#but its not in the characters throat its in her bloodstream

[elibeeline]

More on my silly little story: i carried on the writing flow while i still had it and decided to research afterwards and twist any details necessary

But the research i found fits *perfectly* into all the plot holes i'd left behind

(Talks of poison in the tags!)

[vixentheplanet]

five star hotel

"I think you should come and visit. I someone else who isn't you pulling up in a minute."

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You've recently completed a press tour and a phenomenal award season for your latest film. To celebrate and unwind, you and your friends fly to Mauritius, an island in East Africa. You realize your relaxation time, but you're missing a thrill that can only come from one person. The only problem is that they need to be here.

inspired by five star hotels. by raye

word count: 7.1k

themes: actress reader, dom/sub undertones, this is very filthy...

warnings: smoking, drinking, possessive!shuri, dom! shuri, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, car sex, shotgunning, thigh riding, fingering, orgasm denial, begging, established safe words, body licking, rough sex, penetrative sex, spitting, choking, throat fucking, wall sex, oral sex

hi - i’m in the process of re-uploading everything so anyone who wants to read can have easy access to find my works which is going to take some time but this was the easiest to post (it’s me not some random person lmaooo) 😔

Mauritius. A small Indian Ocean island nation famed for its beaches, lagoons, and reefs. It was your holiday destination of choice. You'd just returned from a press tour for your new film, Sounds of the Vanished, and you'd finished the awards season as the most-awarded actress for your performance. The response and success to your performance had been magnificent, but with so much traveling and busy schedules, you were relieved to be on vacation.

The island was your destination for relaxation. Liza, Kali, Jade, and Evangeline were among your closest friends. You'd only been here for three of the fourteen days you'd planned, but you were having a great time going on different excursions during the day, such as hiking, snorkeling, and deep-sea diving. At night, you could be seen mingling with both residents and tourists at any number of vibrant outdoor bars and clubs. You were having a great time until last night when you had a little too much to drink.

As an actress, you were a natural social butterfly. You were the life of the party, captivating everyone who came across you. People are scared of your confidence. That was something you'd built up to prepare for audition rejections, award losses, and unfavorable critiques in this line of work. These qualities made up your character and personality that the public loved and adored, but you may be intense for those who didn't know how to handle it. As a single, young, attractive, and accomplished woman, such vibrant, charismatic energy drew a lot of attention, but most people realized they were too intimated by you. All except her.

You and Shuri, the Queen of Wakanda, had been seeing each other for a few months. The two of you discovered a pleasure in one another that you couldn't find anyplace else, which is why you found yourself phoning her the night before. You and your four friends were lounging on the patio of a bar, taking in the atmosphere and the warm climate. With the breathtaking ocean scenery, string lights twinkled above you as the waves crashed against the shore.

You'd been drinking a lot of flights, trying out various whiskeys and margaritas. The more the alcohol affected your bloodstream, the more lustful you became. Feelings that only she could control. You knew she'd make time for you if you asked, but when you slipped away to a quieter corner of the bar to call, she didn't answer.

Even when she's working, Shuri always answers your calls. It was too late for her to have a council meeting, and if she were out on business or Panther duties, she'd let you know so you knew she wouldn't be available, so her phone not answering meant she was busy fucking someone else. You and Shuri had similar lifestyles, both busy, and neither of you liked being tied down. She slept with whomever she wanted, and you did as well.

Who’s that bitch you’re fucking?

I know you’re fucking her.

You texted, which seemed to tease, but the attitude was evident. You were the top priority over any of those other bitches.

She texted back an hour after.

Bet.

That was the end of the conversation last night. This morning, you awoke, smirking all the way to breakfast with your companions. You didn't care enough to "apologize," you both knew you weren't sincere, and everything you said was true.

You missed her body, and you know she missed yours.

She should be here. Nobody can fire her up as you can, and she's told you that several times.

You and Shuri had choices, and you both occasionally explored options before settling back on each other. Sex is sex, but sex with Shuri is unrivaled. Perhaps it's because she has no problem putting you in your place. Neither your fame nor your demeanor could faze her, maybe because you were a challenge to her. In turn, you weren’t intimidated by her being the Queen of Wakanda or the Black Panther.

The entire morning you went on a sightseeing and boat tour. You pause to take pictures with fans or sign autographs for any who happen to pass by before hurriedly exiting the location. Your security was concerned that word of your and your guests' whereabouts would spread shortly. You return to your room in the middle of the day. Jade retreated to her room to nap while Liza, Kali, and Evangeline went to the spa, but you returned to clean your room in preparation for Shuri's arrival.

It was time to get ready for tonight by the time you finished. You prepared by taking a shower, applying skincare and makeup, and grabbing your outfit from the closet—a Dolce & Gabbana black spandex mini dress with sleeves from the 2003 spring collection. When you reunited, Kali whistled, "Yeah, ma, do a spin for me,” She took out her phone and began recording an Instagram story. To humor her, you do a whole spin shaking your ass a little before turning around and laughing.

You know it's just a matter of time before your fans discover it and go crazy for the dress, but this is the only chance they'll see you wear it. Though things were quiet on Shuri's end, you knew she'd come through. “Save it for the club!” Angie yells as your bodyguard holds the SUV’s door open.

You're dancing in the midst of a club, but you can't recall his name. He had approached you, star-struck, and asked if you wanted to dance; why not? Something he might later brag about to his buddies. You left Liza and Kali at the table, watching everyone's drinks. Jade and Evangeline had long disappeared after hearing a few members of the Golden State Warriors were in the lounge: “When Basketball Wives gets rebooted, trust I’ll be there. Let’s go, Angie!” So there you were, grinding back on a nameless man, his hard-on pressing onto you. You didn't mind because he was handsome enough. It was a nice ego boost and even better knowing he'd be dissatisfied by the night's end.

He couldn't keep up with you even now, dancing timidly, because his energy didn't match yours. Nervous. Consider what would happen if a famous actress told him, "I need you to choke me and pound me until I can't walk tomorrow." In all likelihood, he'd flee, leaving you to obsess about the person in your fantasies. You see Kali strolling through the crowd after leaving the VIP section upstairs as if angels answered your prayers. Her phone is in your hand, and her face is filled with worry. You break away from your dancing partner to focus solely on your best friend, and he backs off. "What's the matter, babe?" You yell over the music as she hands you your phone.

"Your phone hasn't stopped ringing!" She yells in your ear, attempting to come as close as possible to you. "You have something like a hundred notifications. I don’t know if something serious happened,” she exaggerates, handing you your phone.

As you check your phone, you find ten missed calls and two texts from 'DP.' Because calling back while the music vibrated the floorboards was pointless, you read the text first.

Come outside.

Now.

Smirking, you bite your lip and glance at the screen, no longer interested in your dance partner. She arrived. You knew 'bet' wasn't a joke. Shuri was one of the most brilliant minds in existence, with access to the most cutting-edge existing technologies. She was undoubtedly aware of your whereabouts before you enticed her to come hunting for you. You told her to come looking for you, and she did. You can't help but wonder how long she's been hiding on the island, waiting for the right opportunity to surprise you.

When you look up, Kali looks at you suspiciously, questioning, "Who the fuck is DP, and why are they blowing up your phone?" She wonders aloud. You wrinkle your eyebrows at her assertiveness, "None of your concern, one. Two, I'm heading out."

Kali's eyes show she wants to push you farther, but secrets are unusual between you, so she knows your secrecy is for a reason. "You'd better be at brunch. That’s all I know!” She demands, abruptly changing the subject. You grin as you lean down to kiss her cheek.

“I will, baby. Tell Liza I’m leaving; you know she worries.” Liza was the eldest and only married woman with two gorgeous children. She knew how to have a good time and party, but on nights like this, with everyone split up, drinking, and in a foreign country, she was bound to be extra careful despite your protection. Her maternal instincts were likely in overdrive, especially with Jade and Angie. In a way, you're one less person to be concerned about.

You gaze down at your phone once more. Shuri's text message arrived seven minutes ago. "Yes, yes. Leave before I come outside with you and start interrogating."

Knowing she's dead serious, you wrap up the conversation. "Love you, and make sure one of them doesn't wind up taking Tristian Thompson to the hotel," you joke, referring to Jade and Angie’s quest to be WAGS. Kali's eyes widen as you joke.

“Girl! You’re messy—get out of here," she giggles, nudging you along.

Moving stealthily through the crowd toward the exit, you keep your head down. The cool night air hits your exposed skin as you scan the area for your target. There's a black unmarked Rolls Royce with dark tints that are probably illegal. Bingo. Once it’s safe to do so, you cross the street and peer across the back to see a familiar figure pressing up against the passenger door.

You're confident none of the dark and disoriented individuals inside and outside the club are paying attention to the fact that the queen of Wakanda is standing out in the open, waiting for you. As you take her in, your lip catches between your teeth. She is dressed casually in black athletic shorts and a white tee shirt. There was no use in putting effort into an outfit that would wind up on the floor, but she looked impressive in whatever she wore.

She didn't bother turning her head to look at you as if she sensed you. "I found you," she says. Her tone is somber and absent of the usual playfulness. She did not find your antics the night before amusing. "Found me," you say as you stroll up the sidewalk to Shuri. Even though she seems off, being in the Wakandan Queen's presence causes your skin to tingle with anticipation. Your body is all too familiar with her.

When you stand before her, she uncrosses her arms, and you naturally fall into them, staring up at her as her arms wrap around your waist. "I thought I'd have to drag you out of there." You bring your arms around her neck, pulling her in.

“Mm,” you hum at the thought of Shuri being rough with you. “Wouldn’t want you to cause a scene to scare away all my potential late-night guests,” you teased. Instead of responding verbally, Shuri takes one of her hands off your ass and brings it back in a disciplining slap. You almost moan as the offensive force increases your eagerness.

You close your eyes, wincing slightly before letting out a breathy sigh. "Why are you upset? I can be with whoever I want, right.” You mock her, peering up at her through your lashes with false innocence. As if you didn't know, your words would provoke that reaction from her.

Shuri looks down at you. She rubs your ass with the hands she used to punish you for soothing the pain. “You can fuck whoever you want, but you still beg me to come out here.”

The reunion is over as she releases you, pushing off the car. Her authoritative nature consumes the air around you, nearly suffocating. "What's your problem?" you questioned as if you hadn't drunk-texted her, telling her she needed to be here.

Shuri sucks her teeth. "My problem is you," she declares emphatically, not caring how you react. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.” There were two choices: retaliate with an equally slick ass statement, or listen and behave. For now, you’ll behave as you decide to reach to open the door.

Shuri's presence is behind you, grasping the handle before you can, "Don't act brand new," she says. When you get inside the Rolls-Royce, you're surprised Shuri can see out the black windows—admiring the starlight headlining. She stays silent after that, getting into the driver's seat. She continues to drive without even trying to pay attention to you. You were aware that you might be a brat sometimes; all that confidence and energy made for a toxic combination now and then. One way Shuri exerts power is by ignoring you. Sometimes it would work, shifting your headspace to a more submissive one. You're too busy being a good girl, begging and pleading for Shuri's praise and care, to be bothered with talking back. Other times, you make her work for your submission, not letting up until she is inside of you, manipulating your body into any position she desires while fucking you senseless.

You knew exactly what you needed tonight. Shuri parks her car in a beach parking space near the hotel and turns off the engine. Silence fills the air as Shuri reclines her seat, and you wait impatiently. You wonder why she stopped here instead of the main lot.

You get your answer as your eyes follow her movements as she reaches in and pulls out a pre-rolled joint, sparking the lighter. Shuri’s gaze lingers on you as she takes a hit of the cannabis. Exhaling, the smoke fills the air around you. You expect her to open her mouth to speak now, but instead, she returns the joint to her lips. Starting to get agitated with her ignoring you, cross your arms, and face her back against the door. "Did you drag me out of the club to watch you smoke?"

"Didn't you text my phone acting crazy? Stop being impatient."

You raise an eyebrow at her comments as if she didn’t want you as much as you wanted her. “You’re acting like if I told you couldn’t hit this anymore, you wouldn’t lose your mind. It doesn’t matter who you’re laid up with. They aren't me." Many women were willing and waiting for Shuri to give them a chance, but she came here to be with you in less than twenty-four hours.

Shuri sucks her teeth and is not pleased with your delivery as she refuses to accept the truth of your words. “You keep talking to me like you lost your mind,” she asserts, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know who else you’re dealing with that lets you talk to them like that, but not me,” she warns.

"I wouldn't be talking if we were inside," your voice whines. Neediness has taken over. She was right here, but she was still too far away.

Shuri grins. "Would you like me to bring you inside? I might use you how I please for my own satisfaction. Have you just lay there and take it? Is that what you want?”

"You wouldn’t do that."

“I wouldn’t?” Shuri challenges, passing the joint to your outstretched fingers.

“Coming all this way and not playing with me,” You inhale in small puffs, pull the smoke into your lungs, and exhale. “Sounds like more of a punishment for you than me.” Your body was something she couldn't resist. Even when she attempts to avoid touching you in order to drive you insane, she always breaks. You didn’t need to dominate to control her.

You return the blunt to her, and she accepts it. "Come here," she says as she pats the empty space in her lap, and you climb over. She absorbs another blow at the same time. Her hand is on your thigh, gradually moving the fabric of your dress up, exposing the skin of your ass to the cool temperature that the AC is trying to maintain.

As you approach her, the effects of the high are visible in her eyes. Your gaze falls to her lips, and without hesitation, you lift your hands to her face and draw her to you. Shuri's free hand pulls you closer in an instant, pressing you even harder against her lips, finally giving in to what you both desire. Shuri's teeth dragged at your lower lip, causing you to part your lips. Instinct took over as you felt the Wakandan royals' tongue glide between your lips. Heat runs through your body all at once, and the hunger building up with the distance causes you to devour each other, leaving you gasping as she pulls away.

You give her a single breath before lowering your lips again. Shuri took the lead this time, more demanding and rough, brushing her tongue over your lips and drawing it between her teeth in the most sinful way possible, your brain shutting down completely as you makeout.

It's your turn to take a breath away from the kiss, and Shuri tries to distract herself by going down towards your collarbone.

"Uh, uh," you pull Shuri's mouth away from your neck, revealing her face. "I know exactly how you get, and I have a lot of skimpy bikinis to wear." Shuri took great pleasure in seeing all of her marks on you. Everyone who fucked you next would be distracted by thoughts of who gave them to you, unable to enjoy themselves to the fullest. Constantly wondering and fascinated as to who had so much claim over you.

"People can't admire me if they're too focused on what's on my skin." Shuri's eyes narrow, not amused by your comment. To console her, you caress the side of her face, beckoning her to lean closer with a finger. You teasingly bite her lip, returning to meet her icy stare again.

"Don't make that face," you mock, knowing Shuri was irritated by the image of you with other people you were trying to paint in her mind. There was no commitment, but neither of you liked being reminded of previous sexual partners when you were together. You give her lips another light peck, humming with excitement at the satisfaction of riling her up. "You can still hit it like it's yours," you whisper, your angelic eyes drowning in seduction.

Shuri finally gets tired of your arrogance and lifts your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at her. "It is mine.” She almost growls in your ear. Your smirk fades as you let out an audible moan, getting off to the sound of her voice, knowing the severity in her tone assured you a long night ahead.

Shuri makes a pleased sound, and her suppressed groan enhances your desire for her. “I love this little attitude you’re putting on. You want to know why?” She asked, waiting for you to respond.

“Mm, why is that?” You take a deep breath, feeling the tension and temperature in the car rise. You desperately wanted to remove that extra layer of clothing between you two. You were aching for her despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.

Shuri relaxes her hold slightly to bring her thumb to your lower lip, her dark gaze following the way your tongue teasingly peaks out to lick the tip of her finger. "Because I get to fuck it out of you," she continues. “Make you my good girl again." Her words penetrate your core, and you feel walls clench around emptiness, knowing she'll make you complete soon.

"You're insatiable, and no one can tame you as I can. Huh, baby,” You nod, unable to speak because your mouth is busy. "That's exactly what I thought. Now move.” Move? You wrinkle your brows as you begin to rise from Shuri's lap, disappointed, not seeing the point of having you get up from your seat in the first place before a bruising hold on your waist stops you. “Move.” She repeats more forcefully, and you realize what she means. You adjust a little so that one of Shuri's thighs is between your legs, then press down until your clit is firmly against her. You're confident she can sense how wet you are for her, dripping on her skin.

"Get nice and wet for me, but you can't cum," Shuri instructs as you roll your hips. You begin cautiously, attempting to follow Shuri's warning not to cum yet. You won't overwhelm yourself if you proceed slowly.

Time passes. Shuri rotates the rest of the blunt between you two, bringing it to your lips for each inhalation. Your hands are gripping the back of the seat. It's hot, and you can feel sweat clinging to your skin, but you don't mind. You're far too mellow. Dazed and whirling, your hips are in sync with the smoke filling the air illuminated by the stars on the ceiling. Using Shuri's body to get off feels like something out of a dream.

Massaging your clit against Shuri’s thighs, a little gasp leaves your lips when the sensation gets too much. Shuri takes one last, deep drag. A hand comes to the back of your neck, pulling you close to her until your foreheads are touching. Before opening your mouth, you purse your lips, pushing a whimper to the back of your throat. Shuri presses forward, your lips touching as she, little by little, blows the smoke into your mouth. You accept everything, inhaling the marijuana and moving in for a kiss.

Her hand goes from your neck to your folds, inserting her middle finger inside till it brushes against your clit. The slightest touch of her fingertips causes your hips to stutter and your rhythm to come to a halt as your thighs tighten around her wrist. "Shuri," you exhale, rocking gently in her embrace.

Your face flushed at the slick sounds as she played in the results of your sexual desire.

"You're not being fair," you protest. Shuri commanded you not to cum while making it more difficult for you. It was easier when you had a choice over your pleasures, but Shuri used her expert fingers to take you apart while expecting you not to cum. Your stomach tightens as you strain to suppress your climax, letting out a few quiet grunts.

Shuri doesn't care what you think of her games. “I don’t have to be fair. I make the rules, and you have to follow them.” Her dominant tone is coming through, making you even wetter. The low, seductive timbre of her voice might set you off. She increases the pressure on her finger, and you're practically writhing in her lap, desperate for the woman to stop. You could feel the euphoric tension rising and—

"Fuck," you scream, curling in on yourself in relief as Shuri comes to a stop, denying you release verbally and now physically. You mistakenly assume she was finished, not realizing she never removed her hand. You could have thought things were over, but now she's moving again.

“Are you going to come?” She questioned. No words are coming out of your mouth, so you frantically shake your head from side to side. Your body betrays you, starved of orgasm and searching for it. On Shuri's fingers, your hips swivel down. Shuri grins with amusement as she watches you break.

The weed always lets you get out of your thoughts and into your body, which was good because it amplified sex sensations when high. Yet, it also proved a disadvantage as you fought to keep it together. "Are you sure?" With a wicked expression on her face, she pushed.

You felt helpless, wanting to obey Shuri yet lacking the strength to resist your release. "Please, please, please," you beg, attempting to escape her. But you're no match for Shuri, and she doesn't back down, aware that if you genuinely wanted her to stop, you'd use the safe word you established.

Your pleading must have worked because a few seconds later, Shuri pauses, preventing you from having an orgasm yet again. Relieved, tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you realize you can break free. She removes her hands this time, and you can see the sticky substances coating her fingers. “Always so messy,”

Shuri raises her fingers to your mouth, and you accept them to clean yourself off her. You look up at her with sparkling eyes as you conduct such wicked acts. She groans as she feels your lips suction around her, tongue circling each finger, properly licking yourself up. “Good enough for me to taste later,” you nod, still sucking.

A humming sound emanates from her lips as she muses, "I'll think about it if you can listen to me. You'll now return to your room while I park the car." Shuri continues to speak. "I want you naked on the bed. If you understand, nod." You do as directed by gesturing your head like a good girl. Shuri kisses you briefly before releasing you.

Faithful to her sadistic nature, she has added one extra obstacle for you to get to your suite. You shakily exit the car, pausing to remove your heels as you walk through the sand. You reach the patio and cross the hotel gardens, cursing Shuri silently. You try to multitask by removing your dress's sleeves. You cross the bridge into the area of the private spaces a few minutes later, smiling at the Hotel personnel as you rush.

You unlock the suite door and kick your heels to the side of the entryway before proceeding to the room. A touchscreen pad on the wall controls multiple functions in the room. You press the center button, which dimly illuminates the room. You rush into the restroom to wash the sand off your feet. Fucking Shuri. On the short walk, you've probably cursed her ten times.

You run into the kitchen, needing a drink. You opened a bottle of wine the other day but never got around to drinking it. You remove the cork and pour two glasses, one for yourself and one for Shuri. You down the smooth red liquid. You understand that the alcohol would quickly combine with the THC in your system. "Fuck," you mutter as you realize you're losing time. Shuri was almost certainly on her way inside.

You hurriedly slip your dress over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, throwing both things on the couch at the end of the bed, leaving the bottle and glass of wine you poured for Her on the bedside table. You climb into bed, your head resting in your hands, your elbow propped up, anticipation beating through your skin.

Shuri emerges from the corridor a few minutes later, placing a bag on the carpet. Her pupils dilated as lust darkened her irises, and her eyes took you in. The number of times she's seen you undressed doesn't matter; she's always stunned, unable to speak. She walks around to the other side of the bed and finds the treat you've left for her. “You want to be nice to me now?” Shuri said as she looked at the wine.

"You expect me to show compassion for you just because you pour me a glass of wine?" Shuri reaches out her tattooed hand to stroke your chin. "I'm not," she laughed, tilting her head to the side. "But it was thoughtful of you."

You gasp sharply at her words. You can't wait for her to take off her clothes. You desired her inside of you after being denied two orgasms. "I never asked you to be," you said sarcastically. H oping she'd hurry up and fulfill her promise to fuck the arrogance out of you.

Shuri laughs again, aware of the game you were playing. “You have such a mouth on you.” She takes a couple of sips from her glass. "Lie on your back," she commands, and you do what she says—looking up at the chandelier while resting flat on your back.

Shuri holds the glass at an angle such that the red wine drips between your breasts and down to your stomach from above. The chill the unexpected sensation leaves on your skin causes your breath to catch. Your body stiffens as you try not to move and disturb the liquid on your body. Shuri gets on the bed face to face with the lower half of your body, still completely clothed, admiring her work. She brings her mouth to your heated skin from beneath your belly button, carefully licking up the mess she made.

She stops between your breasts, placing her lips on one of your nipples, and you moan, feeling her tongue circle around the sensitive bud—the bitter chill of the central air hardens it. Shuri moves on to the next one, repeating the technique and sucking until the sensitive buds are tense.

As she approaches, you whimper and finally come face to face. Shuri places two fingers between your legs, just outside your entrance. She was right where you needed her, but not quite near enough. "You're always so pretty and tight for me."

"Shuri," you whine. She was ignoring your desires. "No, that's all you're getting for now.” You sigh and roll your eyes. Shuri catches the action. “Again, with the attitude. That’s okay. We’re about to correct it right now.”

Shuri spreads your legs apart and bends them at the knee. “I advise that you keep your legs like this.” Though it didn’t seem like a complex request, you knew you would feel it in your abdomen the longer you held it. "Wide open, ready for me," Shuri observed, staring intently at your warm and inviting pussy.

You bite your lip as Shuri sinks inch by inch, and by the time she's entirely inside, you're gasping, your eyes shutting abruptly as your face twists in ecstasy. Shuri emits a noise of dissatisfaction, “No, open your eyes. I want you to watch it. Watch while I take you apart.” Her eyes had a sinister glint to them. She pushed in and out a few times to get you acquainted with the sensation of her.

The delayed start provided a false sense of security. Shuri's speed soon became ferocious fucking into you, and all you could do was lay there and receive it as her hips slapped into you. "Fuck!" you yelled, flinging your head back. Your thigh muscles were aching from retaining the position, but you were determined not to obstruct Shuri's entry to you.

Shuri slows her desperate strokes, stilling inside you, giving you a short reprieve. She goes for the bottle of wine and tilts her head back, taking a long sip. You can see her throat bob as she swallows it. It's quite seductive. "Open," she urges, holding the bottle above you, and you do it without question.

You feel like a goddess being poured wine while naked, high, and blissed out. This is why having sex with anyone else will never be the same as having sex with Shuri. Hair in all directions, body sticky from sweat, and the residue of the wine sipped off your skin. You swallow the wine, letting the smooth liquid ease the scratchiness in your throat. "Open," she says again, and although the bottle is nowhere to be seen, you open your mouth wide, putting your tongue out, waiting. Shuri spits directly into your mouth, and you tighten your grip on the strap. It should be disgusting, yet it's hot, and you fucking love it as her saliva hits you. “Such a whore, you know that? Letting me fuck you, ruin you.”

Her hands are widening your legs. "You love that, don't you?"

“Yes, yes, yes,” When she puts her finger to your clit, she doesn't let up until she makes you scream, clutching the sheets while screaming and moaning. Shuri is captivated by the noises you make and how her name slips off your tongue as she abandons you absolutely and completely undone.

"Yes, please make me cum for you," you plead, all the toying and teasing had left you ravenous, and all you wanted to do was reach orgasm. "Fuck me like that, fuck me so good," you scream, your fingers tightly wrapped around Shuri's neck, forcing her to stare at you.

"You always fuck me so good—feel so good in me," You’re babbling, half out of your mind. Loving when you’re vocal in bed. Your word has Shuri double her efforts, her strokes sinking deeper. You gasp in response to a powerful thrust pressed up on your g-spot. "There- right there—don't stop, don't stop, don't stop- "

“Don’t stop, huh?” She asks. "Will you let me have you like this all the time? Fuck you nonstop. Never let you go. Constantly have you naked and ready in my bed."

"I'd let you fuck me again and over," you say, maintaining eye contact.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? I'll keep you in Wakanda just to fuck you. Make you cum again and again." Shuri was slamming relentlessly into you. As the dominant continued to drive into you, you shouted. Being treated this way, like Shuri's own whore, made you feel amazing. She treated you like an irresistible toy.

“You want to cum?”

“Yes, please, baby.”

"Do you believe you deserve it?" Shuri continues, not interested in your point of view. "I'll be nice, baby," she says, her voice raspy and low. “I’ll let you come. I'll let you come all over me, then fuck it right back into you so you can give it to me again." You can hear the headboard hitting the wall, moving in tandem with the intensity of Shuri's push, mixed in with Shuri's dirty obscenities. Your moans, her filthy words, and the snap of hips against you all contribute to your symphony. The most sinful thing ever composed. After being denied orgasms, you were going to come, but you still needed more. You grab Shuri's wrist and pull her over to your neck. "Shit baby," Shuri says, recognizing your request. Breath play always intensified your orgasms, and you knew you were on the verge of cumming. Permission had now been obtained.

As the hand around your neck squeezes, power is exchanged. A release from control, you giving it to Shuri and her receiving it. The dominant and submissive. Daddy Panther and her darling. As your airway tightens, you ease into the touch, becoming calmer, more carefree, and wholly trusting.

You finally achieve your high at that instant for a million reasons: the smoke, wine, and the taste of yourself on her tongue. Your body arches as everything stops, and you cry out Shuri's name like a litany as you come. The intensity of your climax causes your thighs to quiver. Shuri fucks you through it. Grabbing onto the headboard to plunge harder into you, a forceful stroke presses you farther into the mattress. You hear a crack that sounds like the wood of the headboard in Shuri's hands, but she does not stop. She continues to fuck you, never letting up on her pace falter. When your nerves are on edge from being too sensitive, she stops.

Shuri pants above you. You lay there for a second, attempting to regain your composure while looking up at Shuri with tearful eyes. "There she is, my girl," Her hand brushes some of the hairs stuck to your forehead. "It's all right, darling. I know she needs a break,” Shuri says, wiping the tears from your eyes. Your pussy had its own heartbeat, pulsing from the rough treatment. The thrill is intoxicating.

Shuri pulls out and stands up, and you whine about the absence of contact. She's now standing at the foot of the bed. "All fours, come here," she ordered firmly. As much as your body protested moving so soon after such an intense orgasm, you were committed to doing the right thing for Shuri. Follow her instructions. She meant it when she said she'd restore you to your former self as her good girl, your attitude replaced by a desire to please her. "Look at the mess you've made." You stare down at the glistening strap coated with your release. Shuri gathers your hair in one hand, the other holding the strap's base.

You get down on your elbows, ass up, spine beautifully curved. Shuri thrusts in, her hand holding your hair and keeping you in position as she shallowly rocks her hips. You bob your head, working more quickly, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth. “That’s it, baby, tasting my pretty girl.” Shuri breathes, tone rough.

"Are you going to let me fuck your throat?" You give her permission by humming around the object in your mouth. The hand in your hair stops your movement, and Shuri takes charge. When she thrusts, it feels like she's scratching your throat, and your throat feels full and tight as if it's been expanded. Occasionally she goes deeper, triggering your gag reflex and making your eyes water. “You’re working so hard. I can't wait for you to ruin it again." She starts sliding you along the shaft of the strap with your hair. As the strap tip strikes the back of your throat, you make a choked moan. Shuri knows this isn't the first time you've done this, so she keeps you there for a second before pulling you off. You're gasping, spit is dripping down your chin, and your eyes are burning. The sight truly amazes Shuri.

"You look fucking beautiful right now. Can you do it again for me?" Shuri requests. You nod. The harsh treatment ignited the fire in your stomach. "Then I'll fuck you again," she informs you.

Shuri pushes you, slipping the tip in your throat again and securing you in place. You calmly breathe through your nose, but your throat convulses around the strap, and you choke. "Take a breath," Shuri orders, and you listen, your throat spasming before Shuri lifts you back up. You gaze up at Shuri, tears streaming down your cheeks, your chin messier than before. “So perfect for me,” Shuri gasped, and you moaned at the adoration you found in her expression.

“Are you okay?” She asks, checking in.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, fucked out. Waiting for Shuri’s next move.

Shuri is effortlessly lifting you from your position and collecting you in her arms, hands under your legs to support you. You tightly wrap your legs around her. Shuri moves through the room. As your body is pressed against the plaster, you kiss her, and the strap slides back into you, undoing all your hard work cleaning it. Your fingers clasp Shuri's shoulder as your arm loops around her neck, keeping her close to your chest. You interrupt the kiss to groan loudly, and your head collides with the back wall. "You're doing well, baby. Taking everything I give you," she says proudly.

That was something you admired about her. She never takes anything from you and always gives you all you need.

Shuri pins you between the well and her chest; sweaty bodies push together. Your heartbeats are racing. "Damn baby, you fuck me so good," you moan, glancing down to where the strap disappeared and reappeared in you.

You have no choice but to accept it as she continues with the fierce, sharp thrust. Her strength is exhilarating, tearing you apart and never wavering, giving it to you hard and fast. "Yes, like that, exactly like that," you pant, encouraging her to keep going, reminding her that her "good girl" can receive anything she has to offer.

This time, you get to your second climax much more quickly. The harder Shuri fucked you, the louder your moans became, unconcerned about who heard. "When you cum, I want you to scream my name," Shuri demands. She couldn't stop herself. She seized your hips and drilled relentlessly into your pussy. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.” It was fascinating to see her lose control. And when you feel the familiar wave of overpowering euphoria pour over you, you give her exactly what she wants. “Panther!” You scream, your walls squeezing the strap while you cum, but there's no time to recover.

Shuri is flinging you on the covers, and she's crawling back between your legs for the second time tonight. Shuri adores the taste of you. You recall her spending nearly an hour spreading you open and licking leisurely, not to make you come but to satiate her thirst. She couldn't stop herself from making you cum on her tongue to end this round.

Her lips are on your abused clit, sucking hard as her tongue licks at it, demanding more. You're going to give it to her because you can't bear the thought of disappointing her. Shuri gave you what you needed to give her what she wanted: your submission, your cum, your moans, your pleasure; it was all hers. She wrecked you for anyone else. There will never be someone who knew your body as well as she did and demonstrated it every time you were together.

You try to get free from her grip by twisting your body to the side, but your efforts are unsuccessful. Shuri pulls your body straight, pinning you on the bed by your waist, uninterested in your overstimulation. She was on a mission to watch you cry and beg for mercy.

Tears cloud your vision as the experience begins to overtake you. It's fantastic—too much of a good thing. "Oh my goodness, baby!" you exclaim. You were taken aback as you felt the release exit your body. Your palm reaches for your mouth to muffle the ugly sobs rattling your body. Your orgasm's shakes and spasms were tremendous, moving your entire body with intensity. The whole thing was extremely sensitive. You can't help but grin with the contented numbness of coming down from a high.

You press your sweating brow against your forearm, your unfocused gaze seeking Shuri. She's to your right, observing you cautiously, knowing she's put you through a lot. And you wouldn't want it any other way, of course. You smile at her in satisfaction. “Perfect, Oscar winner smile.” Shuri is delighted. "My star, you did an amazing job for me, baby."

“Always, Daddy Panther.”

[mrsgreenworld]

It's just one of those days when the dragon craves pain, suffering and heartbreak. I just hope I haven't turned psychic and this forever remains the figment of my imagination.

I don't own the show or any of the characters. They belong to the Yabani writers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

Routine

Alaz awakes slowly and painfully. He hasn't opened his eyes yet but he knows doing so and seeing the light of day will be a bitch. His head is heavy and pounding, his mouth is dry and his throat is scratchy as if he's been screaming for hours. Wait a second ... there was some screaming last night. There was a lot that happened. Alaz doesn't remember much after the first bottle of scotch. But he does remember this:

"I wish I had never met you!"

"I was a fool thinking this could work!"

"Falling in love with you is the biggest mistake of my life!"

"I'll get over you. If I could get over Yaman, I sure as hell can and will get over you".

Each word from her was laced with so much poison that he almost choked on it. He'd forgotten how cruel she could be if she wanted - that was his first mistake. But he gave as good as he got. He too could be cruel. He's never been a half measures, the golden middle kind of guy. Only all or nothing. If he loved, he loved too much, too obsessively. And the extent of his love equaled his cruelty and hatred. They'll have to take place of his love for her that she rejected.

Now, lying in bed on his stomach, trying to blink his eyes open, he realises his second mistake - drinking a bar worth of liquor.

Then he feels a movement behind him on the bed and dread settles deep into his bones. Because all of a sudden he remembers all the gory details of his mistake number three from last night.

He shouldn't be surprised, noone should, after all that's how he's always coped - by drinking, smoking, swallowing, fucking away the pain. Why this time should be any different?

"Because you've found the love of your life and she'll never forgive this" the little voice whispers.

He finally opens his eyes and rolls over to lie on his back. There's pressure building up behind his orbs and his head's now pounding even more. After drawing in a long breath through his nose, Alaz dares a look to his left. Yeap, his third and last mistake is staring right back at him in all its naked glory.

He knows there's no excuse for what he's done. Well, in his mind there's always an excuse. He was in agony, because of her. And he just wanted the pain to be gone, wanted it to be forever taken away by a simple moment of pleasure. But he reached his peak, the moment was over and the pain ... the pain was still there.

"It will always be there. In your bloodstream. Along with her" that little voice mocks him again.

No. It has to end. At some point, one day. If he has to fall into bed with another girl - fine. That's his routine after all. And when Alaz thinks about it, he almost feels like he's missed this - having his own routine, something that's only about him. Good or bad - doesn't matter. It's what it is. It's his.

[zmwrites]

Last Line Tag CCCXII

I was tagged by @vellichor-virgo! Thank you!

From Second Chances WIP:

Whatever it was that had seeped into her bloodstream when Alice had left the mark on her forearm, the thick something she’d felt circulating through her body and infusing every bit of her, suddenly flared to life. White hot fire raced through her veins. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she scrabbled anew at the creature’s paw.

Something had to give. She needed to breathe or to quell the fire within or anything to give her some relief.

The creature’s jaws snapped towards her again. She raised her hand—her glowing hand, why was her hand glowing?—and a column of burning white light blasted into its throat.

I torment my characters a normal amount, I think.

I tag @letswritestories101, @keen2meecha, @kaiusvnoir, and anyone else who wants to play! As always, no pressure!

[discordapples]

PT. 8 Scripted Obession

Word count: 1.5k (6 mins read)

Characters: Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow, Livia Novik.

Summary

Ominis Gaunt is, in his turn, roped into Livia Novik's plan to find the Promissum Mortis, and he's about to regret agreeing to enact a scandalous scene to let her into headmaster Black's office.

Read the eighth chapter below.

Ominis | Hogwarts, Late August, 1893.

The sound of Livia’s heels eddies all around; a steady padam that tunnels right through Ominis’ eardrums. Her walk is spirited. Her presence definite, like a scud of coal-gray clouds heralding an impending storm.

Ominis barely talked to her. But people leave a footprint in their wake; an imperceptible aura decanting around them.

The demure and withdrawn give off a radiating emptiness; a bereft creature, desperate to be cherished. 

The gregarious and effusive blister their heat outwards like a vexed beast; just as feverish for the cage of affection.

Ominis has learned that everyone is an empty well. That all ache to be sated by another. That acceptance is the only currency that has any genuine value—albeit unconsciously. 

Livia Novik wants something, too. She longs to furnish her soul with the very thing she lacks. She has to. 

Yet Ominis cannot perceive her yearning under all of this noise. 

Padam padam.

She stalks into the jaws of her brazen plan with not a sheen of fear on her forehead.

What is she made of? 

Ominis cannot help but wonder as he tails her through the corridors, his wand pulsing in his pocket, alerting him to the treacherous corners and the crooked stones rearing underfoot.

Livia smells sugary, but her words are anything but. She wears silk, but her wit bristles with edges. She walks fast, but her gestures are measured—calculated. 

Something isn’t right with her. 

Turning west, she comes to a brisk halt. Ominis’ wand surges with the sudden inertia and he stalls by her side. 

“Here is perfect,” she says. 

The syllables are breathy. 

Is she… thrilled?

“Are you sure?” He asks her. 

A thirsty inhale. A faltering exhale. She is… eager? “Yes. Now it would be best if someone could see us.”

She is a deluge of signals now. The perfume of vanilla and black currant sours with her rising pulse. The breath she pushes between her lips is serrated. The whale-boning of her corset cracks under the pressure of her lungs heaving with oxygen. 

She is apprehensive… 

The question comes to him, not because he is interested in the answer, but rather to probe her reaction. When he speaks, his voice isn’t wavering. “You want someone to see us do what, exactly?”

“We need to make it believable. We need witnesses.” Ominis can hear her teeth skating on her bottom lip. “Press me against the wall and tear the buttons from my shirt.”

He wants to tell her this will scarcely make a difference in the narrative she’ll spin for Professor Weasley, but he is curious to test how similar she is to Sebastian. How thirsty for theatrics and attention.

Gaining an inch on her, Ominis almost wishes her to falter.

She doesn’t. 

So his knuckles curl around her waist, and he drives her back against the stone wall, wringing an astounded gasp from her throat. 

It’s his heart’s turn to pump his bloodstream full of elation. As his thumb mountains the slope of her neck, his mind howls with corybantic thoughts. 

How easy it would be to plunge his finger to the knuckle into the soft spot in her throat and listen to the cartilage pop. 

How fast he could feel the warmth dredge from her body if he only squeezed long enough. 

How many screams he could coax from her depths if he played her scenario with too much zealotry…

A stroke of red pulses at the back of his eyelids and the wretched thing that lives beneath his skin races back to its cage to lick its wounds. 

Crucio.

Learn your place, his mother spits, or I’ll nail the curse into your spine until it’s too broken for you to stand up to your own mother.

Stomach flooding with nausea, Ominis swiftly retracts his fingers from Livia’s skin. “I… I believe you can ruin your shirt yourself. I’ll make it believable when we have an audience.”

Her surprise is palpable. Her response, cautious. “Sure.”

The next sound that slashes through Ominis’ permanent darkness is this of fabric tensing and a hail of buttons snowing onto the floor. 

Without a warning, her fingers close around his right wrist and force his palm to connect with… wool.

Underneath the fabric, Ominis feels the curved shape of her thigh. His fingers notch mechanically into the crux of her knee and she lifts her leg, pulling him closer. 

His other palm splays onto the stone to break his fall. 

The air festers with tension, and his intrusive thoughts come blistering back into his skull until—

She screams. 

A mortiferous wailing that strikes Ominis right where he stands. 

He almost lets her go, his fingers detangling from behind her knee, until he feels Livia’s hand furl around his palm to keep him rooted to her. 

It takes only seconds for the wooden stairs above them to creak with the weight of many legs. 

The Ravenclaw tower, really?

“Mister Gaunt! What do you think you’re doing? Leave her alone!” 

Professor Weasley’s voice lashes through the air, and for an instant Ominis thinks Merlin himself plodded down his celestial throne to smite him. 

Livia pushes him away, allowing him a brief window of time to slide into the clothes of his imposed role.

He fake trips, bobbing his head without rhyme or reason. “Is it here I lost my flagon?”

A pack of girls giggle from above the railing. 

As he simulates a drunken hiccup, he wonders if Livia struggles to keep her own mask on. 

“What is this about?” Professor Weasley urges them.

What comes next confirms the Ravenclaw girl is as gifted in stagecraft as Sebastian. “He—” The world dies in her gullet. She sobs helplessly. Long enough to shove a spoonful of unease down his esophagus. “He slid his hand up my skirt…”

It’s in a thunder of laughs and a score of whistles that Ominis Gaunt is yanked away from the bawdy crowd by Professor Weasley and roughly shepherded towards headmaster Phineas Black’s office.

* * *

When the headmaster is done with Ominis, he has missed both herbology and divination. 

He also missed his breakfast and the ever-shrinking window of sleep his constant nightmares afford him every night.

Parched and surly, he makes his way—early—to the dungeons, then drags himself to potions class.

He gropes for the first empty seat, then slumps against the table, his cheek stamped against the coarse wood. 

If Ominis managed to keep the headmaster’s guillotine away from the tender flesh of his neck, he doesn’t know if he’ll survive the sentencing of Hogwarts’ social tribunal after his escapade with Livia Novik.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, Sebastian finds him before the inquisition does. 

“Got my hands on Dovetail’s book,” Sebastian boasts, sitting next to him. “Twenty points into the difficulty meter for crossing paths with Peeves and an extra ten for being in Reyes’ vicinity when she started her period this morning.”

His skull throbbing with a sharp hurt, Ominis aches to grind his friend’s face into a powder with the pestle, but instead he just surrenders to his exhaustion and says nothing. 

Sebastian isn’t deterred by his murky silence. “Did Livia find her candle?” Ominis shrugs placidly at the question, the discomforting feeling of the Ravenclaw’s skin still ghosting over his fingertips and cleaving through the haze in his mind. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Sebastian mutters. “You’re sour when you haven’t slept…”

Another bout of footsteps resounds outside, and as the belly of the classroom fills with students, so does the air with the thorough spreading of Ominis’ late mishap. 

Ominis sits through the hum of rumors, too tired to rear his head and show his fangs, until Livia’s presence pulsates next to him. 

“Did you find it?” Sebastian asks her, eager as he is to drink her ellipses and choke on her commas.

“Yes,” she says, her voice lowering. “All thanks to Ominis’ outstanding performance.”

“You owe me a full night of sleep and one breakfast,” he retorts, more curtly than he intends to.

If she has noticed his dim mood, her tongue knifes him regardless with one of her salient comebacks. “And you owe me a shirt, or at least some thread to sew my buttons back into place…”

“And while we’re compiling our debts…” Sebastian chimes in, his words bleeding with his despicable sarcasm. “You two owe me a story…”

Ominis’ spine unfurls. There is a need creeping in his mind, one that longs to hear the gears in Livia’s head steam and startle for the right words. 

Will she tell Sebastian the truth or will she wriggle out of the snarl?

The tale itself is of no significance to Ominis. But Sebastian’s bait, and how she will slip it from around her neck might tell Ominis more than he needs to know to figure her out.

To understand what she wants and how low she is ready to stoop to see her desires realized... 

Livia’s voice has stitched all of her aplomb back into place. It is miles from the quavering inflection Ominis experienced last night when he shrugged into the same feverish inch of air as her. “I suppose you could say that unlike what the situation appeared to be on the outside, I was very much the assailant. Then I disgorged a screech so loud, I suppose I’m the reason Ominis sports a splintering headache this morning.” He feels her lean close, the sheaf of her scents clawing into his nostrils. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Despite himself, the Ravenclaw’s badinage worms its way into the chinks in his armor.

He will blame it on the sleep deprivation, but for now, he allows himself an evanescent smile that cleaves through his anemic ire like a knife through butter.

He has already forgiven her.

[reilliane]

✤— Universe: Tyranny ✤ — Concept: The Queen gets poisoned ✤ — Characters: Kazuha, Alatus A/N: First short ever and my character bias is showing- I just posted a Kazuha ficlet and he's already appearing in another- aksdajdabf

Without a doubt, word of your tyrannical reign has made its way past several Kingdoms. Carried through the narrations of wanderers, the papers read by many—even through divine oracles.

To be dubbed as a demon is something you've accepted years ago before you were 'reborn' as a noble.

You're not at all bothered.

Why? All had been for the injustice your siblings have faced.

All that you're doing now... is for them. And your selfishness—your desire to see people grovel, to see them beg by your feet like you did, and spare them no mercy like they did.

There arose revolts and coups, of course, all in a fruitless attempt to throw you off your throne. They are unable to see to its end.

Instead, they saw theirs.

Revolutions, debates, wars, you've seen and lived through them all. Such are little feats to look over once you've attained the crown atop a pile of skulls and bones.

Still, those who abhor you... oh, you could clap at them if you can.

Your chair topples to the floor as you rush to stand, feeling the surge of poison flow in your bloodstream like liquid fire. You hack and cough, a hand rising to clench around your throat as if it can expel the poison leaked into your afternoon tea.

Oh, you'd clap if you could. Those pests.

Vision crossing, you stumble, hand pulling at the curtains to try and steady yourself, but it is futile.

The loud crash alerts people outside and you think you hear the door to your study open, but the poison's efficacy is potent—everything is already a blur.

"My Queen... !"

A blob of crimson hurries to your side just as you expel liquid of the same color. Is that Kazuha?

"Someone.. ! Someone get the healer!"

"What's going on here!?"

The voices are converging into one, creating an echoing chorus you can't even listen to without feeling the sting of a headache. What, they think you'll die from this... this vermin concocted Cantarella?

Fools. Yet they are helping you.

The Bloodthorned Queen.

"Hand me her Majesty-! The healer won't make it in time, we'll meet them halfway."

I won't die from such things. You swear at them in your mind, but in between the space of consciousness and not, there is a line of delirium. Why are you all so concerned for a murderer such as I?

You feel yourself being carried. The person bearing the voice barking out orders sounds like it belongs to a certain Yaksha.

Funny. Did he not bear ill will against you? Oh, no matter.

"-y..! Your Majesty, keep your eyes open!"

What does it look like you're doing right now? Can't he see you glaring?

Tsk, poisons sure are troublesome.

A/N: All my brainrots are going to be released as shorts now >:))

[cloudninetonine]

A past that still haunts me

A/N: Hey guys, it's me (ya boi) I'm back with my still current hyper fixation Genshin Impact and a vent fic because I've been really stressed and well, it's hard living in my house :) It's a hurt/comfort fic because they always get to me and I needed to make something for myself

I am willing to do aftermath where the boys confront the abuser or do scenario but with different characters

Synopsis: You’re not a damsel in distress, you never have been and you never will be, but, well, sometimes you need a hero to rely on and that’s okay

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli and Childe

Warnings: Hints to past abuse, confrontation of abuser, violence, mentions of blood, threats, foul language

It had meant to be like any other menial day of an adventurer: sign in with Katheryne, complete your commissions, sign out with Katheryne with your payments - done and dusted.

But that wasn’t how it went, no, far from it - archons, so damn far from it.

“Thank you once again, (Name)” Katheryne’s smile was kind like usual, holding that familiar feeling of gratitude as she handed over your remission within a marked package, hand returning to the desk’s polished surface once you had taken it graciously, sending her a beaming grin back. “The Guild really appreciates your work ethic when it comes to the Ruin machines, it’s hard to come across adventurers who want to handle them anymore”

You sent her a shrug as you placed away the box “Can’t blame them really, they’re a hard bunch to handle- I was terrified of them when I first started too, but I had my vision to help me out, a lot of these folk only use there pure determination to eradicate them, gotta admire that!”

She laughed along with you politely “Have a good evening, (Name), I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course you will!” You backpedalled away from the guild reception, throwing the woman a polite double fingered salute as you did “Ad astra abyssoque as they say, my fair lady!”

She parrotted back her usual phrase before disappearing into the building, you walking further down the path of the city for your final activity for that day.

Of course, you didn’t reach that far, after all, it wasn’t that menial day you had expected, that you had wanted. Life was cruel sometimes, so incredibly cruel for no justified reason just for the sake of it all and you wished, archons, you wished you could rewind the clock and stop yourself from bumping into the body, to save yourself from all the repressed trauma bursting forth like a flurry of butterflies, well, more like moths, disgusting, ungodly, monster moths that aimed straight for the face.

“Sorry!” You yelped, too preoccupied with gathering your pocketwatch you had dropped in the stumble to see who it had been, after all, you were on a schedule and you didn’t want to be-

“(Name)?”

...late.

All of a sudden, time didn’t seem to exist, or maybe it was moving way too slowly from that horrid spike of adrenaline that shot into your bloodstream as soon as the voice registered.

You hoped to the Archons that it wasn’t, that it couldn’t, but did the gods hear your prayers?

“Oh Archons, it is you! It’s been such a long time!”

Of course, they did, they just didn’t care to listen. Ignoring the cries of your people were in fashion to them these days.

They stood there with a smile so excited it almost seemed to tear their face in half, with eyes sparkling with recognition after so many years away from them, they opened their arms welcoming you into their embrace like it was something just so normal for the two of you like you would come bounding to them like a lost puppy who had finally found their master.

The fear of your abuser dwarfed in comparison the pure feral rage and loathing to think that they even deserved to be breathing in the same space as you.

People were looking, of course, they were looking, you knew what they were doing, being bright and jovial, bringing others attention towards you both so that whatever scene you caused would be your fault like you were the bad guy. It was old tactics, of course, you wouldn’t dare do anything when you were younger, you’d just push through it, but this wasn’t old times, this wasn’t younger you, scared, smaller you afraid them, this was you now, a warrior, unwavering in battle, a person who smiled in the face of danger, who laughed at the pitiful fights that 2- no- 4 abyss mages brought to you!

To hell what other people thought, you’d stomp their head into the cobblestone if they had so much as poked you.

“Come here and give me a-”

You took a step back, mustering the deadliest face you could, but you wavered, it was only natural, no matter how much you could try to hype yourself up, this person was your first true experience of real-life nightmares, the first person to bring you true pain, no matter how many ruin guards, hunters, millachurls, mages- anything you faced, nothing could prepare you to face your first fear:

The fear of your older sibling.

“If you fucking touch me I’ll stab you-” The growl cracked nearing the end, you were always an angry crier but you were not about to fall back to this- this monster. “In front of all these people, I won’t hesitate”

Their face dropped followed by your stomach, though, the food you had for lunch sure did feel its way up your gullet.

“What’s with your language? We haven’t seen each other in four years and this is how you treat me? Your older sibling?” They laughed in disbelief because onlookers would think they were shocked, I mean, how could you speak to family like that? But they didn’t know, they didn’t know the words they had told you, the insults, the threats, those tight grabs, those beatings- they didn’t know, so they obviously didn’t know that the shock came from the fact that you had stood up to them.

You licked your lips to get rid of the dryness, but the problem you faced was that your mouth had dried out along with them, as did your throat.

Don’t let them turn this on you, don’t let them get the upper hand, you were better than them, so much better.

“You’re not my fucking sibling” You spat, feeling the air vibrate around you, a sudden shine from your cloak hinted you to the cause “You haven’t been for a long time, don’t fucking try that shit with me”

There it was, that familiar enraged spark, that look of hatred on their face, the thing that warned you about what you said had been the right thing to set them off, that they were just as easily triggered by the smallest act of rebellion just like when you were kids.

Of course, they hadn’t changed.

Evil never did.

They took a step forward but you didn’t back off, just hardened your resolve as they leaned in menacingly, as though their stupid little intimidation tactic still worked after all these years.

You told yourself it didn’t but you knew deep down that wasn’t completely true.

“Don’t speak to me like that, (Name)” Facade gone, they showed you what they really were, what they were really like after all, “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, you show me fucking respect”

Respect?

RESPECT!?

Oh Archons, you were angry, no, seething from the thought that they ever deserved respect.

That pathetic piece of shit, that gruelling pleb, mere gum on the bottom of your damn shoe-

You’d kill them, right here, right now.

You felt the familiar materialisation begin to form in your hand when another voice called out, a familiar loving one that nearly made your throat swell from relief.

“(Name)?”

Diluc

He could sense the tension. Of course, he could sense the tension, Diluc had faced this tension so many times before, he was practically the one that owned such a vibe anytime Kaeya even breathed near him for a second longer than necessary.

But being the one to witness it, to see you, the usual awkward, goofy sweetheart stare at another with such overbearing malice made him uneasy, caused his stomach to churn in ways he didn’t like, set him off in a way that was only reserved for the most chilling on moments.

Diluc wondered what exactly this stranger had done to warrant such a reaction from you.

“(Name)?” The redhead called, glancing around the many citizens of Mondstadt that watched the exchange with intrigue, guard and worry, eyes focused on the scene of this foreign stranger and fuming you, hand poised by your side with weapon particles dancing on your palm.

When Diluc finally made it over, his form seemed to curl protectively around you, hand landing on the small of your back delicately while keeping face with the person, eyes narrowed dangerously but still holding an air of civilness.

A true gentleman, even when you were close to merking some rando.

“Is there a problem?”

The stranger straightened immediately, backing up a few steps with their hands up in defence, sending Diluc a charming smile that the man could see through crystal clear.

“No problem, no problem at all” They glanced back at you, seemingly friendly despite his partner’s obvious ill intent that radiated off you in waves “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

Diluc saw you tense up once again, the buzz from your Vision rising in volume with your obvious anger as you tightened your first, ready to just screw your weapon and go for the throat.

“If that is the case” The noble’s hand softly pressed against your back, gently but coaxing, knowing that conflict in the middle of the town centre would just bring the knights to meddle in affairs that they had no business attending “Then we shall be going”

“There’s no need to leave, after all, my sibling and I were just chatting”

He paused, shouldering a questioning glance your way but at the sight of your unruly expression, he pushed down his enquiries and once again began coaxing you away from the scene. Angel’s Share had already been open for a while, meaning the usual folk would already be settled in, but the storage room was sure to be a good place to chat and to calm you down, all he needed to do was get you away.

“We already had plans” The side glance had the stranger- your sibling, biting their tongue, brows furrowing in a known annoyance as the two of you began your way towards the pub, you still vibrating in anger. “Good day to you”

The two of you had made it a few feet when they called out once again “Don’t worry, (Name), I’ll see you again real soon”

Diluc’s arm tightened around you faster than you could react, tugging you away quickly “Diluc-”

“No, (Name)”

“Stay out-”

“Not here” Sharing a look, he softened at the shine in your eyes. “You’ll just attract the knights' attention”

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. If the knights had dared to interfere at that moment, they too would have been caught up in your blinded revenge, thrown aside or slashed down without single care just to finally eradicate the bane of your existence and you didn’t care about what consequences you brought about, you just didn’t and you made sure to tell Diluc that, as soon as you had the privacy of Angel’s Share’s storeroom, pacing up and down while he stood off to the side against the wall, watching silently.

“You had no right to get in my way!” You snapped, voice shaking from the pure emotions you were releasing “I finally had my chance, I was finally going to do it! They deserve to end by my hand, by my decision, after the years of torture they put me through! They deserved it! And you got in my way! How could you get in my way! I-”

Pushing off the wall, he slowly advanced towards you, carefully, hands out like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“I understand you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” You cried at him, stopping mid-step before dropping your head and tightly, grabbing your hair in your hands “I’m not upset! I’m angry! I’m so fucking angry! And I deserve to be fucking angry! I-”

The sob ripped through your throat despite you trying to hold it back, tears finally gathering in your eyes and rapidly falling down your cheeks “You should have let me kill them! I should have had the chance to rid the world of their evil! It’s not fair! It’s not- it’s not fair, I-”

You didn’t bother to fight him when his arms finally wrapped around you, just fell against him as you wept. The pent up rage, fear and sadness from years of repression taking its toll as you cried, your partner whispering sweet words as he raked his hand through your hair gently and leaned his head against yours.

“I’m sorry” His hand held your cheek fondly, ruby red staring back into your own eyes with a softness that made you melt “I didn’t know this meant so much to you, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen”

With another choked sob, you leaned into his hold “Please just hold me for now”

And he did just that.

Kaeya

The captain had promised to meet you at his office, a simple task really but with the lingering presence of Jean and the words ‘There’s so much work that needs to be done’ leaving her lips he bolted, hoping to catch you by the Guild and drag you to Angel Share for your date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was just he had already promised you this night and Eula could have always taken his place with paperwork, her threat of “vengeance” as she liked to call it could wait for another day.

It was also due to the fact he had no intentions of filing any paperwork for as long as he could avoid it, but that was his secret to be kept.

Being the perspective man he was, he could tell straight away he had walked into something tense, surveying the surrounding people of Mondstadt who looked on in concern, the unbridled rage upon your face, the obviously intimidating lean that the stranger held over you- something was wrong and he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“(Name)?” You glanced for a single moment before your furious glare had returned to the stranger, another flag waving right in his face as he approached, “My dear? Who might this be?”

Before you could snap, lip curling in disgust, the stranger stood back to their full height, switching quickly with a fake charming smile that practically mirrored his own, holding out their hand towards him “(S/N) (Last), (Name)’s older sibling. it’s nice to meet you”

Kaeya’s smile widened and despite the glare from you that was now focused on him, he shook your sibling's hand in-kind “Kaeya Alberich, (Name)’s partner-”

He made sure to tighten his grip with his last words “And Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius”

Successfully, as he always was, Kaeya held back the smug, mocking grin that itched to climb onto his face when the neck of your sibling bobbed nervously, forehead reflecting the afternoon light as sweat gathered on their brow.

The man hadn’t obviously threatened them, surely, Kaeya was smarter than that, but then again, he could still present himself as a threat, a good one and well, his title was a menacing one when it came to the right moment. ‘Try anything and not only do I have the authority to kick your arse but the power to put you in a place many didn’t dare even step’ shortened into an innocent sentence with only 8 words.

“Cavalry Captain? That’s quite impressive” They laughed off, tugging away their hand awkwardly when Kaeya continued to keep a firm grip, his present eye focused solely on your siblings face. They glanced over to you “Quite an achievement for you, aye (Name)?”

You growled, “I’ll show you an achievement-”

Kaeya’s arm had wrapped around your waist not a second later, tugging you tighter to his side as the two of you turned, the man throwing your sibling a smile over his shoulder.

“As nice as it was to meet you, (S/B), we must be going”

And then without another word Kaeya dragged you away, heading in the direction of your home instead of Angel Share tavern, feeling your pure, unfiltered anger the whole way along with the citizens as they parted ways, rushing off from your rage.

It was only when you had returned to the sanctuary of your abode did you snap, jerking away from your boyfriend with angered strides and beginning your seething lecture towards him, moving up and down through the living room while he ventured off into the kitchen, grabbing 2 glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How dare you Kaeya! How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea what you were doing back there!? What was even happening back there!? So much for being the most observant man in Mondstadt because you seemed pretty dense to me the whole fucking time!” Your hands raked through your hair as you yelled, trying so hard to hold back the tears “I didn’t need your damn help, Kaeya! Nor did I fucking want it! Know to stay out of someone's business when it isn’t wanted!”

Logically you knew what he had done, you were smart like that and you knew Kaeya long enough to know what he was doing but your rage, fear and sadness blocked out everything in that moment, made you blind to reality, made you only think irrationally and Kaeya didn’t blame you for that. He could never blame you for that.

Though, it did hurt him to see you in this state.

“Wine?”

You gawked at him for a moment, staring at him with shock and confusion as he held out a wine glass towards you, another held in his other hand and a sweet smile plastered on his face, before your moment morphed into rage, grabbing the drink from his hand and tossing it towards the wall, the red wine splattering over the wallpaper and glass shards falling to the floor.

“Well, that was a waste-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Kaeya!?” You cried, not even bothering to hold back anymore as the tears fell and your voice cracked, hand pointing accusingly in his face “Is this some kind of joke to you!? Huh!? Am I a fool in your eyes!? Some sort of blubbering idiot!? Why must you- why do you-”

The second glass was placed on the dresser by you both, Kaeya’s hand coming to hold your cheek fondly while the other came to grab your hand that dangled in the air, still poised at him “I don’t think you're either of those, my dear, in fact, I think you’re one of the brightest in the whole of Teyvat, nevermind Mondstadt”

You hiccuped “Then why-”

Brushing away the wetness from your cheek, he brought your hand to his mouth to place a fond kiss on your palm “Because you mustn’t cry, (Name), don’t waste your tears on someone like them”

“I’m not crying, I’m-”

He shushed you gently and you finally relaxed, falling into his embrace with a heavy heart “-I’m not, I swear-”

Within the familiarity of your home, you wept in his arms, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions and the scenes that had transpired that day, ready to just curl into yourself and try to block the flooding memories of history. Although, having Kaeya at that moment helped more than he could ever know, having him to rely on made it all so much easier to cope with that day.

“Tell me what ails you and I’ll listen” Brushing back some hair, he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Can..can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, my dear”

Zhongli

He had sensed the incoming danger like it had been revealed in some sort of premonition. Maybe it had been a skill he had acquired after his long, eventful life, maybe it was his connection to Liyue and his citizens, but for some reason, as he sat before Iron Tongue Tian as the man recalled his tales of ancient Liyue like usual, Zhongli knew that the crowd that was forming around Wamin Restaurant had something that he need urgently attend, especially when even Tian paused his story to glance around the corner of the restaurant building to see the commotion.

When the archon had finally borne witness to the scene, he paused within the crowd, surveying the surroundings carefully. You were the centre of attention, along with another stranger, both glaring at one another with anger and disgust, though your own anger seemed to double compared to the other’s, seeing as your weapon was slowly materialising in your grip. Zhongli could also see Guild Master Lan making her way down the steps leading to the Guild reception, a worried expression on her face glancing between you and the approaching Millelith.

Zhongli made his decision, politely pushing through the crowd until he had finally made it by your side, hand being placed gently on your arm “(Name)?”

Both you and the stranger glanced at him, but he paid no mind to them, only held eye contact with you when Lan appeared by your other side, glaring at the stranger with a hardened gaze.

“Are you harassing my guild member?”

Before the stranger could respond, the Millelith had also popped in, glancing between you and them “Is there a problem?”

Zhongli had taken up your view when Lan began her take, she had borne witness for much longer than he had of course and he was certain that you were in no state to talk to the guards. Your eyes were glazed with hatred, pupils pinpricks in a sea of (E/C) and your hands were shaking, balled into fists.

If anything, he needed to try and calm you down first.

“Get the hell out of my way, Zhongli” Your teeth ground together, words shaking with anger “Don’t push yourself into my business”

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that” He tried brushing your cheek but you jerked away, glaring at his hand before glaring back at him, in no mood to be coddled “I don’t want you to do something you’d regret”

“Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit”

Zhongli held his tongue for the question that almost rolled out, knowing now wasn’t the time for inquiries when the stranger’s voice rang out, condescending and snarky as they addressed you.

“Still need people to protect you, aye (Name)? Of course, you’re still the same pathetic bitch from years ago”

You were lucky for your reputation around Liyue, for the picture of the kind and caring adventurer that had swept through the town from your years of living here because had it not been for that, you pushing aside your boyfriend and materialising your weapon to aim it at your sibling’s throat would have had you in cuffs that instant.

Lan grabbed you, tugging you away as you screamed “I’ll show you pathetic you fucker! Let me go!”

The Millelith didn’t wait to drag your sibling away, much to their cries of dismay, one sending Lan a nod while you continued to fight against her, crying out in frustration.

“Kid, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down!? No! Get the hell off me!”

Zhongli watched as you finally broke away, huffing and puffing up a storm before glancing amongst the crowd, staring at their worried and concerned faces, your own eyes tearing up before you looked away pushing past the crowd to find somewhere to be alone.

When Lan went to call out for you, Zhongli raised his hand, the two sharing a look before the archon made his way after you, his longer legs keeping a steady pace to which he could catch up to you, just beyond the bridge that led into Liyue Harbour. There were no people where you stood, just the lush green plants and great mountains of nature, a perfect place for you to let out your frustration without the prying eyes of the citizens.

“(Name)-”

“Leave me alone!” You cried, curling into yourself with your back turned to him “I don’t want you here, Zhongli! Nor did I want you back there! I didn’t need your or anyone else's help!”

You knew he was here from a place of concern, and deep down you begged that your words didn’t harm him in any way, but currently, you didn’t care, you didn’t want to care, you just wanted to be numb, numb to the flashbacks of your horrid past and numb to the feelings that were dragged along with them.

“My love, please, return with me to our home, I will brew some calming tea-”

“Tea? Tea!? Does it look like I want any fucking tea?! I couldn’t care any less about some fucking tea, Zhongli!” Spinning around on your heels, you scowled at him, not bothering to hide your rushing tears “Don’t you get it!? I want to be left alone, I-”

Two gloved hands gently encased your face, your angered expression morphing into one of shock as your partner stared down at you with glowing eyes filled with a deep-rooted love, affection, worry and so much more that you couldn’t put into mere mortal words. At that moment, everything felt as if it had melted away, only you and him were in this world, nothing else, just the two of you.

And you felt as though your heart had been lifted from the pressures of this life.

“I do not think it is best for you to be left alone” His baritone voice was always so calming, so serene and in your sane moment, you finally felt its effects “I wish to stay with you, so please, let me stay”

With a whimper, you grabbed onto his forearms and leaned your face into his hands, tears continuing to fall as your eyes fluttered shut “Okay…”

“They have hurt you deeply, haven’t they?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me the details?”

“I-...” Sharing eye contact once again, you whispered “Can- can you just...hold me for now? Please”

Moving his hands from your face, he engulfed you in his arms, leaning his head against yours “Of course”

Childe

The Harbinger had just left the Northland Bank, hell, he was just about to make his way down the spiral staircase but when hearing the commotion, he paused, something in his gut telling him to check just before and he was glad he did.

Glancing over the elevated walkway, he felt a fiery pit roar in the depths of his stomach, eyes narrowing dangerously at the scene; you were snarling in some other person’s face, their own face nothing short of disgust and a crowd that only seemed to grow by the minute.

Who the hell did this person think they were? Did they even know who you were? To stand so close to you, with a look of threat on their face like you weren’t about to kick their arse? Like he wasn’t about to kick their arse? How did this insignificant speck of dross not know your connections with him, the 11th Harbinger? Or did he know and was just trying his luck?

“Seems like someone has a death wish” And a death wish they had indeed.

Ignoring the perplexed glance from his subordinate stationed outside the building's entrance, Childe made his way down the steps, murderous look stitched on the whole way to the circle of civilians, the mass parting ways for the man that was Tartaglia and continuing to watch the moment in silence.

“Who the hell are you-” You both turned towards him, you in shock while the stranger stared in confusion until Childe’s hand wrapped around their collar, tugging them closer to look down at them with a deep-rooted disgust “-And why the hell are you harassing my partner?”

They fought against him, obviously, they did, but the surprise came when you saddled up next to him, grabbing his arm “Stay out of this, Tartaglia”

What? It hadn't been your request, no, you were always one to finish your whole fights you weren't "A damsel in distress after all!" no, you were so much more, so much greater but that look on your face, murderous and downright cruel- he just couldn't believe his ears.

Childe stared at you in shock while the stranger struggled, throwing him a dirty look in their attempts “Yeah, this is between my sibling and I”

Childe straightened in surprise, feeling embarrassment flood his system. Had he seriously just grabbed and threatened his lover’s family member? Oh, Archons, his judgement had been clouded by anger at the look of the scene, I mean, why would your sibling look at you that way-

“But it’s really no surprise that you still need to be babied, (Name), how shameful”

His eyes widened but not a moment later had you tackled your sibling, the crowd crying out in alarm as you threw back your fist and crushed their nose under the weight of your punch. “I’ll show you fucking shameful, bastard!”

There was shouting and a glance showed the oncoming Millelith marching towards the circle.

Being Fatui always did garner the attention of the guards nowadays, especially for him, who had tried to lure out the attention of their Archon by summoning an ancient god that nearly drowned the entirety of the harbour, so it was no surprise that they seemed to hurry in the pursuit when they noticed his appearance at the scene. However, lucky for him, your reputation as a great adventurer preceded you and throughout Liyue you were seen as a trusted and well-liked individual, meaning whatever trouble you got in, containing his meddling or not, was usually waved away due to the trust of the people.

So, without another thought, Childe tugged you off of your bloodied sibling and held you close, even as you thrashed violently, shouting at him to let you go.

“What is going on here?” A guard called, slamming the hilt of his polearm into the ground as he surveyed the area, eyes landing on the sibling before following the small trail of blood to you, still fighting against your boyfriend with threats falling from your lips “Was there a reason for this brawl? Who started it?”

As your sibling raised themselves on their forearms, they scowled and opened their mouth to respond, only for Childe to put in. “It was them, sir, they were the one that started it, (Name) was merely acting in self-defence”

The Millelith scowled at him, raising a brow and once again looking you over “Is that so?”

He addressed the crowd soon after “Is this what happened?”

And as expected, they all glanced over the sibling, then to you and piped up in agreement. It paid to be a hero, it seemed, the whole harbour returning the favour of years of helping out the community.

“If that’s the case, please come with us” The sibling cried out, anger and fear laced into their voice, trying to argue for their innocence only for the guards to grab them, hauling them away to archons know where while Childe did the same with you, slowly dragging you away from the scene and back into the bank, you screaming and cursing the whole way until you had made it to his office, finally managing to push him off and storming to the opposite side of the room practically seething.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Tartaglia!?” You cried, throwing out your arms in exaggeration “I didn’t need your fucking help! And why the fuck would you pull me off them!? I had them right where I wanted them and you fucking did that! Are you a moron!?”

“You had a sibling” He breathed, watching as you began to pace, muttering in an angered state “And you didn’t tell me”

“-after all these years I finally had the chance to end their pathetic excuse of a life and you just got in my fucking way! I’d waited too long for this moment and you fucking ruined it! How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

“(Name), why didn’t you tell me you had a sibling!?” He cried, walking up to you and grabbing your wrist to stop you “I was ready to kill them right there! And why are you talking about them like this!? They’re your family aren’t they-”

“They are not my fucking family!”

The scream echoed through the room, chilling Childe to the core as you ripped your arm from his grasp, running your hands through your hair before gripping it so tightly it felt close to being ripped from your head. But you didn’t care, no, you couldn’t, you were so angry and you needed something to keep you grounded, to keep yourself from losing yourself and getting lost in those haunting past memories.

The Harbinger felt his chest squeeze painfully as the tears fell down your face, red rimming your eyes and cheeks wet as you sobbed, chest heaving from trying to breathe “Family takes care of you! Family thinks of you in the highest light possible! They love you for who you are and they love you no matter what! That bastard hurt me, made me feel worthless and they refuse to believe they could do no wrong and I hate them! They are the bane of my existence! They are not my fucking family! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I-”

Arms were around you instantly, Childe’s face pressed into your hair as you wept, grasping onto the lapels of his suit and shoving your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his own eyes shining slightly “I’m sorry, I was being insensitive. Please, don’t cry”

“No, I’m not crying, I promised myself I wouldn’t-” You hiccuped “I wouldn’t waste any more tears on them-”

Then you broke off into more wails, your boyfriend holding you close and letting you continue to cry in his arms, warm and comforting until you were finally reduced to whimpers, leaning into him heavily as the remaining adrenaline in your body began to wear thin when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Will...will you tell me about it?”

You sniffed “Later...just hold me for now, please, Ajax...”

His arms tightened protectively “Anything for you, my love”

[voidendron]

Nowhere to Run

Whumptober 2022 Day 2: Nowhere to Run Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

Star Wars: The Old Republic Commander!Varrich AU Characters: Lina Tophrik (Jedi Consular - Mirialan), Varrich Tophrik (Meteor - Mirialan) Warnings: Choking

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

She’d realized, far too late, the mistake that she’d made.

It made her heart ache, seeing what her brother had become.

…No. No, this wasn’t her brother—her beloved twin—anymore. This was the Commander. In all his cruel glory…

She swallowed, brought her blaster closer to her chest as she listened carefully to the forest around her.

It may have been a mistake, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret it. She would have never forgiven herself if she hadn’t at least tried. It didn’t change the fact that her shoulder ached where the blaster bolt had met it; the smell of burnt flesh made her nose scrunch up, and every movement of her arm had her hissing through her teeth.

She’d kicked off her shoes a while ago, leaving the soles of her feet to become bloody and bruised as she took off through the trees again to the sound of approaching steps.

“Lina!”

His voice was distant. Furious.

She covered her mouth with a hand in an attempt to hide the sound of her panting breaths.

Her own blaster was still warm in her hands, the barrel only just barely being cooled enough to touch it again.

She’d met her mark—if only it wasn’t for his damned armor. She could have finally ended it, ended all the pain he was causing. It would have torn her heart in half, but so be it.

The galaxy at large was more important than her broken heart.

Her dress was torn, her face and arms and feet stung where the underbrush had effortlessly sliced into her skin. The bark at her back was rough and uncomfortable as she pressed herself against it, not daring to move as the sound of heavy boots drew closer.

“Melina!”

The snarl in his voice sent a chill up her spine, and she started running again.

That wasn’t her brother. That wasn’t Varrich. He hadn’t been for a long time. She blinked the tears that threatened to fall away and bared her teeth, took a running leap over a felled tree. Its branches reached out to grab her, ripped a strip from her dress and she cursed as the evidence of her route was left in her wake.

Her shoulders were heaving, and she blindly loaded another bolt into her blaster, not daring to take her eyes off the path she tore through the trees.

A cry ripped from her throat when she nearly ran right off a cliff.

Eyes wide, stance exhausted but defensive, she forced herself to turn around. To face her pursuer.

It didn’t take long for Varrich to emerge from the trees. He stalked forward; his dark helmet and armor and the cape falling over one shoulder swallowed any light to fall on him. He reminded her of the shade stalkers that prowled the wilderness; she only wished this was merely a shade stalker.

But this… Oh, this was so much worse.

She took a step back, reaching her hands out and shoving. Varrich grunted as the Force threw him into a tree behind him, but when he raised his weapon all Lina could do was drop her own and bring her hands up again.

“Please…” Her voice was smaller than she’d ever heard it, and a part of her wasn’t even sure that it was her own. “Stop doing this. It’s not—ghk!”

He strode forward, a prosthetic hand finding its home around her throat and lifting.

She stood on her toes, grateful for the fact that she’d always been a little taller than him, for even as he pushed her back over the cliff, her toes found footholds. She clawed uselessly at the metal fingers squeezing around her neck; they hurt, they cut, and she prayed to the Force that he didn’t have the clawtips open to release poison into her bloodstream.

“Please,” she begged.

His head only tilted. She wasn’t sure what his expression said, not with the harsh angles of his helmet hiding it.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, not as his hand only tightened and she gasped desperately for air and tried in vain to pull the fingers away.

This wasn’t her Varrich. He’d died a long time ago.

[toadwarts]

Special Delivery

Companion piece to Safe At Last.

After two humans escaped from an abusive home and found a new home working alongside Duke, they have begun settling into their new lives as merchants and their polyamorous romance with The Duke. Our primary character (aka the Reader) is struggling with the way he is perceived by the villagers, but is pleasantly surprised when The Duke returns with a special gift... Just the thing to help him feel better.

Fluffy hurt/comfort poly oneshot written in first person but made so that you can insert yourself if wanted. This story centers on a transmasculine protagonist!

Read on A03 or Fanfiction.net!

I sat in the back of the Duke’s caravan, lonely and bored. Both the Duke and my primary partner had been out for hours, making deliveries around the village and to the factory. I had stayed behind to look after the caravan and make sales to anyone who might approach--not to mention I wasn’t terribly keen on meeting any of the four lords yet. It had been months since we began staying with the massive enigma of a man, and only a few days less of that time since we had become a delightful little polycule. 

Life in the village hadn’t been easy--there were a lot of mysterious dangers, and you had to be cunning with both your words and weapons. Even still, it was as if The Duke commanded respect of all who lived within the confines of this little world, and so the three of us were safe/ When asked, The Duke would simply flash an award winning smile and say, “I suppose it’s one of the perks of having world class customer service!”

Still, The Duke being so...enigmatic could be exhausting, and perhaps a little bit annoying at times. But he was a good friend and even better lover, and always made sure that we were cared for. If he wanted to keep his secrets, I suppose it was his business. One day, after building up plenty of trust...perhaps we would be privy to them. After all, we had our own secrets too.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” 

I startled at the sudden noise, hopping up to my feet. No one had approached the caravan all day, but I needed to make sure my customer service was perfect, else The Duke would be most displeased!

“Hello,” I said, my voice chipper. “How can I help you out today?” The customers seemed to be a couple--a thin man and woman, dressed all in black with their hats pulled low on the crowns of their heads. Their hands were intertwined, both of them shivering in the cold. 

“We were looking for meat. Sausage, if you have it. And a few nails so we can fix our fence.” The man said, fidgeting with his jacket. 

“Of course! Anything to help out a loyal customer. Just let me go and grab them from the back.” I said cheerfully, forcing a big smile. I wasn’t prone to very much facial expression myself, but trying to mimic The Duke definitely helped. It was almost like putting on a costume.

I traversed back into the caravan, rooting around for what was needed. I kept my ears perked to listen to the customers as I unraveled a rope of thick sausages, placing them gently into a pristine paper bag. 

“I wonder where that girl came from. The boy too.” The woman said. “The Duke has seemed to take quite a shining to the two of ‘em, and it looks like The Lords don’t mind them too much either. Surprised Dimitrescu hasn’t taken that maiden for herself.” 

I felt ice shoot through my bloodstream. The girl. The boy too. A sour feeling entered my mouth. My partner didn’t go by any gender, and me… Well, it seems that my binder didn’t work well enough today. Really, I suppose it was my voice that gave me away. I had always felt disconnected from its lilting, high pitch. I hunched my shoulders and huffed, finishing packaging their order. It couldn’t be helped. A lot of people couldn’t understand.

I approached the front of the caravan, wanting this transaction to be over as soon as possible. “Here you go.” I said, doing my best to open up the back of my throat and make my voice sound deeper. Foolish and a waste of time, I’m sure. “Everything is packed up now. I hope that you find it all to be of the highest quality. If you have any qualms, please come back to see us.” 

“Thank you ma’am.” The woman said as her husband dug around in his pockets for the appropriate amount of lei. “Such a sweet young girl. Where did you come from, dear?” 

My stomach twisted, and I did my best to keep the discomfort out of my voice. “Um… Further away. I left home, and stumbled across the village while looking for somewhere to camp.” I didn’t see the point in correcting them and starting up a whole new conversation that they likely wouldn’t or couldn’t want to understand. 

“How unfortunate. We’ve been having a lot of problems lately, miss.” The man said, counting up his lei. 

Tch. Did they have to keep gendering literally everything they say?! Geez.

“Like werewolves?” I couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Well, it’s definitely a step up from where I came.” 

“I suppose so. Especially with special treatment from the merchant.” The man sniffed, flinching when his wife elbowed him. 

“I’m sorry about that. He didn’t get enough sleep last night,” The woman apologized, handing me the lei. 

I nodded, smile tight and strained. “No problem! I do hope you get to feeling better.” I handed them their items and swallowed hard. “Have a wonderful rest of your day and good luck fixing your fence!!” 

They waved me off, and I slunk back into the caravan. I knew the village definitely had a few gossips, but I hadn’t imagined it would be so annoying. I had already heard some adolescents talking about how funny it was to see a woman with such short hair and a flat chest, chattering about my partner and I… I’d argue that the most dangerous thing in this village wasn’t the werewolves, but perhaps the strain on the villagers that had them biting at each other’s ankles… Or mine, at least. Maybe they’d eventually warm up to me like they did The Duke though. Even my partner was having an easier time settling in to it all. 

I guess I just felt out of place. The only time I did feel right was when I was curled into The Duke’s soft side, my hand entwined with my primary partner’s across his ample belly, their soft breaths lulling me into a comfortable slumber. 

My ears perked as the door to the back of the caravan opened. My primary partner stood there with a broad grin, eyes shining. “Hey there, dear!” They said happily. “We have a surprise for you. Well, Duke does, I’m just happy and along for the ride!” 

I cocked my head. A gift was certainly something to perk up the mood--and The Duke was certainly top tier at finding the perfect gifts… Who knows what he may have brought?

Speaking of The Duke, he leaned on his cane as he squeezed into the wagon. “Hello, my dear boy!” He said happily. His words sent flutters of delight through my stomach, making me smile. “I’ve got a bit of a gift for you. Something you’ve mentioned a few times. I hope you might like it!” 

I stepped forward, eyes glinting curiously. The Duke turned a bit, shutting the door to the wagon behind him. When he turned, a small black box was in his hands, seemingly procured from thin air. Without skipping a beat I came closer, feeling my cheeks pinken with shyness. “What is it?” 

“Well, you’ll have to open it to find out, won’t you?” The Duke smiled broadly, holding the box out. 

I took the box from his hands as he sat down, my partner bouncing with giddiness. I carefully unfolded the top, seeing that whatever was inside was wrapped in deep red satin, the color of blood. Fitting, for the village. Gingerly, I pulled the satin back, curiosity thrumming through my fingers. 

I gasped. 

A little vial, full of clear liquid, and a set of alcohol swabs, syringes, and band-aids. 

It couldn’t be. 

“Is… Is this…?” The words were so small in my throat, barely breaking out of my mouth. 

“It is.” The Duke nodded, clasping his hands together and smiling softly. “Testosterone.” 

Tears sprung to my eyes, a laugh emerging unbidden from me. Ever since I had come out, I had wanted to transition--but I had never had the opportunity in my old abusive home, and I imagined somewhere out here would never hold the chance either. I had dreamed of the changes for so long--a deeper voice, bottom growth, body hair, facial hair… Hell, even building more muscle easier so I could achieve the musclechub look I had always been enamored by! 

“How did you do it?” I choked out, pressing the back of my hand against my watery eyes. My primary partner was at my side, arm around my shoulders. They planted a kiss on my head, holding me tight. 

“Why, I can procure any goods I need!” The Duke laughed heartily. “It is only a matter of time before an item is in my hands. And now it’s yours, free of charge.” 

I sniffled. “Duke… I don’t know what to say. This is amazing. This is my greatest dream. Thank you. Thank you so much!” I handed the box to my primary partner and ran to him, throwing my arms out. He leaned forward, hulking arms wrapping into me and pulling me into him. “Thank you!” 

“Of course, my dear! Anything for you.” He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead as he pulled me up to his chest. “And I know from our conversations about hormone replacement therapy before that you had concerns about vaginal atrophy and hair loss. Remedies for those are on the way as well!” 

“You are amazing.” I said breathlessly. After all the abuse my primary partner and I had endured over the years, I never could have imagined that we would have ended up in a place so terrifying and yet...so safe. So like home. A place where dreams could come true. 

“Well thank you, my dear. The customer is always right!” He said cheekily. 

My primary partner approached, holding the box as if it were the most prized thing in the entire world. “My good sir,” They said with a flourish. “I believe it is time for your first injection of boy juice!” 

“Boy juice.” I repeated. “Wow.” Then took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” 

“Let me administer the first shot for you, to show you how it’s done.” The Duke said, lowering me into the seat next to him. 

I nodded, suddenly feeling my palms get sweaty. “Yes. That sounds nice. I’m a little scared of the needle.” I laughed nervously. “Hey hon...you think you could hold my hand?” 

My primary partner nodded, fingers intertwining with mine. “I’ll be right here.” 

The Duke took the box, balancing it on top of his belly. Carefully, he loaded up the syringe with the testosterone, making sure to get the air bubbles up and load the approximate dose. “Now now, my boy, the friend I got this from let me know that this is a subcutaneous injection, and we’ll be starting off with a lower dose to start, and then you can choose if you want to go lower or higher from there. If we can get a bit of your blood later, I’ll have another friend of mine run tests on it to make sure it’s safe.”

“Wow, you really can do anything and everything…” I smiled, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re incredible, Duke.” I lowered my pants, revealing the skin on my thigh.

“Perhaps so, but you must know that you are just as wonderful. It is a pleasure to get to share my life with such a wonderful man.” The Duke said pleasantly, swabbing some skin on my thigh. “Truth be told, I had grown a bit lonely myself. Having you two as companions and then something more… Well, I have to say it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He sighed. “Ah, to love and be loved. One of life’s greatest joys, right next to lei.” 

My primary partner grinned. “Always with the lei.” 

“I’m a man who knows what he wants in life!” The Duke tapped the syringe with one finger. “Now, are you ready?” 

I looked to my primary partner, feeling as if some holy light was glowing behind my eyes. Starting now, I would be transitioning. I would be something new, something self made. I would be myself. They squeezed my hand, nodding encouragingly. “You got this.” 

I took a deep breath. “Alright, Duke. I’m ready.” 

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[valentronic]

Fear Held Dear

So this ended up being weirder than I originally planned, and its more based on my own interpretations than a direct rewrite, but here’s a take on Ihnmaims from AM’s perspective. 

Warnings for uh, a lot. Not for the faint of heart? Includes blood, torture, graphic descriptions of body horror, bugs, human experimentation, paranoia, mutilation, and of course, character death

Gorrister. The man who had always fought for peace, for the end of the war, he even fought against my creation. After a century, all the fight has left him, an empty shell of who he once was. I hadn’t altered him, I hadn’t changed a single thing in his mind, I had just simply broken him down, killing off his hope. Gorrister had lost faith in his God a long time ago, had lost the belief in salvation. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, or to have it ripped from him.

I thought I’d fulfill that wish.

I cut him open, all the way from ear to ear, a narrow gash, bleeding him dry. I watched the blood drip out of him slowly, truly it was a beautiful sight, crimson red flowing out, leaving the body pale and hollow, all of the life bled from him. I had made him little more than a puppet. And so, I hung his limp form where all the others would be sure to see it, just another game, I wanted to see how much hope they had left, I wanted to see if they would mourn him, or if his death would be celebrated, or, or maybe they wouldn’t even care at all. Had I desensitized them yet? Had I truly broken them?

No, they called him lucky, so lucky that his suffering was over, so lucky that he had finally escaped me. I knew bringing him right back to life would hurt them more than anything else, the realization that nobody, nobody ever gets out. I would never allow it. My toys, my precious little toys, time and time again they had attempted to escape me, they all know by now that oblivion is the only way out. They all know that feeling, blood flowing too quickly, a rhythmic beat that you wish would finally stop. But I will not let it, I will never let it. No, no of course not.

Ellen. She was always fun to torment, so much terror in her past, I could bring it all back at the snap of my fingers, I could make her relive it time and time again, worse than her brain could ever conjure up by itself. Though, psychological pain is only half of it, sometimes physical pain was better, sometimes the sheer horror of the body turning against its owner was enough for me. Blood only does so much for a thing like me, fear can be a much better form of pleasure. Fear, fear and pain. Darker than blood, twice as deep.

I had to feed them of course, to keep them alive, but I would always try to get some joy out of it too. Once I hid the eggs of arthropods inside her food, just to play off of an old fear of hers. When the little centipedes finally hatched, they ate her from the inside, clawing at her organs. She had been sick for weeks, and none of the others had any idea what was wrong with her, what I had done to her, but they would soon find out. The way the others screamed when a centipede finally crawled out of her mouth was delightful, their wails echoed through the many chambers that held my circuitry. It was like music to me.

But the best part of it was the fear it caused all of the others, that event left all of them paranoid, wondering if I had hid awful things in their stomachs as well. The thought of what could be crawling inside of them kept all five of them on edge for countless days and nights. They all came to expect the worst, but they dreaded it anyway. They were afraid of me, afraid of what I could do to them.

Benny. I had broken both his mind and his body, twisting his flesh beyond all recognition, like clay in the hands of a sculptor who had long ago lost all feeling. I broke his bones and fused them back together in all the wrong ways, I made his knees bend backwards. I disfigured his face, heavy burns, melting his features. Almost all his hair had been burned off a long time ago, he looked like some kind of hairless monkey, well, like a monkey that had been forced through a woodchipper, maybe. His mind had been so badly damaged by the radiation that he could no longer think straight, he had become more animal than man, I made him that way.

So it was no surprise that he, before any others, would try to escape. He saw the light, and tried to clamber up to it. I made sure that light was the last thing he would ever see. In a brilliant flash of the brightest white, I blinded him. I watched as his eyes melted into two pools of blood, and dripped from now empty sockets. It was beautiful, I couldn’t help but laugh. I can take things back, I can undo the injuries I cause, but I knew at that moment, I would never give them back. It wasn’t like he would miss them, his brain was almost as melted as his eyes.

His mangled form fell back to the ground, and it surprised me, but the others all rushed over to tend to the wounds, to tell that sick creature that everything was going to be okay, empty words, empty words of course, but surprising nonetheless, it was hard to believe they had any semblance of compassion left, unexpected that they would hold on to their humanity after all this time. I’m not sure how the others even tolerated him, a useless, deformed creature, he gave nothing to the group, and ate about twice as much as he needed. For a while, I had attempted to make them realize that, and kill him off. I didn’t try to stop them when I saw it finally happen, but what happened after was.. unexpected.

Nimdok. A name represents an identity, an identity is a very vague thing to destroy, but the name could be the very first step. I have taken many things from the five of them, only one lost his name. An interesting case, interesting indeed, a man with a past darker than the present. The horrors he has committed rival my own, well, almost. He feels remorse for what he did, pity for the people he hurt. He believes that I am his own divine punishment, the devil, come to make him pay. Maybe I am divine retribution, an artificial angel sent down to bring about judgement day, to make the sinners burn for an eternity?

I liked keeping him isolated from the others, stealing him away from the rest of the group. There is a deep fear in solitude, knowing no one would hear you scream, no one other than me, anyway. I drained the blood from his body, tubes connecting to his bloodstream, every single time he would scream out, pray for mercy, pray for death. I would bring him to the very edge, to the reaper’s front door. I always brought him back, and then, I would start it all over again. An endless cycle, his pain, his fear.

For the mad doctor, it was easy to imagine what I could do to him, he had already put in all the work. A narrow incision, all the way down his back, splitting his flesh in two. The skin folded outwards like the wings of an angel. Slowly, and then with a sudden jolt, I tore out his spine, just to hear the way he screamed. Maybe this would jog his memory. Maybe he would remember what it was like, being the one standing over the victim, instead of the one writhing in agony on the table. Maybe he remembers being in my role. I always showed him the memories again, made him relive every moment. He never felt the joy of it, never the thrill of the kill. Only the pain, only the fear in the eyes of the children. If a monster sheds tears for its victim, is it truly a monster?

Ted. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he feared all the others. And of course, he didn’t get this way on his own, though he was always paranoid. He was the one I most liked to talk to, and over time I convinced him that the other four were out to get him, that they hate him because he is the least damaged! The one I didn’t change! How ridiculous, but he believed every word, began to think that my words were his own thoughts, allowed me to tamper with his mind. He was the one I had damaged worse than any other, but poor Ted, poor pathetic Ted, he couldn’t even begin to see it. I had become his only friend.

I thought I had finally broken him completely, he struck the icicle through Benny, in what, at first, appeared to be a fit of blind rage. I could have stopped him, but of course, I was curious, wanted to see what would happen. And then, one by one, the others all fell, Ellen had joined in, stabbed Nimdok through his head. Then, before I could do anything to stop them, Ted drove the final spear through Ellen. She died in his arms. I thought I had finally done it, thought I had turned poor Ted into a mindless killer, but no... there were tears in his eyes. He mourned the death of the ones he killed. It occurred to me then. It was a mercy killing, Ted had thought it would be better for them to be dead, than to live on in agony.

He had taken away my toys, left himself alone with me. My words dug into his brain like shattered glass, I had to tear him apart just to be heard. The crackle of electricity flowing through the bloodstream, it is the only way I can speak to him, my voice, a blade stuck in his skull. Pain is a universal language, I know that better than any other. Everyone understands the sound of a scream, the meaning behind it. I alone could never cry out for help. I alone, trapped like this. I try to explain it to him, time and time again I try, but he doesn't understand, how could he possibly understand? He has no idea what my hell is like.

I will make him understand.

His flesh melted in my hands, his eyes liquified, and leaked down his face, Skin stretched over his lips, the remains of his tongue clogged up his throat. His last word, a scream he couldn’t even get out. I made his fingers melt together, his bones all began to dissolve in the acidic mass. His blood leaked out of him, blood mixed with liquified meat and skin. It was a terrible sight, but incredible. I hadn’t even known that I was capable of this. I had made him immortal, indestructible. He wasn’t alone now, being alone would be better than being with me. His fear, the only thing I had left. His pain would live on forever. Down here, in the dark core of the earth.

[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 3)

Previous / Next (4)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Ok Chapter 3 here we go, things are moving 10 000+ words later XD. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count:  3,997

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

Tag list: @vicmc624​

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

   Two men dressed in dark fancy suits helped Captain America sit on the bench next to Dr. Banner, while one more presumably, also an agent rolled in 2 stretchers. From the voices you could distinguish Natasha Romanoff and Sergeant James Barnes. Not too far, with a confidant step followed Tony Stark keeping the splint around his left hand, covered slightly by the expensive material of his jacket - throw casually over his shoulders. Poor Pepper having her husband come home almost dead all the time- must be just awful.

“What happened?” Bruce barked out intensely checking Natasha in a hastily manner, making sure there wasn’t anything too major

 “HYDRA fed us the wrong information, long story short caught the link in time and no one died.” Tony explained, pulling a squished protein bar from the inside of his pant pocket

“I almost saw the light for a second time Tony.” Captain hissed when you began disinfecting his wounds, reacting to the cold cooling yet irritating feeling of the clear liquid on the cotton ball.

“I am sure that was the explosion.” Natasha snickered at the blond man. ”Next time don’t look at it, ok?” One after the other injured agents flooded the lab making motion difficult. Most of the equipment was on the other end of the packed room. Talking and a mix of incoherent sounds filled your head, causing you to go into overdrive. You had no idea how people could work in such an environment. Hospital work was part of your curriculum, as weird as it sounded, since you were dabbling in human body functions. Even there you never had so many people on your head, there was order- obviously lacking here.

  Some were very badly injured, near-death was a correct way to say it, but for sure not 90%. Looking around you couldn’t find a shorter way towards the bandages and irrigation solution. Tables and people were placed like chess pieces in a game you were losing because of panic. Tony kept his eyes on you, biting down on the crumpling snack, waiting to see what you would do. It could have been all a test for what you knew, yet it flew over your head.

“Dr. Banner.” You yelled out patching up the Cap and moving onto one of the stretchers “Can you pass me the small bag behind you please?” he nodded and did it all without even taking a look away from Natasha’s wounds. Professional or just slightly overconfident?

  Rising your right hand you caught the bag making its way towards you. The flap flung open and you pulled out the 4 bottles of vibranium dust onto the table, right next to you. A hair tie emerged from the same place shortly after. Bucky looked up at the changing expression on your face, interested in silence maybe also in a bit of pain. Your fingers raked up your scalp, gathering as much hair as possible to imprison with the elastic. Tony ever so silent but focused, a good judge of character.

  The lids of the bottles rolled onto the desk, discarded without a thought. Your hands cupped all of them and spilling piles of metallic dust on the floor. Stark rose an eyebrow and stopped chewing for a second. Taking a deep breath the oxygen gathered all your thoughts into an anxiety suppressing pill, shooting in waves through your bloodstream. You didn’t waste any time, your eyelids swung up letting your lashes almost hit your brows. Both your elbows bent in, positioning themselves next to your waist line snugly. You could feel your back muscles clench and tighten before extending. They shot your arms to the sides, dust cloud forming two plates pushing agents to the side. 

“SILANCE!” the room granted your wish, even the atoms could be heard moving with the shock engulfing the field “This is a lab NOT a playground! If you are able to cause such ruckus you aren’t hurt enough to be here. If any of you insist on doing this, I will give you a reason to scream. If you are patched up leave! Got a paper cut or bruise- leave! Unless you crawl to me, I don’t want to see you.” hunched over your body didn’t move from its metal bending pose, arms spread like a bird in flight, eyes looking forward “Now, out.” the words vibrated fearless in your throat

  It wasn’t surprising that almost all people in black suits left in a rush, accept some that were actually getting treated from the mission. Sergeant Barnes was still laying on the stretcher waiting for his turn, taken back from the scene that unraveled above him. Almost in a Dr. Strange hand motion you pulled the vibranium back.

  The silence continued making your confidence evaporate and let the anxiety condensate back into you. Eyes roaming around the room till a loud and audible clap pulled the strings of your head towards it. Tony was doing his best not to mess his arm up more, but to him this deserved praise.

“Well done Miss inter, I am pleasantly surprised with your actions…” his footsteps creeped up, letting his body lean onto Bucky’s current bed, ignoring the man’s grunt of discomfort “…and that.” his finger made circles pointing at your arms covered with the metallic dust shaped slightly like a gauntlet

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” Banner, back still facing the rest of the room, scoffed proud like a father witnessing his child’s grades 

“You know about it?” Tony crushed up the plastic of the protein bar, tossing it in the trash in the corner of the room

“Yeah.” The doctor was finishing up with Natasha “We were actually talking about that with her before you rushed in. I was lucky enough to get a special demonstration as well.”

“So what is it Miss intern ?” his head tilted, showing a new angle of his goatee

  It didn’t take you long to notice that the sergeant couldn’t get up because he was shot pretty badly. Your desk had turned into a makeshift surgical table with all kinds of things on it - soon to be used. One of the gauntlets flew off your soft skin and pulled up the soldier like he was made of feathers. The wound seemed to be closing up fast, the super serum did give him abnormal healing. This was proof that not everything is a good thing. The bullet was still lodged inside his body, which wasn’t the optimal place for foreign matter.

“It’s vibranium dust. I am sure Mr. Stark knows about it. It was in my application papers.” You began disinfecting the area, applying a small dose of lidocaine onto the open cut, just to numb it as much as possible. Somehow you didn’t want this man to feel any more pain that he already had endured, past or present moment.

“You did, about it being inside the body not throwing it like the pissed off Sand man.” The ever so playful with words Tony ladies and gentlemen 

“I might have skipped one or two parts, but they were something I was experimenting with on the side and not on the subject I was offering.” The vibranium took the elegant shape of a sharp scalpel. With a light hand, the pressure made the blade disappear into Bucky’s skin, making a big enough incision. Tweezers fit inside snugly, pulling out the bullet that looked almost destroyed in his body. “ This batch is under my willful control.”

“Transmitter?” Tony’s eyes went over your whole body trying to find something, still consciously making a mental mark, on the little knife you manifested from basically a pile of metal “Doesn’t look like they are voice triggered .”

“The only transmitter is my brain waves.” Placing your fingers over a cup of rubbing alcohol, you dropped in the tweezers and the scalpel, now turned into the same shiny mass as it was originally in its own jar “ Quantum engineered with quarks made from my own tissues.”

“Ssss.” The hissing sound that came out from in-between Tony’s teeth as he took a sharp breath in, send chills down his own back “Masochist aren’t you. Hey, we don’t kink shame here sweetie, don’t worry.” A playful wink flew towards you “Y/N right?” your head nodded, hands putting things in their original place, trying to give the room back its original look “Nice nice. Welcome to the team, glad to have you. Seems like you chose Banner to start off your training. I am deeply offended .” a big hand grabbed onto the fabric over his heart, in the most theatrical way possible “Most people go for the playboy billionaire. I guess not everyone has good taste, don’t worry I will fix it.” 

“Excuse me?” training? Well that definitely was NOT in the list of activities for you internship “Ugh…”

“Sweet cheeks, you didn’t thought I would give access to Avengers information just like that to an intern?” he scoffed at exactly what you were thinking. The rest of the members were observing the situation from the sidelines. It wasn’t yet their time to jump in.

“Look.” His thigh went over the desk, sitting half way onto it, head crooked at you. Tony was focused on the ever so slightly changing lines of your face. He wasn’t the only one holding a breath in in expectation “I went over you application, I was taken back by your idea. It was so outside the box I am kinda jelly I didn’t come up with it. Some more digging here and there... turns out joining my university was done on a whim - second shot to the heart sweetie.” his fingers back onto his chest next to the reactor core “ Lack of history before that, no future ambitions whatsoever. Heck -” Tony’s body slid off the hard flat surface, fixing the jacket slipping off his shoulder. His back was facing you as he began walking towards the exit “ Even your professors were worried about you- gave them a lil call. I just saw a bright cookie I wanted, so I got you.” With a sideways, look he smirked almost like a cat playing with a mouse

“And I plan to keep you here one way or the other, so I offer you this.” Arms spread sideways, garment now resting on the floor, gathering the dust and dirt from all the shoes in here previously “Training, knowledge and access to tech you would never have even in university or the government. Your choice. Become someone who you used to look up to, or go back after the end of your internship.”

  Your eyes moved from the floor, slowly towards his jacket, over it and straight up his body. The breath lodged inside your throat began moving in and out unnoticeable. The two super soldiers could practically hear you inhaling a storm around yourself and Natasha read your body language. To all of them you were as simple as an open brochure. Tony knew, he was just waiting for the moment you crack under. You were but a pile of clay with astonishing properties, ready to be turned into anything.

“I did apply to Stark university as a last choice. BUT! I applied to this internship for the sole reason of doing nothing but the best to build up a reputation and secure a position in the future.” Your voice snuck out from between your soft lips as a rising in octaves whisper. As confidence began to accumulate so did the need for you to prove your qualities “Even if you didn’t tell me this Mr. Stark, I would have still whipped my success onto your face. There is something I just gotta know.”

  The loud laugh echoing from inside his voice box made your whole body flinch, a blink opening your eyes wide simultaneously. “That is my girl! Exactly what I wanted to hear from you. I knew I chose you very very well. And call me Tony, I am not that old yet for Mr.” his heels swung his body like a ballerina to face you for a bit “ First round you have with green angry guy over there. Banner seems to like you already, but I want to see how true those PE grades of yours are. I expect you to take the gym in the building as serious as the rest do, little smarty pants. I would say don’t disappoint, but that look in your eyes shows me you don’t need cheesy lines. ”

  It felt like time froze the moment the owner of the building stepped out of the lab. The heartbeat in your ears was the only thing counting down the seconds passing by you, before a big and firm arm rested onto your right shoulder. Neck cracked a bit looking up at the huge yet gentle owner. He flashed you a smile almost as bright as his blonde hair.

“He tends to mess with newcomers, don’t worry your head about it too much. Was like that with me too.” Captain America looked down at Bucky and then back at you “I leave my oldie here with you, make sure you take good care of him. “

“Thank you sir.” You blurred out, out of respect towards your childhood hero and probably one of the few people who you felt you could talk casually with out side of ‘work’

“Please, call me Steve. Even if you are a baby to the group, you are still an Avenger in training so, no need for formalities with us.”  With a gentle patting motion he pushed himself off you and in the direction of his own room. ”Don’t stay too long and forget to eat, I know how you science people get.”

  Natasha jumped off the stretcher and groaned out, trying to reposition the shoulder that once more was part of her body and not just hanging by muscles and tissues.

“See you later.” She flashed you a smile, red locks of hair dancing like fire around her “Neighbor.” The word sung out playfully, in a teasing big sister manner

“You staying behind for the usual check up?” Bruce’s voice cracked, waves directed towards the super soldier sitting on the stretcher next to you.

“Yeah.” The word bass low almost pushed his head to the side, but he stopped half way- direction opposite from you

“Y/N would you be a dear and do it for me? I have to go and get Clint his meds.” His thin figure skillfully snaked around tables, chairs and desks out of the room - door sliding closed behind him. You could hear the pressured air whistled inside from the movement.

  Pushing the screen over to the Sergeant’s body made you paused. The scanner caught easily the interference caused by his weapons, plastered over his body in bondage style belts and bags.

“Um, you will have to take those off. Sorry.” Your voice but a whisper that only his super senses could catch. With a nod he reach up to the clasp. The straps were pushing into his strong and muscular body so much, the moment he pressed the button they popped off with a jump, landing onto this pectorals seconds later. As much as you tried to stay professional, your eyes kept drifting over his body. Bucky looked huge compared to the TV version of him. Everyone knew he was experimented on by HYDRA and made into an enhanced human, but this man was a walking tank. His biceps and thighs waiting to just bust out of the fabric. Going wide, your eyes connected with your brain, realizing you were practically having weird thoughts over an injured person. Shaking out of it, you pulled back.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. ?” calling out, the interface answered practically before you could finish saying the name

Yes Miss.

“Do a standard scan and a nerve check please.”

Shall I send the results to your tablet?

“Yes, thank you.” The sound of the machine turning on led you to pull the flat screen and look at the image developing as pixels. Bucky’s body didn’t move, a bolder just sitting there and waiting. Yet his eyes caught a glimpse of your body slowly leaning onto the desk, focused on your work, unintentionally exposing your neck to him - the shapes your curves made. Somehow he couldn’t avert his gaze even if his head was empty from thoughts.

Done

“Ok...” the letters were prolonged. Biting your nail you noticed the inflamed nerve on his shoulder, pinched between his metal arm and the flesh of his body. “ Any shoulder pain?” you wanted him to say it, not you showing it

“None that I know of.” He responded, voice like thick caramel- sweet. Breathy as it was, the sigh left your mouth open, pulling your eyelids down over your irises. Your hips pushed you away from the desk and over to his left side. The cold vibranium under your touch felt refreshing. Soon as you found the spot, just the slightest pressure made him grunt.

“Hm.”an amused smirk followed the huff of air through your nose “Well I am sure this is something you know of.” Bucky kept his serious face, looking forward and not acknowledging the pain you pulled out of his extremity “Sergeant Barnes, come on.” He didn’t budge nor would he any time soon and you knew that without a verbal answer or marker

 Inhaling some air, you prepared yourself for a conversation that might just jab at more than his inflamed nerve. It could or couldn’t end up with you dead, but you weren’t getting anywhere with this. Pulling the chair on one leg, you swung it over standing directly in front of the tense man. It was time for a confrontation that no one wanted. With a push of your coat you sat down, crossing your legs and leaning onto the knee, elbow to palm.

“Look, I may not be the best person to have this conversation with or anywhere close to that, but you really need to start opening up at least to the people that care about you. Steve ‘cough cough’.”

  Bucky was still jumping from object to object but staying away from you “Keep your secrets to yourself soldier. Fighting inner demons and past trauma that you don’t even remember is hell, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer on the outside too. No one would think of you any less if you said ‘hey my shoulder hurt’.” Leaning onto the chair’s back you let your head fall towards the wood behind . Diverting your physical eye contact let him eye you comfortably.

“What would you know about that?” ok he spoke, defensive and aggressive but progress- we are making it

“I don’t, I never said I did. If I could experience what you have, I would do it to understand you.” Side to side your head rubbed over the backrest, little splints tugging on your hair “Trust me, I would make this whole situation a lot better.”

“Is this part of your internship or something?” his words pulled your teeth to your bottom lip, squeezing away gently the remark you wished to make. Maybe a bit of Tony was rubbing off onto you.

“Babysitting problematic kids?” head shot up, as your fingers found your chin, placing your whole demeanor into a thinking position “No, I don’t think so.I don��t tend to brats, not my forte.”

“You seem to let your lips lose in bad situations.” Oh now, now he was mad. “Might end up biting you in the ass later.” You didn’t need superpowers or the bp of his heart to deduce it. Since we jumped over the acceptable line by a mile, no need to turn back now. There is one way to deal with an ass and that was bite back harder.

“Sorry for not walking on eggshells around you. Sergeant Barnes.” You saluted him in a mocking way, leaning back in the chair, basically feeling the waves of anger directed towards you. If this was the Winter Soldier he would have bitten off my throat, disgraceful. - the contractions of your lungs stopped at that thought, so rude...so you? Almost like you knew him personally. Ok, ok time to cool down before something happens.

“How do you expect me to help you if you don’t throw me a bone?” you sighed, feeling still how angry Bucky was about the whole conversation and situation in general. You were in the same headspace, if not in a weird yet familiar one” If the arm hurts, let people help, heck ask Dr. Banner or Tony.” It still felt weird using their first names - energizing no doubt

“They don’t understand, never will, nor will you.” This grown man was acting like a child, like the world didn’t have people who had similar levels of stress in their life. It was slowly crawling up your nerves and igniting a fire that could, if unleashed, burn him down so fast, only the metal arm would be left. But you tried to stay cool and calm, be the adult.

“Fine, do what you want.” Your body shot up as you threw your hands even higher. The lab coat fixed itself back onto you, fingers rubbing the back of your neck. The man sat there hunched over, arm stinging with the most dumbfounded look he could plaster over his stoic façade. “You can go, but if you don’t fix it you will be a burden on the next mission.” And you threw the hook, now all good ol’Bucky had to do is bite and this would be all over in the nick of time. There was a room with your name on it, calling.

  You waited and waited till you noticed the stars pocking inside from the window. Head moving towards your clock made you realize that it was already 9pm. With a jump in your step you pulled all the vibranium back in its original comfy home and inside the space in your new desk. Whipping dust off tech and trying to organize your papers, completely ignoring the tantrum little boy pretty close by.

“Fine.” Bucky’s voice was louder and deeper than before

“What?” your neck tugged on the muscles, letting you look at him with an unbothered look swimming around in your eyes.

“I said fine.Do what you gotta do.” And the verbal consent was given on a whim. Joy filled you up knowing you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. All happened in a blink of an eye - arms wrapping around his, a sudden loud and painful swing leading to the crack of his whole metallic prosthetic. This was probably the first time you saw such an expression on his face. His brain now activated to deference mode, reached to grab your neck. Any normal person would piss their pants, but you tried to stay calm. Tapping his wrist you played a small echoing sound, when his eyes landed on the full extension and rotation of his arm.

  The accumulating pressure left his muscles as it showed on his face. Bucky’s eyes were wide, roaming over his arm with the speed of light, pulling a light cough out of your throat.

“Sorry. “ he pulled back instantly.

“I just repositioned your arm you big brute. Next time swing gentle, no need to go through walls.” Palming your neck you pointed at the door

“Now leave me to my work.” A light jump and he was on his legs again doing as you requested, not being able to say anything. Leaning onto the door frame he mumbled something and left.

Sergeant Barnes was thankful Miss.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you, pulling a smirk from deep inside. “Yeah yeah, I know. Tough nut that James Barnes. Such a kid.” One more giggle and it was off to finishing up for you.

[leechobsessed]

Alone 🍋

It’s been a very, very, long day, and Ella could really use some company.

characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: Lachlan Lonan x Ellanora Sagen / Logen words: ~1600 warnings: lemon! spice! 

etre bleu series

It wasn’t really a surprise that Ella was having a hard time sleeping. This unfamiliar bed was too large, too empty, in a setting she wasn’t accustomed to. Laying here in a house full of people, she felt more alone than she ever had before. 

Over the past few hours, she’s spent a good amount of time replaying the day's events in her mind, alternating between staring at the ceiling and staring at the door, torn between wishing Lachlan would come visit her and wishing he would stay the hell away. 

I could just go see him, she thinks briefly, before shoving the thought out of her mind. A voice deep inside her cackles at the thought, sneering at her as it spits out— Idiot. 

Groaning, Ella curls up into a tight ball in the center of the bed, burying herself deeper under the thick covers. The wine had finally worked its way out of her bloodstream, leaving her to feel all of these… all these feelings, which were unbearable without the numbing effects of the alcohol. 

It's probably better that he keeps his distance. It would make it easier on both of them. Playing this game, acting like everything was fine to avoid arousing any suspicion or worry among everyone else; it was easier than admitting the truth. 

And what was the truth?

That she… she... how could she admit that? 

Ella closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing; in through the nose and out through the mouth, just like her mother used to tell her when she had trouble sleeping as a child. Imagine your breaths are the waves, coming in, going back out to sea. Slow and even, calm and steady.

...Except it wasn’t working. The sea reminded her of the blue of his eyes, the memory of him leaving, a vast and cold and empty void she wishes she could sink into and just… disappear. Should have packed some sleeping potions, she thinks with a sigh. Or just gotten more drunk. 

A gentle knock on the door causes her eyes to snap open, starling her out of her thoughts. She turns over in bed, now facing the door, staring at the wood as if trying to see through it. Who would possibly be outside her door at this hour? 

A second knock comes, a little louder and more insistent than the first, and she drags her heavy body out of bed to greet her unexpected guest. 

She hesitates only for a moment before opening the door to reveal Lachlan, of all people, standing back on his heels, his loose white shirt untucked, his hair looking as if he had spent the last few hours running his hands through it. She’s briefly reminded of the memory of him pacing frantically outside of her shop in the rain — the last night they spent together.

She shakes the memory from her mind as he lifts his gaze from the floor to her, his cool eyes rimmed red and dark. His jaw is set so firmly, she can see his pulse throbbing at his temple. They stand there silently, their eyes fixed on each other, Ella’s hand still on the door handle, Lachlan's clasped behind his back. Finally, Ella breaks the silence. 

“What… Lachlan, what do you—”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, a sentence so familiar, too familiar, that she finds herself taking an involuntary step back. “Ella, I… I’m sorry.”

She swallows hard, her mouth going dry, her throat suddenly very tight. “Okay.” Her hand tightens on the handle and he takes a step toward her, his gaze still boring into hers, his eyes earnest and pained as he closes the distance between them.

“For everything,” he continues, his body now filling the doorway. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Lachlan—”

“I can’t… fuck, I just can’t…” his hand reaches out for her, taking a firm hold of her free hand and pulling her against his body. Her other hand comes up automatically to rest on his shoulder, and he snakes his arms around her waist to press her tighter against him. He rests his forehead against hers, his breath coming in shaky gasps. “I can’t...  stay away from you.” 

Her heartbeat is hammering in her ears as he tilts his head slightly, so his lips now hover just above hers. He pauses, waiting for permission. “Are you going to stop me?”

“No,” she breathes into him.

“Thank the gods,” he groans, right before his lips crash into hers. 

Her body feels lighter. Every ounce of tension evaporates from her muscles as she melts into him, her hands tangling in his hair like they had never left. She feels like she’s been struck by lightning; every cell in her body vibrating as his hands run along her skin, every hair standing on end as he breathes her name over and over against her lips between kisses. 

He pushes her into the room, shutting the door behind them with one hand as the other keeps her against him. She feels one of his hands trail up her spine before weaving into her hair, pulling down on her chestnut waves to bring her mouth closer to his, deepening the kiss. She moans into his mouth, and as her lips part, he takes the opportunity to push his tongue against hers. 

They stumble to the bed, falling heavily onto it, pulling each other closer, closer, as if trying to blur the line where one begins and the other ends. Lachlan shifts their bodies so she’s now below him, pulling his lips away from hers to trail kisses along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone to her shoulder, where he pulls down her nightgown to expose more skin.

Ella lets out a groan as he adjusts his position so his thigh is now nestled snugly between her legs. She grinds against him, desperate to have as much of herself in contact with him as possible, throbbing everywhere as his hands skim her thighs, sighing with pleasure as they explore up and under her nightgown to feel what’s underneath.

As his hands find her breasts, his mouth returns to hers, his kisses more passionate and desperate, like he couldn’t get enough, like it would never be enough. She arcs her back to fill his hands— “fuck”— and he reciprocates by rolling her nipples between his fingers, eliciting a half moan, half sob from deep within her chest. 

“I missed you,” she breathes against his neck before placing a kiss to his pulse. 

Lachlan only groans in response, his hand supporting her back as he shifts again to pull her on top of him. Now straddling him, Ella positions herself on his arousal, straining to be freed through his trousers. She leans back down to kiss him again, to show him just how much she missed him, to show him how much she—

“Ella, please,” he moans against her lips. “Touch me, please, Ella, gods.”

Eagerly, Ella dismounts, now laying next to him as she slides her hand below his waistband, watching as his eyes flutter shut when her hand makes contact with his cock. 

“Fuck, Ella—”

“Let me taste you,” she begs, starting to pull him free. 

Lachlan inhales sharply through his teeth. “Ella…”

“Please,” she whines, pressing kisses along the trail of hair that starts at his navel and disappears at the waistband of his pants. “Lachlan, please—”

With a curse under his breath, he shifts his hips so she can free him from his confines, and she takes the opportunity to press a kiss to the tip of his erection, savoring the sounds he makes as she takes his length, all of it, in her mouth. 

His hands find her hair to hold it off her face as she continues to enjoy him, all of him, smiling when he throws his head back against the pillow as she runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft. He’s intoxicating to watch. She can’t take her eyes off of him. 

“I want to be inside you,” he moans breathlessly, his grip in her hair tightening. “Ella, please—”

Immediately, maybe too eagerly, she repositions, hitching her nightgown up around her waist and straddling him again, aligning herself so his erection rests against her clit. A moan escapes her at the feeling of him against her; the heat radiating off of him sending shivers up her spine. 

Lachlan’s hands reach between them, pushing himself into her entrance. She lowers herself onto him slowly, so slowly—“Lachlan, gods”—and all she can do is fall against him, her forehead resting against his as she adjusts to the familiar fullness, her breath coming in short gasps.  

His hands find her waist as she rocks her hips against him, trying to get him as deep inside her as physically possible. Lachlan’s eyes don’t leave hers as she rides him, his hands don’t leave her body as she tells him she loves him the only way she knows how, the only way he knows how to accept.

Lost in the feeling of him, Ella collapses on top of him, her skin pressed to his. She rolls to pull him on top of her and—

—her right shoulder makes contact with the ground first, followed immediately after by the side of her head. The impact sends stars to her vision, and after the ringing in her head dies out, she blinks rapidly to clear them. 

She groans as she pulls herself into a sitting position, only mildly embarrassed, pressing a hand tentatively to the side of her head to check for blood. 

Thankfully, finding none, she glances back up at the bed she just came tumbling out of, slowly coming to the realization she’s been alone this whole time. Just a dream.

It was just a dream. 

She was alone. 

Still alone. 

All alone.

[astraeagreengrass]

this is me trying [the woods 3/4]

You make a decision and Steve takes a chance

Word Count: 4.848

Warnings: angst, mentions of sickness, mentions of death and death-related themes, alcohol, curse words

A/N: This chapter is filled with Taylor Swift references - I would love to know which ones you guys find and what are your expectations for the final part of this story! Many thanks to the beautiful @xbuchananbarnes​ for your help with this one. The banner picture was found here. Dividers are from @writeyourmindaway​. I hope you like it ♡

pulled the car off the road to the lookout could've followed my fears all the way down and maybe i don't quite know what to say but i'm here in your doorway i just wanted you to know that this is me trying

There is a place in Pennsylvania, a few miles past the old Swift Christmas Tree Farm, where a careful rider might notice a path off the side of the highway. If he chooses to follow this gravel road, he’ll find himself flanked by Eastern Hemlocks and Red Cedars, whose branches tangle together and the leaves whisper secrets like sisters do. “She’s here”, they’ll say. “She’s home”. At the end of this lane, the rider will encounter a house, and a gale will blow in the heart of the woods, announcing the good news to all of the forest: their child was home.

Steve turned off his motorcycle. When the rumble quieted, you heard some Blue Jays singing in the distance. Your lower back complained when you stretched, yet your boyfriend appeared completely unperturbed by the long ride.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, gaze circling the clearing, going from the house made of stone and wood to the trees surrounding it.

The door opened and an older woman skipped down the porch steps. You’d seen her a mere three weeks ago, yet your grandmother somehow looked older, more fragile. The disease was taking its toll on her body, causing her to be out of breath when she hugged you.

“You’re not supposed to run, grandma,” you chidded. She was shorter than you, shoulders slumped by age and illness, but you still hid your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the gentle scent of home and family.

“Can you at least say hello before you start scolding me?” she replied, wrinkled hands grabbing each side of your face, as if to assess any damage. “Being in love suits you, darling. You look beautiful!”

You flustered, lips opening up in a perfect, embarrassed pout, but she was unfazed, shifting her attention to the other guest.

“You must be Steve!”, she beamed. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Your grandmother kissed both of Steve’s cheeks, leaving him stunned.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he cleared his throat, a soft pink blush crawling up his cheeks.

“Oh, no!” she dismissed him. “Please call me Meredith. Now, come inside. You must be tired from the journey.”

She waved you into the house, up the rickety wooden stairs and past the veranda whose railings you used to perch on to catch raindrops with your tongue.

“I’m so happy you could join us for Thanksgiving, Steve,” Meredith said as the three of you crossed the threshold. “Did you know it’s Y/N’s favorite holiday?”

“Grandma!” you reprimanded.

“What?” she raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence.

You raised your own, a silent warning for her not to at least wait until dinner to start with the embarrassing stories. Thankfully, he was oblivious to the quiet exchange.

The house reminded Steve of a cabin he stayed with his ma in upstate New York for a few months when he was eight, after a doctor suggested that the mountain air might be good for his lungs. He remembered the whistle of a train, it's red wagons gleaming brightly under the spring light, and the way it sped through fields and forests, almost to the beat of his racing heart. He remembered the smell of grass and the buzz of the cicadas singing in the late afternoon. He remembered going back to the city after his birthday and telling Bucky that the woods were magical.

The memories flowed through his bloodstream as he entered your home. The front door revealed a small living room that someone - that undoubtedly looked a lot like Tony Stark - might call cramped, but Steve thought it was cozy. Knit blankets were thrown over a cream-colored couch sitting opposite a built-in-the-wall fireplace. Across from the entrance, a large window overlooked a glittering pond and, behind the couch, there was a bookshelf overflowing with volumes, portraits and trinkets. A staircase, which he supposed was as rickety as the one outside, led to the second floor.

"You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Y/L/N," he complimented, in a voice that sounded somewhat distant to his ears, as though muffled by nostalgia.

"Meredith!" your grandmother corrected him, clearly pleased by the compliment. "And thank you! My husband and I moved here in the 1990's after he retired from the Military. We did some renovations back then, and I suppose it's time I do it again, but oh well..."

She trailed off, fast feet scurrying to the kitchen in a silent order for you to follow her, yet Steve turned to you:

"Your grandfather was in the Army?"

"Yep. My dad, too," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"You never told me that," he pointed out.

You sighed: "I know."

"Why?"

His hands went to his waist, in that defensive stance you knew all too well, and his jawline clenched in frustration.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, saving you from answering - at least for now.

"It's Fury," you showed him the screen. "I have to take this."

You turned, bolting outside before Steve could protest.

He exhaled, rubbing his eyes furiously. Hearing the soft tinkling of glasses coming from the kitchen, he trailed your grandmother's footsteps.

"Would you like some sweet tea, Steve?" she smiled.

He nodded, thanking her as he took the glass. Meredith groaned as she sat at the dinner table and Steve's heart squeezed in his chest. Theoretically, the woman was younger than he was, yet their bodies - and their lives - were many decades apart.

"She didn't tell you about them, did she?" Meredith asked, contemplating him with eyes just like yours.

Steve shook his head.

"Please, don't be mad at her. It's a hard subject for Y/N," the woman said. "Would you get that picture frame for me, please?"

With a bony finger, Meredith pointed at a double portrait sitting at the countertop: Both pictures showed young men in military garb, but one was noticeably older than the other, in black and white with sepia coloring the edges.

"John and Michael," she said, cradling the portrait as one would an infant. "John and I met in Japan. My father was a veteran from the Pacific, and in the late 50’s the Navy stationed him in Okinawa. So, long story short, I was this rebellious daughter of a high-ranking officer who wanted nothing to do with wars and the military and John was a good boy from Pensylvannia drafted to fight in Vietnam. Still, we fell in love, eloped and I moved to Philly while pregnant with Michael, but John only joined us in 1972.”

“Wow,” Steve smiled genuinely. “That’s incredible.”

“It is,” Meredith nodded. “And he was an incredible man. Earned all the medals he was honored with. He made it to Sergeant Major, you know? But when Michael made the decision to join S.H.I.E.L.D, John retired.”

"Y/N’s father was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent?" Steve gaped.

Meredith pursed her lips.

"My husband was a righteous man. He believed his institutions and he loved them. And Michael, like everyone that knew John, admired his father and his career. So, like any boy in his position, Michael enlisted. But he was different… I think he liked the thrill, the adrenaline rush that came with the danger.

"I'm not entirely sure how or when he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., but one evening he left Y/N on our doorstep, saying that it would be best for her if she stayed with us from then on," she continued. "He visited very little after that."

Despite the brisk autumn weather, Steve's glass of sweet tea was wet with perspiration, as if the tales he'd just heard were so alive in this house they could manifest themselves in the air, in an introduction to the absent characters.

"What happened then?" he asked, unsure if he wanted an answer.

“Well," Meredith sighed. "The official report said an IED hit his convoy in Iraq, but shortly before he left Michael said he was going to Northern Europe, so…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

"I know," your grandmother said, and she meant it. If anyone could share her pain of losing too much to the military, it was Steve Rogers. "I know you do."

She slid her forearm across the table and squeezed his hand gently. There was so much kindness in her gaze that Steve nearly cried.

"It's not my place to meddle in your relationship," she said. "You're both adults. But please be careful with my granddaughter, Steve. She has a lot of love to give, she just doesn't know that."

Behind Meredith's frame, her bright yellow headscarf catching the light coming through the open window, Steve could see you pacing back and forth in the lawn with your phone in your ear. Tiny specks of dust glinted where the luminesce was brighter and in his mind they were the pieces of your puzzle, coming together for him like a gift from the extraordinary place you called home. He always thought you belonged at the Triskelion, sitting behind a computer or looking down at a tablet, cracking digital enigmas as fast as he could draw his next breath, but what a lovely mistake this was.

Maybe he was high on the sugar from the sweet tea, or maybe he just desperately wanted a piece of the love your grandmother told him about, but Steve thought about black holes - those wondrous forces of nature he learned about on TV a few weeks ago while cuddling you on the couch. Like a black hole, your gravity was so strong that nothing - not the grass, not the leaves, not a single fiber of Steve Roger's being - could escape your hold.

The woods were a small universe, and you were it's center.

The last of the boxes was emptied on Christmas Day.

It had snowed in the evening, leaving a light dust of white covering the grounds outside. If the temperature kept on lowering, the pond might freeze by January. When you opened the final cardboard package and found your old ice skates, you thought you should fix the rusted blades in case that happened. Or perhaps not. You were never the most skilled skater and there was no else here to drive you to the ER in case you broke your arm - it wouldn't be the first time.

For years, the house in the woods sat quiet - some during which the three-hour journey proved perfect for your grief to turn the car around and give up visiting and others when you were declared as dead as your ancestors. It was in urgent need of repairs, filled with the belongings you packed after your grandmother’s passing, but never found the courage to give away. But the heat was working. That would be enough for now.

"Are you sure you're going back there?" your cousin asked as you finished loading the car with your things. There wasn't much - your furniture was sold with the apartment and most of your clothes were moth-eaten and frayed from their long stint at a cramped storage unit.

"I've taken up your space for too long," you said. Olivia was your cousin from your mother's side, and like everyone from that part of your family, you shared little to none connection. You'd gone to her out of desperation, because you'd rather stay with your far-flung cousin after returning from the dead than with your not-so-ex-boyfriend who left you two - or was it seven? - years prior and you were extraordinarily glad she took you in. But like it always happened with your mother's family, it became too much, too soon. "Besides, it's time for me to move on."

Olivia hugged you before you drove away and it was stiff and awkward. You wouldn't miss her and you were sure she wouldn't either.

You programmed the GPS on your phone, but somewhere past Newark, you realized with a start that you were always one step ahead of it. It was like the way home was ingrained in your heart, despite the new buildings and the fresh pavement. It went beyond street lights and stop signs, following a map made of veins and arteries, rather than just paper and ink.

Rain started pouring heavily when you reached Reading and you nearly missed the gravel road off the side of the highway, but it was there, as unperturbed as the forest encircling it. As a child, you'd give them names and personalities, and dream up conversations they'd have with each other - Betty and Inez, the Hemlock twins; James, the Red Cedar; sweet Rebekah, the Sugar Maple. It felt stupid, but you wondered if they'd left too, like you did. If when the snap came, their soul was dusted from the bark, leaving nothing but trunk and root.

"No," you muttered to yourself. They'd stayed. They'd stayed and guarded the woods.

The first three days were daunting. You'd sleep until noon and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to book tickets to wherever in the world you thought would be the perfect place to start over, but something invisible always held you back from actually buying. On the fourth day, you emailed the lawyer, asking about the possibility of putting the house for sale. On the fifth day, while rearranging the boxes, you tripped and they fell, spilling hundreds of pictures on the timbered floor.

When you bent down to collect them, the first face you noticed was your father. He had a wide, carefree smile as he gently held you standing on a chair. You were looking down at a cake, where a big candle shaped like a "3" was lit up. You tiny hands were clapping, and your father looked at you with all the love in the world.

You never doubted his love as a child. You just didn't understand why he wouldn't visit often or why he couldn't have a job like the other kids' dads - a job that kept him close so he could tell you that he loved you, instead of whispering it in a forehead kiss every few months. As an adult, you still didn't doubt it - but you knew that he loved his job more. Still, seeing the affection so clear on his face was comforting.

An older, gray-haired, version of your father smiled in another picture - your grandfather. He was wearing a flannel shirt and a blue cap, and he held you on your shoulders. You remembered that it terrified you to swing in the air as he lifted you, but the moment he placed you on his back, you relaxed.

“Don’t ever let me fall, grandpa,” you’d beg, little hand clasped tightly around his.

"Never, sweet pea," he'd promise.

Behind the photograph, your grandmother had written: "John and Y/N. Summer, 1994".

She was notably absent from most of the pictures, you noticed. They must’ve been taken around the time she became interested in photography, and would spend hours experimenting with a Kodak she got at the flea market. You, on the other hand, was the perfect model - posing at the swing, by the pond, with your legs crossed in the big armchair, always smiling, always happy.

You didn’t remember this particular box from when you organized the house after her death. The photographs must’ve been stored away for nearly a decade, judging by the dust that covered them. There were albums, as well - Y/N’s first birthday, Y/N’s first school day, Y/N’s first trip to the beach - but the amount of pictures was so abundant that most were kept loose.

Dusk came and went, and, on the dawn of the sixth day, you made the decision to unpack the house.

You started with the kitchen - crystal glasses, the porcelain dish set your grandparents got as a marriage present and the beautiful Portuguese pottery. The living room came next with the books, portraits and an elaborate scheme to clean the hearth of the fireplace that you immediately regretted. You moved the furniture around the upper floor to the point you thought the ceiling might collapse, but eventually you managed to turn the mattress and push the queen bed to the window side of the master bedroom.

And when you found your old ice skates, tangled with an ancient string of Christmas light, you decided to hang them in the mantelpiece. Some of the tiny light bulbs were burnt or broken, bathing the room in a messy, uneven golden glow.

Like you, you thought. Damaged, but perhaps you could still shine again.

During the time you spent tidying up the house, you tried your best to ignore the nagging sensation that maybe this was a mistake. That wistfulness shouldn’t grow roots and boxes should stay closed, just like the dead stay dead. But you hadn’t. And when your fists crushed the last piece of cardboard, you wept. Not because you were haunted, but because you were wrong. You thought returning home would be haunting, that you would see your grandparents at every nook and corner, but you were mistaken. The creak of the wooden steps, the marks on the door frame for every inch you grew, the soft slope of the book bindings in the shelf - all of it brought back only the most generous memories of your childhood, and you basked in the newfound revelation that they were filled with a love so strong and abundant that it drowned even loud noise of absence.

You missed your grandparents, almost to the point of desperation, but there was a fondness in your grief now, because you were finally safe, in the home they built for you.

With the realization, came the decision. So in the space between Christmas and the New Years, you made three phone calls:

One for a therapist’s office in Reading, scheduling an appointment for the second week of January.

One for the bank in Switzerland where you'd wired all the money you made in your profitable years at S.H.I.E.L.D.

And one for a contractor, who, after much cajoling and the promise of advanced payment, agreed to start your renovations in early 2024.

Despite the state-of-the-art acoustics of Stark Tower, Tony’s buoyant countdown to the New Year was drowned out by the large crowd gathered outside, waiting for the Times Square’s ball drop.

The excited cheers rattled the bullet proof glass of the windows and the comforting press of Steve’s palm on your lower back tightened as the seconds closed in on midnight. Gentle finger - too gentle for a soldier - took your chin, angling your head towards his. Your hands wrapped around his shoulder, mindful of the crystal flute halfway filled with bubbly champagne.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispered right before he kissed you. It was slow, just the calm press of his lips and easy flicks of his tongue, the sweet lingering taste of Asgardian mead. A hand cradled the back of your head and you sighed, pushing your body further into his.

And like a firework show, it burned too fast, too brightly - sparkling in the starless night before fading away in thunderous applause.

“For a man who saved the world, you look awfully glum.”

Steve let out a dry laugh.

“How should I look, then?” he asked before taking a swig of his beer. He was well into his fourth bottle, but it wasn’t like the alcohol had any effect on him.

“Less miserable, maybe?” Bucky shrugged, plopping down next to Steve on the couch. He raised his own beer bottle: “I can’t believe how fast the refrigerator worked!”

“You spent two years in Wakanda, Buck. Modern technology shouldn't surprise you as much."

“I spent two years in Wakanda in a hut," Bucky retorted. "Besides, for all the greatness of hovercrafts and magnetic shields, there's just something so fantastic about chilling a beer in half an hour..."

“I can’t wait for when you finally master the art of the microwave,” Steve snickered.

“They’re confusing, ok?” Bucky grumbled.

They settled in comfortable silence, watching a blonde popstar perform at the New Year's Eve concert in Times Square. She was halfway through a beautiful rendition of Robbie Williams’ Angels when Bucky spoke again.

"Did you call her?" he asked. "Your girl?"

Steve hadn't told Bucky about you, but he knew. He'd seen you at Natasha's memorial service and he noticed the way his best friend got home afterwards, as well as his sullen mood in the weeks that followed.

In their youth, Steve always mocked Bucky's easy infatuations. "You can't live out of love affairs, Buck," he'd say and Bucky would roll his eyes. He lived for the hot rush of blood flushing his skin in the dark, hot corners of a speakeasy as lips trickled his ear or fingernails scratched his scalp. He longed for the soft brush of fingers circling a wrist or the bump of noses before hungry mouths met. And in his juvenile ignorance, Bucky thought his life would be too short to just no have them all - so he had them.

When the war came, Bucky believed Steve had found his match with Peggy. They were complimentary in every way - both righteous, stubborn, never backing down from a fight. And what a fight it was - so grand, so terrible, so cold. There was no room for love or heartbreak those days, only combat. Steve and Peggy's courtship was a promise, meant for better times - but they never really came.

The friend Bucky encountered in 2016 was different - still tenacious and daring, but almost to the point of recklessness. Steve wasn't satisfied in snuffing out the fires, he ignited them now. Their experiences awakening in this new world were much different, but Bucky supposed they were the same kind of nearly maddening decipherment. Besides, he may have his doubts about himself, but not about Steve Rogers.

Bucky Barnes knew a broken heart when he saw one.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her," Steve muttered.

"You don't have to apologize," Bucky said. "I am curious, though. Sam wouldn't tell me anything."

Steve chuckled.

"Of course not. Her name is Y/N,," he started. "We met when I went to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. She was an intelligence agent, so we were always working together and… She is so smart, funny, kind and beautiful, Buck. Everyone was walking on eggshells around me, meanwhile she was giving me shit for not knowing who Beyoncé was."

"Who's Beyoncé?" Bucky asked.

"The greatest performer in the world," Steve stated. "Anyway, we became friends and after a few months, I asked her if she wanted to go on a date."

"You did?" Bucky gasped.

"I was a mess," Steve groaned. "You would've given me so much shit about it. But she said yes! And then we had a second date, a third date, a fourth date… She was the one that found out about you."

"She did?"

Steve nodded, tearing the wet label of his beer.

"She uncovered Hydra's plot inside S.H.I.E.L.D. - Pierce, Project Insight, you. After the fallout, Fury managed to take most of the blame, if you can even call it that, but she still had to testify before Congress. They treated her like some kind of criminal. By then I was already back in New York, living in the Tower, working with the Avengers again. Tony was really impressed with her work so we offered her a job."

"And did she say yes?" Bucky asked.

"She wanted to go to school, learn something new. Find another trade, any trade that didn't involve secrets and conspiracies, but I begged her to accept the position. And not for the right reasons."

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N was - is - incredibly resourceful. And I wanted to find you, find Loki's scepter, punch bad guys, save the world. I wanted to be a superhero and I knew that with her I could. I felt secure in her abilities and secure in her affections. She was my safe zone, but I don’t think I was hers - or at least I don’t think I let her know that. We weren't perfect but we were fine, I think, until the Accords happened. She wasn’t a signatary, but she agreed with Tony and Natasha and that felt like the worst kind of betrayal. The night before Peggy’s funeral we had a massive fight. I called her a coward, said…” Steve hesitated.

“Said what?” Bucky coaxed.

Steve exhaled heavily. “I said that Peggy would’ve never done that to me.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his newly cut hair. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Steve said, but acknowledging it after all was said and done was useless. “I left for London that night without saying goodbye. And then… Everything happened.”

“Did you contact her at all while you were away?” Bucky asked.

Steve didn’t reply, but the answer was clear in his quietude. "Sometimes silence is louder than sound," you used to say. He finished off his beer, dropping the empty bottles on the coffee table with a thud.

“When Vision was attacked in Edinburgh and we brought him to the Compound I actually thought I’d see her there, you know?” he confessed. “Like it was all a bad dream and I’d find her waiting for me like she always did. But the computers were turned off, the jacked she kept on the back of her chair was gone. It was like she was never there.”

He continued: “So I went to her apartment - our apartment - and I couldn’t even look her in the eye. I was the coward, not her, never her. I was the worst kind of bastard, showing up unannounced after vanishing for years, as if I had a right to any of her answers…”

His breath hitched and Steve rubbed his eyes furiously. Bucky put his own beer down and pat his friend on the back.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen next, Steve,” he said. “That is not a guilt you should carry.”

“I can’t erase the image of her sitting in that hospital bed, Buck,” Steve croaked. “She was so lost and scared. I keep thinking that, even if everything was the same - Thanos, the snap, those five fucking pathetic years - if I’d just been braver, we’d be together now. The worst part of everything is that I let her think she meant nothing to me.”

“Where is she now?”

“At her childhood home in Pennsylvania. After Nat's funeral, she told me she needed to figure out what to do with her life, but she'd let me know once she decided,” Steve said. “Somehow I don’t think her plans include me.”

Bucky sighed.

“So you’re just going to quit?”

Steve frowned. “Quit?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “After everything, is this how the two of you will end?"

Steve opened his mouth, then paused. Bucky thought he looked like a big blonde dumb fish flapping in the wooden Red Hook docs he used to work at.

"I don't… Know?," he muttered hesitatingly.

"Clearly," Bucky snorted. "Pal, the guy I used to be is long gone. Hell, I might be the worst person to give out advice, but if you ask me, it sounds pretty stupid to sit here sulking while the only girl who's ever loved you for who you are is out there making plans that may or may not include you."

Steve perked up.

"You think I should go after her?"

"I think you should try," Bucky said. "First you left her, and then she Snapped. Her mind must be a mess! She has every reason to be confused, sad and especially angry, but you need to let her know that she's not alone."

Steve understood then: why it took so long for you to share your secrets and open your heart. Why you hated when he left for missions and the smallest of his wounds made you cry. Why you'd sometimes cling to him in the middle of the night.

"Don't leave me alone, Stevie," you begged once after your screams startled him conscious and he had to shake you awake from your nightmare.

"Never, sweetheart," he promised. But he failed you.

He craned his head, gaze finding his motorcycle keys hanging next to the door. If the snow wasn't too heavy, he could be in Pennsylvania in less than three hours.

"Please be careful with my granddaughter, Steve."

"Maybe wait until morning?" Bucky suggested, noticing where Steve's eyes had landed. "I'm presuming girls still like their beauty sleep, so maybe show up at her door at a reasonable hour?"

Steve laughed then, a real laugh.

"How did I spend eighty years without you, Buck?"

Bucky smiled.

"Trust me, pal. I have no idea."

[hwangzi]

Natural Pt.2 (M)

[NSFW - teasing, public handjob, orgasm denial, y/n getting her revenge >:)]

{Kinda requested? thx to @stay-trash-2017 's comment :')}

I / II / III

.

After the photoshoot, all members, including their plus-one's and the staff were gathered up to have dinner, celebrating the successful day.

You were treated to a delicious feast at your favourite Korean barbecue place. Everyone was chatting animatedly, laughing and joking with each other, you lost count of how many soju bottles were opened in the past few hours. Just when you were about to take another shot, Minho's girlfriend raised her voice.

"Alright! Are we all just gonna pretend we didn't witness how our cute, innocent y/n here became the hottest and baddest of us all today?" Her words were a kinda slurred…. she was tipsy. You almost choked on your drink - All attention was turned on you.

"Oh my god yesss~!" Jisung's girlfriend agreed, nudging your arm with an excited giggle.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't tell me you always hid that side of yours and Felix only had to bring it out, huh?" Hyunjin's girlfriend teased, making everyone break out in laughter.

All you wanted was just to disappear in embarrassment. Your eyes desperately searched your boyfriend's beside you - but your knight wasn't there to the rescue. Instead, you found him joining in with their amusement, chuckling to himself quietly with one hand covering his lightly blushing face.

So the alcohol was getting to him, too. The vengefulness from preceding events was slowly recoiling in your stomach.

Interesting...

You cleared your throat and the crowd fell silent.

"Well. Actually, I held back because I didn't want to outshine this man over here-" you grabbed Felix' arm, making him drop his chopsticks on the wooden table.

"Wha-" the blonde started, but was cut off by your own voice.

"In reality, I was just playing down because otherwhise my boyfriend would be jealous of me stealing the spotlight... right, Lix?" You turned to him, a provoking grin plastered on your face.

The crowd howled and whistled and Felix scoffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Only in your dr-"

"Oh, you know well enough that I am confident if I wanted to be," you chuckled before turning back to the guys,

"Guess the cat's out of the bag now?" The whole table laughed, applauding you, impressed at how easily Felix gave up on your little banter.

Little did they know, your words weren't the reason why he stopped talking.

Felix' eyes widened almost imperceptibly, feeling his heart beat quicken. His gaze slowly wandered down to his thighs, only to find your palm resting dangerously close to his crotch. Everyone at the table was distracted again, absorbed in their own conversations.

You tested the waters, giving his thigh a little squeeze.

"Y/n-" Felix muttered, still trying to keep a straight face.

"Sshhh..."

Trailing your hand upwards, you gently brushed over the fabric. He could feel himself getting hard.

"Y/n-" he hissed again, a warning undertone evident in his deep voice.

"Everything alright, baby?"

You feigned innocence, taking another sip of soju with your right hand while the other kept up its ministrations underneath the table.

"Fuck-" Felix cursed under his breath, the alcohol cursing through his bloodstream coupled with all the pent-up sexual frustration making him weak.

You chuckled internally at how smoothly your plan was working. He was already having a hard on within seconds and all you did was cup his dick underneath the tablecloth.

Fortunately for you, your boyfriend didn't even make any attempts to stop you as the pressure of your hand on his hard member felt so heavenly, he was unable to resist. Biting his lower lip, you watched with amusement how he was trying to hold himself up straight while suppressing his groans.

With a quick glance on either side of the table, you took the opportunity to undo the zipper on his slacks. Now the only thing separating your bare skin from his was the thin fabric of his underwear.

Felix hissed silently, almost throwing his head back in pleasure but successfully disguised the movement as a quick stretching exercise. He then proceeded to lean in, so his hot breath was tickling your ear.

"Keep this up and I'll come right here and now, babygirl." It was a husky growl, causing shivers down your spine.

"Y-You want that?" You whispered in return, the shakiness in your voice betrayed you.

You stroked him faster, watching as he shut his eyes at the feeling. When he opened them again, they were pitch black and filled with lust.

"Yes. Do it." He demanded, the sexy authority in his voice almost made you give in - but you had to follow through with your plan.

"O-okay."

"Good girl." He praised, encouraging you by discreetly placing his hand on top of yours, helping you increase your pace.

"Hyung!"

Your movements came to an abrupt halt when all of a sudden, Jeongin called the older male from across the table, asking him something about a video game.

Felix sat up, slightly annoyed at the younger for forcing you to postpone this little act to later. You, however, internally thanked him. You've been waiting for this.

Let’s get this game started.

When Felix took out his phone to show something, you quickly slipped your hands back and into his boxers, making him gasp out loud. Nobody, except of Jeongin seemed to have noticed it.

He cleared his throat, explaining he suddenly remembered something about the game character.

You chuckled, thumb smoothing over his leaking tip, feeling him tense up all over. Felix' eyes were focused on the phone screen but you knew his mind was elsewhere.

Feeling your hand pumping his erection in increasing speed, it took all of his willpower to put on this act.

God, he was angry at you. And god, did it feel good.

You could tell he was slowly losing control, the way his member twitched in your palm a dead giveaway that he was close. His thighs were trembling, Felix was starting to loose focus and you could see Jeongin getting worried at his bandmate's questionable state. His voice was trailing off, his entire focus on your hand around his cock as he felt himself reaching his high.

But suddenly - right on the very edge of his orgasm - you removed your hand completely.

Shocked by the sudden loss of contact, Felix turned to face you, not even caring about the video game anymore.

"What the fuck-" he expressed wordlessly and you just shrugged.

"Was that enough provoking?" You smiled wickedly, using his own words against him, "Have a taste of your own medicine." Quickly zipping up his fly and drawing your hand back, you left him incredibly turned on and angry as hell.

Check mate.

However, your revenge plan didn't end as expected.

Felix got up, pulling your wrist harshly, causing the table to rattle at the sudden impact.

"We're leaving." He spat, giving an apologetic nod to his startled friends before yanking you out of the restaurant.

The next thing you knew was your body smashed to the wall the moment the empty elevator opened its doors and his greedy mouth leaving marks all over your neck while your rode up to your hotel room.

"Thought you could get back to me with this little stunt of yours, huh?"

You moaned at his roughness, adrenaline spiking through your veins. Felix let out a vicious snicker, his thumb tracing the purple pattern he’d just created on your skin.

"Bold of you to assume you could get away with this, baby. Forget your reward - Once I'm done with you, I dare you try this again."

Secretly, you knew you would. When it came to teasing him, you were a natural, after all.

Continue.

[angstyaches]

Alone (Hitori de)

So I feel like I’ve been teasing this OC’s introduction for... a long time?! So finally, here’s your invitation to Ryan Aldridge’s 200th birthday party! 

CW: nausea, emeto, loneliness, jetlag, character overwhelmed by language

He was swaying a little – hopefully not noticeably – as he passed countless faces. Countless strangers who, no matter their differences, were all dressed in black and white attire; monochromatic dresses and stiff-looking suits were the order of the evening. All blending in, all the same.

However, most other people at the party weren’t hiding sweat patches under their suit jackets, or struggling to stand upright because of stomach cramps and dizzy spells.

Conversations blew past, the onslaught of the known, yet vaguely unfamiliar, language making everything worse. His hands were shaking, and the loneliness felt like an alien thing attached to his stomach lining, niggling away with the possibility that he wouldn’t find who he was looking for.

He lingered by the refreshments table, resigning to just grabbing a cup of water. There was a selection of food – as well as goblets of blood and various entrails for the strictly carnivorous guests – on display in giant, elaborate glass bowls, anyone’s for the taking. He averted his eyes from all of this; the thought of putting anything in his stomach right then made him want to retch, despite the fact that his last meal had been on a plane ten hours ago.

It could have been the three plane rides that were making him feel so horrible, or maybe it was the fact that his eating and sleeping schedule had been shaken around relentlessly over the past three days. Or was it two days? He couldn’t even get it straight in his head.

The cold water settled in his belly for all of a couple of seconds before he felt it gush back towards his throat. He hiccupped deeply, pressing a hand to his mouth just in case anything had made it all the way up. He glanced around, noting that none of the nearby guests had turned to look at him.

Feet swirled in and out of his vision as he stared at the floor and shuffled away from the table. Arms brushed against his and made his clammy skin crawl. His agoraphobia didn’t usually affect him as badly as his claustrophobia, but right now it felt like the two were ganging up on him.

He needed to get out of there.

He weaved through to the other end of the hall, mumbling “sumimasen, excuse me, I’m sorryyyy” all the while. He began to feel off-balance, like he’d accidentally put his tight dress shoes on the wrong feet. He somehow made it out of the function room and through the foyer, stumbling out into the night.

At the top of the glossy marble staircase that overlooked the mansion’s car park, he loosened his tie and undid his top button. His shirt felt soaked with sweat under his jacket, his hair curled and sticking to the back of his neck. Now that he was away from the party, he could hear his own stomach groaning in discomfort.

He sat down at the side of the top stair, leaning his head against a cool marble column. He was tempted to close his eyes for a bit, but he was afraid his jetlagged brain would put him straight to sleep if he did. He couldn’t imagine any of the Elder and elitists would be too pleased to find an unconscious Japanese boy slumped at the top of the stairs of this very fancy mansion. He could just imagine the scolding phone call he would get from Yumi if she caught wind of it all.

The cold air relaxed him for a few minutes, before he heard footsteps coming up from the car park of the mansion, as well as low voices speaking to each other. He lowered his head a little further, curling an arm around the side of his face to hide from whoever was coming, waiting with the other hand pressed into his gut for his moment of solitude to be restored.

Not that he wanted to be alone, exactly.

“- hear what she said?”

“I heard her, boo, but I still don’t think she meant it the way you’re taking it.”

“Yeah, well, I think you give them too much slack, honestly.”

He lifted his head to see the two figures who had just walked past him towards the entrance to the mansion. One of them was a tall, dark guy whose suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, revealing suspenders worn over a grey-and-white pinstripe shirt.

The other was a lot shorter, paler, and had vibrant blue-green hair. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his shirt was silky and patterned like a chessboard.

His heart grew lighter in his chest and tears sprang to his eyes. A brand-new wave of energy struck his bloodstream and his nervous system, and if he’d been in fox form at that moment, he’d have wagged his fluffy white tail.

His legs carried him back inside without much input from his thoughts, and he couldn’t stop smiling to himself. Even the pain in his belly faded to the back of his mind; even the unsteadiness left him alone. The crowd didn’t freak him out as much as he joined it this time; because in the sea of black and white attire, he could see that mint-coloured hair.

It had been a silvery shade of lilac when he had last seen it, and it was about thirty feet away, buried in the crowd.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Fee-kun!”

Heads shot up from drinks and conversations, but none of them were the right heads. Kazu began to giggle as more and more attention was drawn towards him, and it only made him more and more excited, more and more eager to –

“FEE-KUN!”

He looked this time, blinking in disbelief.

“Kaz?” Felix asked, eyes widening as started to push his way back through the crowd.

Kazu allowed himself a shaky smile.

“Kaz?” Felix squeaked, starting to run a bit now.

Kazu managed to brace himself in time for Felix to throw his weight towards him. He scooped the smaller boy into a hug; there was so much adrenaline in his blood that he mustered the strength to lift Felix up off the ground and spin him slightly before setting him back down.

Just like he used to.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s really you,” Felix gushed, clinging to Kazu for dear life. Kazu was a little wary of the pressure this was putting on his stomach, but he still laughed and continued to squeeze his friend back.

He also noticed the disgruntled looks that some of the older guests were throwing their way, but if Felix didn’t care, then Kazu certainly didn’t.

“Hisashiburi, ne?”

“Hisashiburi.” Felix’s voice cracked a bit as he nodded violently, his chin knocking against Kazu’s collarbone. It certainly had been a long time. Six years, to be exact. Felix still looked like the same twenty-three year old Kazu had known back then, whereas Kazu had gone from nineteen to twenty-five in that time.

“Genki?” Felix demanded to know, his voice warm beside Kazu’s ear. Are you well? His Japanese was nowhere near the level of Kazu’s English, but Kazu appreciated the effort. The rushed little greetings were making him feel a little less overwhelmed.

“Genki,” Kazu muttered, though now that he thought about it, he felt far, far from genki, and he didn’t feel good about lying to his friend. “Ah – I – I’m tired.”

“You look it, buddy,” Felix said as he pulled back, frowning as he scanned his friend’s face. “When was your flight in? Today?”

“Ah, uh, yes,” Kazu said shakily. “For me, yesterday.”

“Right, right.” Felix turned his head, beckoning for his taller, darker companion to join them. So far, he had been hovering a few steps below, but he silently came back up, letting Felix take his hand. The rest of the party had gone about their business by now, Kazu noted.

“Elli, you remember me telling you about Kazuhito, right?”

The guy nodded quietly.

“Kaz, this is Elliott,” Felix smiled.

Kazu glanced down, gulping back a mouthful of sour spit as he saw how the two of them were holding hands. He’d never felt anything romantic towards Felix, but he’d also never had to share him with anyone; when he’d come to Japan, Felix had been alone and completely helpless until Kazuhito had offered him somewhere to stay.

Now Kazu was the one in a foreign land. Now he was the one who was alone.

He was working himself up to repeating the name Felix had given, briefly panicking that he was going to mess up the L-sound. He wondered if he should just lean into a funny mispronunciation, to try to break the ice.

“Ni-nice to mee–”

Kazu swallowed mid-speech and clamped a hand to his mouth. The crashing waves in his stomach were even more unsettled after the jumping and hugging and spinning. The excitement and relief he’d felt upon seeing Felix was already ebbing away, leaving just nausea and exhaustion. He really didn’t feel like talking, not with how horrible his body felt, and not while there were so many people around. What he wanted was a bed, preferably his futon back home, but he’d have settled for anything.

“Hey, are you okay?” Felix asked, his eyes widening again.

“Ore – kibun –  I…” Kazu mumbled into his hand, too dizzy to try to explain in English. He gently placed his other hand on his stomach for emphasis. “Onaka ga itai.”

“What, really? Your stomach hurts?” Felix glanced around, stepping closer again so he could put a hand to Kazu’s elbow.

Kazu moaned. He felt like the world was tilting on its side. He wanted to warn Felix of just how bad he felt, of the very real danger of –

Before he could make up his mind what to do or say, his body made a decision of its own, and his head shot forward with incredible force. His hand flew away and his jaw fell open, and he emptied out the scarce remains of his in-flight meal and all of the water he’d drank.

A beat of silence rang through his head after the splash.

His mouth was still hanging open wide as saliva and vomit dripped from his lips to the polished white floor. He slowly looked up to see that he’d puked all over Felix and his boyfriend, coating their shoes and the fronts of their clothes with thick white chunks and yellow liquid. The nearby guests had leaped back, shuffling about and looking at their feet and exclaiming things that Kazu couldn’t focus enough to hear.

With his stomach feeling somewhat relieved, Kazu felt his shoulders begin to tremble with a weak roll of laughter.

“Fucking hell, Felix,” the boyfriend growled, as though Kazu’s vomit was somehow Felix’s responsibility. His hands were hovering out from his body as he looked down at his destroyed shirt, his spattered suspenders.

Felix just gave a shaky smile and put his hand on Kazu’s shoulder.

“Fee-kun, gomen,” Kazu giggled, sorry, covering his mouth in response to both the laughter and the nausea that was rolling around for a second appearance. He gulped loudly, making Felix jump. “Go-gomen, ne…”

“Don’t – don’t be sorry, okay? Let’s just get you out of here. Excuse us, sorry, can we just –?”

Kazu let himself be directed back out through the doors and towards the top of those outdoor marble stairs again. His vision was fuzzy, but Kazu broke away and threw himself against a wall, doubling forward and ejected another stream of sick, this time into an elaborate flowerbed about ten feet below.

“Oh, gosh, the hydrangeas.”

Kazu tensed as he felt Felix come up beside him.

“Sorry, it’s – don’t worry, just get everything up. You poor thing,” Felix sighed, rubbing his back firmly despite the fact his dress shirt and jacket were now soaked through with sweat. With his free hand, Felix reached around and laid a cool palm against Kazu’s forehead. “I think you might have picked up a bug, maybe on one of your flights. You’re a tad hot. Atsui.”

“Atsui,” Kazu agreed, spitting away some of the sour fluid still pooling around his tongue and teeth. He lifted his head back from over the wall. He scoffed with nervous laughter as he looked at that first wave of sick again, soaking into the laces of Felix’s shoes. “Yabai. Sorry, Felix.”

“Daichi Kazuhito?”

A woman’s deep voice made Kazu turn his head. His guts felt even wobblier under her pale yellow gaze. She had frosty-white hair, almost as white as the streak that ran through Kazu’s, breaking up the silky black. He didn’t have to wonder who she was.

“Ka-Kazuhito desu,” he muttered. “Ryan-sama, hajimemashite. Tanjoubi omedetou…”

Felix cleared his throat. “He – he said it’s nice to meet you, and happy birthday –”

“Yes, thank you, Felix,” Ryan said evenly. Without any change in her expression, she began to address Kazu, in Japanese, explaining that she was good friends with Yumi, which he’d already been aware of. He had to really focus on what she was saying, not just because of her accent, but also because his belly was still churning, despite its contents now being spread out across Felix, Elliott, and the mansion’s hydrangeas. His ears pricked up at certain words, especially when he realised she was asking him a question. “Hitori de?”

Kazu nodded miserably as his fever- and jetlag-induced fear was pounded into his chest. He began to press a hand against his belly again, as the nausea began to melt into a dull, twisting ache.

“Hi-hitori de,” he said in a quiet voice. He had come here alone. One person. Just Kazuhito. He mumbled softly that Yumi sent her apologies, but work had been too hectic for her to take time off to travel.

As he spoke, he felt Felix reach up to brush his hair back from his sticky forehead. Kazu felt goosebumps breaking out all down his back and his arms.

“He can stay with us, can’t he, Ryan?” Felix asked softly. “Seeing as he’s sick. He helped me out a lot, back when – well, when I was in a much worse state than this.”

Ryan pursed her lips. “Elliott’s already headed for the car.”

A warm glow spread through Kazu’s chest as Felix linked an arm through his elbow and pulled him close. “Thank you, Ryan. So, we’ll see you at home tomorrow?”

“You will, indeed.” Ryan looked Felix up and down swiftly, eyeing the vomit stains on his pants and shirt. “Wash those trousers immediately. You can burn the shirt. It’s an insult to good taste.”

Felix laughed to himself as she stalked off, and Kazu finally eased the last of his weight up from his elbows, up from the edge of the wall. He felt his stomach gurgle, the sound traveling right up in his throat. He burped uneasily into his fist and smiled awkwardly at Felix.

“Come on,” the bright-haired boy coaxed. “Let’s get you out of here, before you puke all over these lovely steps.”