#cringe ass one night stand who shows up once a decade

[pithyorangecurd]

[msmarvelwrites]

Almost Is Never Enough

Summary: Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to Peggy Carter. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. But that doesn't make it any easier to watch him go.

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Angst, angst, just a little bit of angst, fluff, language. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Thank you to the wonderful @remmiesour for this request. It’s been a decade, but I finally got around to it! I’ve never written for Steve and honestly I didn't think I ever would but, famous last words I guess! Enjoy!

Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to her. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. She was there, and if it was the last thing he did, he would be too. 

So, when the opportunity presented itself, when he could actually find his long lost love, you already knew he had made the decision before the words fell from his lips. 

You knew. But god, that didn't make it any easier. 

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, falling in love with the world's most unavailable man. In every sense of the word, it was an accident. 

And yet, there you stood, eyes trained on his face as he laughed with his friends. The sound ripping through you like it always did. For the past week you had been trying to memorize the sound. The way it filled the room, pulling smiles from everyone who heard it. 

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Steve Rogers, but that is exactly what you did. 

“Ya know,” Bucky’s gravely voice started behind you, pulling your attention away from Steve and towards his friend. “If you're planning on telling him, I’d do it now.” 

You furrowed your brow at the brunette, a false confusion clouding your eyes. You shook your head, only pulling a scoff from his stubble framed lips. 

“Don’t play that with me. I see the way you look at him.” He smiled softly, watching as your eyes flicked back to the godlike man. 

Bucky was only trying to help. But in your case, you were just too late. You had your moment. Several if you were being honest. Steve deserved someone who wasn't afraid to tell him how they felt. Someone strong and brave. 

Someone like Peggy Carter. 

“I missed my chance.” You hummed, taking a sip from the bottle of stale beer in your hand. You grimised at the bitterness, the liquid courage doing nothing for your spirit. Only serving as a half assed reminder of what a coward you really were. 

How many times had those three words almost fallen from your mouth? How many moments passed- longing stares and lingering touches? Surely too many to keep count. But it didn't change the truth. 

He didn't love you, and he was leaving. 

“I think that he deserves to know what he’s leaving behind.” Bucky whispers against your ear, the words pulling at your heart. 

Only you and he knew the truth. Today was not a celebration of wins… It was a send off. 

“He deserves to be happy.” You choked out, your eyes meeting Steves from across the room, his softening when he was your hollow form. You faked a smile, though it didn't fool the Captain as he began to make his way over to you. 

“And what about you?” You snapped your head to meet Bucky, your eyes serious and tone stern. 

“Stop it. Please.” 

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as Steve approached you. His voice calling your name melted over you like honey in tea. So sweet, but always ready to burn if not careful. 

You met his gaze, his blue eyes sparkling down at you, inviting you in. You could drown in the oceans of his iris, in fact, you had on many occasions. Tonight was no exception. 

“Could I steal you away for a moment?” He asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts, coated in kindness. 

The moment his eyes met yours, you were a goner. A mess from the second he said your name. It was pathetic, but then again, isn’t that what you were? Doomed from the first day he walked into your life, taking up every thought in your head.

“Of course.” You tried to smile, forcing it on your quivering lips. You hoped Steve didn’t notice, and of course, he didn’t. He never noticed. If he had, perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Steve pulled you along, hand in hand as he led your outside into the night. Darkness acting as a veil covering your hurt. Part of you wanted to scream. Needed it. Though, it wouldn’t do much now. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” His question echoed around you, pulling you to the memory of your first encounter. 

Of course you remembered. It replayed in your head like a broken record every night. A thousand ‘what if’s’ swirling around the memory. 

The day he asked you to dance at one of Tony’s elaborate fundraisers for charity. He was like something out of a dream, the way he walked across that dance floor to you. The way his voice asked that daunting question. The way you swooned the moment his hands touched yours, pulling you in and spinning you around the room. 

It all felt so distant now. As if you had made the entire thing up in your head. 

Sometimes you wish you had.

“I remember you being a terrible dancer.” You joked, worrying on your bottom lip as Steve's laugh echoed around you. 

“See, that's the problem. I don’t have much practice and I owe a dame a dance.” His words were sincere and yet dripped in venom. They cut you deep, poison darting straight to your heart. 

“You want me to help you… Dance?” You tried not to let your face show how truly hollow you felt. 

You had to force yourself not to cringe away when he took your hand, pulling you gently against his chest. You could have died right there, drowned in your own self loathing, overcome with jealousy for a woman who, at this very moment, was nothing more than a tombstone. She was gone, nothing but a memory and still- Steve picked her. 

With a broken breath, you rested your hand on his shoulder, shivering at his touch. You should pull away, save yourself from the ache. But the way he held you- gently and with a foreign love you would never feel from Steve, your body stayed.  You had wondered what it would be like. Wrapped up in his arms, your name on his mouth, his lips on your throat. You had imagined it more times than you cared to admit. 

One dance couldn't hurt. 

You let him take the lead, swaying you slowly into the night. His hand on your waist, guiding you to a silent melody. 

“Ya know, there was a moment that I thought it might be us.” His words whispered against your neck, freezing you in time. You swore your veins turned to ice at the cruelty of his remark. All you could do was gape. 

Steve pulled away to look at you, watching your face turn pale and eyes fill with tears. 

“How could you- This is a bad idea. I can’t do this, Steve.” You choked out, horrified at how little your voice sounded. You hated how he made you feel, small and broken. If you were, it was only because he made you that way. 

“I didn't mean to-”

“Didn't you? I respect myself too much to beg you to stay. But what the fuck, Steve? How can you stand there, one foot out the door and tell me that?” You were shattered, hand over your heart as if it might fall out at any moment. “I’ve followed you around like you were the sun. I’d do anything for you. But I won’t watch you walk away. Not when all that’s waiting for you is a ghost. I love you too much, and it breaks my heart that you can’t even consider that I could… That I might…” 

“Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry. I just-” Your name fell from his lips like a plea, but you couldn't stand there and listen to him try to mend what was already so irreversibly broken.

“No- Just stop.” You blurted, turning away and pulling yourself from his grasp. “I’ve been second to her my whole life. I’m numb to it now. But don’t make excuses for your shitty decision. If you want to go, go.” With that, you pushed away from him, heading back to the party and away from the man who, come tomorrow, would be forever out of reach. 

The next morning you woke up, eyes burning from the tears shed the night before and chest heavy with guilt. 

Part of you knew there was a better way to say the things you did, but another part reveled in your cruelty. Basked in how dumbstruck Steve looked standing on the lawn. Maybe it was mean, but so was he. 

It wouldn't matter for long. The afternoon sun was creeping in and soon he would be gone. Nothing but a distorted memory of a man you used to love. But at least he knew. At least when he laid beside his consolation prize he would remember you. Maybe he would hurt. You cringed at the idea. 

No matter how much you wanted to hate Steve, your heart simply wouldn't allow it. That was the worst joke of all. You despised the man you loved. 

Buck: He’s waiting for you… 

You looked down at your phone on the bedside table, wiping away the tear that rolled down your cheek. You knew it was time. This was the moment that you had prepared for. But you made a promise last night- one you were far too petty to fall back on now. 

Though even still, as the seconds lulled by, guilt began to eat away at your brain and before you knew it you were half way out the door. Your feet dragged you down the hall, forcing you to confront the horrible truth. 

You knew he was gone before Bucky even spoke the words. His eyes filled with a sadness only you could know. Shoulders slumped as he struggled to hold his gaze. He shook his head, affirming your worst fears as Sam’s panicked voice broke through the tension. 

“Get him back here!” He shouted, his tone filled with dread. It was torture to watch, unberable to feel.

A loud crackle erupted through the air almost knocking you off your feet. Through the piercing white flash, you saw a figure. If you didn't know any better you would have thought-

There, in all of his glory, was Steve Rogers. Perfect and untouched. Like a statue carved from marble. 

All you could do was gape, hand over mouth as he stepped down the tarmac, a smile that could instill world peace plastered on his pink lips. Your whole body vibrated with nerves. Somewhere between anger and hope.

Your name fell from his lips, but you couldn't hear it over the hammering of your heart, your feet already carrying you across the field.  

“What the hell are you-” 

“It’s you, doll.” He beamed, his words only fueling a rage that was threatening to boil over the closer you got. “It’s always been you. I can't believe I didn't see it until-”

Your fist colliding with his stoney jaw cut him off before he could finish. You pushed against his, palms thrashing at his chest as he tried to fend you off. Of course, he could if he truly wanted to, you knew this. 

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begged, holding your wrists tight as you went to take another hit. You tried to yank yourself away from him, but it was no use. “I was stupid, doll. A complete idiot and I didnt see what was right in front of me. Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me I still have a chance.” Steve's eyes brimmed with tears as your heart thundered in your chest. 

You could only blink, your mind racing between a thousand reasons to walk away. To close the chapter on your love with Steve for good. So why did you stay? As if it wasn't torture enough. As if he hadn't beaten your heart black and blue with his carelessness. You wanted to run, but amidst the broken shards of your heart was a naive girl desperate with hope. And so, with a half step, you closed the distance, taking the deadly plunge as your lips collided with his. 

Steve drank you in, his mouth moulding to yours the instant you met. His hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you in until you arched back against him. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how completely and irrevocably intoxicating he was. His presence over you melting you into a puddle before him. 

Steve's tongue gently ran across your bottom lip pulling a gutteral shutter to wrack through your body. The taste of him permanently cemented into your mouth. It was the soft moan that escaped the back of his throat that finally did you in, buckling your knees as you held onto the soldier for dear life. 

It wasn't until Sam’s voice echoed around you that you finally pulled away from Steve. Your body’s untwining as the rest of the world came back into focus. 

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on? What is she talking about?” Sam shouted, pointing his finger at you exasperatingly. 

“I- I… I don't…”  Your words fell to the back of your throat, the memory of Steve’s lips ingrained in your skin. You couldn't think, much less form a coherent sentence as he looked down at you, that boyish grin plastered on his mouth. The way his eyes sparkled, tears filled with a longing you had seen many times, but never from him. 

“Were you not coming back?!” Sam blurted abruptly causing Steve to snap his head in the falcons direction. 

“No.” Steve spoke simply, his gaze returning to you. Eyes filled with an answer you had been wracking your brain for.  “I could never leave my best girl.” 

You scoffed, your gaze only leaving Steve’s for a moment. His words were kind, his lips intoxicating. But there was a nagging in your heart, pulling you from your dreamstate and back to reality. 

“Best girl, huh?” You signed, leaning into him as you chased his touch. “I think I’m going to need you to prove that, Rogers.” 

Steve chuckled, the low rumble vibrating through your chest. His smile seemed brighter than you’d ever seen, reassuring you that this was the only place he wanted to be. “For as long as I can, darling.” 

[rodeoxqueen]

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT 

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.” 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic. 

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies. 

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most. 

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat. 

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point? 

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.” 

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed. 

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.” 

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.” 

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually. 

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards. 

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.” 

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table. 

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore. 

He opted for a cup of water instead. 

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail. 

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread. 

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth. 

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.” 

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears. 

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl. 

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island. 

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar. 

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.” 

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell. 

“It’s yeast alright.” 

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.” 

Nero shrugged. 

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.” 

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.” 

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing. 

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven. 

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.  

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it. 

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee. 

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth. 

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.” 

“Support local businesses, Nero.” 

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume. 

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies. 

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee. 

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee. 

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip. 

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie. 

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work. 

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned. 

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma. 

(II)- Curl Up And Dye. 

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more. 

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter. 

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless. 

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.” 

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement. 

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath. 

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course.” 

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims. 

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled. 

So here they were now. 

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head. 

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered. 

“Um, what did you try to do-” 

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands. 

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair. 

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out. 

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut. 

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.” 

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly. 

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed. 

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless. 

No one liked being helpless. 

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more. 

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity. 

“What color, Nero?” 

“Neon green-” 

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I don’t mind it.” 

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It. 

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Dante.” 

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call. 

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.  

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off. 

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard. 

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell. 

“Nice broccoli head.” 

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat. 

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero. 

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.” 

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk. 

“Kyrie, wait-” 

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.” 

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response. 

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them. 

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed. 

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured. 

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing. 

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.” 

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke. 

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick. 

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history. 

“Where do we even start?”  Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress. 

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally. 

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some. 

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[strayfreckles]

all on you.

☕︎︎ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft. ryujin, felix, & yeji); highschool au, friends-to-lovers au, barista au, bulletpoint fic.

maybe you would’ve gotten out of highschool with your emotions (and pride) unscathed if it weren’t for hwang hyunjin and his so-called romantic, obnoxious—and, in your case, unfortunately effective—antics.

includes: fluff, angst (especially in the middle), mutual pining, somewhat slow burn (?), gn!reader, barista!reader, a hefty amount of swearing, the only consistent thing you’ll see here is how utterly terrible this is, fluctuating humor

notes: this was requested by a wonderful anon! before you dive in, i’d like to inform you that this is my first fic of any kind, so please tread gently 😔✋ though constructive criticism is appreciated !! hope you enjoy (and hopefully not cringe too much sdkdnkdks) <33

wordcount: 2.8k

let me be the first to say that you absolutely abhor romance films with every existing fiber and cell in your body.

like, you cannot physically withstand the atrocity that is occurring right before your very eyes and you have to tear your gaze away before you bash your head to the nearest table.

and though you do admit that you’re overreacting sometimes

you also admit that you’re a massive dumbass for falling prey to one of the most common—and one of the most infuriating tropes—that is falling for your best friend.

yeah, hwang hyunjin? that boy holds your heart between his palms and with every smile you fall deeper and deeper

you’ve known that kid since you started eating crayons in elementary, and since then you’d been attached at the hip, clung to each other through all the clownery of middle school

finding each other in places is like a sixth sense; it only takes you both less than a minute to find the other before startling them with a quiet “hey, you”

but time is impatient, and that timid, starry-eyed boy you knew became the dimpled heartthrob come highschool—geared with the smarts and the talents and love-laced words that sent boys and girls running after him

but to you he was always just that kid who nearly consumed clay cakes because “it looked so real!”

until he wasn’t

it just came to you like a blow to the face, in the middle of sophomore year, sitting on hyunjin’s bedroom floor on a weekend trying to cram revise for your upcoming exams

you decided to take a quick break, and made the mistake of looking at hyunjin

and my oh my was he stunning

every laugh that tumbled from his lips sounded like a fucking symphony

and the bastard was just playing with kkami !!

he looked so damn soft as he planted kisses on his coat

every single constellation you knew was embedded in his irises

haha heartbeat go brrrrrrr

and maybe all you wanted was for him to never stop smiling, because he looked the most beautiful when he did, and maybe you wanted to brush his hair away from his face because you couldn’t see his eyes all that well and what the fuck—

you just malfunctioned

because that was your best friend

he noticed you staring, of course, and had the audacity to smirk, and in a second you wanted to set yourself on fire

“y/n, i know i look good, but at least try to be subtle.”

“you look like a low-budget minion, hyunjin.”

“i’d rather be a minion than a shabbier version of gru, thank you.”

(many fists were thrown that day, and hyunjin learned not to pick fun at your clothing lest that he face humiliation)

for the first few months you were in constant denial, even going so far as to blame hyunjin himself for forcing you to watch countless romcoms on your weekly sleepovers

but once you catch hyunjin staring at you with that fond look in his eyes, one he’s carried since childhood, your heart finally has the courage to murmur into the concaves of your chest, i am in love

it gets worse around senior year

the summer after junior year you land yourself a job at miroh café, a coffee shop at the heart of the town bc you’re broke as fuck and you need the cash

and, as expected, hyunjin becomes a frequent patron

he’s armed with a pickup line every single time he orders

and every single time you have to tell your heart to calm the fuck down he’s always been like this c’mon gimme a break

it’s even gone to the point where the regulars mistake him as your boyfriend

and as if your conscience nagging you 24/7 wasn’t enough mental baggage, your coworkers and fellow seniors, felix and ryujin, decided to weigh in

“if that isn’t the look of someone who’s simping over you then i don’t know what is,” ryujin nudges you, and from the repetitive force you’ve sustained from the past week you’re surprised your ribs aren’t bruised yet.

“you act like you’re not in the same dance crew,” you scoff, “ryujin, he flirts with everyone—he even had the balls to hit on chan!”

“let me remind you that denial is always the first stage of falling in love,” felix chirps, cheerful as he replenishes the pain au chocolat in the display.

“and let me remind you that i’m holding a very hot cup of coffee straight out of the machine; ‘accidents’ can happen, felix.”

of course, you weren’t in denial—you’d been past that stage long ago

it’s just that you didn’t wanna give yourself false hope

you didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing with him that’s lasted for nearly a decade because of your stupid emotions

so you’ve trained yourself to remain indifferent to the many compliments and lines he sent your way, hoping that if you could fool the others into thinking he didn’t affect you, maybe you could fool yourself, too

but oh ho ho, do i have some news for you (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

you don’t know how hyunjin’s pulse speeds up whenever he sees a handwritten note on his coffee wishing him good luck

you don’t know how often he forces himself to stop staring at you whenever you’re not looking

you don’t know how stupidly happy it makes him when he sees you smile

especially when he’s the reason why.

maybe everything about you makes hwang hyunjin happy

and maybe if you weren’t so kind and gentle and considerate during the times he lost a competition then maybe he wouldn’t have fallen this hard

but you were (and still are)

during the times you cried from laughter at all his antics

or cracked a smile at one of his pickup lines

he’d think that maybe—just maybe—he could stand a chance

but every time he did, he’d spiral into self-doubt

because there’s no way you would ever fall for him

you’re the kindest, most talented person hyunjin has ever known who deserves the universe

and he’s just… him

even if he did plan to confess, he’d be putting everything at stake; you’re too important to him, losing you would be a loss too heavy for him to bear

so he’s content with playing this role

even if the idea of you being with someone else hurts him so much

he’s content with reminding you everyday—even if it isn’t direct—that your mind is like no other, and that anybody would be blessed to have you

you both think it's always going to be like this

with you struggling to keep your feelings from showing

and hyunjin battling his inner demons

and those left to perceive the “discreet” ogling across the room and the hidden yearning in your voices are none other than (you guessed it!) felix and ryujin 🤩

it was funny the first few months

but now it’s just plain frustrating and they want nothing more than to bash your two oblivious heads together because y’all !! are !! idiots !!

no matter how much they persist, they’re always met with either a sad, gentle smile with a shake of the head or a monotonous “ha. you’re really funny.”

both have considered dropping your asses but they can’t because they love y’all too much

so all they can do is hope for a change

and change does indeed arrive when september rolls around

dance practice has just ended and hyunjin feels hyped because it’s movie night and he can’t wait to cry to kimi no na wa again

and lowkey stare at you for the entirety of the film

he exits his dance crew’s studio and is about to go straight to 7/11 for snacks when he spots the team’s newest recruit by the road, waiting for a ride home

hwang yeji’s only moved here two months ago and in a short span of time she’s already become one of the well-liked kids at school

but she’s a kind & humble sweetheart who deserves all the love & attention !!

so being the good sport he is, hyunjin approaches yeji with the brightest grin, having only talked to her a few times prior

“hey, there! yeji!” when the girl turns to him, her smile looks and feels like liquid sunshine. “waiting for your date?”

yeji turns rosy when he asks, like she does when everyone teases her about her special someone, who she’s been crushing on for weeks and who she finally had the courage to ask out. “c’mon, stop that. i don’t even know if they like me like that—they probably think it’s just another friendly date.”

“they’re a fool if they don’t end up liking you after, then,” hyunjin quips, hoping the bitterness doesn’t seep into his tone and wishing he has half the luck and strength yeji has, and she laughs.

“you know them, actually.”

“oh?”

“yeah! y/n l/n?”

oh.

o h

hyunjin can only blink at her dumbly, feeling like a thousand arrows are digging into his skin

you… with hwang yeji?

is that why you asked about her the other day? because you like her back? and that her feelings are far from being one-sided?

watching a dark cloud loom over his features, yeji thinks about asking if he’s okay when he blurts out an inaudible excuse as he walks away, zooming past the convenience store when he does

when he heads off he doesn’t even look at where he’s going, relying solely on muscle memory

he feels like he wants to grow smaller, biting his lower lip and clenching his hands into fists

he doesn’t even know why he’s upset

you were never his to lose

why would he regret what couldn’t be in the first place?

when his feet instinctively halt in front of miroh café, all he can do is stare blankly at the glass doors, at your figure behind the counter

but he wills himself to move away again, and when he does he clashes with another body

“hey, watch where you’re... hyunjin?”

ryujin stares at him with her mouth half agape, and she flinches when she sees his eyes glistening, his face flushed with the shade of pure heartbreak

“did you know about them?” he’s afraid to raise his voice, because doing so would mean there’s no stopping his emotions, “about… y/n and yeji?”

the lack of response provides the answer, and hyunjin walks away from the block

that afternoon, a cup of coffee with his name scrawled on the front went forgotten on the countertop

that evening, hyunjin doesn’t show for your monthly tradition for the first time in five years

you spend the rest of your evening obsessively checking your phone for text from him, wracking your brain for reasons he couldn’t come

of course, there are multiple reasons: like schoolwork (you are seniors, after all) and the upcoming dance competition

but you know he would text you over the slightest inconvenience, so why isn’t he saying a thing?

you rack your brain for anything you might’ve done, and your chest tightens when you think that maybe—just maybe—he’s finally caught on to you

you try to distract yourself with other thoughts as you lie wide awake in your bed: like your midterm exams, the nearing debate tournament… your date with yeji

bright, splendid hwang yeji who shares the wittiest jokes in biology and has the most colorful personality around

the first time you spent time with her she made you smile so wide it made your cheeks hurt

her laugh is the loveliest one you’ve ever heard; like dewy lavender fields beneath the spring sunshine

but every time you hear it you’re reminded that it isn’t hyunjin’s laugh, that you aren’t with him and every time you realize it you wanna cry

bc yeji’s been nothing but sweet and considerate this whole time and you’re more than guilty at the fact that all her attentions will be wasted because of you and your stupidity

you barely escape the wrath of crying yourself to sleep when you finally doze off when the clock hit two am

the next day at school, you both barely even make eye-contact

even the underclassmen who’ve heard the frequent calls of your names feel uneasy when they don’t hear hyunjin’s high-pitched voice or your shrill tones

felix especially, who’s experienced the trauma of sitting in between you two at history and feeling the tension that nearly chokes him

you’re more than terrified to look at him at him in the eye, terrified that once you do you’ll realize he doesn’t gaze at you the same way anymore

something inside hyunjin aches every time he spares you a glance, because every time he does it’s painfully obvious that he’s always been hopeless

in all honesty, hyunjin wouldn’t have shown his face at all if it weren’t for the tiny thread of patience inside ryujin snapping

so here he is, inside miroh a quarter before closing time

felix’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees him, so he sends a pointed look to his coworker,

“what did you do?” he murmurs. ryujin’s eyes are sharp when she looks at him, and he feels his blood run cold.

“what i needed to.”

no, she didn’t threaten to kill his entire family, if that’s what you’re wondering

she merely gave him… a warning

so one can imagine the surprise you feel when you emerge from the staff room, and felix drags ryujin outside to give you privacy

you both remain silent once they’re gone, neither one of you moving in place

until quiet words escape your mouth, and the familiar greeting makes hyunjin’s heart clench:

“hey, you.”

he doesn’t make a sound, so you continue, the tension heavy

“you owe me three dollars, by the way. i just wasted a perfectly good iced latte with the other day when you didn’t…”

when you trail off, hyunjin opens his mouth to let out an apology, and he realizes with a start that the words tumbling out are completely different:

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“what?”

“why didn’t you tell me about yeji?” hyunjin’s eyes begin to quiver when they meet yours, “we’re best friends, aren’t we?”

your jaw tightens, i told you. best friends. nothing more. “because you worry too much about everything; if i’d told you about us then you’d—”

“y/n, we’ve been together for a decade!” hyunjin intervenes, “we’re always going to worry about each other, whether you like it or not. and this— this is… i…”

every coherent thought vanishes as hyunjin grapples for more things to say. he knows he’s being selfish, undoubtedly so, but he wants you. he wants you so, so bad. the fight in him leaves until, eventually, all that’s left to say is the truth: “please, don’t go. don’t go… with her.”

your heart is close to breaking your ribcage when you stare at his face, you wait for him to say anything, to justify why he’s said it, but when the quiet settles, all you can see is red

“this is why i don’t tell you about these things,” you grit, trembling violently. “when i do, you say— say stuff that make me believe that you feel the same way i do when you actually don’t.

“and i hate you so much but in the end it’s all my fault because i’m the idiot who caught feelings for their best friend and—”

hyunjin doesn’t let you add anything else, because his lips are on yours and you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of him, him, him

the kiss doesn’t leave any room for doubt; he’s shaking, and his legs might give out, but he wants you to know that everything he feels is real

you’re both gasping for air when you pull away, but his hands still linger on your face and he traces the edge of your mouth, and you can do nothing but pull him closer by the waist

“still hate me now?” he asks, and you chuckle breathlessly, putting your forehead on his.

“yes, very much so,” you look at him tenderly, and he yelps when you pinch him gently, “this is all on you, y’know. if it weren’t for your godforsaken romcoms, we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“but if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have ended up with a boyfriend, amirite? ow, shit— i’m kidding!”

bonus!

“oh, thank fuck,” felix exhales, looking through the windows one more time before ambling beside ryujin, who looks pleased with herself as she places her apron on the crook of her elbow. “so, spill: what did you tell hyunjin?”

she smiles, “i told him not to give up before he’s even tried anything; sometimes, there are people who are worth taking that risk for.”

just as felix is about to commend her for sounding the most wholesome he’s heard her, she adds: “and i threatened to revoke my tutelage—his ass is failing calculus so hard.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian Week 2020 - “War of the Roses” (Rated M)

Summary: Kurt suspects that his husband may be cheating on him. But instead of taking the mature route of talking with him, he calls up a radio talk show that has a unique way of uncovering the truth. (2236 words)

Notes: Inspired by a talk show I used to listen to by the same name. Written for the @kbweek2020 Day 5 prompt 'angst', but not quite as angsty as you might imagine.

Read on AO3.

“War, War, War, War of the Roses!”

The pre-recorded announcement, surrounded by loud fanfare, blares through Kurt’s phone. He moves it away from his ear before the d.j. follows with: “It’s War of the Roses day on Magic 92.5! Hop on the website, send us a text, or call and leave us a message, and you, too, may be featured on War of the Roses! Today, we have Kurt on the line, ready to share the troubling story of him and his husband Sebastian. Kurt - thank you for joining us.”

“Th-thank you for having me,” Kurt replies, hating the way his voice sounds, the way it rattles around his dry throat. Hating what he’s doing. Hating that he gave the show their real names! What an imbecile he is! People he knows listen to this show! His boss Isabelle listens to this show! She must be listening now because he hears a beep over the line - a sign that another call is trying to wedge its way in. When he doesn’t answer it, it disconnects with a chunky bwap-bwap! A second later, messages start flooding his email, which he left open on the laptop in front of him. And not just from Isabelle. From Rachel, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Chase …

Kurt lifts a hand and closes the lid, shutting them out.

Oh boy. 

He’s only been on the phone for 30 seconds and he’s already made a mess of things.

“Kurt,” the d.j. says, “why don’t you start by telling us why you contacted us? How can we help you?”

Kurt sighs. I contacted you because I’m stupid, he thinks. And insecure. And, frankly, I should hang up right now and put my phone in the freezer for safekeeping before I do anything else stupid. “I … I think my husband might be cheating on me.”

Canned ooo’ing follows his admission, and if he didn’t regret this decision before, he certainly regrets it now. He can’t stand the idea that they’re using this situation that’s been keeping him up at night as the punchline of a joke. But he can’t blame them. He did this. There are other ways to go about this that he should have considered first. Counseling. Private investigators. Honest and open communication with his spouse. But for some reason, when his husband got up early and left for work without waking Kurt for a goodbye kiss for the eighth day in a row, Kurt broke. If his marriage isn’t working, if they’re headed for Splitsville, Kurt needs to know today. 

Now.

Sooner, if possible.

And that’s when he leaped for his cell phone and made this ill-advised call.

Kurt didn’t think there was anything wrong with his marriage. He thought they were happy – blissfully so. But for the past few days, things have gotten odd between them. Strained. And Kurt doesn’t know why. He needs to find out.

Lucky for him (depending on how you look at it), the radio program had a last-minute cancellation. The person who was scheduled to be on this morning decided to take matters into their own hands and run their unfaithful spouse over with a Cadillac.

A Cadillac that wasn’t theirs to begin with.

The station called him practically a second after he got off the phone with their answering machine.

“And why do you think your husband might be cheating on you?” the female co-host asks in a voice sympathetic from years of practice.

“Well … he’s been avoiding me.” Kurt winces at that weak excuse. To be fair, Sebastian’s firm recently landed a huge client - their first of this caliber in years. And since one of his partners is out on maternity leave, the job of wining and dining had fallen on Sebastian’s shoulders - a task he hasn’t performed in close to a decade; one he never liked much, especially after he and Kurt got married since it kept him away from home. “But on top of that,” he says, leaving that pertinent information out, “he’s been talking a lot about some guy named Martin.”

“Really?” the d.j. says, working hard to make this revelation sound like the scandal of the century since Kurt isn’t giving them much to work with. “And what has he been saying about Martin?”

“He’s been very complimentary about the job Martin has been doing down at the office.” Another wince. “A-and my husband isn’t normally the kind to hand out compliments. Plus, they’ve been working a lot of late nights - meetings, overtime, all last minute, that sort of thing.”

“Do you think Martin is doing something other than working that your husband might actually be complimenting him on?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says meekly, his heart going from ache to break. He hadn’t put those thoughts into words before today, hadn’t even texted them to his closest confidants now crowding his inbox. This is the first time he’s getting it off his chest … and he’s doing it to millions of people he doesn’t know.

He can hear Sebastian's voice in his head, laughing and saying, "Smart, Kurt. Very smart."

“Alright! Let’s get Sebastian on the phone and find out what’s going on once and for all!”

“Okay,” Kurt mumbles, covering the fact that the host's apparent enthusiasm to destroy Kurt's life put him on the verge of throwing up.

“What we’re going to do (for those of you who don’t know how this works) is offer Sebastian a dozen romantic roses to send free of charge to the person of his choice," the d.j. explains. 

"Let’s hope he says Kurt,” his co-host adds.

“Yes,” Kurt says, and very unlike him, he begins to pray. 

He prays Sebastian doesn’t answer the phone.

He prays Sebastian's secretary answers instead and tells them to send the roses to Kurt, Sebastian’s one true love. Kurt would accept that, hearing it second hand. That would be fine. Hearing it from Sebastian's secretary would be almost like hearing it from Sebastian. She’s a trustworthy soul, not inclined to cover for her boss.

He thinks.

Most of all, he prays that no matter who answers, no matter what happens, he’s wrong.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

Click.

“Hello?”

Sebastian answers and Kurt’s stomach drops. In the time it takes Sebastian to complete that word, Kurt recalls the way most of these things end. Then his mind, which rarely seems to be on his side lately, conjures up how it might end for them.

This phone call and their entire marriage.

“Let’s get a name for the card, Sebastian. Who would you like us to send those roses to?”

“Let’s send them to Martin,” Kurt imagines his husband saying in a sly, seductive voice without pause. 

“Martin? And what message would you like to go with it?”

“Make it out to Captain Flexible. And write ‘last night was incredible. Here’s to many more late nights in the future’.”

That nightmare spell shatters when Kurt hears the d.j. say his husband's name. “Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian answers, already sounding annoyed. No one who calls Sebastian’s office line ever calls him by his first name except family. 

And Kurt.

“Hello! My name is Andrew, and I’ve just opened a new flower shop in Uptown called The Rose Knows.”

“Good for you,” Sebastian says dryly.

“We’re calling businesses in the Midtown area with our first promotion. We’re offering a free dozen romantic roses to send to the person of your choice. And all we ask in return is that you recommend our shop to your family, your friends, your co-workers …”

“You must have the wrong number. I don’t need anything for free. Put an ad in the Pennysaver like everyone else.”

"I'm not sure the Pennysaver's still in business."

"Not my problem."

Kurt bites his lower lip, grinning when he should be in tears, the nervous flip-flopping of his stomach, like pancakes on a griddle, causing his abs to cramp. But that’s his husband. His Sebastian. 

So far, so good.

“Come on,” the d.j. presses. “We’re a small business, just starting out. Do a man a favor. Have some community spirit.”

Sebastian sighs like this is so beneath him. He stays quiet, and Kurt knows he’s debating between messing with this guy or hanging up on him. But Sebastian probably figures he’s not going to shake him until he gives in. Besides, Sebastian is nothing if not a networker. A flower shop would be of no use to him, but who knows? “Let’s see. Who in my life deserves free roses? My mom’s birthday is coming up, so maybe I could send them to her. Or my sister. She just had a baby.”

“Oh! Congrats!”

“A-ha,” Sebastian says, the amount of unimpressed in his tone staggering. “There’s Martin Lewis ...”

“Martin?” the d.j. repeats, stressing the name subtly to put emphasis on Kurt’s concerns.

He doesn’t need to. Kurt’s heart has already stopped.

“Yeah," Sebastian says, his voice going softer. "Roses would definitely brighten up his office.”

“And why does Martin deserve roses?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but he’s been busting his ass helping me put together a huge proposal. Plus, his wife's in the hospital. He could bring them over to her."

"O-oh ..." The d.j. slips. That's probably the last thing he expected to hear.

"Or you know what?” Sebastian's voice drops a register, a hint of wickedness lacing between. “I could send them to this guy I absolutely worship."

"Oh really?" The d.j. recovers, seeing things start to turn around. The hosts definitely root for a happy ending, but it's no surprise that angst makes their ratings soar.

The cringe-factor of someone confessing unaware to their infidelities. 

Their listeners eat that up.

"Yup. The most amazing, sexiest man on the face of the planet. The man with the biggest heart of any human being I have ever met. The man I call the Energizer Bunny because he can go all. night. long. The man I hope to spend the rest of my life with.” 

Kurt hiccups. His heart, a useless lump in his chest, lodges in his throat. 

“And who would that---?” But before the d.j. can interject with their usual spiel, Sebastian continues. 

“But I think he’s worth more than a bouquet I got for free from some lame-ass radio talk show. What do you think, Kurt?”

The line goes dead.

Kurt has been listening to this radio program religiously for close to seven years, and to his knowledge, this has never happened before - a caller called out by their s.o. But the d.j. is on it because he immediately plays an old school ‘wah-wah’ noise to show that Kurt has been caught.

“H-how did you know?” Kurt asks.

“Because I know you, Kurt,” Sebastian says. “I know the kinds of things you do when you panic, and you mostly panic when you feel like people you love are going to leave you.”

“Yeah?” Kurt sniffs, a tear rolling down his cheek. Adding to his list of things he hates, he hates that Sebastian knows him so well. “And what do I do?”

“You kind of go off the deep end.” Sebastian chuckles, lighthearted and anxious, reminiscent of the night he asked Kurt to be his for the first time. “And I understand why. I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately. And I’m sorry about the late hours. I’ve just been caught up at work. I swear that’s all. But Kurt … can we talk about this when I get home? So I can look at you, in your eyes, and tell you that there’s no way in heaven or earth I would ever cheat on you? It took me a long time to win you over. There’s nothing that could persuade me to give you up, not for anyone.”

More sound effects - an awww followed by applause - play in the background as the d.j. and his co-host attempt to maintain control of the show.

“So … you don’t hate me?” Kurt asks.

“For which offense? Doubting me, my loyalty, and my love for you? Or airing our dirty laundry on the radio?”

“Uh …” Kurt awkwardly clears his throat. “All of the above?”

Sebastian sighs again. He sounds exhausted, but also like he can’t wait to get home and give Kurt a good ribbing. “Yes, babe. I forgive you.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry about all this.”

“Apology accepted. I mean, what’re a few tawdry secrets among friends? Strangers? The barista down at Starbucks? My clients?”

“When should I expect you home?” Kurt rushes to cut him off, feeling more like a heel than he had before. “I know you have another big meeting and …”

“I’ll be home in about an hour. Wait … make that an hour and ten. I’m going to stop by a real flower shop and get you some roses. I think you’re overdue.”

“Really?” Kurt says, so astounded, so touched, he doesn’t hear the cheesy music the d.j. has started playing in the background.

“Yes, really. And Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Be naked when I get there,” Sebastian growls.

The music stops, skidding to a halt with the sound of a record scratching. “Guys … uh … you’re still on the air.”

“Sorry not sorry there, champ,” Sebastian says and hangs up the call.

So does Kurt, shoving his phone in the freezer before the station tries to call back for a recap.

[spideyyroos]

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 3

pairing: peter parker x stark!female!reader

summary: during your everlasting rivalry against peter parker, you’re unlucky enough to find out that not only is he spider-man (your dad’s new kid), but he is also your soulmate. god help us all. (soulmate au where you have a mark of where your soulmate first touches you)

word count: 2511

requested: yes!

warnings: language, slight angst, stab wound

a/n: GUESS WHOSE BACK BACK BACK BACK AGAIN!!! hey guys! sorry i’ve been mia recently, school has really been piling up on me and i pushed off this part for so long! tbh i think this is gonna be slightly slow burn?? i don’t want to rush anything oof. hope you guys like it :)) 

THE NEXT DAY

As both Peter and Y/N made their way to school, they communicated to one another on how they should act and when they should tell their individual friends about the whole soulmate ordeal. For the time being, they decided to still hate each other at school--which, technically, they still hadn’t been too fond of each other ever since the previous day. Y/N, being the more stubborn of the two, couldn’t push aside the decade-long rivalry between her and Peter. She was still in denial that he was her soulmate, the one who she would spend the rest of her life with. 

Chewing on her lip, Y/N thought about her future with Peter in it. She always knew that he would stick around in her life but never where. After the almost-kiss that they shared last night, she muted her thoughts from him, not wanting to distract while fighting crime. As she did so, she wondered why she cared about the well-being of the boy, not just in academics.

-at Midtown-

As Peter and Y/N made their way to their first period, they cautiously stood at different places from one another when passing through the hallway. Thankfully enough, Ned found Peter and they weaved their way into their history class. Y/N found herself in the class moments after, taking a seat in the back corner to ensure that she could take a nap for the period.

Y/N had always prepared ahead of time for the classes she decided to take naps in. Her phone was programmed to pick up what the teacher was saying during the lecture; later, Y/N would listen and add extra information to her notes (a/n: i suggest this highly; it works super well! :)).

When the lecture started, Y/N was out like a light. She got plenty of sleep the night before, but still preferred to be asleep. Peter, who sat across the room, tried to focus on his notes, but felt the strong urge to stare at her. Similar to Y/N, Peter felt hesitant to feel affections toward his usual enemy. Ever since yesterday, he cringed at how the two treated each other. 

Needless to say, these circumstances were more than overwhelming.

-lunch-

After their fifth period Spanish class, Y/N and Peter walked side by side in the hallway. Before they knew it, Flash called out at Peter.

“Hey Penis Parker! What are you doing, flying out of your league?” 

“And what would you know, Flash? Last time I checked, your homecoming date left you in the dust to go and grind with some other egotistical prick.”

Flash’s jaw dropped at Y/N’s words and Peter covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Y/N turned around to face Flash, deadpan--clearly unamused by his ever so endearing nickname for Peter. Then, as if in some world-turning moment, she realized that she had just defended her rival.

Nobody knew that they were soulmates just yet.

She couldn’t let that happen--not now at least.

However, before she could make an excuse for standing up for Peter, Flash suddenly changed his target of ridicule.

“Aw, I’m sorry babe. Do you have a personal score to settle with Lindsey? Or, better yet, come over tonight and we can,” Flash continued to advance towards her and corner Y/N onto a locker, “make up for lost time.” Flash was face-to-face with Y/N, expelling his hot breath over her face. Although Flash was yet another person who knew how to make Y/N’s skin crawl, she decided to swallow the vomit coming up her throat and let herself be “enchanted” with the king of douches.

“Umm...you sure have a way with words, handsome,” Y/N’s mind was screaming at her to kick him in the nuts, but her pride didn’t allow her to let up and run to her only safe space--Peter. She feigned a gleaming smile, letting it hit her eyes. Flash only smirked at his supposed “power” over women, though it repulsed anything that walked--no, breathed--on this very earth. Y/N continued to keep this act up by biting her lip and forcing herself to eye his lips, misshapen and topped with peach fuzz for a mustache. It sent her back to last night with Peter, and she mentally sunk into thoughts of the blessed day when she’d put her guard down and allow herself to love him--woah, wait...what the fuck?

Just as she was about to dwell on her absurd thought, she felt the disgustingly warm body heat in front of her being ripped away and an angry Peter now in front of her. His back was facing her and he held his death grip on Flash, who now looked scared as all hell, was panting from the sudden movement and wide-eyed.

“How about we don’t do that?” Peter threatened, gritting his teeth and shooting daggers at Flash. Y/N walked directly behind Peter and performed the trick as old as time: playing with the angry boy’s hair to calm him down. As she laced her fingers through his wavy hair, Peter fell victim to the affection. He let go of Flash, freeing him to run away from the previously seething Peter--not sparing to look back at the nerd who once could never have the heart to kill a fly. 

Y/N grabbed onto Peter’s shoulder and turned him around, hand still interlocked within his curls. Peter’s expression showed pure relaxation, contradicting the near-death that he could have caused. They looked into each other’s eyes, once again letting the rest of the world slip away. Thank God that everyone else had cleared the hallway and went their own ways to the cafeteria. The young Stark filed her hand through his exceptionally soft hair--what conditioner do you use? They chuckled, knowing that only these two could see into her comedic genius. Peter’s eyes wandered her face, taking in her features and mentally noting small details that he would’ve never noticed beforehand. He suddenly cupped her face with his hands and went to lean in, only for Y/N to abruptly rip her contact from him.

“Peter--”

“I’m sorry--”

“Can we just give...give whatever this is--a moment to breathe? Jesus, it’s been a day and now I have to make sure that no one ever hits on me because God forbid Spider-Man’s soulma--” Peter’s hand clamped over Y/N’s mouth, eyes wide and desperate for her to shut up.

“I’m sorry, ok? Now will you stop talking before someone hears?” Y/N shoved his hand off her mouth and made a beeline towards the exit, not dealing with anymore of this bullshit.

Y/N, frustrated and fed up, went home to the complex--this, and she swears by it, was by far the worst week of her life. She wished that she wasn’t so difficult, that she could have been dealt a different soulmate, that she could start over, that she could be anywhere else but here. She made an effort to ignore his thoughts and mute her own. She didn’t want to be burned again. She has always pined after the well-deserved love and freely gave her heart to the people who gave her half-assed compliments--believing that each time would be different. Yet time and time again she would be let down, until she had enough. She sealed her walls with super-glue and rejected any form of genuine interest in her well-being. 

-at Avengers complex-

4:56

Peter tried to busy himself with expanding his patrol area, patrol hours, and homework--anything to avoid facing the obvious. He may as well be dead to her, right?

God, no! Don’t ever say that. Just--give me time, alright? This is just...a lot.

Look--we’re adjusting right now. Us even talking is already some sort of sign that we can try to get along. I know you’d prefer to stay at the very least 6 feet apart but--fuck, I’ll be honest--ever since we…connected I’ve been able to see you in a different light--

--pretty sure that’s called being horny--

--will you just...you know what? No. You don’t get to find out what I was going to say. Are you happy now?

Y/N didn’t respond. She just laid on her bed, aggressively staring at her window, hoping that he just might swing by.

It wasn’t long until she felt a searingly white hot pain on her left side. She screamed out in her room, trying to haphazardly relieve some of this unbearable punishment of having a superhero as a soulmate. Tears blurred her vision and she clutched her side, unable to move in fear that she would break her entire body. With as much effort she could put out, she reached for her suit tracking device--jesus christ, what the fuck happened to him?

Y/N saw the spider icon deep in the streets of Queens, at one of the many Mom and Pop restaurants. She saw an update on the suit condition:

OPENING ON LEFT SIDE - COULD BE KNIFE WOUND?

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

Y/N received a crisp punch to her right cheek, wincing and letting the new tears fall over her face. She tried to stay strong, despite everything hurting so much. She pressed “NOTIFY POLICE” on the device and curled into a ball, hoping the pain would stop soon. Just as she thought it was over, a square kick to the stomach almost caused an upheaval of her last meal. Stars taking over her vision, she fell unconscious onto her bedroom floor.

-meanwhile-

Peter has had his fair share of difficult and strong criminals, but damn! This group was one for the books. Not considering the soulmate tie between himself and Y/N, he fought the band of robbers and took each hit as a grain of salt.

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

“Oh shit--” Peter mumbled, allowing himself to get punched in the face by the one of the last men standing. Easily knocking him out with his special “pow, pow, POW” combo, as Peter liked to call it.

Unfortunately, before he could safely escape the scene, with the criminals webbed up against the wall, the final “stupidhead” (once again, as Peter liked to call it) attacked him with a swift kick to the stomach.

Shit.

Peter heard the sirens nearly a block away, so he opted to avoid any more conflict by webbing the kicker against the ceiling of the restaurant--stealing away into the city and on the way to the complex.

He remembered the backpack that was so secretly plastered next to the window of Y/N’s bedroom and was quick to change into his street clothes. Practically breaking into her bedroom, Peter was instantly at Y/N’s unconscious side--did her body show where he got hurt also?

Unsure if he was throwing away all of Aunt May’s well-taught respect and manners of “don’t put your hands on a girl unless she says you can and she wants you to,” Peter lifted her shirt to check if she was stabbed as well. Fortunately, either soulmate can have the sensation of pain--not the actual injury itself.

Y/N woke with a start, breaking her eyelids open to see Peter lifting her shirt to check the left side.

“What are you doing?” Y/N flinched away, tearing the material out of his hands.

“I’m sorry--I was checking if you were okay--”

“--people don’t check under other people’s shirts--wait. Am I stabbed?” Y/N went to check herself, only to double take at Peter’s blood stain growing larger by the second.

“Oh my god--stay right there, ok? I’ll go get a first aid kit--holy shit…”

Peter chuckled at her antics, but winced as he realized that...I got stabbed and it’s an open wound and now I’m laughing and oh my god--

“Ok, holyshitok--lay on my bed, please. Lay on your side, with the wound facing me. Also, please take off your shirt,” Y/N took a deep breath, preparing the sutures to properly address the injury. She concentrated, despite her hands shaking horribly. 

“This is going to feel even worse than when I start to sew but you can grab onto something if you need,” Y/N softly spoke, ready to clean, with alcohol, around where the knife had tore into his flesh. Peter nodded, unsure what he could grab onto without breaking her concentration. He opted for her bedsheets, which were slightly wrinkled and smelled like the expensive detergent that often surrounds Y/N--what? Why am I--

Y/N hummed in content and smiled to herself as she finished disinfecting and started to sew. Although Peter was used to his clumsy hands dangerously stitching together his deeper injuries, Y/N’s precision and patience to ensure the least amount of pain almost...put him at peace. She would glance over at him to reassure herself that he wasn’t passed out--though that would make the situation far less intimidating. Here he was, Peter Benjamin Parker, shirtless and occasionally bleeding (though it was far less than before), on Y/N M/N Stark’s bed. When she wasn’t looking at him, Peter would steal glances at the young Stark, appreciating her calm nature in such a scenario like this. On the other hand, when he wasn’t staring at her, Y/N would give a side eye to Peter--who was focusing on the small design on the bedsheets. He recognized the R2-D2 and C-3PO duo that continued across the dimensions of the mattress, tracing the dark outline of each character.

“Ok, I’m almost done. I just need to apply the gauze and the skin adhesive,” Y/N stated, quickly exiting the room to go fetch the proper dressings.

When she came back, Peter was still in the same position--but with stilled breathing and relaxed muscles.

Oh my God, he’s asleep. At least the hard part’s over--I think.

Y/N finished the full treatment for the wounds, briefly waking Peter up to tell him to get changed into some loungewear. He barely obliged, grumpy from having been woken up from his short nap. He pouted like a toddler, wanting to return to the “comfy bed with the nice blankets.” Y/N did her best to not laugh, admiring the adorable nature that came with him. He returned to the bed and Y/N made sure that he was comfortable enough without laying directly on top the wounds. She tried her best to be a better person and reluctantly played with his hair, hearing a small “thank you” in response. Peter fell asleep immediately, exhausted from a mentally and emotionally gruelling day.

Y/N watched as he finally relaxed into his sleep, thankful that she could at least help the superhero everyone loved.

Someday, I will love him. Just not now--not yet. I can’t let you in just yet.

taglist: @mega-bi @lordofblamo @sadstrudel @ispiderdudei @everythingsship @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @annathesillyfriend @mybitchborky @randxmthxughts @dear-selena

[biaswreckingfics]

No Limits: Part 2

Author: biaswreckingfics

Genre: Mafia AU - Warnings? Everything that goes on in a Mafia AU

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous Chapter

Chanyeol stared at him as he spoke with a dull expression, and once Junmyeon finished speaking he says what they all secretly fear, “If the Baem has him, then he’s already dead.”

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

You knew it! You knew Sehun didn't die in that explosion. Brief relief swept through you at the thought of Sehun still being alive and it took all of your willpower to not bounce in your seat with happiness, but it was quickly crushed by Chanyeol's "he's already dead" attitude.

If the Baem had Sehun, then they had to act quickly before something really bad does happen. Giving up and thinking he was already dead wasn't going to help anyone, especially Sehun.

"While we're on the subject of the Baem..." Junmyeon trails off while looking at you. You knew where he was going with this by the way his eyes slightly narrowed.

Don't you fucking dare, Junmyeon, you angrily think, trying to shove the thought from your head to his.

"Now that we assume Sehun is still alive and most likely being held captive by the Baem, I don't want you to be involved in this anymore, Y/N. It's way more dangerous than we originally anticipated."

"Bullshit," You immediately counter, stealing yourself for the same argument the two of you always seem to have. "It was always dangerous. Nothing has changed. We wanted to destroy the Baem before and now we'll destroy them and get Sehun."

Junmyeon purses his lips before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "We don't have time for an argument. I don't want you involved. In fact, I don't even want you sitting at this table right now."

"I don't give a fuck what you want, Junmyeon. You're not the only one with a say. If the other EXO members don't want me involved, then fine, but all you're trying to do is play the big brother role that you're already a decade too late for," You snap at him.

Chanyeol snorts at your response before looking at Junmyeon and standing up from his lean against the wall. "And you tell me I need to get my shit together. How about following your own advice, leader."

As Chanyeol walks out of the room, the sad look on Junmyeon's face immediately makes you want to take back what you said, but you were so sick and tired of having this fight every couple of days that you couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Jun, but I'm not going to change my mind... I deserve the chance to avenge mom and dad and also get revenge for myself... and I'm not going to have this argument with you anymore."

Your brother held your stare as he thought out everything silently. He looked around the room at his men and took in their expressions before sighing.

"What do 'the other members of EXO' think?" He asks with a slight edge to his voice.

You inwardly cringe as you realize just how much your words had hurt your brother. That wasn't what you wanted. He was one of the last people you wanted to hurt, but his lack of faith in you hurt you also, so you would continue to stand your ground.

"When Jisoo and Minhyuk died, the Elders took away my right to avenge their deaths, and I still hate them for that to this day..." Baekhyun slowly starts as he stares at the table in front of him. The faded pain still clear in his voice until he shakes it off and looks up at your brother. "You were there with me, Junmyeon. You saw what that did to me. Do you want to do that to your sister?"

Your brother was clearly affected by Baekhyun's words as he thought back to that time. It showed in the way he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw.

"She's already come really far in her training. If she keeps it up, I don't see any reason she shouldn't be involved," Jongin adds his opinion.

Junmyeon nods a little before looking back down at the members and sliding his chair back. "I'll take your opinions into consideration. Meeting dismissed."

You silently watch as he abruptly stands up from his chair and walks out of the room, not sending a single glance your way. When the rest of the members quietly get up and leave without a passing word to each other, you feel a small piece of your heart break.

When you first came here, the group was lively and rambunctious. There was laughter and noise all throughout the day and night, and the near silence that was now a constant in the compound was deafening.

You feel a sudden poke in your arm and look over at Baekhyun, who had apparently stayed behind with you. He searches your eyes trying to figure out what you're feeling.

"What's up?" He finally asks before placing his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin on his hand, waiting to hear your thoughts.

Sighing, you angle your body towards him and lean your head against the back of the seat, feeling completely comfortable with sharing your innermost thoughts with him. "I'm tired of everyone walking around on eggshells. How are they supposed to be a group when they can hardly even communicate?"

"When are you going to learn to not take on everyone else's problems?" He asks you softly.

"Probably never..."

He lets out a small laugh that causes your heart to flutter, and you stiffen. It didn't escape your notice that he was starting to affect you more and more, but you couldn't bring yourself to think about that right now. There was too much going on at the moment.

"How about, for now, you focus on kicking Jongin's ass in training? We'll worry about the rest later."

Sehun's POV

He had fallen into the soldier role well, and as it turns out, he was a quick learner.

The Baem had been giving him small tasks and testing out his abilities in all areas. They discovered he was apparently good with weapons and explosives. Like really good. Like Sehun almost scared himself good.

When the Baem discovered his talent, they kept him strictly with their weapons unit, and the more Sehun played around with things, the more small pieces of his memory came back.

He remembered how to handle wiring and how to build certain explosives, he remembered how to properly care for every gun he came across, and he was remembering other things as well... like his dislike for all the easy girls who were always around and throwing themselves at him. He remembered that he preferred classier girls who respected themselves, and for some reason when he thought of an example, you were the one that flashed into his mind.

All that did was cause him more confusion. Why were you the one that he thought of? Because he had recently seen you? It was just another thing to add to his growing list of questions, and with the memories he gained, that list was getting quite long.

Something else he thought was odd was the fact that he didn't recognize any of his members. As the other things started coming back, he thought memories about his members would come back too, but they weren't. These men still felt completely foreign to him.

On top of that, they consistently kept asking him questions about EXO, and it was really starting to fucking irritate him. How many times did he have to say he couldn't remember? He understood they were their rivals, but they never even asked him questions about the Baem, just EXO.

It almost seemed like they were testing him, but why?

Y/N's POV

It had been a few days since the meeting, and it seemed like the tension in the house had gotten even worse. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop, like whatever was holding the last of you together was going to break any day now.

It was almost like everyone was backtracking instead of trying to move on and heal, and things with your brother had not been good at all. Neither of you had attempted any communication since your last argument. Junmyeon would often lock himself in his office and would hardly come out, and you tried to hang out in your room a lot because you were just tired. Tired of all of it.

A quick knock sounded on your door before Jongin peeked in. "Time for training, let's go."

You sigh at the thought of another day of having your ass handed to you, but jump up from your bed and follow him down the hall because you knew this would be the perfect opportunity to ask him about one of the many things that had been on your mind lately.

"Okay, fine, but I want to talk on the way."

Now it was Jongin's turn to sigh because he knew exactly what you wanted to talk about. Minseok.

"I don't regret killing Minseok's father." He immediately says, causing you to slow down your steps and look over at him while he continued. "I'm glad I was the one to do it."

"I wasn't going to ask that..." You slowly say, now completely stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I just wanted to know if the two of you will be okay..."

Jongin awkwardly comes to a stop beside you. "...Oh..."

"What's on your mind, Jongin?"

He turns to face you and searches your eyes almost with a slight panic. "I think there's something wrong with me..."

Your heart jumps a little at his words and how his entire demeanor crumbled before you. The way he broke eye contact and swallowed while looking down the hallway immediately put you on edge.

You knew Jongin was holding in a lot of emotions. He didn't often like to be perceived as "weak" no matter how many times you told him emotions didn't make him weak. Instead, he liked to drown his sadness and pain in girls and alcohol, but you wanted to try to find a way to help him past that, and right now, Jongin was giving you an unusual glimpse into his vulnerability.

"Why do you say that?"

"...Because I felt happiness when I killed him. Relief... You're not supposed to feel happy when you end someone's life, and it's not the first time. I felt the same way about my stepdad."

Everything Jongin was saying made sense. In a normal world, killing people was a horrific, atrocious thing, but in the mafia world... nobody was really a "good guy". They all did horrible things, and no, you weren't trying to justify murder. You knew things weren't so black and white, but those two were bad men.

"Jongin, they were shit people who did horrible things, it's not wrong to feel relief that they're gone." You tell him, but the look of doubt is clear on his face. "I don't think anything is wrong with you... I'd be happy if I were in your position too."

He raises his eyebrows at your statement before saying, "Maybe there's something wrong with you too."

His words cause you to pause in thought until you finally shrug, "Well, then we'll be fucked up together."

He shakes his head at you, but a small smile does find its way onto his face, and that was literally all you cared about at the moment.

As the two of you start to walk down to the training room again, he asks, "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Are you avoiding Minseok because of what you just told me?"

He avoids looking at you and continues quietly walking down the hallway for a moment before answering. "Partly... I thought it'd be good to give him space. I took away his last living parent... How can you forgive someone for that?"

You couldn't respond to his question, because you didn't know the answer yourself. Would you be able to forgive Jongin if you were in Minseok's position? It was hard to put yourself in those shoes because you knew, one way or another, Minseok's father was never going to leave that room. Whether it be by Jongin's hand, your brother's, or your own.

All you knew was that it was something the two of them would have to work out themselves, and you were worried about what would happen if they let this go on for too long. "You need to talk to him before it's too late..."

He thinks about your words for the rest of the walk but remains silent until the two of you walk into the training room, where your eyes immediately find Baekhyun waiting there. You would be lying if you said a thrill didn't go through your entire body at the sight of him.

"Are you joining us today?" Jongin asks with clear amusement.

You're silent as you watch Baekhyun walk up to the two of you with a swagger you've only ever seen him pull off. You shake your head at the thought, immediately annoyed with yourself for thinking someone's walk was sexy.

"Oh, I'll be here every day until she kicks your ass," Baekhyun replies with a smirk that you force yourself to ignore.

His words and belief in you, however, gave you the motivation you needed to train, and for the next hour, the three of you warm-up and take turns sparring with each other. You could feel yourself getting stronger, compared to how you were before the training started, and the thought made you giddy with adrenaline. You were becoming a badass person, and damn, it was exciting.

"Kai hyung," A voice calls from the entrance of the training room, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's an issue at the club."

Jongin drops his fighting stance and sighs as he looks over at the younger man who you have never seen before. "Which one?"

"The one we just acquired, sir."

Jongin swore before following the younger man out of the training room. You turn to Baekhyun in confusion.

"Who was that, and what club is he talking about?"

"Someone in Jongin's unit," He answers while slowly circling you, "They just bought a ...gentleman's club."

You turn your body with him as he watches your movements, looking for a place to attack, but your mind was already elsewhere.

"You guys own strip clubs too?"

"We dabble in a little bit of everything. Casinos, dealerships, strip clubs... Why do you sound so surprised?"

Why were you surprised? Jongin was one of the most sexual beings you knew. It made perfect sense for him to run the strip clubs.

Suddenly, you feel a jab in your left arm as Baekhyun takes a hit at you and circles around behind you. You quickly turn and catch the smirk still on his face.

He raises an eyebrow at the taken aback look on your face and asks, "You thought you were done training because your teacher left?"

Your throat suddenly dries up at the sight of him. The raised eyebrow, the smirk, his sweaty naked torso, his eyes as they looked over your body, searching for a hint of your next move. It was a sensation overload. Pair that with the previous conversation of strip clubs, and your mind almost went blank.

Focus. You needed to focus. Forget about the stupidly attractive, oddly caring guy in front of you and put your opponent on his fucking ass.

You studied his movements for a moment, the way his body leaned, and the direction his feet were facing before making your move.

You tried to make all of your movements seamless and fast, but Baekhyun was still able to track them and quickly blocked the punch you threw at him. Your next thought was to aim a high kick toward his side, but he caught your leg mid-air and held it still.

You hopped around as you tried to balance on one foot and met his stare. You were shocked to find heat in his gaze, and suddenly, the position you were in seemed way too intimate for sparring.

"Can I have my leg back?" You breathlessly ask.

Baekhyun slowly looks down at your leg, like he didn't even realize he still held it, before quickly dropping it, shaking his arms out, and rolling his neck around.

The two of you backed away and sized each other up. You had yet to take Baekhyun down, and suddenly, you were very determined to do it tonight. The tension in your body would only be settled when one of you was on your back.

He takes a step toward you, and you step back in response, maintaining the same distance between you, and when he brings his arm back to strike, you dodge. Unfortunately, you were too late to realize it was a trick, and his leg was able to snake out and swipe you off your feet.

The panic came, just like it always did when you fell, and you grab his arm in a death grip on your way down. His body, not expecting the extra weight of another person, gave out, and he landed directly on top of you.

You both let out a small noise as your bodies smack into each other and then lay there for a second as you both try to figure out what just happened. Finally, the situation registers in your mind. Byun Baekhyun, a member of the deadly EXO and the guy you were stupidly attracted to, was laying on top of you.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you knew he could feel it because you could feel his beating erratically too. Both of you were already breathing heavily from the sparring, but the way his body molded around yours almost stole all your breath entirely. You could feel the strength of his body against the softness of yours, and it sent your mind into a wild frenzy.

As he leans his weight onto one of his arms so he wouldn't crush you, you search his eyes and let out a small gasp when you see the hunger in them. The noise draws his eyes down to your lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own.

His gaze bounces between yours and your lips, searching for something, an answer or permission maybe, before he slowly lowers his head and claims your lips with his own. It was gentle and light at first, and the softness of his lips causes your remaining breath to disappear, but when you open your mouth and let him in, the kiss quickly turns more passionate.

His kiss sent an explosion of bright, colorful lights through your head, and it was enough to make you dizzy. His tongue slid into your mouth and quickly began teasing yours, and you couldn't get enough of it.  You tilt your head to the side, and he quickly deepens the kiss as his free hand slowly slides down the side of your body.

Everything felt right all of a sudden. Kissing Baekhyun made you feel like everything would be okay in the end. It made you feel like your head was going to explode, but you welcomed it because if this was how you were going out, you had absolutely zero complaints.

After a while, he slowly pulls away, but not before leaving one more soft kiss on your tingling lips. You gradually open your eyes, and the two of you stare at each other in amazement. You were never the romantic or fairy tale type of girl, and you never believed that people were made for each other, but with Baekhyun, you wanted to be.

A noise across the room breaks the spell the two of you had fallen under and the mumbled words of an apology have both of your eyes widening.

The two of you look over at the source of the noise and see a flustered young man still apologizing and looking everywhere but at the two of you. You had no idea who he was, but you assumed he was another member in one of the guys' units.

The thought was confirmed when Baekhyun quickly scrambles off of you. You search his face to get an idea of how he's feeling, and a small flash of hurt and confusion goes through you when you see the spooked out look on it.

Was he worried about the younger man telling someone? Your brother, maybe? Was it something else entirely? Did he... did he regret kissing you?

Before you could get any of these questions out, Baekhyun excuses himself and quickly takes off toward the exit, leaving you laying there all alone.

Tagging: @knjkitten @kpopserene @multifandombxxch @tashaxvamp @kpop---scenarios @bhyunni @chanyeolismybaby @flaming-laboob @taetaeeyong @lilbitoflyssa @misstressporkchoppp @hoseok-wang @spiltkpop @isha454 @depuis2mille @marovekian1 @ladylynae @abby8451 @lynniev @insta1010 @sawadabegum @avxngxrrogxrs @equesasprokishi @imstuckinafictionaluniverse @layisanangel @mongryong-the-corgi @overthelamebowz​ @lizbether01 @thatanonymousgirl-as14​ @nothingbutadeadesceane​ @kim-ji-hyeons-world​ @suhappysuho​ @futuremrspcy​

[desiraypark]

Saturday Night Special

Characters: Flip Zimmerman x “Mae” - an original character (Black, Female, Tall, & Thick - respectfully think Phyllis Hyman, Florence Ballard, or Diahnne Abbott) Setting: Miami (Miami Beach), Fall 1974 Content: N*FW - One-night stand; strangers bonin’ (*bends in like Tyra Banks* but make it safe). Author’s Note: I still have not seen Blackkklansman but have been feeling inspired by other people’s Flip fics. I hope you like it (and that it works out)! Also, I have never been to Miami/Miami Beach/Florida, so sorry if I fucked the geography/location up lol Word Count: 3,318

“There’s a Red House over yonder...that’s where my baby stays...Lord, there’s a Red House over yonder...Lord, that’s where my stays...I ain’t been home to see my baby...in ninety-nine and one-half days...”

Flip Zimmerman walked into the diner liked he owned it. Or like he’d been in it a hundred times. Blue T-shirt tight against his muscles, light denim bell bottoms and red hi-top Converse—not his usual getup, but he was far away from his usual life. He was relaxed and refreshed--and alerted customers and staff of his presence with the ding of a bell over his head.

The diner was across the street from the hotel he was staying in. But it was pretty empty—old ladies were in a booth blushing at him and whispering from a booth; an old couple were blushing at each other like teenagers at a table; a younger couple walked past him, seemingly walking away from the counter. But it was a sunny afternoon in Miami Beach. Everybody had probably already eaten breakfast and were long under the afternoon sun and sinking in the white sand. But Flip had slept in for as long as he could. No assignments, no stake outs or investigations. For the first time in years, he was free to just be.

He sat at the counter. A tall, buxom beauty with a curly up-do, long lashes, and lips painted red stood on the other side, wiping down the counter.

“Afternoon,” she said, putting a menu in front of him. “Afternoon.”

“My name’s Mae, I’ll be taking care of you. Would you like to start off with a cup of coffee? Water?”

“Coffee’s fine...” Flip said looking over the menu. Mae walked over to the coffee pot. “On second thought...may I have some orange juice?” “Sure thing,” she said. She disappeared in front of him, then popped back up with a tall and narrow pitcher of orange juice that was covered with soft fabric. Like a bartender, she put a napkin in front of him, grabbed a glass, and filled it with fresh-squeezed juice.

“Are you still serving breakfast?” he asked. “Yep. All day.” She began wiping down the counter top. “Ever had the steak and eggs?” “Nope. Not the steak. Eggs are pretty good. I like the omelettes,” Mae responded.  “What kind of omelette do you like most?”

A waitress flew out of the kitchen and into the dining area.

“I like the Southwestern one,” Mae said with a smile. She finished pouring and covered the pitcher again, and Flip put the menu down. “Then, I’ll have a Southwestern omelette,” he said with a boyish smirk. Mae blushed, pulled out her pad and pencil, and scribbled on the paper. Flip took a sip of his orange juice and got a really quick glance at her chest. A gold necklace was fastened around her neck and disappeared in her top. 

“You want bacon, sausage, or ham with it?” she asked. “Sausage.” “Links or patties?” “Links.” “Toast or a biscuit?” Flip thought about it. “Toast.” She finished scribbling on the pad, ripped the sheet off, and slid it through the service window. The cook grabbed it, and just as she turned around, three construction workers walked in and sat the counter. Mae grabbed three menus and walked to them.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. Flip watched her as she placed the menus in front of them. This girl needed to be in movies. She was such a knockout. And stacked, too. Thick long legs and some belly. Hips that would probably knock shit down if the counters were any lower. She took their orders and slid the paper in the service window. 

Next, she grabbed three mugs and placed one in front of each man. She walked back to the counter under the service window, where the coffee machine and other appliances and utensils sat, and grabbed the coffee pot and a little porcelain pitcher. The men (including Flip) watched her fill the three mugs with coffee. Then, she tipped the little pitcher over into each of them—pouring cream inside. When she reached the third man, who was closest to Flip, he smirked at her.

“Nothing like putting some cream into a nice, hot, cup of black coffee...” he said. Flip tensed up.

“The night we met I knew I...needed you so...And if I had the chance I’d...never let you go...”

Mae narrowed her eyes at the man. She slid the sugar packet holder close to them and walked away with the coffee pot and little creamer pot. Then, she put both items in there rightful place.

Just as she was walking back to Flip, the same construction worker called her over with an “Psst! Waitress!” Flip could almost feel the fire burning inside of her when she walked over. With his glass of orange juice to his lips, he kept a close watch on the men. Just in case they tried to pull anything funny.  “Yes, Sir?” she said. The man bit his lip, as the other two watched with anticipation. He looked at her name tag. “Miss Mae...you got any construction worker in you?” Flip cringed and started to shift in his seat. But before he could say a word, Mae had reached into her bra and pulled out a little pistol.  “No, but would you like a bullet in you?” she asked, holding the pistol out in front of the man. Instinctively, Flip stood up and held his hand out in front of Mae. “Maaaae!” the cook called from the back.

“I think you’d better leave,” Flip said to the construction worker. The man stared at the gun and shook his head. “I suppose I should.” He looked up at Mae. “I didn’t want any trouble, ma’am.” “Ain’t no trouble for me,” she responded. The man turned beet red and stood up.

Him and his co-workers walked out, and Flip sat down. 

“Crazy bitch...” the man mumbled on his way out.

Mae put the gun back in her bra, and Flip observed how calm the restaurant was. Everyone went about their conversations like nothing was happening. Even the other waitress was leaned against the booth with the old ladies, talking about As the World Turns. “What did that one say?!” the cook asked from the back. Mae grabbed two mugs of coffee and dumped the contents in the sink.

“Asked me if I had some damn construction worker in me!” she yelled back.

“Oh! That’s a new one!”

She walked back to the counter to grab the remaining mug, and caught Flip’s eyes—his thick eyebrows raised high above them.  “I’m sorry about that,” she said. She turned to pour the third mug out. The other waitress walked back toward the kitchen. “No need to apologize,” Flip said. Mae dipped behind the counter again and came back up with the orange juice pitcher. She refilled Flip’s glass. “You’re too much, Mae,” she said with a laugh, before disappearing behind the swinging door. 

“What’s your name?” Mae asked as Flip took a swig of his drink. He swallowed. "Phillip.” “Thank you for stepping in, Phillip,” she said. “I don’t like to do that. But nobody ever steps in for me, so...” She smiled and walked to where the construction workers once sat, and wiped the counter down. Flip sat at the counter for almost two hours, talking to Mae and watching her serve an old couple that had come in. He told her he’d recently quit his detective job back in Colorado Springs and decided to take a vacation before looking for something new. Mae had dreams of being a chef, but didn’t have the money and resources for school. She began waiting on tables to save money, but had been stuck in the same loop for over a decade. They talked and laughed, and she served the few patrons that straggled in for an early dinner before it was time for her to clock out.

Mae finally took his plate and put it in the service window.  “Thank you for talking to me, Mae,” he said as she rung up his check. “No, thank you, Phillip,” she said. “Are you headed off the to beach?”

“I suppose so. It might be too late for some good sunlight...” he said, looking at his watch. Mae peeped outside. “Mmm, I think you could catch a little something, still.” “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” he asked. He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Ohh, nothing much. I’ll fix myself some dinner. Take a long, hot bath, maybe...”

Flip’s fingers pressed into the palm of his hand at the thought of Mae naked in the tub. He erased the thought from his head.

“...catch my shows and go to bed.” She put his check in front of him, and he dug in his pocket for his wallet.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” he asked. “In case that man is out there waiting for you?”

“I’ll shoot his ass,” Mae said with a chuckle. “But no thank you, baby. I catch the bus anyway.”

Flip pulled a twenty from his wallet and something caught Mae’s eye. It prompted her to start untying off her apron.

“Well, can I walk you to the bus stop?” Flip asked. She smiled again. “I’m alright, honey.” She walked to the cash register.

Flip nodded and rose from his seat. He walked in front of the register as Mae counted out his change. “Hey, Mae,” a man said, walking past her and into the kitchen. “Hey Mike,” she said back. She pressed the change into Flip’s hands.

“Phillip?” she said. Flip pulled a five from his change and gave it back to her. “Yes?” She leaned close to him and took the five. 

“What do you really want to do this evening?” she asked in a low voice. Flip smirked, pulled out his wallet, and bit his bottom lip as he stuffed the change into his wallet. Finally, he looked up at her. “I want to make a pretty waitress who packs a pistol in her bra to scream my name...” ********************** Flip waited for Mae in his hotel lobby. She didn’t want her co-workers to see her sneaking off with a stranger. He led her to his room--a simple little space with two beds, a table in the corner, and a picture window overlooking the city street. Mae walked completely into the room and turned around. Flip was leaning against the door, biting his bottom lip. Mae smirked and sat on the bed closest to the door. 

“You’ve got a condom, right?” she asked, crossing her legs. “Yeah.” 

She patted the bed. “You gonna come over here?” “I wanna watch you walk across the room again,” he said.  Mae smirked, left her purse on the bed, and slowly walked to Flip. She gave him a peck on the lips, then sauntered to the table. With every step she took, she heard a step that wasn’t hers, behind her. The heat of his body radiated against her back. When she got to the table, Flip held her waist and planted kisses on her neck. She pressed her ass against him and felt his hard length in his jeans. Then, he yanked her around to face him, lifted her and placed her down on the table. 

“Phillip, I might break this table,” she said. 

Flip ignored her and gave her a peck on the lips once. Twice. And she met his lips for a third. 

“I can smell your breakfast, still,” she whispered. Flip chuckled. “That’s why I haven’t put my tongue down your throat.” Mae smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, put it somewhere else...” Flip licked his lips and dropped to his knees. Mae toed off her ugly white shoes as he slid his hands up her thighs and tugged at the top of her stockings. He felt for the top hem of her panties, and pulled the undergarments down to her ankles and over her feet. Mae spread her legs to him and Flip stuck his head between her thighs and ran slow licks up and down her clit. As he picked up his speed, Mae reluctantly leaned back on her palms.

“That feels so good,” she whimpered once she trusted the table’s strength.  “Mmm-hmm,” Flip hummed. She didn’t have to tell him that he was eating her good. He knew that he was good with his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and gave her clit a nice, hard suck--causing her to throw her head back and yelp.  “Oh, Phillip...” Flip looked up. All he could see was some of her chin and the bottom of her breasts. So he looked back down, then pulled away. “Flip...” he mumbled. He returned his mouth to her. “Hmm?”  She looked down at him--only able to see his wavy tresses, some of his forehead, and his large nose. “Call me Flip.” She carded his hair and gyrated against his face. He gripped her thighs tighter and left no inch of flesh un-licked--filling the silence of his room with obscene licking sounds and her breathy moans.

“I’m about to come...make me come please, Flip...” she whined. Flip dropped one of his arms from around her thigh and slipped two of his fingers inside of her. She yelped and pressed her fingers into his scalp. Then, she fucked his fingers back, making the table legs rock under her. Quickly, she reached into her bra, took out her pistol and placed it on the table behind her. “You’re doing all of this over my fingers...I can’t wait to watch you take my fucking dick,” Flip said. At those words, Mae fell apart. She cursed to the ceiling and gushed all over Flip’s thick fingers. When she reached the end of her orgasm, Flip pulled his fingers out and shoved them between her lips. With a hum, she licked her juices away. Then, Flip picked her up. She held her legs around his waist until he tossed her onto the bed.

“Take all of that shit off,” he commanded. Mae unbuttoned her uniform as Flip pulled his wallet out of his pocket and retrieved his only condom. Eventually, they both were completely naked--Mae lying back on the bed and Flip standing over her stroking his dick. He scanned her from head to toe--sweet face, large tits that she was holding onto and squeezing together. An “H” sat at the end of her necklace. It peeked out from under her hand. She sat up--making her breasts fall just above her stomach--and took Flip’s dick in her hands. “Lay back down,” he said. Mae released his dick and fell back. She watched Flip open the condom wrapper with his teeth and toss it to the side. Then, he slid the rubber onto his hard length. Flip climb onto the bed and between her legs. He wrapped the long limbs around his waist, leaned over her and focused his eyes below and between them. He tapped his firm, heavy meat against her clit. “I’m about to give you the whole thing, okay?” he said. “Okay...” Mae whimpered. She ran her hands up and down his arms, and anxiously awaited him to enter in. Flip stretched open her velvety entrance, then pressed deep inside until he touched her cervix.

“Ohmygod...” she whispered, staring at the ceiling. Flip peppered her collarbone with kisses. He dragged out of her until his tip almost came out, then went back in.  “Is it too much?” he asked. She shook her head and smiled. “No.” Flip smiled back and bit his bottom lip. With both of his palms pressing into the mattress beside her head, he dove into her--long and deep, and at a moderate pace. The sounds of her gushing pussy and his balls slapping her ass filled the air. She couldn’t even moan. Her chin was damn near in her chest as her nails pressed into the muscle of his arms. Finally, she released an obscenity. “Fuck!” she squealed. “Take that dick, baby...take my fucking dick...” Flip encouraged. “Ohmygod...” she cried out. “Go faster.” “Go faster?” he asked. “Yes, go faster,” she repeated, gripping his arms again.  Flip collapsed on top of her and interlocked his fingers over her head. Then, without an ounce of reluctance, he pounded her hot center--snapping his hips against her hard and fast. “Yes, Flip, yes! Just like that!” she screamed. “Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!” “That’s right baby. Say my name again...” “Oh, Flip...yes, Flip...fuck...” she whimpered. She tightened her legs around his waist, and her pussy involuntarily clenched around his length. “Are you tightening your pussy on my dick? You’d better fucking stop that shit unless you want me to come right now,” he said, voice gravelly.  “I can’t help it, baby, it feels so good!”  Flip grunted and pulled himself out. He drew in deep breaths and released them as he tapped the head of his dick against her wet pussy. Mae reached between her legs and tugged at his dick, trying to pull him back in. Flip smirked at her, swatted her hand away, then dipped back inside. He slowed his pace and shortened his distance. Mae whined. “The whole thing, Flip...” she said, rotating her hips under him.  Flip stopped and shook his head. “I’m gonna bust my fuckin’ nut, Mae...” “I don’t care,” she said, moving her hips faster. “I want the whole thing.” Flip looked down into her eyes--so sweet, so pleading. He chewed on the flesh behind his lip and took her hands. As he stretched over her body, he pinned her wrists down over her head and fucked her nice and deep. No longer caring about his breath, Flip pressed his lips against hers and opened them up with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth as his hips smacked against hers, dick stroking her walls. 

Soon, he felt waves tingle all over his body, and his balls began to tense up. Mae felt him twitching and snapped her hips against his again--egging him on until he filled his condom with his pearly white nut. He rode out his wave with shallow thrusts, then fell down beside Mae--both of them breathless.  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Wow...”

Flip stared at her profile. Then, he tilted her chin up with his finger, and leaned down to kiss her lips. She scooted close and rested her head on his chest. “What does the “H” stand for?” Flip asked. He rubbed his finger against the monogram on her necklace, and she smiled. “My first name,” she answered. “What’s your first name?” he asked. “I’ll never tell you.” She draped her arm over his abdomen. “You know my first name,” he argued.  “How do I know that’s really your first name?” Mae asked. She tossed her leg over his. “I can show you my ID...” Mae let out a wry laugh, then closed her eyes. “It’s Hattie. Hattie Mae.” “Oof...” Flip whispered. Mae looked up at him and pinched his nipple. He winced, and laughed. “That’s an old ass name.” “Fuck you...” she said laughing. “Phillip.” Flip stifled a laugh, then the two of them said nothing for the next few minutes. Mae listened to Flip’s heartbeat, and Flip ran his fingertips up and down her waist. “You don’t have anybody waiting for you, do you?” he asked. “No,” she answered. “Good.” Flip rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. “I’m about to go the pharmacy up the street and buy some more rubbers.” “Oh, you are?” Mae asked. She sat up and rested her head on her palm. She heard him removing his condom. “Yep.” Flip came back into the room and grabbed and stepped into his boxers. “Because we’re not fucking done.” Mae blushed, dropped her face into the bed, and groaned playfully.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Try English

Mary blew smoke out through her nose. It stung.

The empty beer bottles on her grimy kitchen table clinked and clattered as her sleeve snagged on something that made the cluttered table’s surface rattle. She flicked ashes from her cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. She ignored this mess, her eyes instead trained on the person standing in front of the refrigerator.

Her brother, Malcolm. He stood there with an almost meditative calmness and stared back at her. His gaze swept through the messy place, never lingering too long on anything like the pile of unwashed dishes, the stacks of old newspapers, or the mountain of empty cans heaped up on the counter. Malcolm looked far better than she remembered him: less pale, and stronger somehow—like he had been working out.

Most of all, how he looked when she last saw him, lying in a casket. Malcolm had been dead for over four years.

The hand Mary used to hold her cigarette trembled. Not with fear, but anger. She was an angry person. Always had been, always would be. Seeing Malcolm back had made a pit form in her stomach, because she wasn’t finished with him. She wasn’t finished with a lot of people.

See, when most other people see anybody return from the dead, they go straight to shock, denial, or pure, unadulterated dread.

But not Mary. Most of her family members had died. And they had had the audacity to kick the bucket before she could really tell them how she felt about them. A lot of messed up history to sort through. A lot of pent-up rage, waiting to be unleashed. And here was Malcolm, loitering around in her home like nothing had ever happened.

She took another long drag from her cigarette and rolled her jaw while she searched her mind for the right words. But none came yet.

“Love what you did with the place, Mary,” Malcolm mused. The corners of his mouth twitched until they twisted upwards into a creepy smile. “You think Mom would have appreciated how you turned this place into such a miserable dump?”

He licked his lips and hooked his thumbs into the belt holding up his jeans.

“Fuck you,” Mary snapped at him.

Malcolm showed no instant reaction, then burst out with a brief chuckle. Knowing. Malevolent.

“I didn’t turn this place into a dump, I let it turn into a dump,” she then corrected him, letting the smoke pour out of her mouth while she spoke.

Malcolm grabbed an open bottle of stale beer from the counter and sniffed it. He raised it as if to perform a mockery of making a toast.

“I see you’ve become a philosopher in the meanwhile, sis,” Malcolm mused. The creepy smile maintained its place on his visage. It turned into a cringe after he took a swig from the bottle, and the rotten taste assaulted his pristine taste buds.

“Yeah. Night shifts at a shitty gas station for over six years sure do lend themselves to deep introspection. Take that bottle, for instance. Is it half empty, or half full of go fuck yourself?”

He smirked and put the bottle down, which caused a small pyramid of empty old cans of beans to collapse as the glass connected with them. He turned away from her and plucked a piece of paper attached to the fridge’s door with a magnet without even shooting it a passing glance.

Mary flinched, somehow sensing that he knew the contents of whatever was written on it without reading. It just made sense. She just made sense of things.

“How are your anger management classes going? Any progress with that, Maddy?”

Her left eye twitched upon hearing that old nickname.

“They’re goin’ good, dickweed. I have a crowbar I can get to cave in your tail lights if you need a demonstration,” she said. She snuffed out her cigarette, mashing it into the pile of other butts in her ashtray, causing more cancer dust to spill out and onto her table.

That wiped the grin right off his face. Which, in turn, prompted a satisfied smirk of her own to form on Mary’s face in response.

“How’d you get here anyway? Hijack a car? Also, not to really address the elephant in the room here, but how the fuck are you not just a pile of maggot-riddled rotten meat and bones? It’s been six years, chickenshit.”

He approached the table and leaned forward until he rested his knuckles against the only vacant spots on it, hunching forward to move uncomfortably close to her. Mary picked up one of the beer bottles in front of her and took a sip from it to wet her chapped lips. She gripped the glass so hard that her knuckles turned white, ready to weaponize the object.

It was not fear that she felt. Mary’s blood boiled.

“See, I’m not really your little brother. I’m just borrowing his body to come see you in person, Mary.”

“Of course, just my fucking luck. Fuck me for hoping to finally get some closure by telling my little dipshit of a brother to eat shit.”

He flashed a toothy grin before he replied, “I can play pretend, if you want. We know many things, Mary. We who pierce the veil and cross over as we wish—we know everything.”

She relaxed her grip around the bottle, ready to flip it and use it as a club. Wasn’t her first time to do so.

“Like that one time you tried talking to Bobby Gordon but shat your panties because you were too scared. Excused yourself quickly and were too late for swim team because you scrambled to clean up your mess,” he said in a singsong tone—referencing an embarrassing memory that she had never told anybody else. Not the AA meeting groups, the anger management support groups—not even her therapist.

Struggling to understand how he knew the pause gave him cause to chuckle again.

He continued, “Or were you just so drunk off your ass that you told someone about that and can’t remember?” Another chuckle, more sinister this time. “Yes, I can taste what you’re thinking, Mary. Or maybe you told it to the thin air, reaching someone who’s now just another body, six feet under, whose memories bled through the thin fabric between worlds?”

“Okay, asshole. I see you’ve got some tricks. Is that the best you’ve got? Am I supposed to be impressed? Shit, man, if I was some sort of dillhole ghost, I would go join a circus or something.”

“A circus?” he asked in confusion.

“Yeah. Y'know, anywhere where people actually give a shit.”

He smirked again.

“Cute, Mary. So edgy. So rebellious.”

The sound of metal scraping cut through the air as he snatched a long sharp knife from the kitchen counter. The chair on the opposite side of the table groaned as he dragged it out, swiped some unopened letters and plastic junk from its seat, and sat down.

Mary’s weary eyes focused on the knife on his hands, clutched in his fist and resting on the table in between them now. She met his gaze again. Glared at him.

“If you’re not Malcolm, I’m gonna have to give you a different name. Least you can do if want to carve me up with that pig-sticker over yonder,” Mary said, pointing at the knife in his hand.

After the gesture, using two fingers, she let her fist slam onto the table. Not a motion fueled by rage, but by frustration, and fed by resignation. All the glass and plastic objects on the table stopped clattering with delay.

“I’d prefer Malcolm, given the meat-suit I’m wearing now. But you can call me Gall,” he said. Something evil flashed in his eyes. It did not even seem inhuman, just unfamiliar. Nothing like Malcolm, no matter what kind of a dick he had been to Mary.

“What kinda stupid fucking name is that?”

His eyes darted and tracked her every movement when she swiftly snatched the crumpled pack of cigarettes off the table, produced a cancer stick from the package and lit it up in one fluid motion, suggesting decades of unfiltered addiction. From the periphery of her vision, she saw his fist tighten around the grip of the knife.

“I’ll just call you shit-stick. And what exactly are you?”

The grin on his face returned. Widened. He tilted his head; movements that did not fit the way Malcolm moved or behaved in his lifetime. Alien, unsettling. He licked his lips but did not yet respond. Like he was sizing her up. His eyes scanned up and down her form.

“Come on, man. Level with me here. I’m sure your whole spiel here is a real hoot at parties and can scare old grandmas, but it’s not really doing anything for me,” she continued taunting him. “Also, if you’re gonna threaten me with a good time by waving that knife around, either fix me something to eat or end me now. I’m starving, and also good for kicking the bucket. Fuck, man. I’d rather puke than go on my next shift, so carving me up like a turkey’s gonna feel like a favor to me at this point.”

She sucked in more smoke. It did nothing to calm her nerves, only drove up her pulse, pounding in her ears. Mary blew it out after the long pause that followed, with nothing but the constant drip of water from the faucet into the dirty sink. Malcolm—Gall—did not answer.

She lifted her arm as if to check her wristwatch but kept her gaze locked onto his. A labored, deliberate sigh escaped her throat.

“You have many names for what I am,” he said. His voice silkier than before. “Ghost, revenant, demon. It doesn’t really matter. Your words are so limited in their scope, so confusing without elaboration. And we don’t have all night.”

Now she waited, continuing to smoke. She once more picked up the bottle of the stale beer to nurse it in between greedy drags from her cigarette.

Before the pause went on for too long and she could reply with another mean-spirited quip, Gall continued, “Have you not seen the signs? I am an agent. I serve the Glass King, and have come to remind you of your duty to Him.”

He spoke with such reverence. Such gravitas. Might as well have been a radio speaker, or one of those narrators on a cheesy movie. Mary blinked and then shook her head. Searching her mind for what he meant did nothing to help.

“I don’t understand a fucking word you’re saying,” she muttered. “Try English, shit-stick.”

He visibly stifled a sigh and lifted the knife, cradling it in his hand. He then used it to point to the pile of newspapers on the counter.

“Did you not see the words forming on the edges of your trash?” he asked. Then pointed the tip of the knife to her phone on the table, its display screen marked with a spiderweb of cracks. “Did you not see the messages that transcended worldly gibberish? Signs, everywhere, pointing you in the direction of finding meaning in your sorry life?”

He then pointed to the empty coffee cups on her table. “Hell, did you not even see the letters taking shape in the foam of your beverages? And here we thought your substance abuse would make you more receptive to the signs everywhere.”

It finally clicked for Mary. She had indeed been seeing strange patterns and signs everywhere. “Obey” or “buy a gun” or some ominous instructions that seemed to be ritualistic or occult in nature—many strange words had, in fact, been appearing to her with frightening regularity over the past week.

But she had been ignoring them. Chalking it up to all the medications and booze and recreational drugs she popped on a regular basis, things that instructions in tiny print told her not to mix.

At the end of the day, Mary was a realist. One whose mind had been turned to Swiss cheese by all the substance abuse, but a realist nevertheless. The sheer thought of that gave her cottonmouth and made her crave a joint.

“If you wanted me to get some message, then fucking spell it out instead of giving me some cryptic crap. I thought I was losing my mind, and was perfectly fine with that. Now you’re telling me it all made sense, which is somehow more obnoxious.”

Gall slowly nodded and his grinning lips parted to show teeth.

“Yes, Mary, now you’re getting it. The Glass King wants you. You will help prevent the end of the world as you know it. You, who yearn for meaning in this God-forsaken world. You, whose miserable and pathetic existence can serve a higher purpose, can help shape a new world. A world of your desires. Do you not feel it? Do you not feel its pull?”

Mary downed the rest of her beer, wincing at how bad it tasted—warm, and opened up for at least a day. It helped masked whatever truths this “Gall” was alluding to.

“You really don’t get it, do ya? Listen, shit-stick, and listen really carefully, okay?”

She slammed the bottle back down onto the table with force, causing all the objects to erupt into another cascade of clanking and clattering noise. He said nothing but his gaze drilled into her eyes, burning with anticipation.

“I’ve worked shit jobs for long enough to know management assholes when I see them. And I’m looking at one right now.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she interrupted his interruption. “I’m speaking, shit-stick. You can go back to your boss and go tell him to get fucked. I ain’t doin’ shit for no pay. You’re trying to sell me on some ‘higher meaning’ bullshit like that’s supposed to motivate me? Might as well try to pay an artist with 'exposure,’ you stupid twat.”

“I, uh—”

“I said I’m talking.”

He sat there, slack-jawed, taken aback by her forceful speech. Like the smoke billowing out of her mouth, every word spilled out with repressed rage. Not one that threatened to boil over into violence, but a fury compressed into the shape of a diamond—sharp and smooth and hard and untouchable.

“Like I said, I know management pricks when I see them. I can see your weaselly little sniveling brown-nosing turd behavior from a mile away. I know you’re just here to get me to do something and if you fail to mobilize me, you’re in deep shit. I don’t know how things work over there, wherever you’re coming from. But I’m guessing that you don’t just get a pay cut or fired,” she said.

Now she, like him, flashed a toothy grin. Sadistic, angry, and beginning to enjoy herself.

Was her first in getting to fuck with a non-human entity.

“So how about I give you the finger,” she said, following up with the matching gesture of flipping him the bird. “And you go find someone else to do your dirty work for free.”

The demon was speechless. Never before had this entity seen anybody respond with such belligerent resistance and unrelenting venom in her words.

He eked out another evil grin, but Mary recognized the insecurity in it. Malcolm used to look exactly like that when he tried to impress people, and Gall was running out of cards to play. He raised the knife again, toyed with it, letting the handle roll around in his palm, causing the blade to cast scintillating reflections in the dingy kitchen light.

“I can be very persuasive. I can make things slow and painful, Mary.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said with a groan, stamping out the next cigarette. She just glared at him, yielding no attention to the knife now. “I see right through cheap shit tricks like that. What stupid movie did you get that line from? You need me—you need me to do something, so you’ll need me at full capacity. Your threats are empty, you spineless shit stain.”

Without missing a beat, she lit up yet another cigarette and leaned over the table, shortening the distance between her and the knife.

“Try me, motherfucker. I can’t wait to die. Life sucks, so I will spite you by dying before I lift a single God-damned finger for you or whoever the fuck you work for,” she said. Her grin widened, the cigarette lazily drooping from the corner of her mouth, displaying even more spite. “I wonder what happens to you if you fail to get me to do whatever you want me to do. I bet that’s worse than whatever kiddo crap you’ve cooked up for me.”

The chair underneath Gall creaked and its legs scuffed over the filthy floor as he got up. He backed away from her and placed the knife back on the counter.

“Yeah, get the fuck outta here, you little chickenshit. You come here, wearing my little brother’s sorry-ass face, waving a knife around, threatening to torture me and end my life? Fuck you. Don’t come back until you come up with something scary.”

Gall continued to back away. The grin never left his face, but not one inch of it was sincere anymore. Just a mask to hide his growing dread.

Everything she had said rang true. Punishments for failure were no trifling matter. The Glass King’s orders needed completion. He would have to find someone else, for this Mary was not a lost lamb they could manipulate into doing their dirty work—she was just a lost cause.

“My shift’s gonna be nine hours, asshole. You can visit me at work or you can come waste my time when I’m back, or whisper your dumb sweet nothings in my ears while I’m trying to sleep. See if I give a shit,” she said, continuing to harass the demon as he continued to back out of her kitchen. “Maybe bring good dope or a massive dragon-shaped dildo next time, maybe you can bribe me. Maybe a stack of hundred dollar bills. See, I’m responsive to material goods and pleasures. But I bet you’re too cheap of a shit for that.”

She continued to rant, even well after he had gotten out of earshot and retreated from the old decrepit home. It was true what they said, Gall thought.

Humans were the fucking worst.

—Submitted by Wratts

[ashadowsideofme]

"I’ll give you something to believe in, I’d rather fail than never try"

:: Solo ::

The sound of my mobile phone buzzing against the hardwood of the bedside table, caused me to jump and pull from my sleeping slumber. Barely able to open my eyes, I reached over to grab my phone. A groan surpassed my lips and my hand moved to pinch the bridge of my nose. My eyes squeezed shut. I tried to figure out where I was, actually who I was. Sometimes I even forgot who I am and what my own name was. My head was banging and I could feel the vein in my forehead pulsating like a bitch.

The sound of my own blood rushing through my system was heightened in my ear in the silence of the room. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, and peeking open an eye. I punched in my passcode and groaned as my phones backscreen came to life, almost blinding me.

“Ah, shit!”

Another groan came as I placed the phone, screen down onto my chest. Using the balls of both my hands, I pressed them into my eye sockets. I needed painkillers and a shower to even attempt to wake me. Taking in a heavy sharp breath, eventually taking my hands away from my face. My surroundings slowly began to come into focus.

“What the f…….”

This wasn’t my apartment, nor my bed. I had yet again woken up in a hotel room. At least it wasn’t a gutter. That was kinda one of my worst fears. Being so blind drunk and ending up in a gutter. I had done some crazy ass shit over the years. One time while on tour with my band ‘The Shadow Side’, I was so wasted while on stage, that I thought it was a good idea to jump from the stage to another platform. Completely misjudging the distance, I landed nose first into the railing, breaking my nose, and cracking four ribs. But I had so much alcohol in my system, that it completely numbed my nerve receptors that I continued the performance despite of that.

So the fact I was actually in a bed and it was only my head that was pounding. I was taking this as a complete ass win. Even if it wasn’t the most brightest idea I have ever had. I felt a heavy weight finally across my stomach and raised the covers. I was naked. Fucking score. Way to go Ethan. We know what you did last night. An arm, which wasn’t mine laid across my stomach. Turning up my nose, I turned my head slowly to see the mass of red hair covering the girls face. I couldn’t even remember coming back with her, let alone her name or even what she looked like. Classy Ethan. She wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last of one of my rebellious indiscretions and I was going to need to slip out before she even woke up. Hopefully.

Picking up my phone from my chest, I used the other to gingerly take her wrist, I lifted her arm up off of me and slipped out of the bed, it wasn’t until I was perfectly free from the bed, I placed her hand down slowly. Cringing when I heard a slight moan. My body freezing as I waited to see if she is going to wake up. She doesn’t and I breathe a sigh of relief. Looking around the bedroom. It slowly came to me that we were in a hotel room. Thank fuck for that. I could escape easily and never have to worry about seeing her again, whoever ‘she’ was.

Grabbing my boxers and pulling them on, I did the same with my jeans. Slipping my phone into my pocket. I would wait until I got outside to see who had tried contacting me, I didn’t have time to hang around here and I was really in need of painkillers and a shower. Finding my shirt and pulling it on, I made sure I was wearing all my necklaces, rope and bead bracelets, I didn’t want to be leaving anything behind for her.

Sitting on a nearby chair, pulling on my socks and boots, I did the laces loosely. Before pushing myself up and looking around for my jacket. Spotting it near the door, amongst the girls clothes, I snatched it up and shrugged it on. Checking the pockets for my keys and wallet, which thankfully were there. I did the most disgusting thing I had to always do after nights like this. It wasn’t pleasant nor something that I enjoyed doing, but it had become a necessity since these one night stands would do anything these days for money and fame.

Grabbing the bin liner from the hotel bin beside the bed. I tied it into a knot and shoved it into my pocket for now to dispose of when I was clear from the hotel. Wherever the hotel was of course. I had an apartment in New York I shared with my childhood best friend Chelsea. We had known each other since we were six. We both grew up in London, England. To somewhat middle class parents. We lived next door to each other and have been inseparable ever since. Chelsea like to give the impression she was an innocent and naive woman, but she wasn’t. She could drink, eat and kick ass like the best of them.

I have always been into music, and she was always there for the ride. So when we were sixteen, we moved from London to LA with my band, The Shadow Side to try and make it big or even try and make it. After two long years of living in and out of vans, sleeping rough and taking shitty jobs so we could pay to eat. We were finally signed to a label and we hit it big, quickly. Maybe too quickly. None of us would quite handle the shit that was going down. We were massive on the alternative metal scene, and able to live comfortably, but we weren’t rich and famous. Even now, nearly a decade on.

But we were selling sold out shows around the world, we were touring every other year. I went off and did a solo project for a year and now we were back full force as a band. We all moved to New York to get away from the large press and media of LA who was following us around and documenting every mistake the band made. We were trying to clean up our image somewhat, but the moment we got back on tour, shit went out of the window. We were currently recording and writing our sixth studio, my seventh if you include the solo project and things were going well. That just meant tour and that was where we shook hands with the devil and shit got crazy.

Chelsea was our tour manager. She did the organising and made sure everyone had their shit together before we took to the stage. You didn’t want to mess with her and her schedule, because she would drop kick your ass into next week. She was feisty and took zero shit from anyone. I backed her 100%, and no one got away with disrespecting her. Ever. But we lived together. The amount of social media comments on that was crazy. Two people of the opposite sex couldn’t be just friends. It made us chuckle mind. It wasn’t anyone’s business and we stopped defending our friendship a long ass time ago.

So now, with a trash bag with last nights condoms in my pocket, I slipped from the hotel room and closed the door silently behind me. As I walked down the hallway to the elevator, I ran my hand through my hair, puffing out my cheeks. As I waited for the elevator to come, there was a maids cart, so I took the opportunity to dump the trash bag discreetly and shove my hands in my leather jacket. When the doors to the elevator opened. I stepped inside and hit the ground floor button. Resting my head back against the glass mirror. Trying to push the throbbing pain in my head away. It was blurring my concentration. Opening my eyes slowly I remembered my phone message and pulled my phone from my pocket. The doors opened and I stepped out.

Palming my phone as I went to the check out desk. I gave over my details and explained someone was still in the room. I paid with my credit card and shoved it back in my wallet, and into my pocket, peering over at the guy as he checked me out.

“Don’t suppose you have any painkillers?”

He looked me over once before smiling.

“Certainly sir”

I shuddered. ‘sir’ I was twenty-seven. I wasn’t that damn old. Pulling my shades from my pocket and putting them on. I clearly looked like utter shit. I felt like shit. I would say I am never drinking again but that was a complete lie, once this headache went I would be back to my old self again. When he came back with the painkillers and a bottle of water, I took them from him and thanked him. Heading outside, I looked around. I noticed we weren’t far from the bar I attended last night. I knew it was where I was without even having to remember. It was the same bar that Chelsea and I, along with the other band members frequented.

Taking the painkillers and knocking it back with water. I hailed down a cab and got in the back. Giving over my address and settling back. I finally got around to reading the text message. I had a few missed calls from Chelsea, along with Sam, Jamie and Declan, the other guys in the band. I wasn’t surprised by those, and would listen to the voice messages later. Going to my messages, there were loads. I skipped over most of them, really not in the mind space to read them. It was Chelsea’s messages I did open and there were around ten, all starting from three am this morning. Shit. It was the last message that made me chuckle.

“You better be dead or dying asshole because I am going to kill you when you get home”

Aww the love from my best friend. Beautiful. She worried about me and because I hadn’t contacted her, she didn’t know if I had lived out my worst fear and died in a gutter somewhere. I debated on replying but I didn’t. I would give her the satisfaction of killing me when I strolled through the door at 7:30am. I would never take her berating of me away from her. Especially since I needed to be in the studio this afternoon with the guys. Smiling amused to myself, I closed my eyes and rested my head back. Just waiting for the headache to pass now, and get home and shower.

[michael-langdon-baby]

Salvation ( Michael Langdon x OC)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word Count: 3k~

Warnings: Blood

Chapter 1: The  End (x)

Chapter 2: The Beginning (x)

Chapter 3: Purple or Grey (x)

Chapter 4: Worship

July 12, 2017

Jessie March had asked out Miriam Mead last Tuesday, inviting her to a ladies night out- which would most likely consist of having more than a few cocktails at the nearest high end bar and complaining about dead beat husbands that got more than they deserved.

Miriam had told her that she was busy that night, but the following Wednesday would be perfect. And Wednesday had arrived with a shockingly breezy day, the obliterating heat of the sun being clouded by the foggy sky.

Julie stood nervously in the center of her room, nimble fingers fidgeting as her eyes darted around the place she called home. It had felt slightly unsafe since her dream about Michael- uncertain if he had actually been there or not.

The burn on her left nipple had stayed for days, almost a week and now a small scar still remained.

There was no denying the unforgettable pleasure that had run through her veins at the feel of his tongue eating her out, and the pleasure and pain he’d brought as his teeth had turned her soft dusty nipples a harsh red.

She hadn’t touched herself since, had thrown away the vibrator and vowed to keep him from her thoughts whenever she craved an orgasmic relief. But it was hard to not think about him, or the way his touch had driven her crazy.

Was it insane to want someone you’d never met? If so, then she belonged in the Looney bin for life.

“Are you ready Julie? It’s time to head over.”

Jessie March watched her daughter bite her lip with a nervous look, “Honey, are you still nervous? Please don’t stress yourself out, you’re just going over to meet Michael and hang out until Miriam and I have had our fun. Won’t be more than two hours.”

Julie nodded at her mom’s words before stepping out of her room, closing the door and following her mom down the stairs. They shut off all the lights and stepped out into the brisk night air, locking the door and walking across the lawn.

Julie needed to remember to breath; why was she so nervous? It was just some kid her age who was either going to be another boy who was full of shit or just another guy. And yet, she didn’t even believe herself in saying that Michael from next door was just some guy.

“Don’t forget to smile.” Jessie rang the doorbell and both March women gave off smile brighter than sunlight. There were a few beats were they simply stood and waited with bright smiles and baited breath.

The door swung open and Julie felt her heart plunge into her stomach; so this was Michael Langdon.

He looked younger than she pictured- could remember- but it didn’t faze her. His golden hair was curled around the crown of his head and he donned a yellow shirt with blue jeans, bare feet standing on the wood floor with creamy toes that tapped an uncertain beat.

But his face was what caught her, what caused an uptick in her rapidly beating heart and the smile already present to become wider. Those deep sea blue eyes- they were as if the ocean waves had become entrapped in a sphere and placed into the perfect orbs to see the world.

The golden locks, the blue eyes, and the smile that could bring the world to its knees were enough to have her biting her lip in want, a familiar tingle in her lower half making her ache.

“You must be Michael, I’m Jessie March, and this is my daughter Julie. Is Miriam ready to go?”

Michael used every will in his body to turn his eyes away from the decadent and haunting beauty that was Julie March, and went to find Ms. Mead. His fingers itched to grip the flesh of her cheeks and feel the warmth of her supple chest; he wanted to consume her.

Did he have any idea where this want came from? Not really.

But oh Satan, he could still taste her sweet cunt on his lips and hear her cries for a release that no other could give her. His steps faltered as he neared Mead’s room, a deep desire for his next-door neighbor coursing through his veins.

“Was that them Michael? Can’t believe you talked me into this shit show- whoa boy are you okay?” Miriam Mead walked out of her bedroom looking just as dressed in black as normal, but donned a pair of petite heels that clicked as she walked. She marched over to Michael when he keeled over.

He shook her off, “No, no, It’s nothing. I’m alright.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him but he insisted, walking with her to the front door and feeling a sense of relief with Julie in sight once more. He had this overwhelming urge to grab and hold her in his arms, to stuff her in his room and keep her for himself.

Michael had never felt like this before, but now wasn’t the time to worry.

“Oh Miriam, you look lovely. You ready?” Miriam Mead patted Michael on the back and shot Julie a look that made her cringe.

“Have fun you two. We’ll be back soon.”

The door shut with a moderate slam and they both heard the two women drive off into the night.

It was silent between them, Michael wanting to hug her and Julie wanting to fall to her knees for him. But neither things happened, and instead Julie smiled at Michael.

“So, what do you have planned for us?”

His eyes lit up at her inquiry of how they would be spending the few hours they had before the two older women returned, and he eagerly reached forward and plucked her hand that had been laying at her side, leading the way.

He took her the kitchen and sat her down in a chair, moving to the fridge and puling out two plates, each having half corn half bologna sandwiches.

“We don’t have that much, but the corn is good.” She hadn’t had corn in ages but ate it with a smile though avoided the bologna, she wasn’t a fan of deli meat. He ate with eagerness, but his eyes watched her and smirked around a mouthful of meat when her cheeks turned dark under his unfaltering gaze.

When they finished he took their plates and eagerly took her soft hand again, leading them down a hall and up one set of stairs, stopping at what must have been his room.

The door was a deep blue and her brows furrowed at the upside down cross resting on a hook. She didn’t have time to question it when he yanked her in with a surprising force, shutting the door behind them.

His room looked no different from what she could see from her window; a twin sized bed with blue sheets, a nightstand with a lamp that donned a yellow shade, and a white closet near the door.

It was barren for a teenager, or maybe she just like material goods. He watched her eagerly, “You’re the first girl I’ve ever had here.”

It shocked her but it didn’t show on her face, “Well aren’t I the lucky one.”

He plopped himself on the bed and watched her, patting the open space to his left. She sat next to him, eyes darting between their touching thighs and his sea blue orbs.

“So, is Ms. Mead your mom? You don’t really share any-“ She motioned to his face and he smiled.

“She took me in when my grandma died. She’s my family, she’ll always be there for me.” He spoke with such certainty that it made her soften.

They were silent for a minute, Julie looking around the room to try and start a conversation, but that was more than a little difficult.

“So what do you do for fun?” He bit his lip and stared into her eyes, “I’m usually with Ms. Mead; she keeps me company.”

“Well what about when Ms. Mead isn’t here? Then what do you do?”

He bit his lip and fiddled with the end of his shirt, “Sometime I try to talk to my father, other times I look at you.”

She watched his look at her, waiting for a response. It was surprising that the fact that he watched her didn’t frighten or creep her out, “How do you look at me?”

“From my window. I can see you sleeping at night and sometimes you’re with another girl.” His voice grew soft and wary, “Please don’t be mad.”

Hell, why wasn’t she mad? He just admitted to watching her from his window and yet this invasion of privacy didn’t scare her. In fact, it made her feel strangely warm at the fact that he watched her.

“I watch you too sometimes.”

The two teens stared at each other with wide eyes and unsure thoughts. Michael was the one to make the first move.

His slightly shaking hand reached up, thumb tracing her bottom lip, “M-May I touch you?”

Her eyes drifted from his gaze to the wandering thumb, watching as it swiped across her damp bottom limp, a wetness appearing on the pad of his thumb that he promptly brought it his mouth for a taste. It was sensual to say the least.

They continued staring, but Michael broke the silence first. “Would you be my friend?”

Julie eagerly nodded and Michael gave her a sweet child like smile. They both didn’t know it yet, but they were meant to be, and this was only the beginning.

~

“Why do you have to go?”

Julie looked in the mirror and shot Michael’s reflection a deadpan look, going to back to applying her lipstick.

She had Michael had become closer over the coming weeks; she had found he would show up exactly ten minutes after she came home from school, and would sit on her bed with his nose in her pillow, listening to her describe her day with wide attentive eyes.

He didn’t go to school, and she knew better than to grill him as to why he sat at home all day, didn’t he get lonely? Why didn’t Ms. Mead make him get an education like everyone else her age?

“Because I made a promise to my mom and the desk clerk Liz that I would visit twice a month, every other Saturday and as you can tell, its Saturday.”

“But I want you here.” She capped up her mascara and turned around, placing her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you just come with me? I could use the company, it’s a pretty creepy Hotel.”

Her bare legs walked across the floor to the dresser, eyes searching for a pair of pants, feeling his eyes on her ass the whole time. They weren’t entirely innocent friends; sometimes Michael would plant his face in her breasts and lay there for a bit, or like right now, he would stare at her with the lust of a teenage boy.

After dancing into her tight jeans she turned around, Michael red in the face and quickly looking away.

There was this strange innocence to Michael that made her feel… well, she couldn’t really explain it. It was like seeing in warm and cold colors, and Michael was just so warm. He was a blanket on a cold day and a heat she felt to her core.

He was silent at her question she asked again, “C’mon, if you come with me then I can show you all the creepy murder rooms. I feel like that’s right up your alley.” A wiggle with her brows was enough to have Michael up and crossing the floor, standing in front of her with a look of wonder on his face.

“Murder rooms?” She nodded and he bounced on the balls of his feet, giving her a smile that warmed her heart. He stopped moving around enough for them to be face to face, his heart beating out of his chest and her own fingers itching to entangle with hers.

The bedroom door opening had Julie pulling back, a frown falling on Michael’s face as Jessie March walked in, “You ready Jules? Wanna beat the traffic, oh- are you coming along Michael?”

“Sure Mom, we’ll be downstairs in a sec.” Jessie March nodded at her daughter and took her leave, not shutting the door.

“Why did she call you Jules?” Michael had understood her name to be Julie, and she shrugged it off as she sprayed a cloud of perfume and walked through it.

“No reason, just a nickname. She says I’m the family jewel, so Jules.”

Michael thought she was a jewel, a shining diamond in the rough that he wanted to carry with him always. “Can I call you Jules too?”

She held out her hand and he took it eagerly, “Of course. I see no reason why you can’t.” The two walked out of the room, closing the door softly and trotting down the stairs with intertwined fingers.

~

Miriam Mead plated up two bowls of pasta, the one for Michael being bigger than hers- he was a growing boy; more food would be good for him.

“And how was your day?” Miriam sat his bowl down and watched with a smile as he said his evening prayer.

“Bless us Dark Lord, for these thy gifts that we are about to receive…” He finished his prayer and they both dug in, Michael smiling at his Aunt.

“Did you know there are dead people in the Hotel Cortez? I was there today with Jules and her great grandfather followed her.” Mead watched as he bit into a large meatball. “I should’ve sent him to my father, but he protects her from the evil ones.”

“Sounds like a good day then.” He nodded and inquired about her day, smiling as she rambled about meeting women in the neighborhood, planning out future victims and such. His good mood dropped when he remembered a bit of information that he required from Ms. Mead.

He dropped his fork with a ding and gave Mead a dead serious look.

“Do you know if it’s her? If she’s the one?” Miriam sat down her fork and gave him a smile, “Only you can answer that Michael.”

A pain in her throat had her gasping for air, wide eyes watching as he stared at her with unaltered rage. He rarely took his anger out on her.

“I wont ask you again Ms. Mead.” He released her throat and she told him the truth, which is she really didn’t know, that only he could answer that for himself.

“Fine.” The table collapsed in on itself when he pushed away from it, running upstairs and shutting his door. Michael shed his shirt and opened his closet; hands gripping the jagged blade Miriam had gifted him shortly after he’d come into her care.

He had only done this once, but he had come back and received the answers he had needed. And right now, he had to know if Julie March was the one who was meant to be by his side when he burned the world, the one who would be his light in the eternal darkness. Some deep part of him knew it was her; that just by seeing her warm smiles and tasting her sweet cunt that she was.

But he had to be sure; so he took the jagged blade and started speaking,

“May you rise from the void, Father. May your darkness guide me.” He flinched as the blade dug into his wrist, blood flooding out. He started digging up and up, letting the river flow.

“Power in Satan to overcome my weaknesses.” He mimicked the incision on the other arm.

“Power in your name, to be strong within.” It always hurt to let the blood flow, and he fell to his knees as it pooled around him.

He fell to his knees when he heard the whispers around the room, penetrating his mind with knowledge no man could give him. His fingers now covered in blood and mind barely aware moved his hands in sync to draw a bloody pentagram beneath his knees.

Tears streamed down his face as pain and pleasure became one, a dark shadow erupting before him.

“I seek your guidance. I thought it wasn’t true, but she lives. I found her, she’s here.” The whispers grew stronger, but he needed more. “I beg for your wisdom.”

He could hear the shadowed figure as clear as day, but he needed to see. “Please, Father! Open my eyes!”

He slumped forward, the blood loss making him weak- such a human trait- but that cold dark hand lifted him up and told him everything he needed to hear. His father told him the truth- that Julie March would stand by his side and that her existence was key to his survival, the world’s end, everything.

He grew stronger now, felt his body replenishing the missing blood as his father healed him, ready to return to the depths of hell once more, but not without a farewell from his only son.

The words left his bloody lips like a sweet song,

“Ave Satanas”

Julie March shot awake in her bed, chest heaving with a breath that she desperately craved. It took a few moments for her heart to calm down to a normal rate, fingers clenching her covers tightly. Her eyes darted around every corner of the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary- or out of that nightmare.

A quick turn of the head with a peek out her window showed Michael’s lights off. She fell back against her bed with a huff; it had just been a dream. But instead of simply falling back asleep she reached for her phone on the nightstand, clicking it on and opening Safari.

He fingers typed in the words ‘Ave Satanas’ and her eyes bulged out at the Google official definition of the Latin words she’d heard in her dreams.

Hail Satan

[221bshrlocked]

Suspended Memories

Pairing: Bucky X Vampire Original Female Character

Words: 7K

Warnings: Violence. Blood. Broken bones. Smut. NSFW gifs. Not sure how to say this but mentions of blood...as in both parties getting turned on by it and escalating from there. So go away if any of that makes you uncomfortable please

Summary: She had found what she once dreamed of: a family in a team, a paradise in an unknown nation, and a soulmate in a broken soldier. But what happens when Bucky sees Rozalia for what she is, a bloodthirsty monster that can lose control at any moment?

A/N: for @cleolemonfanfiction The prompt was “they’re about to die smut.“ This is draft three and I decided to just go ahead with what I wrote. I’m not going to lie I think this is absolute garbage and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so conscious about my style of writing but I hope you guys like it. Also, this is the first time I write an original character not a reader insert so let me know how it is. I’ll put up the tags when I wake up.

It all happened so fast she didn’t see it coming. Ironically, this was never a problem for her since everything was usually kept under control. It took the few seconds of distraction for him to get the drop on her and before she could even make a sound, she was chained and dragged away from the docks.

Between the sounds of men screaming and shots firing, Rozalia tried to stay awake, listening to Steve yelling through the earpiece and sighing in relief when the hostages were secured. But then there was this problem. Looking up, she saw a masked man dragging her with the chains to a nearby building. If he knew how to overpower her, then he most certainly knew what she was.

Rozalia kept on staring at him, wishing he’d glance at her even for a second because that’s all she needed to escape. But he never looked down, reminding her that he probably knew what she was capable of. As soon as he went into the warehouse, he took the duct tape off of her mouth and slammed her against the wall, a gut-wrenching scream sounding from her throat and alerting the rest of the team what was happening.

“Where’s Rozalia? Does anybody have eyes on Rozalia?” She could hear Steve yelling while punching someone, the responses from the rest of the team not making the situation any better.

“She was near the east side of the docks...Barnes she was coming to you, did you see where she went?” Sam seemed to be the only one who noticed her movement, making her hiss because this was not the time to guilt trip anyone. But then she heard something that she knew for sure no one else picked up on. Bucky cursed under his breath, panting through the comms and letting everyone know he started making rounds to see where she went.

Rozalia backed away from the man in front of her as soon as she saw him approaching. When he kneeled down, he saw the earpiece and snatched it away, laughing at her current situation before speaking to everyone.

“I know you can hear me Winter Soldier.” She hissed at him again, knowing Bucky was stupid enough to come to her with no back-up.

“What do you want?” Rozalia heard Bucky reply, wishing once again the man would look at her.

“We can sort that out later. You come alone and if anyone else tries anything, her head might get just a little detached from her body.” He walked to the metal doors and fired a shot, signaling their location before throwing the earpiece on the floor and crushing it.

Minutes later, she could hear someone else’s heartbeat, letting her know Bucky was right outside. Rozalia tried to scream but the man still had the chains wrapped around her neck, the smell of burning skin filling her nostrils.

As soon as he walked in, the man sprayed something at his face, only managing to anger Bucky before receiving a hefty blow to the throat. He fell backward and didn’t budge, her eyes looking at the body before turning to Bucky. He shook his head and ran towards her, face scrunching in pain when he tried to remove the chains from her neck and arms.

“Shit shit are you alright?” For a man who barely spoke more than three syllables to her in the past year, Rozalia was surprised he was even in front of her.

“Hmmm-” She nodded, taking his hands and standing up. Bucky smiled at her and Rozalia could tell he wanted to say something but she sensed movement from the corner of her eyes, pushing Bucky to the ground and screaming in anger when the shot exited her shoulder.

“You motherfucker-” Within seconds, Rozalia was in front of the man, fingers ripping off the mask before turning his chin to stare into his eyes.

“Who sent you?” She growled at him, eyes turning pitch black before his body became limp in her hold.

“Baron Strucker.”

Whatever Rozalia expected to hear, this was far from it. Bucky was as surprised as her, but he didn’t show any signs of it. She could tell he was getting nervous though, grudgingly turning her head to see if he was okay. She hated when any of them saw her in this state—unhinged and bloodthirsty—but she had to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

When she turned to the man, she couldn’t help but sniff his neck, her natural instincts taking in before she could try and stop herself. But she still needed answers.

“Why?”

“He wanted to see for himself…” The man couldn’t look away from her, mind completely entranced yet fearful.

“See what?” She tightened her grip on his neck.

“That his training was lost just like the media said.” A deep disgust lied in the pit of her stomach, and then she remembered what he did.

“And how did you know about me?”

“You were the second mission. Kill the Winter Soldier if he didn’t respond to HYDRA’s training and take you...dead or alive.”

“WHY DOES HE WANT ME?” Rozalia’s impatience kicked in, knowing her control would dissipate at any moment.

“I-it’s your blood he needs. Y-your blood is the key...the key to a new serum. The key to make new Winter Soldiers.”

And just like that, something snapped inside of her, making her forget Bucky was in the same room. Under any other circumstances, Rozalia would have either snapped his neck or knocked him out for more interrogation later. But at this precise moment, something else took over.

Bending his neck as far to the side as possible, she announced her attacked with a growl, teeth sinking into his neck, the sound of his screams music to her ears. Whether it was her loss of blood or the wound in her shoulders, Rozalia couldn’t push herself away even if she tried. It was a while later when she decided it was enough, noticing her arms and neck have healed along with her shoulder.

The man’s body dropped to the floor with a thud, her brain going fuzzy when she realized she had an audience. As soon as she turned around, she was met with a look that she couldn’t quite figure out.

And then she wiped her mouth and figured she must’ve been a sight.

He was afraid. He was afraid of her.

“You okay?” Rozalia took her jacket off and wiped her face with it, counting down from a hundred to make sure her eyes and teeth went back to normal. When he didn’t reply, she turned to him again and saw him slightly nod, coughing before he approached her.

Bucky told the team they were both safe and that some clean up was needed in the warehouse, avoiding her eyes before walking out. This was definitely not what she had in mind. Of all the people she would’ve let see her in her ‘natural state,’ Bucky was the last one on her list.

“What happened?” Romanoff was first to see Rozalia, eyes taking in the state of her shirt, and putting two and two together. “Where is he?”

“He’s in there,” was all Rozalia managed to say before she walked out, ignoring Sam’s inquiries and going straight to the jet.

The hour back felt like years. Rozalia didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone raise her head to look at them. But she could tell he’s been staring at her the entire time. When Bucky and Steve went into the back room, she heard Bucky explaining to him what went down, cringing when he glazed over the part where she almost ripped the guy’s head off from how hard she bit him.

“You alright?” Steve came back in to check on her, the silent nod he received letting him know this was not going to turn into a conversation.

Rozalia spent the entire time meditating on how she got into this mess. It’s been over a year since she’s worked with them. Whatever happened in Sokovia made the team uneasy and once Steve found Bucky, it went downhill. They were all broken in a way and that’s what she connected with. If it weren’t for Nakia saving her ass two years ago, she would have never met any of them. Nakia brought her back to Wakanda, telling her they could be trusted and that they could help her out. When she got there, it was like her life began, the past decades meaning nothing as she finally managed to open up to people. They treated her like family and that’s what did it.

But then Bucky woke up and they told her his story, T’Challa finding it in everyone’s interest for her to join their ‘crime-fighting’ team or whatever rogue thing they had going on. Rozalia was reluctant at first but then she met Steve and he was kind. Natasha didn’t trust her for a while, and she knew very well the Russian agent had every right not to. It’s not like vampires were something people were keen on finding out are real. Sam found it hilarious and asked her all sorts of questions...for science of course.

And no matter how hard she tried, she wished she wasn’t this affected by Bucky. Whether it was seeing herself in him or just wanting to protect him and show him the better side of the world, it took a toll on her, knowing he’d probably want nothing to do with someone like her because he’s had his fair share of unnatural psychopaths his entire life. So Rozalia never hit it off with him, opting to keep her distance with the occasional ‘hellos’ and ‘good nights.’

So here she was, looking every bit of unnatural psychopath in front of the one man she felt for since god knows how many decades.

“We’re here.” Natasha patted her shoulder, Rozalia’s eyes looking up and letting her know exactly how she felt. “Get some rest and we can talk later if you want.” She smiled at the cal woman before following Steve. As soon as she got up, she grabbed her bag and was about to leave when she saw Bucky standing at the exit, not even bothering to hide the way he was staring at her.

Rozalia said nothing, looking down to the floor and moving past him to try and forget what happened.

Once she placed her stuff down in her room, Rozalia was about to walk to medbay when she realized Bucky and the others would probably be there. Knowing none of them would probably want to talk about what happened, she stayed in her room for a few hours, thinking about what or how she’d start this talk with any of them.

It was close to midnight when she decided a fresh walk around the city was much needed. Passing the different rooms, she stopped when someone’s heart rate didn’t sound right. Shutting her eyes, Rozalia focused on everyone on the same floor as her, letting her feet carry her to the last room.

The door wasn’t completely shut and once she pushed it open, her eyes widened in horror.

Bucky was on the floor of his bathroom, body covered in heavy sweat with rapid, shallow respiration, and vomit everywhere. His arms wrapped around his stomach before his head tilted up to see who was in his room.

She ran to him and flipped him on his back, his groans making her feel suddenly uneasy.

“Hey hey stay with me...stay with me. Shit it was poison. Bucky listen to me I’m going to take you to-”

“I...ca-can’t see. I can’t see….ahhhh this hurts..please make it stop. It hurts so much. It hurts.” He’s been crying from the looks of it and based on the slow beat of his heart, he wasn’t going to make it.

“I- let me call Steve and-” His sobs cut her train of thoughts, fingers holding onto her for dear life before his grip tightened on her arms.

“P-please make it stop…” Bucky tried again, making her wish she could take all his pain away.

Rozalia tried to think of what she could do but nothing came to mind. Nothing he’d allow at least.

“Bucky, do you trust me?” She soothed him, hands rubbing at his cheeks and neck, trying to make him understand she won’t leave him.

“Wi-with my life,” the words hadn’t left his lips before she slowly turned his head to the side. She whispered a quick sorry before she bit his clavicle, knowing this would put an end to whatever relationship she had as soon as he came back to himself and remembered what she did. He was about to scream when she placed a hand on his mouth, not wanting anyone else to see what she was doing to him. They wouldn’t understand, probably think she was trying to kill him or something. She needed to save him, even if it cost her having to leave.

In that moment, everything seemed to stop. Because no matter how many times his scent hit her, his blood was much more addicting than she could’ve imagined.

And the thought of losing herself in him was what brought her back to reality. Rozalia raised her head away from him when she heard his heartbeat returning to normal. But the poison wouldn’t be completely out of his system. Grabbing his knife, she slit her wrist and sat behind him, leaning down and whispering for him to open his mouth. When he didn’t comply, she did something she knew for sure he’d never forgive her for. Opening one of his eyes, she noticed his pupils dilating and staring right at her. “I need you to open your mouth for me. Can you do that? Open your mouth for me Bucky.”

As soon as he did, Rozalia placed her wrist on his mouth and told him to drink. They were both high off of oxytocin and all other chemicals, and within seconds, Bucky was grabbing her wrist and bringing it closer to his face, almost choking from how quickly he was drinking her blood.

“B-bucky that’s enough..you’ve healed.” Rozalia was having a hard time remaining focused, because even though she wanted him to stop, deep down, her body was telling her not to pull away. The thrill of drinking someone’s blood and having them drink her own was long forgotten but now it was unstoppable.

The rush of wanting to be with him. In every way possible. It was taking over her entire self and she hoped she would be able to leave before she made another mistake.

“James please…”

That seemed to do the trick because Bucky has never heard his name sound so angelic from someone.

He managed to sit up and rest his back against the wall, looking at her in a way she couldn't figure out. Just like earlier.

But something completely different was running through Bucky’s mind. He never thought he’d be in this position, doing something he knew would be intimate for her kind. Yet she did it so willingly, not even thinking about it twice before offering her blood to him. He knew how set against it she was, not even giving it to the scientists in Wakanda she trusted with her life. She always spoke of the possible side effects and she’d never want to make anyone think she had the upper hand.

He was brought back to reality when she hissed. She should’ve healed by now. But the knife seemed to have cut her deeper than she intended. And then it hit him.

Not only did she cut herself with a metal that’s dangerous to her, she sucked the poison out of his system, not even caring of what could happen to her.

Rozalia misunderstood his silent revelation for anger, remembering she was probably a sight to behold.

His eyes met her briefly, taking in the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, eyes pitch black and fangs still dripping blood.

She was sensational.

“I- oh god I’m sorry. You probably d-” She got up to leave, knowing she’d have to deal with the consequences later. Running back to her room, she stripped and stepped into the shower, wanting to forget the last few minutes and focus on anything but the taste of his blood.

Bucky didn’t have a chance to say anything. He was still high off of what happened and couldn’t understand why Rozalia acted the way she did. All contact between the two of them in the past year was mostly a brief greeting or a quick ‘watch out’ during missions. But she never showed any interest.

At first, he didn’t trust her because Steve told him of her powers. The thought of living near someone who could control his entire being with just one look drove him insane. He’d only just got his mind back. But everything she did proved she wasn’t that type of person. She even refused to use those powers on the people they fought, always talking about how horrible it is to know your mind is not yours.

He’d grown very fond of her but she never bothered to be his friend so he assumed she didn’t want to be. But in light of recent events, he realized she may have just been hiding behind a mask.

He’d know all about that.

Without giving it a second thought, Bucky cleaned himself up and walked to her room, knocking before entering.

His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on her.

She was standing in a towel, drying her hair in front of the mirror. When she heard him walk in, she turned around and stared at him shutting the door, setting her hair towel down before slowly making her way towards him.

“Why did you run away? Why did you do that?” Bucky wanted to say so many things in that moment.

“I- I did the one thing you dreaded. I controlled you. I just...god I wish I could say I had no choice but that doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.” When he said nothing, Rozalia decided she’s had enough of hiding her emotions.

“You have to understand...you could’ve died and I- I can’t live with the thought of knowing I could’ve helped. If helping you meant you’d hate me for the rest of your life then, that’s a price I would gladly pay. And I’d do it again given the chance.”

“Doll, that’s not- fuck that’s not what I’m asking.” The quizzical look she gave him looked absolutely adorable. No, focus.

“Why did you do that so willingly? As if drinking my blood might not hurt you? Why-” He trailed off, still trying to grasp her words because maybe, just maybe, he had a chance with her.

“Oh god do-don’t you know…” Rozalia couldn’t help her voice from breaking.

And just like earlier, something else took over. Within seconds, Bucky was in front of her, backing her up until her back crashed against the wall, lips seeking her own passionately and melting into her when she whimpered. Of all the things Rozalia expected to happen, this was not one of them. Her hands let go of the towel secured between their bodies and pulled on his hair, all of her bottled up emotions pouring out into the kiss.

But then she remembered why he would be acting this way.

She pushed his chest and wrapped her arms around her frame, looking at him like he was crazy.

“Wha...no no this isn’t. Shit this isn’t you. How could I be so dumb?” She wiped her mouth before approaching him. “Bucky listen to me, there are side effects to what we- I...what I did. Because I drank your blood and then gave you mine, this...whatever you’re feeling right now is not real alright? This is just- oh god you’re going to think I took advantage of you when my…. Shit no no this is not how I wanted this to happen James you have t-” He cut her off again, this time pulling her by her neck before growling into the kiss.

“This,” he pulled on her hair aggressively, “is,” lips sucking and licking her neck before whispering in her ears, “me.”

“Ho-how do you know?” Rozalia lost herself in him, trying to convince herself this wasn’t real because there was no way someone as pure and kind as him would want her, a creature that is unnatural.

“Because I’ve felt this way for months...months, watching you talk to everyone so freely and not bothering to even glance my way. Months since I’ve wanted to have you, touch you, kiss you, devour you, fucking drown in your scent...and yet you ignored me.” Bucky wrapped his arms around her, tightly keeping her body against his because he knew she wouldn’t break. Not her.

The revelation by itself made his knees weak.

“I thought that- god you feel so good, I thought you’d want nothing with me. I thought you saw me as a monster, and I couldn’t stand the thought of finally hearing you say it if- if I tried to talk to you.” Maybe it was her words or the way he held onto her but she couldn’t stop talking.

“And then the mission...I lost it. I lost myself and saw you looking at me that way and I just knew I proved to be the animal I am. And I couldn’t stand the way you walked past me without saying anything. I knew for sure you’d never want to talk to me again.” His hands made their way down to her thighs, leaning down before carrying her and walking to the bed.

“Doll, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way I swear. All I could think of was the fact that I almost lost you cause you came to help me out and then got dragged by that asshole. And I couldn’t stand the thought of thinking he got you to get to me, chaining you up and shooting you and...fuck I just had to leave before I did something I regretted.”

“T-then why didn’t you say anything on the jet?” Rozalia tried to hide behind her hands but Bucky pulled them away, kissing her wrists before leaning down and resting his forehead against hers.

“I- was afraid.”

Those words hurt her more than a stake to the heart could ever. And Bucky could pinpoint the second his words registered in her mind because he’d never wanted to be the cause of that look.

“Not- shit no no baby not of you. I wasn’t afraid of you. Never. I was afraid of how I’d react. I was afraid of trying to reason with you. I was afraid of getting carried away and yelling at you cause you took a fucking bullet for me.”

“I can heal,” Rozalia laughed, making him chuckle as well. “So can I.” Bucky retaliated.

They remained silent, gazing into each other’s eyes before Bucky touched her cheek, smiling when she shut her eyes and nuzzled into him.

“Why did you run? You never gave me a chance to thank you.” Bucky’s smile made her blush, noticing the way she suddenly became flustered.

“I- it’s embarrassing. I can’t-” Rozalia tried to change the topic but he insisted.

“Tell me. Please.”

“I needed to stay away from you.”

“Why?” He wasn’t going to give up.

“When...god this is probably going to disgust you Bucky do you really want to know?” He nodded immediately. “I couldn’t trust myself. This- when I drank your blood, it was like nothing I ever tasted before. It’s addicting. Just smelling it made me crazy and then I gave you mine and...you know about this. It’s not something we do often. It’s one thing to drink someone’s blood and it’s another to give them your blood but when both...in the rare circumstances we do both...it creates a temporary bond between the two people and that’s why I pushed you away. I was afraid you weren’t- you.” She didn’t want to look at him, knowing how the situation must have seemed strange from beginning to end.

“Do you want to drink my blood again?” The question caught the two of them off guard. Rozalia couldn’t lie and say she didn’t want to, but she knew she shouldn’t. And Bucky felt like he was flying when she sank her fangs into his skin. She met his eyes, and dared herself to descend into them. She vowed to never open up to another but the way he looked at her, as if he’d longed for her since he was born, made her want to take the chance.

She’d take the chance for him.

Maybe it was the intensity of the question or the way she played with his hair but Bucky couldn’t hold back anymore. Slowly, he moved his hands to the towel and tugged on it, the action loosening the knot and presenting her body to him. The sound of the metal plates of his arm shifting made her clench her thighs, the action not going unnoticed by him. He was struggling to stay in control and just seeing her shift to release some of that tension almost had him at the edge.

Bucky leaned forward, wanting to worship every inch of her body and mark her and love her and show her just how much he needs her. But Rozalia pushed him away, waiting for him to lay down on his back before straddling his waist and mirroring his thoughts.

“Let me.” She breathed in his scent, focusing on this moment between them rather than what she’s been wanting to do ever since she met him. He sat up long enough for her to take his shirt off, groaning and shutting his eyes when she left a trail of wet kisses down his chest, her teeth teasing his nipples and making him hiss before he bucked his hips into her core.

But Bucky didn’t want to miss anything, reluctantly opening his eyes and looking down at her when he felt her pulling down his sweatpants. Before he could relax back onto the bed, she had already licked the vein protruding on the underside of his cock, pumping him slowly before sucking on the leaking tip.

He’s never felt like a prey before this point, but as soon as he made eye contact, he knew he was. Rozalia hallowed her cheeks, taking her time pleasuring him and refusing to rush through this. She’s thought about this a thousand different ways and now that she had him here, she was most certainly going to slow down. For both of their sakes. And when his moans became louder, she took the chance to graze her canines slightly against him, nails touching his thighs lightly before he thrust his hips up.

“Oh fuck...shit shhhhhit- R-Roza…” Bucky felt her whimper at the nickname, her little hum shooting vibrations around his cock and making him almost cum right then and there. The longer he looked at her, the more captivated he became, knowing that she had him wrapped around her little finger without even trying somehow creating a sense of peace in his mind. What he once feared to be done to him turned into a deep desire, from the way she rolled her tongue around his hard length to the little scratches her nails created on his thighs. Bucky was losing himself and although a part of him screamed for him to stop because this was wrong in a way, the rest of him begged him to take it further.

And he wasn’t sure if it was the idea of being at her mercy, because he knew as well as her that she could overpower him if she wanted, or that filthy thought of having her sink her teeth near his most sensitive spot that was causing him to pant and beg for her to keep going. To have such a being, a marvel created by the universe that defies all logic, grant him pleasure like he’s never dreamed of before, it was magnificent.

Bucky kept his gaze on her, studying her every move and committing it to memory, not out of fear, he would never fear her, just out of curiosity and more importantly, admiration and lust. He’s dreamed of having her right where she is for so long he couldn’t tell if this was also another cruel trick his mind conjured up to make him miserable. But as she continued her languid attack on him, he knew this was far too sinfully painful to be another dream.

“S-stop...doll stop- please..don’t wanna cum yet baby.” His voice came out husky, not wanting to push her away but knowing the night would come to an end if he didn’t. Rozalia gave him a last lick before moving to straddle him again, chills running down his spine because of how cold her milky, smooth skin contrasted with his warm body. He pulled her by her neck, delving his tongue into her mouth and exploring it like an oasis, almost as if he needed her to survive. And it was in that moment that realization washed over her; she would gladly, and without hesitation, die for this man if she had to.

The thought evaporated as soon as he rolled on top of her, metal arm locking her wrists above her head before he attacked her with kisses. “Roza-” The thick Russian accent shot to her core, the smile she wore letting him know she liked him calling her that very much. His hand cupped her tits harshly before his tongue rolled over a hard nipple back forth, over and over again until she ached for him. Her moans drove him crazy, his hot wet mouth grazing over her just as violently as she had not minutes ago. The more she squirmed underneath him, the harder Bucky became, wanting to hear her little sweet noises all night long.

“I- I want you. Bucky please..” She didn’t care how desperate she sounded, and she struggled against his arm, somehow knowing it turned him on that she played this little game with him. “Patience sweetheart..”

“L-let me feel your tongue in my pussy...ahhh haah yeah- fuck me James,” she spread her legs for him, arching her back against his tongue the lower he moved. Before she could say anything else, Bucky smiled at her and let go of her arms, the silent stare letting her know he wanted her to keep them there. As soon as his head was between her legs, she bucked her hips against him, chasing his mouth and wanting to feel more than his breath fanning over her shaking thighs. Bucky teased her, licking and sucking red marks on her thighs and laughing when she practically cried for him. His tongue was buried in her pussy in no time, having her scream for him over and over again. He learned she was much more sensitive than “normal” dames, his mean and harsh licks sending her spiraling into insanity within minutes.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, her hands tangled into his hair, tugging and scratching his head harshly because no matter how much she wanted him to stop, she needed him not to. It has taken her decades to finally allow herself such a pleasure. And here was this kind, beautiful man that was giving it to her like she was the only one worthy of it.

Bucky growled against her mound when she pulled on his hair, not afraid of handling her more aggressively than others because he knew very well she could take it. His grip on her waist tightened, not caring if he’d leave any bruises because the thought of knowing he couldn’t break her somehow turned him on. And as soon as she felt him suck and graze his teeth just a little over her stiff clit, she lost it, cumming hard around his mouth and rubbing herself harder on him because lord knows the pleasure was turning into pain but she’d gladly accept it any day.

“I wanna be in that tight pussy...now.” Bucky said as he sat up and licked his lips, the image of him wiping her juices off of his jaw making her wish he’d just already fuck her now.

“H-how do you want me?” The question was genuine and perhaps it was her tone of voice or the way she was looking at him, but Bucky’s cock twitched because of all the thoughts that flew through his mind.

“On your stomach.” The three simple words had her shaking, following his request in seconds because a part of her wanted him to rough her up. Bucky placed a pillow under her stomach, wanting her raised a little for him. When he looked back at him with those almost pitch black eyes, he lost his last ounce of control. With a few pumps of his cock and continuous rubbing of her cunt, he couldn’t wait any longer, teasing her entrance with his leaking tip before pushing in slowly.

And when his balls hit her ass, Bucky had to stop himself. She felt like nothing he’s ever felt before. Almost as if he was sinking his soul into thick honey that engulfed him the longer he stayed still.

“R-roza...fuck ahhh you’re...oh my god fuck I can’t-” Bucky’s arms held his weight up but the more her muscles clenched around him, the less control he had over his body. She, on the other hand, was bombarded with so many sensations. It’s been centuries since she felt such a deep connection like this, refusing to become attached, emotionally and physically, to another. But having him sink her into, mark her as his, feeling his cock spazzing and hitting her walls without so much as a single movement, it was more addicting than any blood she’d ever tasted.

Bucky waited until he felt her moving her ass against him before he started thrusting into her, somehow feeling as if he went deeper and deeper with every buck of his hips. It was an odd feeling, to feel her cool skin hit him everywhere while her pussy felt like a furnace wrapping around her. Bucky wanted nothing more than to tell her how she affected him, how alive he felt in this moment, how much he loved her. But he couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not when he was taking her in such an animalistic way.

Knowing she gave him the option of being in control made him fall in love with her even more. She knew what he needed without him voicing it.

He moved against her, changing the rhythm to make this last for as long as possible. Rozalia could feel his muscles moving against her skin, the heat radiating off of his body providing her with comfort she’s never felt before. And when his metal hand snaked around her neck to hold her cheek, she gasped. He turned her head to kiss her, wanting to have every inch of their skin touching and molding together. His lips fit perfectly with hers, harsh breaths and loud moans filling the room as they slowly became one.

Too desperate to feel nothing but him, Rozalia didn’t notice the shift in her eyes, the once bright green orbs turning gray before her eyes became completely black. When Bucky pulled away and looked at her, he cursed under his breath, the sight in front of him turning him on more than he should. But he refused to look away, wanting to see how much he affects her.

But she noticed the shift in his demeanor, the realization hitting her right before she looked away from him and hid into the pillows.

“No, don’t- don’t look away from me.” Bucky tried to turn her neck but she refused, afraid he’d finally figure out he doesn’t want her like this.

“James...I’m- you don’t want to see this. You don’t want to see me.” Her voice broke, making Bucky stop and force her to look back at him. “Please, let me see you. My Roza, let me look at all of you. Let me,” he hesitated before saying the next word, a part of him wanting her to understand how much he feels for her and not caring of the consequences, “love all of you.”

That seemed to do the trick, her head snapping and gazing into his cerulean eyes before he leaned down and kissed her again.

The air shifted in the room, with Bucky wanting to pour out his soul into her and Rozalia needing to have as much skin contact as possible. He pulled out and rolled her onto her side, hiking her leg up against his waist and telling her to wrap it around him. He nuzzled into her neck before he thrust into her again, this time a little harsher because now that they’ve laid down all the cards on the table, there was no more hiding.

Bucky could feel her close to cumming, wanting to make this last for as long as possible but knowing it wasn’t possible anymore. She felt too good wrapped tightly around him, her cunt inviting him to sink into her faster and harder with every move of his hip. Bucky wrapped his arm around her torso and pulled her closer to him, his metal fingers pulling on her hair as harshly as she had been before, cheeks sliding past one another and sweaty chests sticking together as he fucked into her.

His grunts edged her on, no longer caring that her mouth was wide open and her fangs were on full display, an action she’d thought too intimate prior to meeting him. Her fingers held onto his biceps, wanting to feel something more than just the hollowness in her heart.

“Fuck, doll…’m close. Sweetheart I’m so fuckin’ close…” He whispered into her ear, biting down into her neck and making her scream louder than before.

And then a thought passed through his mind and he refused to push it away. He knew he shouldn’t say it but something told him the two of them were past all stages of fear of rejection.

“Bite me.” Bucky moved on top of her, still sliding his cock in and out to chase his orgasm. When she didn’t reply, he grazed his fingertips over her cheeks, telling her again. Rozalia was taken aback by his comment, afraid this was just in the throws of passion and he’d regret asking her later. But when he said it again, more of a request than a question, she knew he wanted to truly become one with her.

How her kind showed commitment.

So when he leaned down and whispered his trust, she couldn’t deny him. Bucky picked up the pace, hips slamming into her at a violent rate and sending her into an abyss of pure pleasure. When she felt his muscles tightening around her waist, she knew he was close, choosing to bite him just as she came around his cock.

The second he felt her fangs dig into his skin, he came inside her, his cum shooting so deep into her he was sure it wouldn’t leak out of her. Between her cunt fluttering around him and her fangs driving him over the edge, Bucky was sure he has died and went to heaven.

And then he saw flashes of memories in front of him. They all happened so quickly and with no warning that he couldn’t focus or remember one specific one. But he could feel something else, something akin to a heart beating in front of him. And then a vivid image hit him like a freight train, an image he would not forget any time soon.

The second she retracted her fangs and pulled away, he suddenly felt empty. The pleasure has peaked so high he forgot what it felt like to not have her performing such an action.

Bucky fell on top of her, groaning when she spazzed around him a couple of times before he finally pulled out and laid next to her.

Moments passed before Rozalia turned her head to look at him, her eyes back to their normal color and her lips still tainted red. “Are you alright?” She worried a bit, seeing as his heart rate was much slower than normal and his expression grew tired. But when he hummed and smiled at her, she knew he was okay.

He asked her about the memories, heart clenching when she told him that was the moment she first realized how deeply in love she fell for him, telling him it was her favorite day to look back to.

“What am I to you?” Rozalia couldn’t help but ask this question, wanting to make sure this was all real and that it wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

“My angel.”

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 47

Negan, Kiara, and I stayed at Dad’s house, in my old room.  Well, Negan and I stayed in my old room, Kiara was spirited away by her grandparents because she had them wrapped around her tiny little finger.  Seeing Negan in the bed he’d replaced mine with, looking for all the world as he may if we were in our own home, made my entire body shake with longing.  

“Callie,” he kept his voice quiet, even if there was a HUGE part of him that wanted to make Dad cringe, “can you think of a better place for us to try giving Kiara a sibling than where she was conceived?”  I grinned, crawling into the bed with him.  

“Technically, Negan,” I offered, licking up his bare chest and smiling as he groaned at my teasing.  “We created Kiara in the fucking laundry room.”  His arms reached for me, and his lips met mine as he pulled me to him.  “Not feeling up to a field trip downstairs?”  I whispered and laughed as he rolled me onto my back and attacked my neck.  

“Fuck it, princess,” he growled into my shoulder as he nipped my skin.  “I figure we can make baby number two in this fucking room, then any others-”

I gasped as his tongue found my nipple, wondering how I was missing his steady progress down my fucking body.  “Others?”  I lurched and arched as he kept moving lower.  “Who says I want more than two?”

“There are a shit ton of fucking rooms in this house, Callie,” he muttered, his tongue and lips wreaking havoc on my body.  “I figure we’ll end up with a fucking football team just by making sure we get around to every room.”  Fuck, I thought, wanting to argue that we didn’t NEED a football team, but then his mouth completely short circuited my brain.

Morning came too fucking soon, for both of us.  I had to smile as I heard my wonderful husband muttering the same obscenities that I normally offered to the fucking birds that dared remind me that shit was happening outside the window in the bright as fuck sunlight.  A chuckle came when he tossed a pillow at the window as if it would stop the birdsong or turn out the light.  

“Oh no,” fighting to sound serious.  “Did my darling husband, morning person of the fucking decade, catch my irritation with all things perky?”  He growled and pulled me closer.  “Should I try to reverse our normal routine, baby?  Want me to show you that mornings aren’t as shitty as they could be?”  I felt him twitch against me.  “I’ll take that as a yes,” and I started to kiss down his bare body to show him just how good waking up with me can really be.

Breakfast, after making Negan louder than I’d been in the laundry room our first time and a long shower to make up for the achy muscles we both were feeling, was hilarious.  Seeing Daryl looking at Negan like he was disgusted by him and the debauchery he clearly forced on me, which nearly made me choke on my juice.  Which is probably why Daryl wasn’t meeting my eyes.  Dad was attempting to discuss the summit of sorts that we’d be having with Hilltop and Kingdom, taking my attention from Daryl and Negan’s face off to ask him if he was joining us.

“I think I should,” I nodded, agreeing that Dad’s presence made sense.  “Once we get word they’re here, we’ll head over to the house.”  

“Kiara stays here,” Negan offered, finishing his food as he smiled at our little girl bouncing on Carl’s knee.  He’d fed her, after a brief showdown between him and her daddy, and I had to diffuse the situation by raving about how happy I’d been that a run had found me a breast pump.  “Isn’t that right, princess?  Dada,” he offered, wanting nothing more than to hear her say her first word and for it to be his title.  “Dada thinks that his princess should play with Judith.”  He elongated the word, hoping that she’d mimic him, and I had a flash of terror that she’d repeat her first slight to Negan that also happened in Alexandria and shot Dad a look.  He shook his head, and I would have felt better, but he accompanied it with a smirk.  Fuck.  

“Judith and Hershel,” Michonne offered, Judith sitting next to her, trying to reach for her new favorite toy, my daughter.  “Since I’m sure Maggie will let me watch him while she’s occupied with-”  A nod of gesture toward Negan, as though he was the main focus, which I guess he was.  “I think we’ll take a picnic-” but Negan cut her off.

“Keep them inside,” he realized it came out sharp and sounded like an order, so he tempered it with a, “please?”  I nodded my agreement, inside, at least until everything was settled.  Inside and controlled.  Safe.  

Once breakfast was finished, dishes washed, Negan and Dad went to the former Monroe house to make sure everything was in order.  I was holding Kiara at the same window her daddy had wrapped himself around me to try to convince me to come home with him, showing her the neighborhood that had once been my life.  Michonne, making sure that Judith was occupied with her toys and that Carl had his own distractions, joined me.

“She’s happy,” I smiled as I kissed my little one’s soft curls.  “And she looks frighteningly like her mother.”  That made me laugh, causing Kiara to join in.  

“She acts like me too,” I offered, meeting my stepmother’s eyes.  “Demanding, loud-”

“Has Negan wrapped around her little finger,” she offered, her smile blinding as she reached out and giggling as Kiara bounced to try to get to her.  Willingly releasing my tiny one to her safe hands, I watched as she held her as naturally as she’d taken to mothering the three of us.  “You know she started making sounds that sounded suspiciously like a word last night, don’t you?”  I waited, knowing that I was about to find out that Kiara Jade was going to end up grounded until she was thirty by her daddy.  “‘Pop-pop’,” she offered, and Kiara, the tiny headstrong traitor echoed the very clear words.  Fuck.  

“Damn it,” I muttered, seeing my little girl sealing her own soon to be grounded state.  “You couldn’t have just followed normal fucking standards, could you?”  She was giggling up at me and I sighed.  “Let’s hope that she doesn’t give that little performance a go before we get shit settled, right?”  

Maggie, her people and her baby boy, followed closely by Carol and her contingent came soon after Dad and Negan returned from doing a last sweep of the Monroe house.  I held Kiara, as I greeted my former family members, and waited to see if weapons would be drawn or an attack made.  None came, thank God, but it was still tense.  

And then, as Michonne was about to take Kiara from me while Carl was reaching for Hershel, it happened.  The one fucking way to truly unleash Negan’s utter illogical irritation in full force.  My little girl, Negan’s pride and joy, started to cry and reach out.  For my dad, and then she screamed, clear as a fucking bell, “POP-POP!”

Shit.  Negan took a huge fucking breath, and I waited, feeling like we were all about to hear an atomic explosion of pissed off daddy to come roaring out and ruin the entire fucking attempt before we even got started.  Dad moved to Kiara, kissing her head and whispering that he would be close, that he was going over to the house and pointing to it, while shooting Negan a warning look.  Fuck.

What saved the day?  Maggie laughed, then Carol, then Michonne joined in, soon even Laura offered a chuckle and somehow, someway, that diffused it.  Kiara, loving the sound of laughter, giggled tears still shining, but the giggles fixed it all.  Negan moved close, standing close to Dad without hesitation or any sense of discomfort, and kissed her head and smiled down at her.  I heard, because I was right beside them, him whisper that her and Dada had a LOT to talk about after his meeting and I snorted.  Dear God.  

As the little ones went off with Michonne and Carl, the rest of us went to the Monroe house where I hoped like fuck we could figure something out that made the tension we just felt moments before seem like the worse thing that could happen today.