymore as he chuckled replying your angered and irritated expressions in his head. It was fun to tease you because you reacted so well. He could tell you could be great friends if you'd let him. He smiled to himself mouthing your own words "bloody Y/N". He was truly shocked that he met you here of all places and found it rather amusing when you yelled in English and caught his attention. He felt some disappointment upon seeing a half naked man talking to you from the screen of your phone but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came up once your friend ended the call. Jinyoung wouldn't call himself a noisy person, but he found you interesting, and he wanted to know who it was and what kind of relationship you had although he rarely cared for stuff like this... His thoughts were interrupted by his ring-tone, BamBam's face illuminated the screen. He sighed but answered it anyway.

"Skrrrt, skrrt!"

"Ah yes, good morning to you to Bam." Jinyoung said in amused tone.

"Oh, hyung you seem in good mood. What you're up to?"

"Reading, thinking."

"Sounds boring wanna hang out?"

"Actually I wanted to ask you about something." Jinyoung ignored his question once he remembered how obsessed with celebrities and their styles Bam was.

"Shoot."

"Do you know any celebrities under the name Y/N." BamBam laughed wholeheartedly.

"That's very funny hyung."

"What do you mean?"

"OMG you're not joking! Are you living under a rock, hyung? Y/N is like the hottest actress ever. Her style is chic and comfy and artsy it's really cool, and she actually doesn't have a stylist, she does it on her ow..."

"She is an actress?"

"She is the actress! She played the White Fox in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lol, you call yourself an actor and you don't know the most popular Korean actress abroad."

"You know I don't like those superheroes movies. Besides why didn't I hear about her Korean career if she's so good?"

"You are so old it scares me sometimes. Well you should know her from internet. I think it's national sport to hate her or something. She just came back, and they're already frying her online not to mention the media and dating rumors."

"Dating rumors?"

"Yeah she dated few actors. I think Seojoon hyung dated her and Changwook hyung even almost proposed. The media made her to look like heartless vixen though. I mean they never liked her but her last ex gave a very unfavorable interview to dispatch and after that she became villain number one. She left shortly after."

"Mmmm... I see." Jinyoung only started his career four years ago so it shouldn't be weird you've never met before. He was also the type of person who couldn't care less about internet gossip and gutter press or dispatch. He sighed. Suddenly your angry reaction made much more sense and Jinyoung didn't feel as good about it as he did before. He scolded himself for being too frivolous and selfish. He just wanted to see your reactions - it was cute and funny...

"Why did you ask? OMG you've met her didn't you. I'm so jealous. What was she wearing? Was it Gucci? I heard she likes it."

"Ok Bam. I have to go. Thanks for the talk."

"Wait, so you wanna hang out?"

"Last time when you asked me to hang out I had to shop for 4 hours with you."

"Well... I am your stylist. Besides, it was fun, come on." 

"I think we have different definitions of "fun""

You woke up to no noise pleasantly surprised. It seems that Sunday's were free from renovation and thanks to that you could sleep in. You stretched out and grabbed the phone to check the time. It was already past eleven. You smiled to yourself and fell to bed lazily. Soon you wouldn't have time for lazy days like this as the production team was supposed to finish up casting for the drama by the end of the next week. You thought about picking some groceries, maybe cooking yourself some food and enjoying the day with a book or perhaps some video games. You took shower and put on some comfortable clothes — beige cardigan you stole from Mark clearly too big for you and some black trousers pairing it up with brown coat. You left the apartment and as soon as you did the irritating voice in your head reminded you about your debt. Hesitant at first you shook off the feeling quickly and knocked on the door. This time you were prepared for teasing, you were expecting it even so you wouldn't be caught off guard. At least that's what you were telling yourself. Your neighbor, however, didn't act the way you expected him to. Instead of smirking at you and teasing you or straight up mocking you, he seemed nervous. He had deep purple bags under his usually sparkling eyes. Perhaps he didn’t feel well... you wondered whether you should ask him if he needed some help. You decided it would be extremely awkward and so you cleared your throat and spoke up — softness now somewhere in your voice.

"Is that bad time? I can come later I just wanted to give you back your money.."

"N-No." He started nervously "I mean no. It's fine. I'm actually glad you're here. Would you come in?"

You didn't want to come in and it must have shown on your face since he continued.

"Come on. I don't bite." He smiled warmly and it seemed much more normal than the timid self he showed you seconds ago. And so you came in curiously looking around his own apartment. It was a mirror image of your own in terms of room placements — a hallway leading to living room with opened kitchen. You came into the living room and Jinyoung rushed after you quickly turning the TV off. You didn't pay it any mind since you were looking around and taking in how different was his home compared to yours. It was very modern and yet it kept the homey feeling. Yours on the other hand, well it was raw yet full of stuff? Mark would probably call it unfinished and cluttered. Your neighbor sat on the other side of the couch leaving quite a lot of space between the two of you and run a hand through his hair. He wore a cardigan very similar to yours both in color and style in fact it could be the very same brand and style it’s just neither of you noticed it.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize." He responded quickly and gained a surprised look from you.

"Apologize?"

"Yes about yesterday…I shouldn't have said those things in public I could say I just didn't know about your situation but it’s no excuse. I’m truly sorry." he paused. "You don't have to be stressed about press or rumors though. It is my café and my staff, so they won't talk about it with anyone I took care of it." You took back everything you said, you weren’t prepared for meeting him, especially not getting apologies from him. On top of that he was the owner of your favorite café...

"I… it's fine." You said confused and tried to act as normal as possible while being very aware of your palms spread on your thighs. They were unnaturally clammy. It was a surprise to you, you rarely got any apologies and you were expecting some more teasing not something like that. Your eyes were everywhere except on him and you were screaming at yourself internally to say something, anything, but nothing was coming to your mind. Once again you lost your ability for forming witty sentences around him or in that case any sentences. There was awkward silence between you and you immensely regretted coming to see him today. You weren’t used to this. Somewhere in your belly you could feel as if butterflies - or rather moths — yes, moths of anxiety were fluttering their wings desperately trying to get into your chest. You never felt like this before. You tried to avoid looking at him but your own eyes betrayed you and fell on Jinyoung only to find out he was enjoying your anguish. His brown eyes were glimmering and his lips formed half smirk that he tried to cover with his left hand in a gesture of propping his head up. Immediately irritation came to you burning all the fluttering wings in the pits of your stomach. A frown formed on your face and you send him a glare. Wondering how could you be so stupid and fall for his act.

"You're really cute when you're shy or embarrassed." He chuckled now mocking you openly.

"I can't believe I took your apologies as sincere." He chuckled again clearly pleased with how you responded.

"They were sincere. I just enjoy teasing you."

"Could you stop? That's inappropriate you don't even know me."

"What do you mean we are neighbors and soon to be friends." He smiled broadly and for a second your mind travelled somewhere else simply admiring his beauty. You cursed his handsome face it could blind and charm everyone really. You wanted to leave, no you needed to leave. It was stuffy in here.

"I'm here for a reason." You reminded him, he was watching you with amusement. It felt almost as if a cat was observing you.

"Ah right... money." his tone seemed inattentive somehow. "I don't need it. Let's say it was a part of my apology."

"Just give me your account number and take the money."

"I don't remember it." You were getting more irritated every minute you talked to him.

"You don't remember your account number?" This man was unbelievable. He shrugged.

"You can send it to me through KakaoTalk if you really want." He smiled and took out the phone from the pocket of his pants. 

"Fine. Just give it." Not wanting to spend any second longer here with him, you scanned his qr to add him quickly and transferred the money.

"Done. Now if you excuse me."

"Of course." He smiled again and you felt mocked by the sole action of his lips shooting upwards. He walked you to the door and watched as you slipped on your shoes. You tried to look as cold and dignified as possible but still tripped over the doorstep. He caught your arm firmly and straightened you. Your heart was beating so fast and hard all you could hear was blood pumping in your ears in fact you were sure he could hear it as well. On the other hand whose heart wouldn't when you almost fell face first, right…? Right? It surely wasn't because of his warm breath now tickling the crown of your head, nor the dangerously beautiful eyes... you absolutely regretted coming here today. It was foolish of you to think your cursed neighbor wouldn't shake you up today. And he was still holding you — how awkward is that; and you felt fine with being hold like that — what on earth was wrong with you? You started to think that maybe it would be better if you'd actually fell and hit that stupid head of yours.

Jinyoung was having very dangerous thoughts. The kind he didn't have in a very long time. He wasn't prepared for this kind of proximity. He was already shaken up yesterday by your touch and closeness he only held your hand for a second or two. Maybe he didn't show it but he was. Honestly he wasn't even into PDA or flirting with someone or even thinking of flirting with someone. Yes, he liked teasing, and he teased you but it was in a FRIENDLY manner. Well it was safe to say he didn't have friendshippy type of thoughts right now. Jinyoung reacted automatically upon seeing you fall he just grabbed your arm and pulled you his way. He was still holding your now tensed muscles, but he couldn't let go of you. He was in trance. Your warmth radiating onto him, the way the smell of your shampoo was tingling his nose, your huge doe-like shocked eyes, parted lips, soft pink on the apples of your cheeks. He was wondering how badly would you kill him if he asked to kiss you right now. He was seriously considering it worthy asking even if you were to pull out his tongue like you threatened yesterday. He didn't ask though, the rational part of his brain finally letting go of you. His own feeling were mess, but he did what he knew best — he masked his emotional disarray with some more teasing hoping you wouldn’t notice.

"Falling for me already?" He smirked even though internally he was screaming and already thinking of confiding in Jackson to get himself calmed. He was clearly the one falling and he was panicked. You rolled your eyes on him seemingly gaining the composure while he was getting stunned even by such simple gesture like this.

"You're way below my standards." You seemed annoyed. He smiled again although he wanted you to leave quickly and leave him alone with his feelings, so he can sort this out. Your eyes narrowed at him even more.

"I need to go now."

"Well, have a great day."

"Right, you too." You were so cold Jinyoung almost chuckled at it because it almost wounded him, and yet he liked it. He enjoyed teasing you too much. You were already walking to the elevator, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, and try not to fall when I'm not around to catch you, Y/N." He laughed and you were already frowning at him absolutely mad which made his heart skip a beat, you were really too cute when you frowned. Jinyoung closed the door before you could say anything or worse before he did. He realized he was in deep shit. He tried to think reasonably. He probably just had a crush because he spent a whole night watching movies and dramas you were starring in, he might have also accidentally watched all of your interviews and went to sleep at 6 still smiling to himself from that interview where you had to answer questions about your body in preparation for your role in that Marvel movie. The reporter wouldn't stop asking about your body and making comments on it even though you were clearly uninterested in the topic which you finally cut with your own questions. "Are you looking for some weight loss tips? You look great. Seriously what is it about? Are you trying to fit in my suit?" The last question was asked with whole whisper theatrics and Jinyoung laughed at loud at five am hoping he didn't wake you up through the wall. The suit in question was extremely fitting white leather catsuit. It wasn't the only interview in which you showed off your wits, eloquence and badassness, or how Bam would call it "swag". You were also the most attractive actress he had seen. Of course, you were also attractive when you weren't acting but on the screen... you were amazing. So Jinyoung tried to calm himself down rationalizing his earlier thoughts as simply being starstrucked. That’s what fans felt towards their idols, he was simply charmed by his own new idol. Yes that was it — that’s exactly the type of thoughts some fanboys or fangirls would have. He called Jackson anyway, he knew the designer was the right person to talk to in situations like this. 

Twenty minutes later Jinyoung regretted ever calling his best friend.

"OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO IN LOVE WITH HER!" Jackson basically yelled to the phone. Jinyoung groaned and massaged the space between his brows. 

"Were you even listening? I'm just a big fan."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night man. I’m a big fan of Christian Dior and all I can think of is making out with him." 

"Don’t compare it, he is dead!" Jinyoung yelled and his friend filled his ear in response.

 You were regretting not taking the car for shopping. The walk did help with your racing heart, and helped ease off your mind but it turned out the supermarket isn't that close any more when you have to drag home ten bags of food and products. Thankfully a convenience store was on your way so you could make a stop there maybe you'd be lucky enough to see Seoyun, buy her coffee and have a chat. You knew it was stupid, because she could've just feel obliged to say she is your fan but you still wanted to tell her about your new upcoming role. Sadly she wasn't there and so you just made a stop and sat on one of nearby benches. Massaging your palms that had those harsh red lines imprinted in them now thanks to the bags. You could swear you heard the sound of released shutter and so now alarmed you looked around but it seemed you were the only person here. You sighed, how paranoid have you become that you started hearing the cameras when there was none. Then again you were extremely lucky dispatch and paparazzi haven't found you yet. Just before you left to the USA, your ex gave this interview and your life became hell. You didn't have a day without paparazzi running after you or spying on you. The memories came to you not without acrimony and hurt. Your ex, an actor just like you, used you to create scandal and gain some popularity. You could remember how enraged and morose it made you. You didn't date anyone since then even when Mark tried to introduce you to some people. You intended on staying that way. You didn't need anyone, you had Mark, and he was enough for you. Just you and your best friend. You weren't sure how long you stayed like this, deep in your thoughts. You moved only after you fingers became stiff from cold. Somehow you managed to carry the groceries back home. You were so tired that you just counted it as your training today. You checked the time and it was one PM, perfect time to call your bestie.

"Markiee!!" You whined as soon as his face appeared on your screen.

"Y/N-ah. I miss you." He was wearing some blue hoodie this time.

"That's my line. Do you have time to talk?"

"Bruh, for you? Always. What's up?" 

"I am going to star in a drama!"

"What? I thought you hate those." He was genuinely shocked.

"I know, I do. But this one is different. I'm not playing the villain I got female lead, and she isn't some damsel in distress she is a badass character!" You almost screamed and he chuckled.

"Woah. Someone's excited. I'm so proud of you. So who is getting the privilege to be cast with you?"

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet the cast next week." He nodded his head and smiled. "Anyway what are you up to?"

"I was actually thinking of playing Among Us and streaming wanna join?" He grinned.

"Absolutely, prepare to get wrecked Tuan." You used to play together at least once a week when you were in the USA, his fans loved you and shipped you even though you both told them you were just friends — it is some rule in the internet though, to ship close friends.

Few hours later you were once again killed as the first person, this time by Mark.

"YOU GONNA REGRET IT WHEN WE’LL MEET TUAN. I SWEAR I’M GONNA WHOOP YO ASS..." You screamed on top of your lungs and Mark laughed wholeheartedly, while his chat filled up with hundreds of LOL’s and LUL’s.

"You guys she threatens me. Someone make a clip and send it to the police once they find my dead body." He kept laughing and you couldn’t help but laugh as well. His smile and laugh were just too contagious.

"You really put our friendship to test lately Tuan, here I was foolishly trusting you when you killed me in cold blood. " You stretched and your stomach rumbled reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet and it was already around four pm.

" Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game. "   He shrugged and winked, while you rolled your eyes.

"Okay Mark, I gotta go and eat. It’s already afternoon here."

"Sure, chat say bye to Y/N." They did as he asked and it was soon filled with many hearts and goodbyes. "Love you Y/N! Call me soon." He grinned and you smiled warmly.

"Love you too Mark. Bye guys!" With that you logged off the discord, and switched off his stream. You make your way to the kitchen and took out the ingredients for kimchi jjigae you bought before. You carefully read the recipe opened on your phone and began cooking. You had to make anchovy stock first so you grabbed some dried anchovies, kelp and slashed the daikon in cubicles — it looked quite awkward as each cubicle was different size but hey it was you eating it not some kind of culinary critic. You added water and left it to boil deciding to take care of the rest of ingredients. You cut some kimchi and ate some as a snack and reward for not ordering food today, sliced some green onions, cut the pork and the tofu as well. By the time you were done it was time to strain the broth and add the rest of ingredients. It had to cook so you decided to watch some TV in the meantime. You turned it on, it was some kind of reality show where idols were supposed to camp in the wild for a few days. The idols clearly didn’t feel like being there and the fact you knew neither of them didn’t help. You dozed off before you noticed, your eyelids getting as heavy as iron. The smell of burning woke you up. You shot upwards from your couch and rushed to the kitchen, bumping into a coffee table on your way there.

"FFFFFF-UUCK." you hissed, when your shin pulsed with pain. You quickly grabbed the pot with stew to get it off the fire, forgetting it would be hot as well. You hissed in pain and let id drop on your marble floor which was now covered in burned kimchi and some other things. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking shit." You cursed as you tried to navigate to the sink to ease off the burn with some cold water. The cold water did help and you sighed with relief only to later follow it with a sigh of resignation. You had to clean up this mess. It was when your phone barked — a new message. You checked it.

From Unknown number: Are you trying to burn down the whole building?

You furrowed your brows confused, wondering if it was one of those jokes or spam messages you heard about.

To Unknown number: Who’s this?

From Unknown number: Guess.

You huffed in disbelief.

To Unknown number: Ok, enjoy being blocked.

From Unknown number: Wait!

From Unknown number: It’s Jinyoung.

To Unknown number: How did you get my number? Never mind I’m blocking you I’m too busy to deal with you.

With that you put the phone back in your pocket and began cleaning up. You finished in no time now tired out by scrubbing. You sat on the floor and took out your phone to check it out. From Unknown number: Don’t block me what if you need my help one day.

To Unknown number: With what exactly?

From Unknown number: What if you get stuck in your bathroom and need someone to let you out?

You rolled your eyes and saved his contact

To Devil: There is at least 7 billion more people I’d rather ask to help me

From Devil: Ok then what if I get stuck in the bathroom and need your help.

To Devil: I’d leave you there

From Devil: Heartless

To Devil: Better tell me how did you get my phone number

From Devil: You gave it to me when you scanned my kakao code

You were bewildered, was that his plan from the very beginning or were you just paranoid? You were either prejudiced or he was in fact the devil with angel's face.

To Devil: Did you lie about not remembering your account number?

From Devil: Maybe

You couldn’t believe it, the audacity, the smugness. You could feel irritation building inside you but you decide to let it go when your stomach rumbled at you aggressively. After eating you took shower, read a few chapters of The Vegetarian and fell asleep.

Next week passed quickly but in the feeling of anticipation as you were supposed to meet the rest of the cast as well as the scriptwriter and director at the meeting on Friday. You kept calling your manager throughout the week trying to find out who could they be, but he didn’t know anything or didn’t want to tell you. And so you spent the week on training, running, reading and occasionally calling Mark to express your impatience and excitement. You didn’t meet your irritating neighbor even once this week — something you counted as blessing or perhaps a sign that the universe finally turned your karma around. It was finally Friday and you were already sitting in the meeting room waiting for everyone to come in. You smiled at the young man sitting next to you, he was really cute and had this mole under his right eye it added to his charm. He was about to introduce himself, when someone came through the door and greeted everyone cheerfully. You couldn’t believe it. You were cursed, actually cursed.

"YOU?!" was all that left your mouth upon seeing him entering the room.

[petri808]

If you're doing the smut prompts can you do 107 with Nalu pretty please 🙏😁

Everything They Always Wanted

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” Request prompt.  

Sorry for the long wait, sometimes I struggle with smut now ;-; so I hope you like it :)

‘You just had to choose that snack….  Are you doing this to punish me?  Feels like a punishment….  Little tease.  I know it’s hot today, but really, Lucy?  A popsicle?  Yeah you keep licking that Melona bar, running your tongue up and down over its smooth surface.  Does it taste good?’  

He can feel his shorts tightening just a tad from the images playing in his mind.  Slowly… her tongue flattens against the sweet saccharine on a stick.  ‘I see that melon confection.  Soft, milky goodness running down your throat.  I could give you some soft, milky goodness too….’  

His breathing falters when she glances in his direction.  A naughty grin plastered on her face as she swallows the last bit into her mouth.  ‘Oh no you didn’t.  You little vixen!  I should punish you for teasing me.  Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt….  No not really, I’d never hurt you like that, but I will punish you, don’t you worry.  How about…’

Snap Snap

Natsu turns toward the source of fingers being snapped at him, glaring at being pulled out of his fantasy.  “What, fucker?”

Gray rolls his eyes, “dude wipe your mouth.  You’re spacing out at her again.”  

“So, what?  I can look.”

“Yeah, but don’t have the balls to touch,” Gray quips back.  “I’m getting tired of you two playing eye sex with each other, one of you needs to make a damn move.”

“Tch.”  Natsu crosses his arm and leans back against his chair.  “Then don’t look.”

His friend sighs and props his head up with his hand on the table.  “Don’t you wanna move from just fantasizing to a real relationship?  You’ve been ogling her since high school but are still stuck in the friendzone.”

“It’s… It’s not like that,” Natsu turns away from Gray.  Of course, he wanted to be closer to her.  But he was still relegated to fantasizing from a distance.  Most of the mental images were a complete folly, and when he returns his gaze to the girl it returns to normal.  Just Lucy and her friend Levy enjoying a warm afternoon with some cool treats.  

“It’s obvious to everyone in the group you guys like each other,” his friend reinforces.  “She’s probably just waiting for you to say something.”

Not probably, Natsu was certain that was the case.  The night of their graduation, she was so drunk, he had to take her back to his house to sleep it off so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her dad.  Lucy had wanted more… not just physically but emotionally but there was no way he would take advantage when she was drunk.  If she’d remembered what she’d said the next day, he would have happily accepted.  But she didn’t, and he left it at that.  To continue pining from a distance. Two years have gone by since that night and they were both in full swing of college life.  The friendship has remained intact, but his desire for the blonde had only grown.      

“I’m workin’ on it,” Natsu finally responds as Lucy waves him over.  “Hey, I gotta go,” he stands up and fist bumps his friend.  “Gonna help Lucy with some kind of paper for her class.”

“You should help her out of her…”

Natsu cuts Gray off, “finish that sentence and I’ll tell Juvia you’re actually gay and in love with Lyon.”

Before Gray can respond, Lucy walks over and weaves her arm around Natsu’s.  “Hi Gray,” she smiles at their friend then turns to her escort.  “You ready to go Natsu?”

“Yup,” he smiles back.  “Where’d you wanna study, my dorm or yours?”

“We can use mine.”

It was a short walk back to the dorms from the campus café.  On the way there, Lucy explained the project she wanted Natsu’s help with.  The subject itself wasn’t the problem, it was creating a slide presentation that she struggled with.  She was familiar with Powerpoint, but the teacher wanted them to use Google Slides instead and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how to add audio in.  It was the perfect rouse.

Lucy nibbles at her lip as they enter her dorm and she closes the door behind them.  She was nervous about the real question that drove this request, but it had to be done before she went insane.  It had taken courage juice the night of their graduation, yet she’d found out just how much of a gentleman Natsu could be when he’d refused her advances.  That night two years ago still haunted her.  But this time she was sober, and after a pep talk by Levy, Lucy steals herself to give it one more try.  She needed to know for certain how he felt.

“Where’s your laptop?” Natsu turns from the desk to ask the blonde.  “I don’t see it.”  

“I lied,” she fidgets with her fingers and rocks on the balls of her heels.  “I don’t need help with an assignment.  I need… a different kind of help.”

“Oh--kay?” his eyebrow raises at her strange behavior.  “What sort of help?”

She walks over to her bed and leans back against it, her eyes averted yet glancing up through her lashes to watch his reaction.  “Do you remember graduation night?”

“Yeah…”

“So do I.”

Natsu tilts his head confused.  “You do?”

She nods.  “I tried telling you then… what I’m about to tell you now.”

He leans back against the desk to steady himself as flashbacks of that night pour through his mind.  “No need,” he whispers.  “I think I know what you want to tell me.”

“Then answer this,” a soft exhale leaves her lips.  “I waited and waited… it’s fine, I get that you didn’t want to take advantage because I was drunk, but do you really not see me that way?”  Her voice grows quieter, holding back the sadness in her tone.  “I just need to know for sure Natsu why you’ve never...”

If only she knew the fantasy’s I have of her….

Natsu crosses the floor until he stands before her.  “You wanna know?” He pulls her to her feet roughly so that her body crashes into his.  “How for 6 years I’ve watched you from afar.”  He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze squarely on him.  “The jealousy when others came around…” he nips her chin.   “The fantasy’s….” trailing kisses along her neck.  “How I wanted to rip your clothes off…” he murmurs next to her ear.  “Take you and claim what should be mine…” nibbling the shell of her ear.  “But I wanted to respect our friendship until you were ready…” he runs his tongue along the shell, “are you ready?”

Lucy shoves him back and slaps him across the face.  “Yeah, I been waiting!  What took you so long!  Did I need to grab your crotch that night and say take me or something?!”

Oh, hell yes!  He grins, rubbing the spot on his cheek where she’d hit.  There was his feisty girl.  Natsu pulls her back to him and slams his lips against hers with all the pent-up years of frustration and lust behind it.  His hands roaming down, slipping under her skirt to grab hold of her ass, bare, he finds, save for the thin string of a thong.  Naughty girl.

She fights back in pretentious anger that Natsu had left her high and dry for so long, how dare he think he can just take her so easily!  “Bastard,” Lucy bites his lip hard to stop his kiss.

He spanks her ass hard.  “Brat!”

“You know I can be,” Lucy retorts with a smirk.

Natsu tastes the distinct flavor of iron as he runs his tongue over his lip.  She got him a good one.  “Bite me that hard again and your ass is gonna pay for it.”

“Awww,” Lucy teases and leans in, letting her lips linger over his, “is that so?” She sucks his lip in, running her tongue over the flesh before biting it again and earning a squeak from the man.  

He had sorely miss judged her.  “Ouch!” He spanks her harder the second time.  “Where the hell did this side of you come from?!”

“Oww!” Lucy rubs away the sting.  She stares him down with her hands on her hips and a furrow to her brow.  “Pfft, you think you’re the only one that has pent up shit?!”

A permeable tension builds as a staring contest ensues.  Neither moves from their positions.  Lucy stands her ground and Natsu stays wrapped around with his hands gripped to her hips.  He was a little confused, was Lucy really angry or was she messing with him?  She’d bit him pretty hard and the first time he’d spanked her was in play, but the second time was because she’d genuinely surprised him.  

But her refusal to move, what did it mean?  Ugh!  This was all starting to feel like that night all over again!  Instead of inebriation causing a miscommunication, it was the unresolved tension it had triggered.  Her resolve was unflinching this time around, and her gaze kept him glued on her.  If it wasn’t for the tinge of pink on her cheeks….

“Oh, to hell with it!” Natsu growls and cups her face so quickly, forcing their lips back together into a kiss that Lucy has no chance to bite down a third time.  Their teeth clash from the rushed and sloppy move, but he doesn’t stop, pressing in deeper and coveting every ounce of what he can get from her.  His thoughts and emotions are on edge, waiting for any sign of push back… that never comes.

Because this is what she had waited for!  Passion!  Lucy grabs hold of his shirt, fisting it and yanking, toppling them backwards onto the bed.  It was a fight, but not for dominance as she uses her legs to scooch them higher onto the middle.  She wasn’t going to let him stop this time and weaves her fingers through his hair, gripping on to keep his mouth molded to hers.  “More,” she moans when he sucks on her tongue and his canines graze the sensitive appendage.  Lucy tugs at his shirt.

“Slow down, Luce… protection!”

“No…” she breathes out and yanks harder, forcing him to stop kissing her to remove the offending clothing article.  “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”  She presses forward.  While he pulls off his shirt, her fingers begin undoing his belt and pants.  Natsu tries to stay her hand, but she swats his away, and finishes the job.  “Off!”

Damn she was being demanding!  And frankly this was only exciting him more.  He shifts his body, sitting back on his haunches to work off the pants and underwear, as Lucy gets her top off.  Her skirt was a bit trickier with her legs buttressed between his, so she shimmies them down as far as she can.  Natsu grins and yanks them the rest of the way off, licking his lips as they reveal everything god had given her.

And she was ripe for the picking.  Her neatly trimmed blonde curls glistened faintly from the heated juices oozing from her sex.  “I swear you’ll be the death of me Luce.”  His dick throbbed just from the sight of her, he could image how sweet it’ll feel to slide his way through her walls.

“Ditto, big boy,” she winks as she eyeballs what the man was packing.  Natsu was a perfect fucking specimen of a man, and his dick was beautiful to her, with a slight curve and thickness that made her heart thud in anticipation.

He lowers himself over her, wedging between her thighs and pressuring his dick against her sex.  This was it.  This was the moment they’d been waiting for too many damn years.  He looks to her once more for reassurance, gaining a slight nod and an awkward, nervous smile as she braces for what came next.  He’d dreamed of this so many times, masturbated to so many fantasies…

“Wow…” he moans at the feeling of being inside Lucy, finally, it was so much better than his hand.  His body temperature was higher than most, but the warmth surrounding his dick and the pressure, it felt fucking amazing!  Natsu leans down, prone against her body, his hips moving in measured thrusts as her legs wrap around his thighs.  

“Sooo, gooood,” Lucy groans and arches her body in time with his.  She mewls, gasping when his mouth latches onto her breast, suckling around the large bosoms, and sucking on her nipples.  He coveted every inch he could reach with his mouth, working the areas and leaving love marks in his wake.  Her fingers thread into his hair, pulling when his teeth graze sensitive spots.  

Harder… deeper… spills from her lips in repetition.  “Right there!” she cries out when he shifts his angle in an upward thrust.  “K-Keep doing exactly what you’re doing!”  Lucy didn’t even know about the spot, but whatever he was touching upon inside her was making her see stars.  A tight coil was building in her core, ready to blow at any moment.  Her voice quivers from the flash of light behind her eyes lids as she spills, and her legs lock up.  She cries out through the orgasmic waves, Natsu’s name a rumble of incoherencies.

“Fuck…” He forgoes her breasts and lifts himself up.  With a firm grip on her hips, Natsu slams into her over and over at a quick pace.  With her walls clamping down around his dick, it had spelled the end for him.  As she twisted and arched with every wave, he held on, riding it for as long as he could.  “Luce…” he groans as his own orgasm hits harder than any had by his own hand.  

“Damn…” He falls forward all out of breath, resting his head against her pillowy breasts.  It had all been too fast.  He’d want to enjoy his first time with her, the whole making love thing and all.  Not that he was complaining, oh no, this had been amazing for sure, but Natsu wanted to pleasure her, explore every part of her body like an explorer on a mission.        

“Hey, are you okay?” She questions him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.  Was he just that tired?  Lucy was surprised his stamina wasn’t better.

He lifts his head to meet her gaze.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem very happy.”

“What?!  Of course, I am!  It’s just… well,” he looks away with a different flush in his cheeks, “I’ve never had sex before and I, you know, like in those romance novels wanted to make love to you.”

Lucy chuckles and pulls his face back, placing a kiss on his lips.  The spot where she’d bit him hard was a little swollen making her feel a little bad about how rough she’d been.  She’ll need to make that up to him later.  “Neither have I,” she smiles, “and this was far better than any story.”

“But you deserve more.”

“I deserve you, and we have plenty of time to try new things.”

[kittenshift-17]

I'm a fic writer and I'm currently starting to get writing burn out. do you have any tips for getting through this? (I'm even burnt out from reading fanfic, so I don't even know what I'm doing with my life at this point)

Oh my gosh, I have an answer for this!!! Mostly because I have been living that feeling for about 8 months now and I know it's killer.

So first thing I recommend is set aside a day for yourself where you have nowhere to be. You got plans, rearrange them. You're gonna take a nap. A long one.

Tell yourself the following about writing: "It will be there when I'm ready. No one is depending on my writing solely for their survival. My mental health matters too."

And then have a glass of warm milk or a chamomile tea if you're lactose intolerant. Go to the bedroom. Jig the temperature to whatever provides you optimal comfort - for me, it's fan on high, air con set to as cold as it goes, and (I shit you not) 9 blankets. It's a weight thing, but I'm too cheap to buy a weighted therapy blanket.

Anyway. Do these things. Tuck yourself in. If you have a lover, ask them to tuck you in and request a lingering forehead kiss if they don't offer one of their own volition. If you don't have a lover, grab a pillow, you're gonna wanna spoon that bad boy (I do this every night, much to Boyfee's amused irritation 🤣). Turn off your phone, or set it to silent with no alarms, no notifications, and no means for interrupting your nap before you're good and ready.

Now, if you're anything like me, 3 things are gonna try and happen. Either you're brain is gonna start pointing out that you're not tired and could be better using this time. Or it's gonna start the guilt-cycle about needing to write, to read, to be in any way productive. Or, the worst one, "all that bullshit" is gonna start with the gag-reel of guilt and regret and embarrassing memories from your past.

And no one wants that shit, so we're turning that part of the brain off. Here's my method:

1. Think about your story. No, not about how you said you'd have a chapter ready this week. Think about the story. The actual plot. The characters. The hook. Doesn't have to be your main WIP. It can be anything. Any story. Old. New. Freshly invented. Doesn't matter. The idea is to actively think about a story and engage your imagination. Think about the characters. Call their image forth in your mind. Do they have dark hair or light? Are they short or tall? What are they wearing? Why are they wearing goth-metal get-up? Are they undercover? Is it a phase? Have they finally hit on their signature look? It's kinda hot, right?

2. Think about their motives. What's the plot? Are they going somewhere? Why are they plotting world domination? Did they have too much Red Bull this morning? Is a sugar crash imminent? Are they diabetic? This could take a turn. Oh, hey look, hypoglycaemia has resulted in a hot doctor appearing on the scene! No one should look this good in scrubs, right? It's literally not fair. Wait... hot doctor is saying something. They have a nice voice.

3. Let your imagination run wild. You don't need to remember the details. Pretend it's a dream until it becomes one. If you wake up with the burning urge to write, all the better, but that's not the point of this exercise, so don't be afraid to think up crazy shit you would never dream of writing. The goal is to trick the brain into pleasant distraction and to lull yourself to sleep.

4. When you wake up, take it slow. You've got nowhere to be. You took the day for you. It's a weekend. Chill. You don't have to get out of bed for another 4 hours if you don't want to.

5. When you do get up, find your favourite movie from the last decade. Grab yourself a cup of tea or a juice, something to snack on (sandwich is my go-to), throw on the movie, and watch it. Sit down, snack, and enjoy something you've loved for a long time. If you're not a TV person, seek out songs more than 5 years old on your play list. I recently tried this and happened upon all the songs I was listening to when I started a bunch of my oldest WIPs and shook a bunch of new ideas loose.

6. Go for a walk. If you're unable to walk, find a way to get out of the house, be it walk, roll or hobble. Go to a park and cruise around for half an hour. Take it slow. Remember, you have nowhere to be today. This is your you-day. You're here for nature and fresh air, not exercise. This is purely a Zen moment. Find a park bench and cop a sit for a while. Look at the other people in the park. What are they up to? Is that a Mum's group jogging by with strollers? A little old couple sharing an ice-cream? Are those ducks in the pond? They're cute, right? They like sweetcorn and lettuce. You should come to the park more often and bring them some lettuce to munch on.

7. Think about your writing some more. This time, the process of it, and what drew you to the hobby, rather than stories and plots. Why are you working on your WIP? Do you enjoy it, or has it become a chore? This is supposed to be a hobby, right? You're giving your hard-written words away for free if you're writing fanfic, so why are you busting yourself to meet self-imposed deadlines? Do you even still like your characters? The plot? Do you want to invest the effort of continuing the tale?

8. Say these words to yourself: "It's okay if I've had enough."

9. Say them again. "It's okay if I've had enough."

10. When you go home, don't do any writing today. Indulge another hobby. Draw a picture, even if you're not very good at it. Knit something. Glue tubes of spaghetti to paper if you want. Play the sims, or valheim, or candy crush. Literally anything that isn't writing. Find something else to do. Engage a different part of your brain. You're tired of the same old fandom, same old characters, same old tropes and same tired stories. That's okay. That's human nature.

The important thing to remember is that you're in control. You have the power. If you never want to write another word, that's okay, you know? If you want to write something else, something different, something fresh, do it! I do it all the time. I cycle through WIPs for 18 different fandoms just to keep things fresh and avoid burn out on any one story, trope, or fandom. Switching to a new fandom is like flipping over a rock and finding a live snake underneath - terrifying, but damn it gets your heart racing!

And this can be applied for non-writers too. Your life is up to you to navigate. You're the captain of your own ship and you owe no one anything beyond basic respect, kindness and decency. Speaking as someone who's job has been ruining her life for 8 months and burning me out so much that between September and December, I didn't write a damn word because I was all outta spoons making it through each work day, I get it more than I ever hoped I would.

The best way to stave off burn out is to force a hard reset of yourself. If you're worried about backlash from your readers if you take a break, post to notify them that you're taking a small hiatus for your mental health. Anyone who minds terribly much and is rude about it needs to remember that life is already hard, and they need not add to it.

Trust me, love, no one will mind overly much if you need a rest. Take a nap. Take a walk. Feed the ducks. And dive into something else you enjoy for a few days. I've found some of my best writing falls out of a factory-reset inside my own head. Maybe you will too.

Xx-Kitten

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Dressed To Impress

Pairing: Nasty Suicide x Reader

Author’s Note: This is my first ever imagine, so don’t judge my writing skills too hard as I’m still trying to figure it all out. I hope you enjoy though!

You looked down at the address scribbled on the scrap of paper clutched tightly in your hand and then back up to the apartment in front of you. Yep, this was the place. Your brother, Andy, had invited you to come to London to stay with him for a little while. You were only a year younger than him and the two of you were terribly close, so you had jumped at the chance to come visit him. Plus, you would get to go explore London, a city you had always wanted to visit!

Pulling the strap of your bag up higher onto your shoulder, you raised your hand and knocked on the door. From just the outside, you could tell this apartment was going to be a complete mess. It did not look very well cared for and you knew that your brother and his bandmates were probably not cleaning as often as they should (or at all).

The door swung open, shaking you from your thoughts. You didn’t have time to even look up before Andy was tackling you in a hug.

“Agh! Andy!” you scolded playfully, as he caused you to stumble back and drop your bags.

He pulled away and laughed brightly. “(Y/N)! I’ve missed you!”

You smiled. It really was great to see him. It had been a long time since the two of you had gotten to see each other now that he was so busy making music and getting to play all around the world. “I missed you too,” you said.

Andy picked up your bags that he had knocked over earlier and brought them through the door. “Come on inside! I’ll show you around!”

The apartment was just as bad as you imagined it would be. Empty beer bottles were strewn on every available surface, stains littered the carpet and furniture, and dirty dishes and pieces of garbage were thrown about the place. You also could have sworn you saw a rat scurry past your feet and behind the couch which a blonde-haired boy was currently sleeping on, snoring lightly.

“Sorry about Michael,” Andy said, like that was the only issue you might have with his home. “You remember Michael, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. You had met all the members of his band, Hanoi Rocks, at least once. You had gone and seen them play several times back home in Finland.

Andy just nodded and led you up the stairs where his room was. He kicked open the door and walked in, dropping your bags unceremoniously onto the floor. “You can stay in my room with me,” he said. “How long did you say you were staying for again?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t really figured that out yet.” You had yet to tell Andy, but you were planning on staying in London for a while, maybe even moving there permanently. Obviously, you would eventually find your own place to stay, you just had to find your footing first.

“Well, you can stay for as long as you like I guess,” Andy said, smiling at you. “If I bring a girl back you might have to bunk with one of the other guys though.” He winked as you made a disgusted face and pretended to throw up, completely grossed out by the mental image of your brother having sex.

“Come on,” he laughed. “Let’s go say hi to the guys.”

You saw Sami first. He was in the hallway, having just walked out of the bathroom. “Oh, hi (Y/N). I forgot you were coming today,” Sami said when he took notice of you walking next to Andy.

“Hi Sami,” you greeted, enveloping him in a friendly hug. You’d known Sami the longest out of all the boys and saw him somewhat like another brother. “How are you?”

“Eh, could be worse, I guess,” he answered. Then, a weird expression came across his face. He smiled mischievously. “Say, have you seen Nasty yet?”

“No,” you said, genuinely confused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sami’s grin widened. “Like what?”

Andy butted in. “Like you know something we don’t,” he said, his tone laced with suspicion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sami said, causing both you and your brother to groan. Sami was a terrible liar. He giggled before running off to his bedroom.

You and Andy looked at each other and laughed lightly before carrying on through the flat.

The two of you saw Razzle next. You and Andy had just wandered into the kitchen when he came in through the front door of the flat, calling out hello.

You and Andy had both responded in greeting and now the three of you were seated around the rickety kitchen table, talking and laughing.

Razzle had just finished telling you a funny tale about his latest trip to the record shop when Nasty came into the kitchen.

“Hey Nasty!” you greeted warmly upon his arrival. “It’s nice to see you.” You would never admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for Nasty. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about him gave you butterflies. Maybe it was his kind eyes or his rich voice that had made you fall for the boy some time ago. You had pushed those feelings aside though, worried about what your brother would think, and that Nasty wouldn’t feel the same.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said, shyly. “It’s nice to see you too.” You could’ve sworn you saw him blush.

He looked a little awkward, standing in the kitchen so you beckoned him over, inviting him to join you guys at the table. “Come sit down.”

He smiled and made his way over to the three of you. He pulled out the chair across from you and took a seat.

Andy turned to him, about to tell him about some lyrics he had started writing when he noticed something strange about the guitarist. “Are you wearing makeup?” he asked.

Of course, wearing makeup was nothing new to the members of Hanoi Rocks. They were all known to dress and look quite glam during their gigs, including wearing makeup, but that was typically only reserved for shows. At home, they all tended to dress more casually and comfortably, trading in their shiny blazers and teased hairstyles for t-shirts and messy ponytails.

Nasty fidgeted in his chair. “What? No.”

Razzle squinted at Nasty. “You are!” he said.

Nasty ducked his head. “No, I’m not,” he protested weakly. “It must just be left over from last night. Maybe I forgot to take it off.”

You examined his face along with Andy and Razzle. He definitely was wearing at least a little makeup. The blue of his eyes contrasted dramatically against his dark eye makeup, though the eyeliner seemed a little too neat to have been slept in. You didn’t mention this out loud though.

Andy narrowed his eyes at Nasty, further examining him. “Why do you look so fancy? You have a date or something?”

Nasty’s eyes flickered to you before he looked down at his outfit. “I don’t look fancy.”

You agreed with Nasty. Sure, he was dressed somewhat nicely, wearing a button-up shirt and some tight jeans, but you wouldn’t necessarily call that fancy.

“Yes, you do,” Razzle said. He then leaned over to Nasty and gave him a sniff. “And you smell nice. Are you wearing cologne?” he asked, tone teasing.

Nasty just groaned and buried his head in his hands, frustrated and embarrassed by the constant questioning especially in front of you. “No,” he mumbled into table.

You laughed good-naturedly. “Guys leave him alone. So what if he looks nice?” You reached across the table to pat Nasty on the back. He lifted his head a little and gave you a smile. “Besides, Michael always dresses up too,” you pointed out, trying to defend Nasty.

Razzle rolled his eyes. “That’s different,” he said. “Mike’s different.”

The conversation about Nasty’s appearance could have ended right there, but something was bothering Andy. He thought back to what Sami had said in the hallway upstairs. How Sami had made such a big deal about Nasty seeing you. Andy glanced over at Nasty who was now watching you talk with Razzle. Nasty’s eyes seemed to light up as he watched you laugh and the expression on his face was one Andy recognized all too well. Love. Suddenly, Sami’s strange behavior made sense. Nasty had feelings for you! Andy’s jaw dropped.

“I cannot believe you!”

The conversation you, Razzle, and Nasty had all started drew quiet at Andy’s outburst.

“Can’t believe who?” you asked, puzzled. You looked around the table.

“You,” Andy said pointing his finger accusingly at Nasty.

“Me?” Nasty said. He looked at Andy with furrowed brows. “Why?”

You and Razzle just looked on, bewildered.

“Because you like (Y/N), don’t you?”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Razzle was looking at Andy, you were looking at Nasty, Andy was looking at you, and Nasty, poor Nasty, was looking down into his lap, cheeks burning a bright red.

“Nasty,” you started, causing the raven-haired man to look up at you.

Nasty opened his mouth, trying to find words to explain, to try and say something that could remedy this, but his mouth just opened and shut silently.

Then, Razzle began to laugh. “Oh my god, this is golden!” he howled. He turned to Nasty, “Is that why you got all done up?”

“Shut up,” Nasty said, sounding genuinely hurt. He looked to you and your wide-eyed expression. It was clear to him that you weren’t happy with the feelings he had for you. He stood from the table and walked off quickly.

You turned to your brother, angry at him for revealing Nasty’s feelings in front of you and Razzle like that. “You’re an ass.” You said, getting up and following after Nasty.

The door to Nasty’s room was shut when you got upstairs. You raised your hand to knock but lowered it before you could build up the nerve to bring it to the door. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to say to Nasty. You had been shocked when Andy had called Nasty out for fancying you, but now that you’d had some time to process it, you were happy. You’d always tried to bury your feelings for Nasty, thinking that he would never want to be with someone like you, but now you had a chance.

You took a deep breath and knocked on his door, determinately.

There was no answer.

You knocked a second time.

Again, silence.

“Nasty,” you called, “it’s me. Can I come in?”

For a minute you didn’t think he was going to answer but eventually you heard shuffling on the other side of the door and a few moments later, the door was opened. Nasty stood in the doorway, looking upset. He frowned and bit his lip when he looked at you.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey, can I come in?” you asked.

He nodded and opened the door wider, allowing you entrance. You walked in and took a seat at the foot of his bed.

He sat down next to you but left a few feet of space between the two of you. “I’m sorry,” he finally said after a minute or so of silence.

“What for?” you asked.

He shrugged and picked at a loose thread on his quilt.

“Nasty,” you said. “Nasty, look at me.”  His sad blue eyes looked away from the bed and met yours. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I never meant for you to find out, at least like that. I ruined our friendship and I’m really sorry (Y/N).”

Nasty looked so hurt and uncomfortable and your heart ached for him. You scooted closer to him and placed your hand on top of his. “Are you kidding? You didn’t ruin anything. I, I’m so happy to hear you have feelings for me. Sure, maybe I would have rather heard it from you instead of Andy, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel the same way.”

Nasty’s lips curled into a small smile. “You do?” he asked cautiously. “You don’t have to say all that just because you feel bad.”

“Nasty,” you said, lifting your hand and placing it onto his cheek. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. You heard him gulp and chuckled. “I’m not saying this because I feel bad for you. I like you, Nasty. I’ve liked you since I first met you. I just, I didn’t say anything because I thought you wouldn’t feel the same.”

This time Nasty smiled for real. “God, we’re stupid,” he said, rubbing his nose softly against yours. The closeness was making you dizzy, and you looked down at his lips as he spoke. “I thought you wouldn’t like me.”

You chuckled. “Idiots in love,” you murmured, before pressing your lips to his in a soft but sweet kiss.

“Whoo! Go Nasty, get it!”

“Sami, don’t encourage them!”

“I think it’s cute.”

You and Nasty broke apart to see Sami, Andy, Razzle, and a sleepy, confused-looking Michael peering around the doorway watching you.

Nasty rolled his eyes at his friends whilst you got up to close the door. You stuck your tongue out at the eavesdropping boys before shutting the door in their faces. Turning back to Nasty, you grinned.

“Now, where were we?”

[mydemimonde]

‘muse’ ch. 7 | matt (bbtl)

you’re in for a treat my friends ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

CHAPTER 7

Mia took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him. She was mentally preparing her apologize speech when Matt opened the door. Suddenly, she forgot what she was going to tell him.

He was surprised at seeing her there, for him it was clear that she didn’t want them to be friends anymore. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. He didn’t say a word. Mia noticed how her hands were sweating and her heart beating fast.

“Hi Matt… I came to talk to you, about… what happened the other day”

His eyes narrowed and he sighed. “I don’t know what you want to talk about, you made it really clear you don’t want me to be your friend anymore” he stated with a slack expression on his face.

She bit the inside of her left cheek. “That’s not true Matt, I really want your friendship, more than anything. Just let me explain myself” at this point she was desperate. She wanted everything to be alright between them. But she also couldn’t stand seeing Matt and Emma together, even if his happiness meant the world for her.

He meditated for a few seconds before moving to the right and allowing here to step inside. She swallowed hard and entered his house, gripping hard the strap of her bag. They went to the living room and sat on the couch, on polar opposites. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m sorry I behaved like an insensitive bitch. You didn’t deserve that. It’s just…” she bit her lower lip. “You know I was never good at expressing my emotions, or controlling them” he nodded in acknowledgment. “That’s the reason why I’ve been acting strange around you. There’s something happening with me and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with it, so I exploded” her speech was rushed; she covered her face with her hands.

“Hey, hey” he quickly went to sit next to her, grabbed her hands and put them on her lap. “What’s going on, love?” the pet name made her even more anxious, but she loved it anyway.

“It’s not that easy to explain” tears threaten to spill and her voice cracked. He caressed her cheek, showing worry and affection. “I acted like that because I was angry. Angry at you and Emma”

His expression softened. “Love, I’m sorry. I know I spent a lot of time with her lately, and talked about her all the time. I know that it annoyed you, and Javed as well. I promise…”

“No, you don’t understand Matt. It’s not that. I was jealous” she confessed.

“Jealous?” he wiped a tear away from her face with his thumb.

“Jealous of Emma” she expected a laugh from him. But he didn’t laugh. Instead, he showed even more confusion than before. “Oh, you’re so clueless Matt”

He chuckled and furrowed. “You’re not being very clear”

“I love you” she let it out and felt a weight off her shoulders. “And not as friends” Matt was looking dazed. She continued. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 8. I thought I was over you, but I was wrong. When I came back and saw you, I realized my feelings for you never vanished” Matt stood there, completely shocked. Her heartbeat was fast. “Say something please”

What could he say? His mind was racing, he couldn’t believe her words. It took him a moment to gather himself up and get on his feet. She looked down, believing she ruined their friendship for good. He extended his hand to her. “Come with me” she hesitated for a second, but took his hand.

They went to his room. It was a little messy, some sheets of paper –songs written by him, she supposed– were all over the bed, the guitar was there as well. Posters decorated the walls, and there was a synthesizer in one corner.

Matt collected the sheets of paper and put them on the drawer next to his bed. He told her to sit there, and went to the closet to look for something. She looked at the night table and saw a portrait. It was a picture of the trio as children, at Matt’s 10th birthday. He had a red birthday hat, Javed was on his left and Mia on his right. They were sticking their tongues out, and their noses were covered in frosting. She smiled fondly.

“Here” Matt returned with a box and opened it. It was full of papers, drawings, old pictures and a black bracelet. She recognized those last two items immediately. “I saved all of them” he took the bracelet in his hand. “You made this and gave it to me on my birthday. I remember you were upset because you didn't have enough money to buy me a new jacket, so you made this and I told you that the jacket didn't matter, that I loved the bracelet. I would wear it all the time, proudly" he looked at it and smiled. Then, he showed her the drawings. "These were drawn by you on a rainy day. We were stuck here in my house, we were bored and you drew this" she examined at the three colourful figures: Javed, Matt and Mia in the park.

Mia took the polaroids, which captured some of their happiest memories. The trio posing next to a Christmas tree, opening their gifts, eating marshmallows. Then, there was a picture of Matt and Mia alone. She was kissing his cheek, and he had a grin on his face.

"Do you remember the day you told us you were moving to Liverpool?" she nodded. "I was pissed. Really pissed. But not at you, at myself" she slightly shook her head, not quite understanding. "I was angry because I never had the guts to tell you about how I felt about you. When I finally gathered courage, you were leaving" he started to rummage through the box and grabbed the sheet of papers. "I know I was a little kid and barely began to understand what love was, but I couldn't help being so upset" Mia couldn't believe what she was hearing. "After you left, I felt empty. Everything I did was talk to Javed about you. Poor lad, I know I exhausted him" he chuckled.

"Matt, I..."

He cut her off, lifting a finger. "Let me finish. Do you know why I decided to become a musician?" she shook her head. "At first I thought it was just a hobby as a kid. Watching rock stars do their thing, it was really exciting. I wanted that. But that isn't the reason anymore"

"Then what is it?" she had no idea where this conversation was going. But she was curious.

"You" Matt's eyes and tone were sincere. "You are the reason. You inspired me to write songs since we were kids" he handed over the crumpled sheets of paper, and she took them. Most of the songs were about love, admiration or heartbreak. All about her. "The first ones are shitty because, well, I was 10, but my feelings were true. And they still are. You're my muse"

She blushed and blinked repeatedly. This wasn't what she was expecting from him. Never in a million years. She looked at the last sheet of paper, it had a familiar date on it. It was from 5 days ago.

"I wrote that after your… outburst. The day we went to the park" his eyes were fixed on the paper.

The image of Matt playing the guitar and writing came to her mind. Of course, she saw him through her window that night. "Oh. I'm sorry about that too. I was hurt because of the necklace. I thought it was for me. That's why I overreacted" Mia bit her lip and looked down, embarrassed.

He placed his hand on her cheek. "I'm so sorry for that, babe. I'm stupid" she looked up and met his blue eyes. "I should've told you before"

"It's not your fault, it was mine for making stuff up in my head and creating fantasies..."

"No Mia, not that" he giggled. "I love you. I always have. That's what I should've told you"

Mia was puzzled. After a few seconds of silence, she chuckled. "You do realize that we're the most idiot people in the world?"

"What do you mean?" he grinned.

"It took us 9 years to confess our feelings to each other. We're literally so stupid, I can't bel–" her rambling was cut off by Matt’s lips on her. His right hand kept caressing her cheek, and the left went immediately to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. Mia was totally taken aback by his sudden movement, but kissed him back. Her shaky hands grabbed his jacket, closing the short distance between them. His lips were soft against hers and she felt like the time stopped. Mia could smell the mix of his perfume and cigarettes. She felt dizzy.

He pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. “I wanted to do that for such a long time. I even pictured how it would be” he smirked.

Mia licked her lips. “How did it turn? Just like you imagined?”

“Hmm” he looked up, thinking. “I think I’ll need to check again” Matt went in for another kiss, this time it was deeper. Her lips tasted like strawberry chapstick, he wanted more. Mia moved her hands to the back of his neck, running her fingers through his hair. He tenderly traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue and she parted her mouth slightly, moaning softly. Panting, they pulled back to catch their breaths.

“So?” her eyes were locked on Matt’s, his pupils were large.

“It was way better that I imagined”

 - - - - - - -

tag list: @blueeyedheizer​

[thaliatimsh]

So I saw your meme about the eucharist monologue, which I loved, but the possibility of George Hodgson being autistic has lived in my head rent free ever since I saw it. It fits his behaviors so well, and to this date has been one of the most galaxy brain takes I have ever seen. I was wondering, if you don't mind of course, explaining your take on it some. I would really appreciate it!

of course! I have to say it is.... mostly just a gut instinct based on my own experiences as an autistic person with variously autistic family members (but all falling under the bracket in ASD that used to be called Asperger’s so my view is coloured by that.) and... UH, I just... feel like I recognise.

(opens UnfinishedHodgsonEssayThree.doc)

okay I am once again REALLY BAD at explaining myself, but I guess what I mean is that I can see where every mental leap Hodgson makes comes from - that he is, at his core, a man who is extroverted and friendly, wants more to be *liked* than admired - but for whom social skills don’t come naturally, and other outcomes aren’t imagined.

We catch him time and again exposition/info dumping -

+’the xing mission came aboard’ from the alternate wardroom cut - an event he was PRESENT FOR but still tells like a rote fact

+’they say she talked up a storm until her father died’

+’the word diet -’

+intro to the Comanches Bit= ‘my mother’s cousin had a relation who married Texas man, moved to a territory town there called Victoria in ‘38′... ALL OF THIS UNNECESSARY PREAMBLE

making poorly-timed/not relateable/barely-relevant/professionally inappropriate jokes

+’now she’s ~~all silence~~” @ random AB

+’they must we waltzing with that bear after all’ re: a crisis

+’[frostbite is worse because] I play the clavier back home’ @ random Marine/ship’s boy/AB re: ‘sir there is a monster out here’

+’hear hear’ about the pudding that used up their fruit

+’when the ship sets sail, make sure you’re aboard’ @ a rando caulker’s mate

+’would that be rocks here, then?’ re: caribou tastes of what it eats

+’[the beard] can’t hurt where we’re going’ @ rando caulker’s mate (??) who’s just shown aSTONISHING disrespect

+’dis-moi ce que tu manges’ @ rando NOT-caulker’s mate-turned-Godkin re: man-eating monster

PLUS a few barely-relevant personal anecdotes told more to himself than anyone else (Comanches bit/American Ham/Eucharist Monologue) - and yeah, Ep8 and The Comanches Bit in particular are what cements my opinion, which, I mean, from the top:

Little & Hodgson charge into the tent and give this absolutely confident rundown of what happened, and then we watch the surety in Hodgson’s entire bearing leave as crozier, fitzjames & blanky take him off-script. He'd known what he was doing, because he'd taken the situation at face value -

'those dastardly natives committed unspeakable acts on lt irving and mr farr! I know so because mr hickey saw it! we retaliated!'

and crozier & fitzjames would finally go 'well done george, quick thinking.'

but they don't! There are other questions! questions he's not prepared for - questions that take processing time, questions he doesn't even seem to understand why they're being asked - he hadn't previously asked them because Mr Hickey Saw Dastardly Natives Cut Lt Irving's Cock And Balls Off - when Crozier says 'I want to see the bodies' and leaves Hodgson behind in the tent, he looks utterly baffled. He's missed something, clearly, but he has no clue what it is.

We know what he's asking Little, and we know it's unfair to even pose the question to another officer - I'm getting the sinking feeling that I've fucked up - did I do the right thing? would YOU have done what I did?

and he'd take ANY ANSWER to ANY of those questions, - you've done something terrible, you're going to hell - you were right, those dastardly natives had it coming - I don't know, but I'd probably have done the same thing - but instead gets Edward Little 'If that's what you thought at the time, then that's what you thought!' it's fucking MEANINGLESS and VAGUE, Edward, listen, do you even understand why I thought what I thought? I know all about Dastardly Natives, they'll kill women and children and they'll kill us too, do you understand, do you understand, are you understanding -

And then he understands, from one bit of seal meat, barely digested - you can almost see it happen in his mind’s eye, moving the little markers of the characters around, slotting the real story back together - he must have been alone with Mr Farr - but no-one’s interested in that. all they want to know is if he’ll confirm it, and of course he will. it’s the truth.

I know it’s very funny to say Hodgson’s bad at his job but until that entire debacle... he really wasn’t. Yes, he let EC in, but the fact that he had even the SLIGHTEST inkling that EC and Hickey weren’t the same, after a single meeting of a few minutes with the first, during which time he spent most of his time writing, a month apart from the previous - I???? All that scene does is show that Hodgson has a near-preternatural memory for faces (he greets Morfin by name before getting his papers) and a non-confrontational manner.

I’ve written at length about how I think Hodgson models the social standings between the men as something like school; Crozier’s Headmaster, and Fitzjames is his teacher, and Edward’s Head Boy, and he is a prefect who is going to keep the separation between student body and staff quiet. He isn’t a Captain - he’s a Lieutenant, a prefect, a fellow student who thinks he’s better than a fellow student because the Headmaster gave him power, and when he ends up with the Rowdy Boys Mutiny Crew there’s this explicit Othering that’s... let’s be real, fully schoolyard Weird-Kid Bullying - you sit on a barrel, you get a nice china plate, you get threatened by Des Voeux because Goodsir won’t cut up the dead guy -

I don’t know. I’m totally aware that this whole thing might sound insane and the problem with Readings of Media is that they're subjective... BUT

The show was careful about how it used the names (& therefore lasting immortal images) of the men on the ship’s roster - they were real people, with loved ones and lives, and they were victims of a disaster. The entire message of the show is that W. H. Auden line: We Must Love Each Other And Die. The only character who did Unforgivably Bad Things was swapped out for an OC out of respect for that, so building some bizarro conspiracy of Personal Evil around a character who seems to just be doing their best, though weirdly - is just plain rude, and insulting to the writing, frankly.

SO, as with every character in this show, it behooves you to give the benefit of the doubt - and the benefit of the doubt leads me to “Hodgson is autistic”

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

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Chapter 19: Espresso

A defective faucet was leaking in the kitchen, and the sound echoing in the empty room was loud enough to drive someone mental, but for the broken ma siting in the empty room, and looking at nothing in particular it was just something else to listen to.

Alec hardy start pacing the room, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, he was glad his daughter was already back in school so she was not there to see the spectacular way he destroyed his library the moment he saw the videos of Y/N in his computer a few moments after Harford took her away from him. Daze would have been worried, and he didn't want that. He just wanted to ease the pain and shut down all the screaming inside his head.

Again... was the only word his mind was coherently producing at the moment, Again... the smirking face of Claire Ripley laugh at him You love to fall for the defenseless girl act, don't you Alec? She said and and suddenly the pain in his chest became more real, his hands began trembling and the air became hard to pass AGAIN... the imagine of Tess playfully touching the shoulder of one of his colleagues in front of him while she pretended it was nothing You are being paranoid, you have to trust me. She had said so many times until he found out...

The pain move to his back and her neck and he knew it could be bad, and for a brief moment he considered the possibility of staying there and let his heart fail for once, and shock at his own perceived weakness and altered thoughts he walked slowly to his bathroom and frantically searched the cabinets desperate to find the small bottle Isosorbide, it was still good for another month, and it was almost full since he had been almost a year without needing it, he took one out and crushed it to put the white powder under his tongue, it was bitter for a moment, it had been so long he had almost forgot the taste.

But he needed it, to get better, and to go back to the station, he needed to make it right for Miller, even if it meant to put her behind bars for ever...

Again... he thought for a moment siting on his floor with his back on his bathtub before the darkness consumed him, he remembered that feeling he had that night of summer, after they caught Trish offender, a few years ago. He saw Miller go away without him on the piers, knowing too well he loved her and that it would end up badly, it was the same feeling he had for Y/N when she left, it would take everything from him to send her away, but he had to, he had to do his job, regardless of his own feelings...again.

****

"So she confessed huh?" Agent Ramos said reading Y/N declaration, "I mean I'm glad we have them, but I still think this is confusing, she didn't play the insanity card, and she didn't even wanted a lawyer" he pased the pages of Y/L/N file desperate to find something missing "She insists that she doesn't remember shaggin Langford, but she admits she asked him to murder Norbury?"

"And that she saw him putting his body on her cottage, but Langford keeps saying he didn't killed him, he just says they were together" Miller pointed out, she was sure that the partiality in her confession was insufficient to charge Charlie for anything but she needed time to put all the pieces of the puzzle in place.

She checked her phone, Alec hadn't call yet, and she was desperate to go to his place and find him, but first she had to be sure Y/N was guilty, that was the only way she would talk to him "Katie would you please bring me the DNA results from the ring?" She said, already knowing the cut on Charles' face was made with that rock, how she was not sure yet, but something about the clean cut told her it was. She was interrupted in her train of though when a very flustered Harford entered her office barely looking at Ramos, or better said desperately not looking at the man.

"Is that lipstick?" Miller asked, noticing a nice shade of pink on the agent lips who almost dropped the papers, and now was Ramos the one acting nervously.

"Yeah, it was a present" she said and Miller look at them both, and couldn't help but laugh, it was the single most unexpected thing that could happen that day and yet she was happy for them, and she was surprised to wonder what took them so long since they were quite perfect for each other.

"Just talk to HR before something else happens" she said to relief of the young detectives, "It's quite nice color, by the way" she said taking the results from Katie's hands.

"I was nervous she will be mad that I got the idea from the case, but she found it funny and ironic" Ramos said once she exited the room, and Miller was glad to have something else to talk about if merely for a moment.

"How come?"

"The lipstick, is the same brand we found in Norbury's car, is not the same femme fatal red, but I thought she might like it, like an inside joke, of course I didn't engrave 'My goddess' on it, only her ID number, you know professional" he said and Miller's world stopped for a moment that felt eternal, as the images of pink discrete lips and red seductive ones passed trough her mind she took her coat and the last piece of the puzzle fall in place, Y/N was right this was not over, she needed to find Hardy and fast.

****

Reverend Coates hanged up the phone, with his heart aching for the poor lost soul on the other line, and then he prayed for his own soul still doubting about whether or not it was worth it to break the seal of confessional for a woman.

But Y/N was not just any woman, he said to himself, she had been so much more in the past, his steps guide him to the graveyard where he had spent so many sleepless nights before. She had been so much more than just a woman for him, and at the same time she had been just the woman for him, and at risk of being selfish or vane, he kept dearly to him the memory of being the first man on her life, in a simpler, easier time... and he will be lying if he denied that seeing her next to DI Hardy didn't bother him, he was okay with Jonathan, even when he had given him ideas about the proposal he never really thought they would go trough with the wedding, something about making it more about his mother than the bride, and he will be there like always to heal her wounds, and maybe when they were both older they would end up together, but of course Paul never thought it will get to that horrid situation.

But it was different with Hardy, he made her laugh effortlessly, and the way her eyes bright and her voice flowed happy when she talked about him make him jealous, not just for losing an unspoken empty promise but one if not his best friend, and at the same time he was ready to let her go, and his childish selfish fantasy, specially knowing Alec Hardy was a good man, who will protect her no matter what, specially since right now she needed someone just as Hardy to protect her.

Since the shadow that desperately seek for her doom was advancing diligent to her end, and he had his hands tied by his faith. Even when he had loved her, he wasn't sure about throwing everything away for her. She had loved him too, when the sadness in her life that drowned her to his arms, and then they just fall out of love when those tragedies were gone, and he became such a different man that their growing apart was a blessing, he spent the next years looking after her knowing too well she was desperate to fly away from the town, but too remorseful and scared to do it.

And he couldn't help but thinking most of this situation was his fault, he thought again of God's ineffable plan and how the gears of destiny started to move the moment a pair of blue eyes sitted across him on his AA and said:

"Hi everyone, my name is Jonathan Norbury, and I'm an alcoholic" Paul committed the sin of prejudice the moment he entered the room, thinking he was just another rich man trying to superficially ease his guilt, judging by his city clothes and posh accent, but there was a sincerity in his voice that make him change his mind as he listened "I did something bad... is not like is the first time, but I need it to be the last one, I'm new in the the town, Broadchurch, my father... that's not important... the thing is I'm on my own for the first time in a long time, I have been drinking and doing a bunch of stupid stuff since I was 14, but I have been specially stupid for the last 72 hours, and something happened last night and I just need it to stop..." he said and Paul listened closely every word. "I meet this girl at the club, she was gorgeous, we danced, we drink, and I tried to take her home, but she refused, then this bloke, the bartender he said I will help you, I was too drunk I didn't understand what he meant, but he gave her another drink an then..." all of the present, specially those that had been there sober for a few years now shared a look, and Paul was horrified by the implications of the story "She was acting like a new born deer, and I help her to walk and she begged me to takeher home, she was needy, trying to kiss me and I realized I didn't even knew her name or who she was, so I drove her to a 24/7 coffee spot, and gave her some espresso... " someone audibly sighed in relief and the man let go a side smile "She sober up and we talked for a while, right now I am almost sure I forgot her name, but for the first time I understand what my father wanted me to see, that my actions had consequences, and I realized I'm not willing to keep hurting people with my ways, so I'm here, I'm willing to do the job, and I'm willing to change" he then smile with that timid disarming smile that Paul was about to know people found so charming.

Coates approach him after the meeting, they exchange numbers, and less than 12 hours later he called, he wanted to drink, and ask him to distract him.

"Just don't send me to read the bible" he said and laughed nervously and he could feel his desperation so he invited him to his church, not to the service but to paint some old benches. "And the lord will heal me?" He asked sardonically.

"No, but you could use some hard work and soul searching, city boy" he said and made him also replant some flowers.

The next day he repair a cabinet, and the third day they just talked, he was definitely not Broadchurch material, but his tortured soul was getting better, and he was glad to have a friend, and then he meet her.

She was scolding Danny Latimer for a poorly written essay, while Tom Miller was trying to make his mother old laptop to work with Paul.

"They are just kids, let them have some fun" He said and she gave Paul and inquisitive look since she didn't knew the man.

"Mr. Norbury is helping me with some work around the church"

"Mr. Norbury, really mate?" He made a disapproving gesture "I'm Jonathan, you can call me John or Johny, whatever sits you love" he said trying to pull out the London charm.

"I'll stay with Mr. Norbury, thanks" she said to him and his smile disappear immediately, making the boys laugh. And just like that Jonathan fall for the same spell Paul had fallen many years before, and his life turned around, Broadchurch suddenly was fun to him, the need to drink was almost nonexistent compared to the need to prove himself to her, and he was happy, and Paul was glad he put them together at the time, maybe that was God's plan, but things turn for the worst as suddenly as they started.

Pretending Paul didn't ask him to tell her the truth was useless because he did, so much that Jonathan changed AA groups, he wanted his past buried, and he understood it, but he was sure Y/N deserved the truth How do you know what is best for her? He had said the last time he confronted him I'm her fiance, I know what is best for us. And Paul hoped it was true, but as trouble with his store and tensions with his parents rose Jonathan went closer and closer to his older ways, and his restraints grew thinner and thinner until they break, and even Y/N compassionate soul was not enough to pull him back to his path.

And the shadow desperate to consume her, luring around her since she was a child took advantage of his weakness to finally take vengeance on her.

That tortured creature on the phone had confessed a few days ago, the how, and the why of Jonathan's death, and his heart was still aching to know it wasn't in pursuit of redemption, but to torture him with his own vow of silence so he could not help her, the woman he once loved so deeply, and now another call, to gloat on the fact that the teacher was paying for Jonathan's death, and since charging on his soul the truth without avail to help her was his punishment, he feared for Alec Hardy, since this shadow was determined to consume every source of love Y/N ever had.

He saw the sun setting on the horizon, wondering again what to do, he ask God for forgiveness, and finally picked up the phone.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi @coffees-and-constellations @ladyaziraphale @acid-gurkerl @moonuvert @tennantious

Hello there!! How are you coping with all the issues going on? On a personal level I am sick of people spreading misinformation about the virus and seeing the elderly die because their caretakers don't get them to the hospital because is "fake" and a "hoax by the government" like sure Karen the Government that make me use 5 times a single use pair of gloves is conspiring for you to use a mask 🙄...Anyway, we are closing to an end, and I hope is satisfying for you as readers as it was for me, I will take a break from writing once this is finished since work won't be easier with our death toll on the rise. So please stay safe, use your masks even if other people say it's ridiculous or unnecessary. Take care of each other.

[ruxbold]

Twice x f! Reader

Nothing to possess

So this is my first writing and I hope you like it :D

Special thanks to my master and inspiration @ratmonky ❤

word count: 2376

Contains: NSFW, oral, paper bag

Do you know how it feels to hit rock bottom? To have nobody in your life who supports you and to have no shoulder to cry on. You’re alone and year to year you lose something til you have nothing left.

Jin Bubaigawara was the man who was already born without any luck. Trying to live on his own in this shitty society which doesn’t give a damn about him, he slipped further into misfortune. To the day he even lost his sanity. The only thing which kept him still going was the memory of that beautiful smile of a gorgeous person from his younger self. Though til the day you two graduated you never even once had spoken to each other and he was pretty sure that you haven’t even known he exists. What last was the image of you.

He could still remember that fateful day where he found your sleeping body alone in the nurse’s office at school two months before your graduation. He was so entranced by your beauty when you were asleep. 10 minutes he was just standing beside the bed and adored every part of you. Your little mouth that made cute sounds of breathing, pale skin with a touch of red on your round cheeks, silky hair that fell besides you on the fluffy pillow, your black thick eyelashes which always highlighted the beautiful color of your iris. He wanted to possess every part of it. He wanted to capture that beauty and keep it all to himself.

“Welcome back!” a cheerful voice which had no traces of worries in it greeted him happily as he came through the door. You rushed over to the man who just entered the rundown house which was close from falling apart. Even though it reeks of old moldy woods and was very far from comfortable it was still the only place where he could return to.

You gave him a tight hug and nuzzled your face against his broad chest. But there was no reaction from him to your affection of love. Well, it wasn’t really clear to you to read his mood with a paper bag over his head.

“I-” Jin began to speak, his voice lower due to the bag covering his face “I had a bad day” “It was a good day!”

“It’s alright” you looked up to him with that bright smile that keeps stuck in his mind. It was nothing new to you. Not even once in his life he has had a good day. But that’s the reason why you’re here. To make him feel just a little bit better after all that shit that happens to him.

With your hands you explore his chest, his strong arms, his abdomen. Your fingers brushed tenderly against his body, moving circles on his clothed skin which gave him goosebumps. One hand slid under his white shirt and traced his muscles on his stomach. Jin’s breath stocked as he concentrated on your touch.

The other hand went down to his pants and unbuckled his belt so that you could slide your hand underneath it. You stroked the bulge of his shorts, poke it with your finger and grabbed it with your small hand. A giggle left your mouth as you could feel how his member twitched underneath the fabric.

Then you knelt on the floor and put down his pants with his shorts. His member sprang out and slapped you on the left side of your cheek, leaving a stain of precum on it. You giggled and wrapped your tender fingers around his girth. Jin trembled from your touch. You smile got wider as you could feel how hard he already was and how much was leaking from the tip.

The man’s body stiffened as he could feel your wet tongue licking from the top to its base. The fact that he couldn’t see you, made his sense of feeling more intense and it made his cock harder than it already was. A grunting left his mouth as your soft lips wrapped around his head. You twirled your tongue around it, licking the salty precum off before you took the whole thing in your warm mouth. Jin’s body flinched as his member was pressed at the back of your throat. The wet and sloppy sounds of you sucking his dick and your gag sounds echoed through the room. With your fingers you played with his balls, squeezing them and your tongue working on his foreskin and twirled it around his girth.

Jin was overhelmed of the feeling and deep moans escaped his mouth. You knew how to use your mouth and tongue on him to make him feel good. That’s what he taught you after all and after some time you have gotten pretty good at this. He even showed you porns so that you know how it’s done properly.

“D-Damn…y-your blowjob skills are already perfect nghh~…there’s no need t-to improve them f-further ahh~” “They are awful!” he stuttered in between his moans of pleasure.

“Fhankf” you said with your mouth full of his dick, the vibration of your voice giving him shivers and sending him nearly over the edge.

Jin peered down through the small gap of the paper bag and saw your erotic face. Your lewd expression, how you enjoyed it sucking him off. This sight gave him the rest. With his hands he pressed your head down til there’s nothing left of his cock and cums with a groan deep in your mouth. The thick liquid of his, spurted out down your throat. His dick was still twitching inside as he came down from his orgasm, single splashes of cum still comming out of the tip.

When he was done, he loosened his grip on your head. You removed his still hard dick from your mouth, the rest cum which still remained inside was swallowed by you til nothing was left.

“Ah~ delicious” you said the thing which Jin always likes to hear after you gave him a bj and after swallowing his cum “But it’s still hard”

You gave his cock a few bumps. It always looked like a gigantic dick in your small hand even though he has an average size.

You got up from the ground and took Jin by his arm to lead him to the bed. There you sat down and looked up to his covered face. Jin could see your sitting body through the lower gap of the paper bag. You were in a female school uniform with a dark blue jacket, a red bow around your neck, a dark blue skirt which was rather short and black knee socks. It reminded him of his old days back at school. You didn’t wear anything under the jacket and he could see your cleavage from above. He tossed your white blouse which belonged to the uniform and your undergarments away because you didn’t need it anyways, after all it would take too long to strip you naked and he liked it better seeing you like this.

You smiled as you could feel his gaze checking out your body underneath the bag. Your hand wandered to the silver buttons of your jacket and you opened the first one on the top. The sight of you cleavage got bigger as you slowly worked down from button to button. Jin’s cock sprang higher as he enjoyed your little strip show.

After you slid the jacket in a seductive way off of you shoulders and gave him a view of your naked upper body with your bare breasts, you took his wrists and led his hands to your boobs. They fit perfectly in his big hands. They were not too small but also not too big, just the right size for a young woman. He fondled them first tenderly but eventually he couldn’t hold himself back, not when you’re making those cute moans. So he grabbed them more rougher and squeezed them which caused your nipples to get hard by his treatment. Your voice got louder as his touch on your sensitive nipples got harder, pinching them und putting them in between his fingers. You rubbed your legs together, already soaked and ready for his cock.

“Jin~ p-please~” after these words he stopped and removed his hands from your chest so that you can move into his favourite position.

You lay your upper body down on the bed and put your butt up in the air while you’re on your knees. The short skirt fell down to your stomach revealing your round ass and pink craving pussy to the man with the paper bag. Jin could see your shaking butt infront of him through the gap. He grabbed your butt cheeks, feeling your soft, cold skin. His member slid in between your thighs, rubbing it against your opening. Your vagina was already desperate to get fucked as he could feel her lips sucking on the base of his cock.

With one push he slid his full length inside you, reaching the back of your pussy. You screamed of pleasure feeling the sudden fullness in your belly. His cock always filled you up so well and your walls clenched around him, sucking him even deeper inside you. Jin groaned and started his rapidly movements, fucking you into the dirty mattress which had already stains of dryed cum, drool and sweat from your previous fucking sessions. Neither of you cared to clean it after all it will get dirty again and you’re only allowed to do what Jin expects from you.

“Ahh~ Jin! So good~ good~” you moaned, drool dripping from your mouth onto the sheet beneath you.

Jin gritted his teeth and his thrusts got more aggressive and deeper. He was disgusted from himself. He knew this wasn´t good for his mental health and would make it only worse. But how could he stop with this now? It was just too difficult for him. It´s like he’s…obsessed.

His fingers digged into your skin as he grabbed your hips harder. With his length he reached your sensitive parts of your insides. He knew where your good spots are. Even though Jin is a 30 year old grown man, he´s never had any sexual contacts with woman except you. Does that even count? You were his first time and the only thing where he could let out his sexual frustration and loneliness. He only had you in his life.

The thoughts of this made his movements rougher and you felt like he intended to rip you apart with his hard thrusts. You grabbed the sheets, trying to keep your butt up in the air. A loud moan escaped from your mouth as Jin hit that special spot. He penetrated that place with his tip of his cock, his girth stretching your small hole.

“Jin! I´m cumming~” you moaned of overhelming pleasure.

He also was almost at his end. Your walls clenched aroung his dick, sucking him deeper into your pussy. Jin groaned at this addictive feeling of your desperate vagina. He loved the sounds of your moans and skin on skin, how your juices flowed down your legs. It all turned him on and made him sick.

You screamed as you felt your orgasm. At the same time Jin made a few final thrusts before his white, thick cum splurted out in your insides. He stayed as deep as possible in your pussy so that every single drop of his sperm reached your womb. He breathed heavily as he pulled out of your soaked hole after nothing came out anymore.

Your body still shivered, trying to come down from your high with your tongue outside and drool dripping down from your mouth soaking the fabric underneath you. And again this uncomfortable feeling came up inside him. He never knew what exactly it was. Sadness? Almost, but that wasn´t really it. Anger? Maybe, but there would be more to it. Probably he felt pity for himself with another sour feeling. Jin put on his shorts with his pants and left the house, leaving you all fucked up on the bed as always.

It was like a daily routine of his after he had sex with you. Just taking a walk around the city trying to distract himself. He avoided the public spaces and stayed in the dark alleys so that nobody could look at him in a weird way. Maybe he really should stop with this sickening life.

“Thank you for your visit” he heard a cheerful voice right around the corner. It was familiar. He didn´t even notice that his feet led him to this place again. Maybe it was like that because he always came here after his “love making” with you.

For the first time in a while he took the paper bag off of his head and looked around the corner where he heard that beautiful voice just a second ago. And there you were. The real you. With longer hair, bigger boobs and more curves. More mature.

You were standing infront of the flower shop where you worked at. Greeting new customers with your memorable smile and taking care of all kinds of flowers, made Jin´s heart go wild. It was different compared to your younger clone. But there was a curse which bounded him to the fake you because he knew that he could never have the real one. He always thought to himself what would have happened to him if he didn´t caught your sleeping body in the nurse´s office. If he didn´t use the measuring tape that was on the writing desk of the nurse. Would he still be alive?

After he had cloned you it was very easy to manipulate your clone’s mind and emotions. After all it was just a marionette which he created for himself. And if it ever turned against him or would start to question its relationship with him he always destroyed it and made a new one.

From his pocket he pulled out a business card which he got from the man called Giran. Maybe it´s really time to make a change and to escape from the chains that kept him to his miserable feelings.

[seydaneencensusoffice]

    @i-am-sharmat​ sent me the prompt “have you ever played in the rain?” :)

    When the people flocked around them in the village square, holding out their hands to accept the customary alms from the King and his retinue of guards and advisors, the woman looked like any other Chimer peasant, simply clothed and with a face bronzed by the sun. It was only when she made a movement under her cloak and, raising her arm, looked Voryn right in the eye — a determined stare, the unmistakeable look of a fanatic — that a shock of unease pulsed through him. His next thought, as he turned to warn Nerevar, who was already being dragged out of the way by Alandro Sul, was that a fly must have bitten the back of his neck. Then he staggered.

   Feeling as if a great vice had begun all of a sudden to constrict his head, his chest, vision blurring, Voryn heard Nerevar cry out his name… he sank to his knees, half-aware of someone supporting his arms, lowering him to the ground gently; coughing, he saw Nerevar turn to shout for help, and raised his hands to his mouth. They came away wet with blood.

   “Oh,” he groaned, then passed out.

   The guards carried him to the local temple, where the priest-healers made an upstairs bedroom into a sick room and put Voryn into a deep magical sleep, hoping to give his body the chance to overcome the poison. Nerevar refused to return to Mournhold until the would-be assassin had been interrogated and — the matter weighing more heavily on his mind, though he made an effort to conceal that fact — he could be sure that Voryn would survive. He had requisitioned the room next door to Voryn’s for his own, so that he could go through the papers and correspondence on hand, but in truth he was too anxious to focus on his work and spent much of his time checking in on Voryn.

   Laid out on the bed, with his arms limp at his sides and his face as pale as the white linen sheets tucked around his chin, he looked like a corpse dressed for viewing before going to meet the funeral pyre. Nerevar couldn’t stop himself from extracting one fine hand from the blankets and checking the pulse at his wrist, just to make sure.

   His hair, sweaty and in disarray, lay snarled across his brow. Nerevar frowned, thinking of the care Voryn took with his hair, how he’d hate to see himself so bedraggled; without realising what he was doing, he reached out to brush it back, tucking it behind his ears. He let his hand linger on Voryn’s forehead, which was clammy and feverish — the healers had said that was a good sign, that his body was fighting the poison. At least they’d washed the blood from his face… Oh, Nerevar, he thought, heart clenching as he watched Voryn in his lifeless sleep, his red lips parted slightly, what do you think you’re doing?

   “Ignoring my better judgement,” he said out loud, answering himself.

   Settling into a chair near the window, Nerevar watched over Voryn — his councillor, his friend — noting the rise and fall of his chest, the whispers of breath, and found himself begin to talk, first to himself, quietly and about things he had to remember to attend to back in Mournhold, and then, gradually, to Voryn, too. He was such a familiar conversation partner that Nerevar could imagine just what he would say in response to his rambling, how he would turn his head, the glint in his expressive eyes. When, every so often, the healers came in to check their patient, he noticed that they gave him sympathetic looks when they thought he wasn’t watching.

   Late in the afternoon of the second day, Nerevar had dozed off to the sound of rain outside the window when he was woken by Voryn’s voice, hoarse and weak, saying, “My lord?”

   “Voryn!” Leaping from the chair and rushing to the bed, he reached out on instinct, unable to stop himself from taking Voryn’s hand in his. “Azura be praised.”

   “That woman — she threw a dart… Lord Nerevar! Where is she?”

   “No, no, lie down, my friend.” Nerevar coaxed him back against the pillows, his brow creased with worry. “She’s in chains, being questioned.”

   “Oh…” Voryn collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, as if even the action of sitting up had exhausted him, and allowed Nerevar to fuss over him, tucking the blankets in and smoothing the hair from his face. He was in such a dazed state that he barely had the mental energy to recognise that it was Nerevar tending to him. “Thank Mephala she missed you…”

   Nerevar had decided already that he would not tell Voryn the truth — that, according to the interrogation so far, it seemed she had not missed her target at all — while he was in this weakened state. It was barely a lie, not if Voryn didn’t ask.

   “Yes, well, you must rest now,” he said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell the healers you’re awake.”

   “Not yet, just… could you keep talking to me, please, my lord?”

   Nerevar turned his head away to hide the flush of colour he was certain had rushed to his cheeks.

   “You could hear me?”

   “A little,” Voryn said with a smile, golden eyes drifting shut.

   “Well… your cousin Araynys should be arriving any moment now, from Vvardenfell; I’m sure she’s beside herself. Once you’re a bit better, you can go home with her… or come back to Mournhold, if you prefer.” He paused as a clap of thunder roared outside, staccato amidst the steady pouring of the rain. “Can you hear the rain? I bet the kids are out there jumping in puddles and throwing mud at each other… that’s what we used to do. Did you ever do that, Voryn? Play in the rain? I think you were a serious child, always inside reading books…”

   “I played in the rain,” mumbled Voryn from the bed. “Just ask Araynys.”

   “I’ll try to remember,” said Nerevar, laughing softly. “When we get back to Mournhold the gardens will be green and full of mushrooms, just imagine how beautiful it’ll be…”

   But, when Araynys arrived, there was no opportunity to reminisce about their childhood in Dagoth Ruhn. She looked furious, sweeping into Voryn’s room with her red cloak flying and her hands clenched into fists, and ignored Voryn’s half-hearted protests as she quizzed him on his health.

   “My lady,” he said at last, tired of the reproachful looks she was giving him across the bed, “I will leave you to speak with your cousin alone.”

   As he rose to leave, he was surprised to see her rush over to him. Leaning in close, so that Voryn couldn’t hear, she whispered, “This is all your fault.”

   Sometime later, once Voryn had fallen back into a heavy, medicated sleep, Araynys found the king outside the temple, pacing the perimeter of the fence bordering the priests’ guar paddock. He was smoking from a wooden pipe, face twisted into a mighty scowl. After many years without it — Dumac hated the smell of tobacco on him and insisted that the Dwemer cities had a carefully balanced ‘air profile’ which must not be disturbed by alien smoke —Voryn’s attempted murder seemed to have been enough to push him back into old nervous habits.

   Araynys rested her arms on the fence and waited, saying nothing, for Nerevar to speak.

   “You blame me,” he ventured, though there was no harsh edge of accusation in his voice.

   Gazing out over the fields, as the guar grazed and birds called out in the fading light, she stayed silent, and only gestured impatiently for him to hand over the pipe. He obliged, shaking his head a little in amused disbelief, and she wiped the mouthpiece with her sleeve before inhaling deeply.

   “You said this was my fault. Why?”

   “It’s always about you,” she said, exhaling in a cloud of smoke. “Don’t tell me you can’t see it. They think he shares the king’s confidence — and his bed.”

   There was a long pause; Nerevar watched coolly as she continued to smoke from his pipe.

   “Well, they would be mistaken.”

   “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Araynys shook her head in frustration. “Anyway, you’re doing nothing to dispel the notion… watching over him, holding his hand! You look like a worried wife.”

   Nerevar straightened his posture and stared right at her with narrowed eyes, a projection of kingly wrath.

   “Remember to whom you are speaking, Dagoth Araynys,” he warned. “I understand that you’re frightened, and angry, but you go too far.”

   She stared back, bold and fierce, her glittering black eyes the mirror image of Voryn’s. Blessed Azura, thought Nerevar, are all the Dagoths stubborn as oxen?

   “Forgive me, muthsera,” she said at last, almost spitting the syllables of the epithet. She thrust the pipe into his hands and turned toward the temple. “I must get back to my cousin.”

   She was right, he knew — he had always been rash, had always allowed others to get too close to him without appreciating what it meant; he wasn’t sure he had ever resisted an impulse in his life. Once she had disappeared through the temple door, Nerevar turned to kick a nearby rock with such force that the chitin cap on the toe of his boot snapped in two.

   “Fuck!” he cried, foot aching, pressing the balls of his fists hard into his eye sockets.

   That night was sleepless; he thrashed about the bed, desperate to soothe his mind, but haunted by visions of assassins with poisoned blades and Voryn, motionless on the bed, but this time he really was dead… Nerevar tried to shake him awake, to breathe life into him, but a procession of people was filing into the room, all shaking their heads sadly, and saying, What did you expect? By morning, Nerevar had resolved to return to Mournhold at once.

   “You’re awake, Araynys is here; you don’t need me. I’ll see you in Mournhold when you’re recovered, my friend.” Smiling as he rested his hand on Voryn’s shoulder, he added, “I’ll write.”

   At the door, when Nerevar paused to glance over his shoulder, Voryn looked back, propped up against the pillows with the candlelight illuminating the wistful look on his face, and raised his hand in farewell.

[fancyfanfiction]

Soon It Will Be Spring (Chapter 3)

YAY! I had a major set back in the form of my external hard drive corrupting, but I got the data back and have been working on this chapter! I also now know way too much about the Russian railway system. Fun fact: The name of the Nikolaevsky/Oktyabyrsky station is now the Moskovsky Station.

Cross-posted to AO3 here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242599/chapters/65460604

 Chapter 3

The clocktower of the Nikolaevsky—now Oktyabyrsky—railway station stood stark against the cobalt sky as the pair approached the building, one of the holdouts of imperial style in the new culture of Russia. Train whistles mumbled and overlapping conversations, and the chugging of locomotives enveloped the station and its grounds. Gleb and Katya kept pace with their fellow travelers as they crossed the threshold into the main hall of the station.

Katya took in the sight, allowing herself private revelry in the familiarity of the old train station. Any childhood trip ended there: with a train pulling back into Saint Petersburg and some treat or another from her father to ease the sadness of an adventure ended. Katya could almost hear her father comforting her: the best part about the end of an adventure is now another can begin. Adventure had been his life since the beginning, adventures that Katya had never quite been able to imagine. The Caucasus mountains existed to her only in books and in the stories her father had told of his boyhood. Regret pricked the back of her neck. Katya would never get to see the mountains where her father had been born now.

The odd companions stood staring at the board of arrivals and departures. Moscow would be easy, but Poland: less so. Money and time for forged papers were luxuries they hadn’t been afforded. They approached the ticketing window, and something seemed to click on in Katya’s eyes.

“Hello, comrade. Where are you headed?” asked the man.

“Two for Moscow, please. The earliest departure you have.” Katya had donned a modest Polish accent as she slid the money across the counter, not unintelligible by any means, but unmistakable in its origin.

Upon hearing the accent, the ticket man seemed to change his demeanor. The stench of condescension wafted off of him. “You’ll need to go to platform four and give this to the man on the train when he asks for it” He pronounced each word slowly and loudly as if speaking to a small child, exaggerating each syllable and gesturing as he handed Katya the tickets.

She offered a vacant smile, “Thank you, comrade.”

Of course. She was playing dumb Gleb realized.  

“Platform four, then?” Gleb asked once they had left the counter, shifting his pack from one shoulder to the other. “I’m surprised you didn’t shout at him.”

“Playing into people’s prejudices can have its uses,” Katya said, her disdain for the “stupid Pole” stereotype dripping from each word.

“Where did you learn to do that accent so well, Yekaterina?” Gleb asked, curiosity getting the better of his instinct to leave Katya alone to cool off.

“My mother’s family is Polish. Neither of my grandparents on that side ever fully shook the accent.” Her answer was direct but lacked the iciness Gleb had expected.

They walked in silence to their destination. The light tang of coal, metal, and oil floated in the air, strengthening as the platform grew closer. The train would be departing in less than half an hour. They stood with their fellow passengers, the shared comradery of an imminent journey connecting all those who stood waiting. The moment washed over the pair like water over the banks of the Neva as they watched the train pull into the station.

“We can’t come back.” Katya broke through the silence.

Gleb thought for a moment he saw heartbreak flicker in her eyes – the same look Anya had as she knelt next to him, loaded gun still in his hand, the same blue eyes. Gleb glanced at Katya again, but she had turned away.

A sea of coats, hats, and luggage ebbed and flowed around them as the passengers boarded.  Katya claimed the window seat before Gleb even had a chance to protest. Exhaustion clung to her like sleet, weighing Katya down as she leaned her head against the cool glass. Her eyes fluttered, going in an out of focus as sleep threatened to overtake her.

“Here.” Katya thrust the tickets toward Gleb. “Just hand the conductor both of ours when he comes by.”

Gleb nodded and took the paper slips from Katya; the tips of her fingers brushed his through her fingerless gloves. Whether they were fingerless for dexterity or simply because the tips had become too damaged to bother mending anymore, Gleb couldn’t say.

The train lurched forward in a cloud of steam and smoke as it pulled away from the platform. The gentle rocking as the train picked up speed lulled Katya into a blessedly dreamless sleep, leaving Gleb alone with his thoughts.

He took stock. It would be at least a few hours before they reached Moscow. He knew Katya had some money but had no clue how much; Gleb decided he would only count on his own money. There was no use speculating on things he didn’t know and had no place asking. He knew Katya couldn’t have saved much. Yet Anya – Anastasia, he corrected himself mentally – had made it with those conmen, and street sweepers made only a fraction of what a cleaning woman would make. She had more than made it. She had thrived. Why hadn’t she taken her place publicly? The image of Anya decked out in her regal red gown that played so well against rosy skin haunted him, taunted him, dangled what could have been in front of him, just out of reach. Long life, Gleb, her voice still echoed in his head.

***

 “Now arriving at Oktyabrsky Terminal, Moscow.” The conductor’s voice boomed through the train car. Katya stirred and woke, fixing Gleb with those blue eyes that seemed too familiar after four hours of ruminating on the past.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” He said dryly.

“We’re in Moscow, then?” Katya rubbed her face.

“Unless the conductor is lying.”

Katya responded with a short half laugh. “So, you do have a sense of humor.”

“A bit rusty, but it’s there.” Gleb smiled, the first genuine smile Katya could remember seeing on him.

With their current government, the more paranoid part of Katya didn’t quite trust that the conductor wasn’t lying. She stretched and stood, trying to shake the idea from her mind. A yawn escaped as she shook out the stiffness from sleeping leaning against a train window.

“Warsaw next, then?” Gleb asked, allowing the chatter of the other passengers to cover their conspiracy.

Katya nodded. “Yes…” she trailed off.

Gleb sensed the “but” implied in her answer. “But we don’t have papers.”

Another nod. “I think I have a workaround, but we’ll have to be quick.”

           The pair disembarked with the rest of the passengers and crossed to the departures board. The train station hadn’t changed much, despite its renaming Katya noted. She almost wished she had time to wander around Moscow. It had been so long since she’d visited. Then she remembered. The palaces, the grand parties, all of that would be long gone—had been long gone for years now.

           Gleb looked between the chalk departures board and his father’s old map. “It looks like the closest we can get to Warsaw today will be Minsk.”

           “Alright then. One more leg to the journey won’t throw things off too badly.” Katya began walking, rifling through of her bag.

           Gleb’s gaze drifted from person to person, habitually searching for any danger. His heart jumped as he noticed a man walking quickly in his direction. The man was dressed neutrally, meant to blend in with the crowd in the train station, but he walked with a purpose that set him apart, shoulders square and jaw set. Gleb knew a Chekist guard when he saw one. And one was walking dead towards him and Katya.

           “Yekaterina.” Gleb grabbed her arm, not even waiting for a response. He pulled them both around a corner into a shadowed, empty corridor and pressed her against the wall, hoping the dark color of his coat would camouflage them—if not, he supposed he could use the excuse of sweethearts stealing a kiss away from the crowds.

           “What—” Katya’s question was cut off by Gleb placing his finger to his lips. She was certain she would have a bruise on her upper arm from how hard he had gripped. Scrutinizing his face, she searched for an answer as to why the former Deputy Commissioner had shoved her against a wall in a dark corner of a crowded building. The wool of his coat still held the familiar smell of his—now former—apartment despite their frenzied escape from St. Petersburg. He looked over his shoulder and Katya noticed the dark stubble that had begun to spread along Gleb’s jawline. Seeing the bruise-colored circles beneath his eyes, Katya felt a pang of sympathy. This close she realized Gleb was holding his breath. What ever caused him to try and hide them, she figured, it must not be gone.

           Seconds felt like minutes before Gleb heard the quick steps of the Cheka pass. He stepped back, freeing Katya.

           “The Cheka.” He answered her unfinished question.

           Katya’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ve found us?” Her breathing hitched. Had they really been so close to danger?

           “No.” He shook his head. “But if they’re looking for us, they’ll have our descriptions.”

The two walked back into the main lobby of the station. The travelers and commuters seemed oblivious as to what had just happened.

“Well, we should get to Minsk as soon as possible.” Katya walked up to the window and returned with their tickets. “The train’s already boarding.” She walked right past Gleb, leading him toward their platform.

This train was nicer that the last, Gleb observed. He and Katya found their compartment and took their seats, this time across from each other, rather than side by side. This would be a long trip. Moscow was more than 700 kilometers from Minsk. The train ride alone would take 6 hours, likely more if they needed to stop to refuel.

Gleb looked at Katya. Her face was mirrored in the dark glass as she stared out the window. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“If we’re going to be on this train for a while, perhaps we could get to know each other?” Gleb suggested as nonchalantly as he could. Truthfully, he was a little curious about his companion.

Katya turned from the window toward Gleb. “What do you want to know?”

He searched for a moment before settling on a question. “What was your life like before you worked as a cleaner?”            “My mother left me at the Smolny Convent to become a nun when I was about 14.” Katya replied.

“You were a nun?” Gleb was astonished. In the hours they had now spent together, he’d not once gotten the impression that she was particularly devout.

“No. I was a novice and not a very good one at that.” Katya corrected, amused by his surprise.

“Papa and I sent letters, in secret of course.” She continued, “We weren’t exactly supposed to have contact with our families, but he always encouraged my rule-breaking. I suppose that was part of why my mother sent me to the convent in the first place.” The softness Katya’s features had taken talking about her father faded. “I was there until you Bolsheviks disbanded the convent.” She gave him a pointed look. “And looted it.”

She leaned back against the seat. “I would write and tell my father about how I had screwed up in my novitiate again since we’d last talked. Something stupid normally. Playing a prank on another novitiate. Staying out past curfew and then trying to argue my way out of penitence. He’d say, ‘That’s my Katenka. Full of fire to the bitter end. Just like me.’” A fond and forlorn smile softened Katya’s features again.

“Katenka? That’s not a pet name I’d expect for you.” Gleb fought the amused look on his face.

“Don’t ever call me that.” A hint of menace lurked behind her dismissive tone, almost protective of the memory she’d just shared. Katya scowled at the floor between them as they sat in silence; the conversation was obviously dead.

“I miss my father, too.”  Gleb offered after a few minutes.

Katya looked up.

“He died about 10 years ago.” He continued.

“Mine died about that time, too. I suppose a lot of children lost fathers during the revolution.” Sadness and sympathy for those who had known her tinged Katya’s voice.

“His name was Sergei?” Gleb attempted to keep the conversation going now that it had been resurrected.

She raised an eyebrow as her lips pressed together and quirked to the side.  “No, his name  was Ivan.” An eye roll and a small smile of amused exasperation accompanied her sarcasm.

Gleb’s eyes flicked downward, then back to Katya as he realized the redundancy of asking someone he almost exclusively addressed as “Yekaterina Sergeyevna” her father’s name.

Sometimes he seemed more like a boy than an officer to Katya, a child wearing his father’s boots.

“Mine was Stepan.” Gleb brushed some dirt from his sleeve.

"Really, Gleb Stepanovich?  I never would have guessed." Katya emphasized his patronym.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they had known each other, given they died around the same time?” Gleb waited a second to see if Katya found it an interesting thought as well.

“We live in a country of more than 90,000 people. I think that’s rather unlikely.”

Gleb grimaced at his failed attempt at connection. A yawn caught him off guard.

“You should sleep. It’s a long train ride, like you said, and I got to rest on the last one.” Katya offered. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone suspicious.”

Gleb nodded and leaned back, appreciating the feeling of cushion rather than stone. Adrenaline could only carry a person so far, he figured. Sleep pulled him down into darkness quickly as he closed his eyes.

Katya looked at the sleeping form across from her. The Deputy Commissioner—former Deputy Commissioner—wasn’t unhandsome, not by any stretch of the imagination she decided. He was in fact very handsome when he deigned to smile. Which was seldom. She had only seen a true smile once or twice, not that tight-lipped half-grimace he often made. He, like all the other Bolsheviks Katya had had the pleasure of encountering, seemed to lack a sense of humor almost entirely or at least she had thought until that afternoon. Even so, he at least had more empathy than his comrades. He looked younger when he slept, granted he was young for his rank, but still.

The train’s great heave forward as it began to pull away from the station didn’t rouse Gleb in the slightest. He seemed already lost in dreams. Katya unthinkingly reached out and gently brushed his normally well-kept hair from his forehead. She hated to admit it, and perhaps it was just the shared bonds of running for one’s life, but she was growing fond of the former Bolshevik. She turned to look out the window again. Katya had never been to Minsk, hopefully the added time to the journey would be worth it.

[freedom-of-writing]

You’re all I want, all I need

Chapter 1 - I’m ready now

Chapter 2 - The 13th clan

Chapter 3 - Soulmates

Chapter 4 - Your enemy is our enemy

Chapter 5 - Costia

Chapter 6 - The calm before a storm

Chapter 7 - Hurts like hell

Chapter 8 - Shouldn’t be a good in goodbye

Chapter 9 - The Conclave

Chapter 10: The City of Light

Chapter 11: Swim Away From Reality

Apparently, there's a short path that goes from the back yard of the house to the lake, where there's a private pier that leads straight into the water. Clarke doesn't see any boats, so she guesses the pier is only meant to be a sort of springboard for those who want to jump into the lake. All around the lake there are tall trees, and the beauty of the landscape leaves her dumbstruck. She wishes she had a piece of paper and a charcoal to draw the beautiful image of the water reflecting all the trees and the sky.

"Worthy, right?" Lexa asks as she picks up a small plain rock from the path to throw it on the water, making it jump five times on its surface.

"It's beautiful." Clarke agrees.

The two of them stand still, side by side, for a few minutes. Neither one dares to break the silence as they take in all the beauty offered by that landscape. Lexa's attention gets caught by a fish jumping in and out of the water, and in an attempt to follow it, she moves onto the wooden pier. She doesn't need to look back to know Clarke is right behind her. Quickly, she gets rid of her armor and boots, stripping down to just her underwear. She leaves her clothes discarded on the floor before jogging towards the edge of the pier to jump headfirst into the water.

"What are you doing?" Clarke asks with a worried tone. It’s not Lexa’s safety she’s worried about, but her own. Because, she knows her girlfriend, and she’s afraid of what she might want her to do now.

"The water is perfect, Clarke. You have to come in." There it is. Ok, let's not panic.

"Lexa… I told you. I can't swim. I-"

"You don't have to swim. I promise. The water around the pier is shallow enough for you to stand easily." Lexa says, swimming back to the edge of the pier. "Trust me." She waits patiently for the Clarke's decision, and when she nods in agreement, she gives her girlfriend the brightest grin she can manage.

When all of Clarke's clothes minus her underwear are on the wooden floor as well, Lexa moves to a standing position in the water, holding out both of her hands for Clarke to grab to lower herself into the water. But as soon as Clarke sits down on the pier in front of her, Lexa gets another idea.  

“God, you're beautiful." She says as she brings her hands on Clarke’s waist, before pushing herself in-between Clarke’s legs.  

"I thought you wanted me to come into the water, Commander." Clarke freezes as soon as she realizes what she just said. The pun wasn’t intended, but Lexa didn’t miss it. The smirk appearing on her face, makes Clarkes shiver a bit.

"I bet you will, Wanheda." Lexa teases her immediately.

Clarke tries hard not to give in to temptation, but her mouth runs dry. She clears her throat quickly, before responding in a tone that matches Lexa’s.

"Is that so, Heda?" Suddenly, she doesn’t mind the idea of getting wet.

Lexa smirks at Clarke before leaning forward to capture her lips. It takes them about a second to turn the kiss into a heated make-out session. As they go, Clarke moves her legs to encircle her girlfriend’s waste, securing her to her body. Their hands start roaming over every inch of skin available, which is basically every single part of their bodies considering they’re just in their underwear. Lexa's hands come to a stop around Clarke ass, keeping the girl's center pressed again her stomach as Clarke’s hands move to cup her breasts through her bra.

They're not sure who moaned first, but as soon as the sound fills the silence, Lexa feels the need for more. Without breaking the kiss, she lifts Clarke into her arms backing away a little from the pier. Slowly, Clarke lowers her legs until she's standing in the water on her own feet. Now that they are on the same level, Lexa starts pushing Clarke, until her back is pressed against the pier. When at last, they have to part for some air, they keep their foreheads pressed together, and their eyes closed. Once Lexa can breathe properly again, she moves to attach her lips to Clarke's pulse point, then moving to pepper kisses along her jawline. Her hands roam up and down Clarke’s back, sending shivers down her spine, and causing her to arch her back. Lexa is so focused on exploring her girlfriend’s skin that she doesn't notice Clarke’s hand moving up to the hook of her bra. In a swift movement, Clarke unclasps Lexa’s bra with one hand, while with the other she plays with the hem of her girlfriend’s panties. When her mind realizes what is happening, Lexa moves her hips forward as an invitation. Clarke, of course, doesn't need to be asked twice before slipping her hand inside Lexa's panties, and drawing her middle finger through the woman's folds. They're in the water, but she can still feel how wet her girlfriend is already. She smirks at the idea, and then she starts circling Lexa’s clit with the tip of her finger, gaining a loud moan from Lexa. She can feel her own center throbbing, but she does her best to put her focus only on the other girl.

"Please... Clarke..." Lexa used to be the Commander, and Commanders don't plead, it’s true. But Clarke makes her feel so good she doesn't give a damn right now.

"Please what?" Clarke’s voice doesn't come out as strong as she hoped, because her own breathing is becoming shallow.

"Stop... Stop teasing..." Lexa can hardly whisper.

"As you wish, Heda." And with that she pushes two fingers into Lexa’s entrance, giving her a brief moment to adjust before starting to pump rhythmically inside of her.

Even in her state of pleasure, Lexa can feel how worked up Clarke is becoming as well, and she can no longer stand there doing nothing. She goes back to plant kisses on Clarke’s neck as she moves one hand down her abdomen till she reaches the hem of her panties. She doesn't wait for her girlfriend's invitation to slip her hand underneath her underwear to start working on her clit. Lexa can feel she's getting close, but she wants to give Clarke the same pleasure, so she pushes inside of her pumping fiercely in and out of her.

"Lexa..." Damn Clarke, stay focused on what you're doing, she mentally reprimands herself.

Lexa stops her mouth to lean back and look at Clarke. They stare at one another for a moment before closing the gap between each other in a hungry kiss. It doesn't take them long to come together, moaning loudly into each other's mouths. They keep pumping for a bit more to help the other come down from their high. Then they hold on tight onto each other, not trusting their legs to stand on their own. It takes them a couple of minutes to calm their breath.

Once Lexa is positive her voice won’t fail her, she asks jokingly: "Still don't like swimming?"

"Shut up." Clarke shakes her head, amused by how proud Lexa looks right now. Then she leans forwards to kiss her slowly.

"Ai hod yu in, Klark."

"I love you too."

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"No way! You did what?!" Lexa laughs as she holds Clarke close.

After their "swim" they moved back to the house, and had something for dinner. Once they were done eating, Lexa offered to go up to the roof to lie under the stars, to which Clarke agreed eagerly.

Clarke took advantage of the moment to fill Lexa in on everything that’s happened after her death, including the story of how she saved the Natblida’s lives during the Conclave. That brings us here to Lexa's reaction, because honestly, she would've given anything to see Titus's face when he realized Clarke had tricked him, and the kids were all still alive.

"They're just kids, Lexa. And they’re your family. Mine too. I can handle Titus hating me for the rest of my life if it means I managed not to lose them as well."

"Killing my friends... the kids I grew up with... That’s the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'm glad you made sure they didn't have to go through all that as well. They're great kids, I'm sure there's so much they can give to our people when they grow older."

"Yeah. I mean, they had the best teacher Polis could offer, so..." Clarke jokes before adding in a serious tone: "They are who they are because you guided them, Lexa."

Lexa shakes her head. "No… They've always been great kids. My teachings and example have nothing to do with it." Clarke doesn't try to argue. She knows Lexa too well to know she's never going to admit her big part in bringing the Nightbloods up.

They stay silent for a few minutes as they gaze at the stars. After a while, a cool breeze blows over them, and Clarke shivers slightly. Of course, Lexa notices and she pulls her into her side to warm her up as best as she can. Instead of voicing her thank you, Clarke leaves a sweet kiss on Lexa’s collarbone, and then she hugs her tightly.

"I need you to promise me something." Lexa whispers slowly in Clarke's hair.

Clarke remains silent. She just moves her head up to look into her favorite green eyes. She sees Lexa worrying her mind to find the right words, so she goes to caress her cheek gently to encourage her to go on.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself." Lexa notices a confused look flashing in Clarke's eyes, so she explains herself better. "I won't ask you to protect the Natblida and Aden, because I'm sure you will. But I'm asking you not to put yourself in danger for them. I can't keep you safe now, Clarke. And I need to know you'll do it for me.” Lexa stops talking, but Clarke can tell there’s something else she’s still not saying. At her questioningly look, Lexa continues. “I need you to promise me that, when life gets hard, you won't give up just to be with me."

"You know I can't promise you that…" Clarke tries to look away, because she remembers what got her here, and she knows she can't promise to never give up on a life she has to live without Lexa by her side.

"Clarke..." Of course, Lexa knows she’s asking her a lot, but she still insists. "Can you at least promise me you'll do anything in your power to stay alive?" She gives Clarke her best begging look.

"Okay." Clarke finally gives up before leaning back down into Lexa's arms. "I promise."

They don't say anything else after that. They just stay there in each other’s arms, gazing at the stars, until they both fall asleep. And it doesn’t if none of this is real, because that’s the first time Clarke manages to have a full night of sleep ever since Lexa's death.

When the morning comes, they're woken up by a voice calling for Clarke. The sun has yet to rise, and they both look around to see whose voice it was.

Clarke.

Wait, no one else is there, who the hell-

Clarke! Honey, wake up! Come on!

“Is that… your mother?”

“But… how?”

It takes them a moment to realize the voice actually comes from the real world. Abby must have found Clarke asleep on the balcony. Although, they still do not understand how it is possible for them to hear her voice resonating in the City of Light.

"You have to go back now." Lexa states looking straight into Clarke’s eyes.

"What? No! I just got here. I... They can wait some more, Lexa, okay? Please. Let me stay here with you." Clarke's begging her as tears fill up her eyes. She’s on the verge of sobbing, and Lexa’s heart breaks at that sight.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Lexa waits a moment for Clarke to meet her eyes before continuing. "I'll be here when you come back, okay? I can wait, they can't. You have to be there for Aden on his first day as Heda, you have to go back to your mom and the kids, Clarke." She brings her hands up to caress her girlfriend’s cheeks before leaning in to kiss her lovingly.

Clarke closes her eyes as she kisses her back, but when she opens them again, she’s no longer in Lexa’s presence. She’s back in Polis, and it’s her mother who’s staring back at her with a worried look in her eyes. For a second Clarke doesn’t understand what’s happening, but then she remembers. The chip, the City of light, and… Lexa. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. She’d really seen Lexa again. Suddenly, the emotions overcome her, and she launches forward into her mother’s arms to cry into the crook of her neck. Abby doesn't ask for an explanation. She’s worried sick for her daughter, it’s true, and she would like to know what’s going on, but instead she just wraps her arms tightly around her daughter’s shoulders, holding her until she’s calmed down. 

Chapter 12 - Not Good Enough

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{5}

Title: Going Through Motions {5}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Violence, Blood

Word Count: 4K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosely Proofread/edited**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Korral-

   “What’s the situation?” Everyone looked around the briefing room at each other.

   “Where’s Korral? Korral?” Tony spun around looking in every direction for you.  

   You could hear Tony asking for you. You were late, hell you almost didn’t even bother coming in. You walked through the door to stand before them. “You’re late?!” It was a mix of a question and a shocked statement. In the last seven years you’d never been late. You’d always been where you were supposed to be when you were supposed to be there. Clearing your throat you looked up from the tablet in your hands.

   “Somehow the Pentagon is under attack. These surveilled images were taken.” You tapped your tablet and the images spread out on the screens ahead. A group of masked individuals dressed in full combat gear stormed through the halls shooting anyone they came across. A clip of a video played and the group of you watched six heavily armed men storm the military stationed massacring them with expertise.

“They look well trained,” Thor said.  You nodded and continued tapping on your tablet as the information came to you. “Yes, I also noticed they looked to know the routine. They knew just when to attack and knew to take out this group of military,” you informed.

    “You’re thinking they have an inside man,” Steve filled in. Gritting your teeth you forced any annoyance away. So what if he could still read your thoughts and finish them.

   “Yes.” Tony stepped forward and tapped the side of his glasses, another image came up on the screen before it was paused. “She seems to be the one in charge,” Tony informed. You scanned the beautiful woman and wondered why all the pretty ones had to be the bad guys.

  “Who is she?” Wanda approached closer to the screen and took a closer look. “We don’t know. What we do know is that she has powers,” you informed. Wanda smiled. “Not to worry so do I.” She balled her fists and the red rays ignited around her clenched fist.

    “Be that as it may Wanda, everyone be careful, if she touches you she can burn right through you,” you warned. Wanda nodded and gave the image of the woman a determined scowl.

  “All right, let’s get in the air. You walked over to Tony and held out small device that held a powerful kick. “Remember last resort, try not to bring the whole building down.” Tony smiled then tried to hide it before he cleared his throat.

    “I don’t know why you’re giving it to me. Hold on to it.” Confused you looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Once he realized you looked confused he shook his head. “You’re coming. Suit up.” Tony walked away to the other side of the room and you couldn’t believe your ears. “What? She’s not coming,” Steve protested.

   “Why the hell not?” Tony spun around facing Steve. “Are you kidding Tony, it’s too dangerous.”

   Approaching the two men seeming to discuss your actions without you, you pushed though. “Excuse you. I’m not going Tony. You don’t need me, the gang’s all together again.” Tony scoffed. “Come on Korral, you’re part of this gang. As for you Captain, who do you think went on all the missions while you were prancing around in your seven years of captivity.” Steve looked to you, he didn’t know that. Ignoring his inquiring eyes you focused on Tony.

  “Tony, you need someone running intel. I will stay here.” Pepper walked in holding a tablet. She stopped beside Tony and kissed his cheek. “All set?” Groaning you knew she was there to do intel. Tony looked at you as if he were waiting for you to continue. “The longer you stand here the more people die. I know that’s not okay with either of you, so choice is yours.” Tony and Pepper stood there waiting for you to decide. While Tony’s expression was smug and annoyed, Pepper’s was sympathetic or was it pity.  You didn’t know which to be more annoyed with. You didn’t want to be pitied or sympathized with; there was nothing to pity or be sympathetic about. Grunting you turned and stomped away like a child.

   You’d barely slept the last week since your encounter with Steve in the changing room. You’d also stayed away from the compound and strictly remained in the city to Tony’s annoyance. Something in you told you Steve wouldn’t want to come into the city for a while. You were right, you managed to not see him for the entire week. You were grateful for it because you were slowly losing your shit.

   For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why you’d reacted that way to seeing the room destroyed and him bleeding. You didn’t know why you rushed to him like a concerned lover, or cared to help clean his wounds—self inflicted wounds. You couldn’t believe he’d done it to himself, that didn’t sound like the Steve you knew. Every time your mind flashed to his hand on your chin and lip you couldn’t stop the shiver that took over or the way your heart pounded. You’d let him touch you so intimately and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself more for the fact that you’d had intense, dirty, and incredibly passionate wet dreams about him since.

   So, you did the only natural thing. Suppressed and ignored it all. If you didn’t give mental space to it then it never happened. Once you’d dressed made your way to the quinjet trying to get your head in the game and off of the daydream of Steve’s fingers between your legs. Steve stood just to the side tinkering with a device on his wrist. When he saw you, you recognized the look on his face, you’d seen it hundreds of times and every time you had it did things to you.

“Finally, let’s go,” Tony called out.

   “Where do you think you’re going?” Everyone spun around and saw Secretary of State Ross standing there with three armed military men.

   “Where do you think we’re going dressed like this, ComicCon?” Ross rolled his eyes at Tony then looked at Steve. The armed soldiers walked behind Steve and stood awaiting orders. Steve glanced behind him then back to Ross. You saw the clench in his jaw and the anger in his eyes.

  “I’m talking about him, Tony. He still has yet to sign the papers.” He was talking about the terms he’d set for Steve. “Ah, those papers. They’re somewhere in my office, I’ll send them over when we get back,” Tony lied.

   “Good thing I brought another copy. As soon as he signs he can go.” Ross walked to Steve. Once in front of him he held them out to him. Steve didn’t bother looking down, instead he kept his eyes glued on the man before him. Neither of them looked as if they were backing down.

   “Ross , can we do this another time? The Pentagon is—.” Ross fanned Tony off. “No. I am not going to have this one running off with yet another criminal when he deems it fit. There are rules and he needs to remember they apply to him.” Ross shoved the paper into Steve’s chest. The sound that came from him sounded like a growl and the butterflies began in your belly. The look on Steve’s face was a fierce one, one you didn’t recognize, one you liked a lot more than you should have. He took a step forward with a fist balled.

   “Steve,” Sam began in a cautionary tone. It was enough to make him stop. The tension in the air was strong and so was the testosterone though you suspected that was all from Steve. God, he was fine as fuck like this. You had no idea what had come over you.

  “Sign,” Ross reiterated. Steve took the papers and briefly skimmed them before he scoffed. “You must be crazy if you think I’m going to sign this. I’d rather die or rot in whatever chamber you’ve constructed thinking it can hold me. Spoiler, it can’t. You see there is something you don’t know about me Mr. secretary. You have no idea what I’ve been through these last seven years, no idea who I’ve had to become just to survive. The boy you and your government injected and created those decades ago is gone. The minute you put out a kill order on me and mine. This man before you, you’ve never met before and there is nothing that will get in the way of what’s mine again.” His eyes fell to you when he said the word “mine” and your heart leapt.

   “You’ve got some nerve! You think all is forgiven because there’s a crisis? Again Steve scoffed and took the last step standing square in front of Ross. He was close enough for their noses to almost touch. The soldiers behind him stepped to him which prompted Sam, Nat, Clint, Vision, Wanda, Thor and even Tony to step forward to them. It was the ultimate show of solidarity and the best sign that all was mended with them. A smile tickled your lips that you couldn’t wipe off.

   “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking permission. We’re here to fight, me included. If you want to stand in my way, we’ll fight you too.” Just like that you were turned on. This was not the same Steve you’d known. This man was a stranger. Steve ripped the papers in half and those halves into halves before he dropped them to the ground. He raised his eyebrows at Ross as if to say “your move.” Ross didn’t make a move. Steve turned to the soldiers and stared at them. Without needing to be told they stepped aside. Steve walked to the quinjet without another word. You didn’t know which alternate universe you were in. “Coming Korral?” Snapping out of your daze you hurried to the aircraft and took your seat and strapped in. Within seconds you were in the air and in stealth mode.

   -45 minutes Later-

   A few miles from The Pentagon you got a call from Marc, excusing yourself to a lone corner of He quinjet you accepted the video call. When his image popped up in the air you smiled. “Ooh, either it’s role play night or you’re off on a mission.” You scoffed and shook your head. “We’re closing in now. I know we had plans but I don’t think I’ll make it.” Marc smirked and nodded. “Yeah I figured. It’s okay honey I was calling you to—.” Your video connection ended with a red “signal lost” message. You sighed and rolled your eyes. When you looked back you saw Steve’s eyes on you and it rattled you. You walked over to the weapons wall and decided to load up. After a few minutes you felt him standing beside you as he pretended to look for a weapon.

“Korri—,” he began. As you cocked one of the guns you paused. There was a time you loved hearing him call you that. Now seven years later it reminded you of everything he threw away, everything he didn’t want with you. Now the name caused you pain but you couldn’t lie it also made you fiercely want. “I told you, it’s Korral.”

   “You used to love when I called you Korri, hated Korral, at least from me.” Glaring at him you raised the gun you held before you slowly dropped it into your holster. “Times change.” You turned back to the wall and continued the task at hand. “When we get down there thing are going to get crazy. Watch your left, keep me or Sam in your sight. If you get into trouble use our signal.” You didn’t know what you hated more, the fact that he thought you were some defenseless, useless creature, that he was telling you what to do like he was your captain, or that he remembered the signal between the two of you and had the nerve to bring it up. It could have been a mixture of all three that had you seeing red.  

   “And who are you exactly? You may be Captain America the first avenger and the one everyone seems to love, but don’t you get it twisted you’re not either to me.” Hurt radiated through his eyes. He looked down to the floor, clenched his jaw then rolled his shoulders back. You turned from him and continued what you were doing. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” You scoffed and loaded a set of dangers onto your holster.

  “Now you’re looking out for me. Look, I don’t need you looking out for me. I can more than take care of myself.” When you turned to walk off he stepped in front of you blocking your path. “What’s that supposed to mean—now?” When you didn’t answer he took another step to you invading your personal space. You could smell every component that made him up including the leather that clad his perfectly sculpted body. Jesus, you thought how was it possible for him to be even more intimidating. Before he was an alpha because he was created to be one, created to be superior now he was an alpha because that was all that emulated from him. Every electron firing of his hard body told everyone within a one hundred mile radius that he was top dog.

  “Everything I’ve ever done was to protect you Korri—everything!” He spoke through the tight clench of his jaw, on the last word he gripped your arm as if to emphasis the depth of his meaning. Once he touched you your heartbeat picked up again. You stood there for a few moments just staring in his eyes. His blue eyes were an intense shade of blue. He looked serious as if he meant it or believed he meant it. From the side you hear a loud exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat. You pulled your arm from his grip and walked away to the others who were waiting for the two of you. Tony finished the brief with up to date information and then the doors opened. All was quiet.

   In a careful sequence everyone split into two groups with the exception of Tony and Thor who took to the sky. Wanda, Vision, and Clint went right which left you, Steve, Nat and Sam. You had every thought to just go out on your own but knew that was stupid. Steve took lead and glanced behind him locking eyes with you as if to say, “don’t test me”. Once you’d maneuvered across the lawn to the only entrance you all lined against the stone wall.

   “You know this is probably a trap entrance right. They’re all probably waiting ready to shoot,” Sam theorized. “You sound scared, Sam,” Nat joked. He only scoffed and shook his head. “Never scared, ready when y’all are.” Nat and Steve looked to each other and nodded. “Let’s smoke em’ out,” Steve said. Nat dug in her leather jacket, ran to the door and tossed in the small device. When she came back you inserted the nose breather as did the rest of them.

   From inside the explosion rang out. Steve nodded and the group of you ran inside the gas filled building. The four of you saw bodies littering the floor, those who’d succumbed to the effects of the nerve gas. Ahead you saw a group of armed assistants quickly approaching. “Let’s get to work,” Steve said. Each of you went off to meet them. Focusing on the man in front of you, you quickly disarmed him and dropped him to the ground and moved to the next.

   Almost five minutes later the four of you met at the stairs before you filed up in combat formation. Steve led the first ascend before he stopped at the bottom of the next flight to have Sam lead it up while he watched your backs, then the next in line followed the formation. When you’d made it to the fifth floor you were leading you rounded the steps then slinked back when you saw two men there guarding the door. Signaling to them the situation you reached in your holster and took out a small piece of tech. You tapped into the watch you wore on your wrist and the tech came to life. You programmed them to forge ahead and do your dirty work. The two bodies dropping was the signal you needed when you climbed the steps. Steve looked down and saw their eyes gouged out.

   “Damn, what kind of tech is that?” You smirked at Sam. “I call it kiss of death, it’ll daze you long enough for it to disrupt the brain’s neural function, causing the brain to melt.” Sam looked disgusted, Nat looked impressed and Steve looked amused. “Nice,” Nat expressed as you opened the door. Sam looked down to the victims and shook his head. “That’s cold.”

   The four of you took your time advancing through the building taking down any threat in your way. Nostalgia filled you, you’d always worked well together. You were beginning to have fun and it took away from anything else you felt. With each advance you made the more you saw Steve in action, he moved with a confidence that was more attractive than anything.

  When you rounded a corner you saw Wanda, Clint and Vision in the middle of fighting a group of armed men, the chaos around provided enough of a distraction for the woman you saw in the surveillance video to make a mad dash down the hall in the opposite direction. Thor dropped in front of her fully electrified. “Going somewhere?” The woman glared at Thor before he propelled his hammer ready to fling it at her. She jumped into the air and clung to the pipe before it dissolved in her hands. She aimed the pipe to Thor and steam swarmed around him. It was enough to distract him for her to kick him and make a move for his hammer. When she touched it and attempted to take it the hammer dropped to the floor. Thor smiled. “You’re not worthy!” With that he kicked her sending her across the hall to land in front of you.

 She quickly sprang to her feet, your eyes zeroed in on the canister she held. Recollection rang in your head; you’d seen it before. You quickly scanned your memory and after a few seconds you remembered. She must have seen when you did. As if in slow motion she grabbed the weapon from one of the men that were fighting and aimed it to you at the same time you were lunging for her. Once you saw the gun aimed to you, you looked to Steve who was already making a move to intervene. “Korri!” Just like that time resumed and she fired the machine gun.

   Suddenly you were wrapped in a tight cocoon and the sound of ricocheting bullets rang out around you. You looked up into Marc’s eyes. “I don’t think either of us will make those plans, honey.” You smiled; the firing finished. He lowered his long cloak. You saw Steve standing there with a look of sheer terror on his face. From behind him you could see the woman approaching him with her hand outstretched.  “Steve, behind you!” You began running to him flipping through the air. You reached into your holster and threw one of the daggers. The dagger went through her wrist stopping her before she could touch him. Her pained scream echoed in the hollow hall. You landed in front of Steve and kicked the woman sending her to a waiting Tony who confined her hands into metal enclosed shackles. You could see the canister to the side. Bending you took it up and examined it, sure you knew what it was.

   “You think you’ve won?” You held it up. “Who do you work for?” She looked at you with pure hatred, but she didn’t speak. “That’s fine. We have other ways of making you talk,” Tony said before pushing her forward to walk. Steve approached and stood beside you. The two of you looked at each other but didn’t speak. It felt like there was so much to say but nothing at the same time. You saw Marc approaching and looked away. “Are you all right?” He touched your cheek, his concern clear on his face. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He put his forehead to yours. “No thank you needed, you’re my heart Korral.” He kissed you softly. When he pulled away you saw Steve still stood there watching. Your stomach fell and your nerves took over. Marc looked to Steve. “Good work, Captain.” Steve looked to you and you saw pain in his eyes. You didn’t know why it effected you, but it did. You wanted to vomit. “You too,” Steve said. He walked ahead leaving you standing there with Marc. You felt like shit and you hated it. He should feel like shit, you thought.

Once you all made it back to the lawn near the quinjet the ball of nerves in you still hadn’t faded and neither had the feeling of being scum. “I’ll get that back to the compound,” Marc offered as he took the canister. “Okay.” He kissed you again only this time with much more passion. “Be careful, I haven’t gotten you down the aisle yet, I can’t lose you.” You forced a smile. Marc kissed your forehead before he levitated off the ground and into the air before he created a small sonic boom in the sky before he torpedoed out of sight.

   You walked to the jet; Steve stood on the open hatch watching you. You wondered if he’d watched the exchange between you and Marc just now. He didn’t look angry, he was unreadable. A grenade rolled in front of you just then. “Grenade!” You shouted before jumping out it’s way. You hadn’t jumped far enough, you got caught in it’s blast radius and went flying. Your body landed on the ground and pain radiated through you. You could hear gunfire all around you. But you couldn’t see anything through the smoke. You groaned and tried to find your equilibrium but every time you made an attempt to stand you dropped back to the ground. Pressing your head to the dirt and grass you groaned suddenly you felt a heavy body beside you. Panicking, you swung out unable to make out the hazy figure.

   Blinking your eyes again what felt like the fiftieth time they slowly focused and you saw Steve in front of you. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear a thing. He pulled up to to stand and from behind him you could make out the figure of someone holding a gun. You didn’t know who it was but when they got closer you realized it wasn’t a friend. “Noooo!” You lunged forward pushing Steve behind you, but that is not where he stayed. In a haze he flipped you to the ground just as the gun went off. That is when your hearing came back, Steve grunted in your ear and you knew he’d been hit. Suddenly the two of you were being lifted into the air. You could see the red rays of Wanda’s magic underneath you. It wasn’t until you both were inside the hovering latch did the rays fade and the speed of which the jet took off made you lung backwards onto Steve.

   “Shit, he’s been hit!” Nat rushed over with the first aid kit, you could see his red blood wetting his suit. In your hesitation Nat took over and took care of his wound. Everything crashed onto you then and all you could do was sit on the floor of the quinjet as a plethora of emotions stormed through you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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