#do i dare disturb the universe - as if I'm not part of the universe

[constantvigilante]

“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

[ourimpavidheroine]

So let's talk about Alexandra Rowland's Running Close to the Wind. (And yes, of course there are mild spoilers, but I'm trying to be careful with them.) I don't review books, but I do recommend them, so that's what this is from me: a recommendation.

It is no secret that Rowland's A Taste of Gold and Iron is a book I love deeply and wholeheartedly. I have gabbled on at length about it before and read it...you know I'm not sure how many times I've read it. A prince and his bodyguard falling in love is a thing for me, and the book is gorgeously written. I also love their Chant books (prepare to have your heart broken, is all I am going to say) so I felt sure, going in, that I would love Running Close to the Wind.

Now here's the deal. RCttW is a hands down, knocks you on your ass hysterically funny book about pirates. I found myself laughing aloud many times during reading it, disturbing my cat and at one point, laughing hard enough that I woke up my kid. (Sorry about that!) It's advertised as being funny, and it delivers on every single count.

But also? Underneath all of the madcap hilarity it has some scathingly pointed things to say about religion and capitalism. There is a speech that one of the three main characters gives in the end of the book that is absolutely breathtaking in its fury, and by breathtaking I do mean that literally. It took my breath away. I read it; took a very deep breath and read it again. And then I read it aloud, just so I could hear the words.

Those of you who have read A Taste of Gold and Iron (as well as the recently released novella Tadek and the Princess, and how very dare you, Alexandra Rowling) know about the Mahisti Dynasty and its ruling sultans, descended from merchants. RCttW picks up pretty much where AToGaI left off; however, it is about pirates and none of the characters from AToGaI are in this book. (1) That does not mean, however, that the Mahisti Dynasty is not a part of this book. Because it is. It really, really is.

Most of the reviews I've read about this book focus on the humor. And as I said, it is brilliantly funny! That being said, Alexandra Rowland cited the late Sir Terry Pratchett as an influence, and honey, they were not kidding. If you know anything about Pratchett's work you know that he never missed an opportunity to really skewer injustice to the wall, and Rowland lives up to his legacy here. In other words, come for the wickedly funny and terrifyingly lucky little queen Avra Helvaçi and stay for the savage roasting that follows.

So let's talk about Avra Helvaçi, shall we? Avra is a dubiously (yet also mystifyingly) successful spy, in his mid-thirties, who takes partial retirement in the beginning of the book due to just a little spot of treason. I mean, it's really TREASON but Avra wasn't really trying to be treasonous, he just got bored and wondered if he could maybe, you know, get away with it? (All of the ADHDrs out there, raise your hand if You Know.) Avra cannot shut up and stop whining for the life of him, can't stop poking at people and walking the fine line of will I fuck him or murder him? (keep that hand up, ADHDrs) and is incredibly lucky. Weirdly lucky. No, really, how the fuck is this guy, this lackluster spy, this inveterate reader of his universe's version of the Tarot, this man who hides on top of wardrobes when things get dicey, this lucky?

Then we've got Captain Teveri az-Ḥaffār, on-again/off-again lover of Avra, pirate extraordinaire (okay, okay, okay, maybe a little cash poor at the moment), terse and out to prove themself, constantly simmering with anger, refusing point blank to let anyone else care for them. It takes awhile to get into Tev's backstory, but what we do know right away is that despite Tev's rather intimidating façade, they care very deeply for their crew and will do just about anything for them, including a whole lot of personal sacrifice that seems to go pretty much unnoticed by just about everyone (except the dubiously successful spy, see above).

And lastly we have Brother Julian, a smoking hot 12/10 monk and brilliant scholar, an alchemist, a revolutionary who has taken a vow of celibacy but who can't keep his eyes off of Avra. We all want to fuck Brother Julian, even those of us who actually don't want to fuck him. Yeah. He's that guy. Blond hair to his knees and wicked ass and all. Brother Juuuuuuuulian.

Before I move on to the plot I do want to give a shout out to all of the secondary characters. They are written with so much love as well. They are all characters in their own right, all of them unique in their own ways. That's not an easy thing for a writer to do, but Rowland succeeds brilliantly here. All of their secondary characters have backstories that I, for one, would love to read. It's rare to get that kind of depth to a character that only gets a few mentions, but Rowland's character work has always been exquisite, and only gets better as they keep writing.

But on to the plot! The comedy really pays off here. There's a cake baking contest towards the end of the book that had actual tears in my eyes. (When I was six a seagull snatched an ice cream cone right out of my little hands, so let me just say that I heartily approve of the seagull security part of the contest.) But trust me when I tell you, the book starts off funny and is funny until the very end. I don't want to spoil too much here, but there is a beginning, middle and very satisfactory end to the plot, so rest assured it succeeds.

The book is also cheerfully, filthily sexual, with mentions of well-stocked dildo boxes, blowjobs (I HOWLED at a particular image of pythons), a cabin on the ship formerly housing a spooky dentist (2) but now reserved for nooky, friendly prostitutes and a queer-normative world that doesn't include either homophobia or transphobia. (There is no actual sex on screen, however - so for all the verbal smut, there is a fade to black way of handling sex.) Listen, if you can't appreciate a well-crafted dick joke, then this probably isn't the book for you. The rest of you, however, will love it.

Underneath the humor is where this book really gets you, though. The politics! The mental health issues! The PTSD! The desperation of poverty in the face of capitalism! The lingering impact of restrictive religion! Motherfucking colonialism! Why does Avra hide? Why does Tev constantly resort to anger? Why does Julian, who took a vow of celibacy, torment others sexually? Yes, it's funny. Until it isn't. Until characters have to take a step back and realize that they are causing harm to others because of the harm that was done to them. Oh yes, my friends. It's there, hidden under the dick jokes. Rowland wants you laughing, they delight in your laughter, but they are going to stab you when you least expect it. (Ow, okay? Ow.)

At the same time, however, there is a deep and achingly sweet exploration of a threesome, of how a fraught relationship between two people can be healed and made whole with a third person who completes all of them. It is so very rare to see a true threesome explored this way, where it's not purely a sex thing (3) but rather how a real relationship, a supportive and healthy relationship does not always have to follow what we as readers consider "normal".

The thing is, though, that there are probably a lot of readers who are never going to register the revolutionary heart of this novel. (And that includes quite a few of the reviewers, yeesh.) They will come for the dick jokes and the fast-paced humor and miss out on what Rowland is actually trying to say here. Because Rowland doesn't hit readers over the head with said revolutionary heart. There's no heavy-handed obvious lecturing here (save the monologue I mentioned above); Rowland doesn't hold your hand or shove it into your face. It's called subtext, friends, and Rowland is a master. It's there. But you have to read a little deeper. Rowland expects their readers to find it on their own, much the same as Pratchett always did. And I am here to tell you, FIND IT.

I don't think it's a bad thing that folks aren't seeing past the dick jokes in terms of book sales and Rowland being able to pay their bills, but I urge all of you to read it twice. Read it the first time for the humor, for the madcap adventures and the dirty sea shanties and Brother Julian with his shirt off. (Please read it for that.) But read it again, for all the things that Rowland has to say about these very human characters of theirs, and the flawed world they live in. Because I promise you that Rowland has so many good and important and yes, decisive things to say about it.

Go on now. Go and buy it. (Or borrow it from your local library.) Read it. Have some cake while you're reading. (Be aware that the US and UK covers are very different, so don't get confused and then pissed like I did for a hot minute when my pre-order arrived in Finland with the UK cover and I thought they'd sent me the wrong book.)

(1) There is a mention of the Sultan. Which made me laugh so hard my asthma tried to kick in.

(2) We never meet said spooky dentist, but it's Rowland's genius at character work that makes us really, really, REALLY want to meet the spooky dentist.

(3) Not that there's anything wrong with the sex thing, just ask them.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 35

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, January 10; 10:55 AM -  Lucy’s Room

I roll over in bed onto my stomach and groan in frustration as I realize I'm alone again in this big bed. The reason becomes clear when I see that it’s almost eleven on the clock. She must have been awake for at least two hours, if not more.  Lucy won’t be able to say I didn’t catch up on sleep—I haven’t slept past ten in a long time. I stretch out all my limbs on my back, then take a moment to look around this room, unsure if I’ll ever see it again. It’s the first time I’ve felt this comfortable in a place I’ve only just discovered. I take a deep breath before leaving the room and slowly heading to the living room. When I arrive,  Lucy is casually lying on the couch with a book in hand. I smile when I see she’s wearing the glasses I like so much. Not wanting to disturb her, I just sit beside her bent knees.

“Hey,” she says, looking up from her book.

“Hey… I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” she smiles. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No thanks… Considering the time, I think I’ll just wait until noon.”

“Whatever you like. You can still eat if you’re hungry. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah… Better once I fell back asleep.”

“No more nightmares?” she asks, and I shake my head in response. “Good… Think about what you want to do today. I’m going to shower in the meantime.”

“Did you wait until I got up to shower?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to wake you up by rummaging for my things in the bedroom.”

“You’re silly, you could have. I’m a heavy sleeper. Not much wakes me up.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

She sets her book down on the small table before getting up. I can’t help but let my eyes follow her as she walks down the hallway. How could I not when she’s still in pajamas that show off her perfectly smooth, bare legs? That outfit proves she didn’t go for a run; otherwise, she’d be in joggers.

“Wait, Luce!”

“Yes?” she says, turning around.

“C-Can I use your phone? I’d like to call Mapi while you’re busy.”

“It’s right there, code 4086.”

“Thanks!”

I give her one of my brightest smiles, which she returns before disappearing into the bathroom. Once she’s out of sight, I grab her phone and enter the code, which works. She’d never told me before; she always entered it herself. I’m not about to betray her trust, so I just dial my best friend’s number, which I know by heart. She picks up after the fourth ring.

“Hey guapa, you finally found time to call me?”

“ Lucy’s in the shower, I’m taking advantage.”

“Of course, because otherwise, impossible! You’re calling from her phone, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, don’t you dare save her number.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she giggles. “So, how’s the weekend going?”

“Perfect, really.”

I give her a rundown of everything  Lucy has shown me. I leave out a few details, like how she let me drive or the secret spots she took me to. I also tell her about the evening we spent with her friends. She asks if Ingrid and Jenni were there, sounding a bit sad that she couldn’t join us. She was here just a few days ago, but I think she enjoyed her time in Manchester. She acts tough, but I know she has a big heart and gets attached quickly. Probably faster than I do, which says a lot. I used to get attached to people quickly before the incident I went through. I fall silent when I hear someone talking to her. I try to recognize the voice, but it’s too faint.

“It’s Ona, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hear her respond, but she’s moved the phone away from her ear. I try to listen more closely and finally recognize the voice— Lana. You’ve got to be kidding me!

“You’re at it again?” I scold.

“Ona—”

“No, no, no, don’t give me that! You’re giving her false hopes again when she’s just a hookup to you!” I snap.

“I can’t help it, OK?” she blurts out. “Ever since I came back to Barcelona, it’s been miserable,” she sighs. “And you not having a phone isn’t helping!”

“I’m sorry, Maps… I’ll ask Ale to let me borrow hers more often.”

“When are you getting your new phone?”

“I have no idea,” I sigh. “ Lucy destroyed my SIM card. I have to go through my mom to get a new one.”

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “I need a distraction! I’m going to explode otherwise.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there…”

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry about it. Anyway, let’s change the subject.”

“Do you want to come to Manchester next week?” I suggest.

“Very funny, and where would we stay?”

“I can ask Lucy if she knows of any good places. We can use taxis to get around.”

“That’s going to cost a fortune… I can’t afford it, and you know it.”

“My mom gives me money every month, Mapi. It’s one of the few things she does right.”

“There’s no way you’re paying for everything, don’t even think about it,” she grumbles.

“You can stay with me.”

I jump and turn to see Lucy. She’s leaning against the couch with a smile plastered on her face. I can’t find any words or react. I hate her. She has no right to show up in front of me in just a robe with her hair still dripping wet!

“Sorry, I heard my name so I figured I’d listen in. She wants to come to Manchester, right?” she asks.

“Uh… Yeah,” I reply, avoiding eye contact.

“You two can stay here if you want.”

“No way! I don’t want to bother you for another weekend.”

“It wouldn’t bother me if I’m the one offering.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure, I’m not done anyway. I’m going to get dressed and dry my hair.”

“Uh-huh…”

She runs her hand through my hair and heads back where she came from. I put the phone back to my ear as Mapi bombards me with questions. She asks why I turned down  Lucy’s offer and comments on how weird I was acting. How could I not be? I’m relieved to hear the hairdryer in the bathroom.

“Oh, shut up,” I groan. “Stay out of my love life, for God’s sake!”

“I never mentioned your love life,” she teases.

“I’m bringing it up because I ran into Alex last night.”

“Alex, the guy you met at the skating rink?”

“Yeah, that Alex.”

“Oooh! No, wait, that guy was so annoying! He kept asking me questions about you! I forbid you from going out with someone like him!”

“Girl I’m straight as a circle of course I m not going out with him ,” I roll my eyes.

“Can we go back to talking about Lucy? Seriously, you like her, admit it already!”

“Never, Leon.”

“Liar! She doesn’t leave you indifferent, I noticed it when I saw you two together.”

“Whatever. What are you getting at now?”

“It’s as clear as day. I haven’t seen you so much like yourself in a long time! She does more for you than I ever imagined.”

I sigh, massaging my temples. I wanted to talk to her about this, but not over the phone. Plus, I don’t like being pressured into saying things.

“Admit it, Batlle.”

“Fine, you win,” I groan. “I like her, okay?”

“Hallelujah! Oh my God, it’s about time! I knew it from the first time you talked about her,” she says excitedly. “You don’t even realize how attached you are to her!”

“I’m not attached,” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, nothing will ever happen between us.”

“Why not?”

“She’s my boss, remember? The girl completely obsessed with rules. She doesn’t even approve of Jenni and Ale’s relationship… She’s definitely not going to accept ours if anything were to happen…”

“I’m almost sure you don’t leave her indifferent either. But it’s obvious she doesn’t leave you indifferent.”

“You’re right, she doesn’t leave me indifferent, but I’m not in love. She’s just helping me feel better and get better. That’s all.”

“If you say so. Anyway, you two care a lot about each other.”

“Stop it, Mapi… You know I’m not ready for a new relationship anyway.”

“It would do you some good, you know.”

“And you’re the one telling me this?”

“Oh, come on! No need to compare us.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. Lucia is done and she’ll be back soon,” I say, hearing the hairdryer stop.

“Lucia, huh?” she teases.

“Maria Pilar Leon, enough already!” I groan.

“I couldn’t resist,” she laughs. “Try making her jealous. You’ll see if she wants more with you.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.

"Yeah, go ahead and run," she laughs. "Say hi to her for me and have a good day with your girl!"

"Ugh... Thanks, you too. Bye."

Just as I hang up,  Lucy reappears. I notice she hasn't put on any makeup. She ignores me and heads to the kitchen. I get on my knees and rest my elbows on the back of the couch, watching her. It's hard when she's facing away from me.

"Thanks for the phone," I say, waving it in the air.

"You're welcome. Finished with Mapi already?" she asks, finally turning around.

"Yeah, that was enough for the week," I chuckle.

"I thought it would last longer. How is she?"

"Not too well," I sigh, resting my head between my arms. "That's why I suggested she come next week. Are you sure you don't know any cheap places we could stay?"

"I already offered here."

She turns to lean against the counter, crossing her arms. I smile when she tilts her head. I get the feeling she's trying to assess me curiously.

"I've already imposed on you long enough. Besides, you don't know what it's like having Mapi around for days."

"You're not going to pay for a hotel when I'm offering a free place, are you?"

"You're a pain... You have no idea what you're getting into."

"No, but I'm willing to take the risk," she laughs. "It only holds if you have permission, anyway."

"Hey, I've become responsible!"

"If you say so. Try to stay that way, then."

She turns back to continue what she was doing. I decide to join her to help out. I haven't done much since yesterday, and I'm eager to lend a hand now that I'm allowed to.

"Can I help?"

"I thought you didn't know how to cook?"

"It's never too late to learn, right?"

"That's true. How about some chicken stir-fry?"

"One of my favorite dishes," I admit.

"Perfect. You'll cut the chicken, then."

She looks for the meat in the fridge and then comes back to my side. I grimace at the sight of the fillets she places on a wooden board. She smiles, noticing my reaction. I've never cooked in my life, and she seems to have figured out my problem because she starts giving me instructions. I start by washing my hands while  Lucy looks for a knife. I grimace even more when I take the meat with my fingers.

"Ona, it's not going to bite," she laughs.

"This stuff is so slimy! It sticks to your fingers."

"You've never seen a chicken fillet before?"

"I've seen it... Touching it is a different story!"

She laughs even harder, which makes me pout. I put the chicken down when she hands me the knife.

"And you wonder why I think of you as a princess."

"Hey! I'm far from being one. It's not my fault I was never taught this stuff!"

"True. I'll get you used to it quickly, just wait."

She leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching me cut the meat with a smile that doesn't leave her face. Her laughter tells me I'm doing it wrong.

"That's not how you do it, Ona. Watch."

She shows me there's a notch in the fillet. She opens it in half and asks me to cut down the middle. Once done, it's much easier to cut into small cubes.  Lucy still manages to critique me, saying I should make the pieces larger.

"And how do you plan to live later if you can't even cut a simple fillet?"

"I'll wait for you to give me lessons."

"Just that?"

"You're a whiz in the kitchen. I even prefer your dishes over Sam's, believe it or not!"

"How lucky. I haven't cooked anything special yet, just a pizza."

"That was enough to judge! I've got an idea! Can I hire you as my personal chef? But, like, for free, of course!"

"What next? If you want my services, you'll have to pay big."

She winks at me and moves to the other side of the kitchen. I watch her start the water for the pasta.

"Hey! Just because I'm not next to you doesn't mean you should stop," she scolds.

"Sorry," I giggle. "I was watching what you were doing."

I quickly finish cutting the two small fillets, which are more than enough for the two of us. She takes out a saucepan, places it on another burner, and asks me to bring the meat. She asks me to pour it all into the saucepan to cook, adding an onion and mushrooms. I watch as she stirs the meat occasionally and when she puts the pasta in the boiling water.

"Did you really learn all this by yourself?"

"Mostly, yes. Why?"

"I'll never be able to do this one day."

"Yes, you will. It comes naturally over time."

"It'll take a lot of practice before I get there."

"There's a first time for everything. Come here, you'll finish it."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"It's not difficult, I promise."

I position myself in front of her as she directs. She explains what to do and especially stops me from overdoing the cream, salt, and spices. We let everything cook, making sure not to burn anything. She then lets me handle the pasta while she sets the table. When everything is ready, we bring the dishes over. I realize I'm not even dressed yet, but it doesn't seem to bother  Lucy. She would have said something if it did. I sit in the same spot as yesterday morning while she serves us both a plate.

"You're aware you're about to taste your first dish, right?" she smiles.

"Yeah, but you helped me a lot."

"But you did everything yourself," she replies, sitting across from me. "I should've started with this, it's basic."

"Ha ha ha! I still know to put pasta in water to cook, thank you!"

"With oil and salt."

"With oil and salt," I repeat as if it's obvious.

My credibility just crumbled. Of course, I didn't know that detail. I'm ashamed that I don't even know how to make pasta.

"Next time, you'll do it alone."

I smile shyly, thinking she wants me to come back someday. On top of that, she'll teach me how to cook. I'm not going to complain about learning something so simple. Now I'm eager to taste what I've made. We wish each other "bon appétit," and I quickly fill my mouth with a well-loaded fork. I let out an involuntary moan of satisfaction as I close my eyes. Damn, this is good!

"Alright, you're really a good teacher," I say with my mouth full. "If I make this at home, they won't believe it!"

"Oh, so you're planning to do it again? Please do it with someone else, okay?" she laughs.

"You're so mean!"

"I'm joking, Ona," she smiles.

"Mhm, I doubt it."

"Of course I am. So, have you thought about what you want to do today?"

"You don't have anything planned?"

"No, nothing at all."

"Then I don't want to do anything."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, just enjoy the calm, if that's okay with you. A movie, read a book, or maybe a board game if you're up for it... But I don't really feel like going out today."

"Alright, that works for me."

I really needed this moment of calm after the weekend. I don't get these moments at school, where we're constantly around others. We finish our meal talking about current movies and series that might interest us for the afternoon. We clear the table, then I head back to my room to get dressed. I take the opportunity to make my bed, which I didn't use much. I wanted to do hers too, but she had already made it when I went to her room.

"Is something wrong?" she asks when she sees me standing in the doorway.

"No, no," I quickly reply.

"Are you done?"

"Almost. I just need to brush my teeth and hair because this isn't working anymore," I say, pointing to my head.

"If you say so," she laughs. "I'll wait for you in the living room."

I let her go out first. I stop by the bathroom, where my things are still here from yesterday. I easily find her toothpaste because I, of course, forgot mine at school, and I brush my teeth. Thankfully, she doesn't mind me using her stuff. It still bothers me to have to rummage through her things, like last time when I couldn't find her cotton pads right away. They were right in front of me the whole time. I must have taken too long because a few minutes later,  Lucy comes back to ask if everything's okay. She comes in with my permission just as I'm wiping my face.

"You don't need to make yourself pretty, you know," she laughs.

"I'm not making myself pretty. I'm making myself presentable."

"You're very presentable," she giggles. "Even with messy hair."

"Sure, keep teasing me."

"I'm not lying."

"Mhm. Does it bother you if I take another shower here before leaving tonight?"

"Of course not. You don't have to ask for that."

"Thanks... Are we watching a movie now?"

She nods and steps aside to let me pass. I toss the cotton pad I just used before leaving. After a long debate, we decided to continue the Harry Potter series. I was fully into it until  Lucy got bored and decided to mess with me. If you had told me one day I'd find myself on a couch with her, and she'd be tickling me, I would have laughed at the absurdity. But that's exactly what's happening.

" Lucy Bronze!" I cry out between laughs. "You're such a child!"

"You're the younger one!" she retorts.

"Well, it doesn't seem like it! Stop it," I giggle under her attacks.

I have to twist and turn to escape her. Since I can't, I decide to climb on top of her to pin her down. It's only when she stops laughing that I realize the position I've put us in. She's sprawled out beneath me as I straddle her hips, holding her hands on either side of her head. She stops when she doesn't hear me laugh anymore. My hair falling over her face must be hiding my blushing cheeks. I try to get up, but my hand slips, and I collapse onto her like a ragdoll.  Lucy's laughter rings in my ears. I try again to get up, but this time an arm wraps around my shoulders, holding me in place.

"Lucia..."

"Shhh. Relax and lay down a bit »

I catch her eyes, which show no hint of humor. She slowly forces me to rest my head against her chest so I can keep watching the movie this way. The feeling of being held captive against her gives me butterflies in my stomach. I bite my lip as she starts to gently stroke my hair.

"Relax, Ona..."

"Sorry... I-I’m not used to this anymore."

My trembling voice betrays me. I’m enjoying the moment, but I know it's not right.

"So enjoy it."

That’s exactly the problem. Enjoy. She doesn’t realize in what way I’m enjoying it. I admit defeat when I realize she won’t let me go. I can’t keep watching the movie like I was just a few minutes ago. My thoughts are consumed by the person I’m lying on. She’s going to drive me crazy if she keeps this up. I don’t understand what’s happening to me in her presence. It wasn’t like this at the beginning. Everything just changed. Or have I only just realized it? I let my fingers slide down her sides, moving up and down repeatedly. I smile as I feel her shiver. She asks me to stop, but the urge to continue is stronger. I would love to thank her for everything, but I stay silent to avoid ruining the moment. My hand starts to ache from twisting my arm this way, so I slide between her body and the back of the couch. She grunts slightly as I crush her in the process. I rest my head on her shoulder and leave one of my legs on hers. This way, I can continue the same gentle touches she’s giving me on my head, now on her belly, without straining my arm. I enjoy this peaceful moment by closing my eyes for a moment.

Sunday, January 10; 6:00 PM - At  Lucy's place

I grumble when I'm shaken gently. I cling to the fabric beneath my hand. I open my eyes when I’m shaken harder the second time.

"Wake up, Ona."

"Hummmm... Did I fall asleep?" I ask in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah," she replies cheerfully.

I release what I’m holding when I realize it’s  Lucy’s sweater. I rub my eyes under her amused smile.

"Come on, get up, Princess. I need to cook if we don’t want to be late for school."

"Can’t we wait a little longer?"

"I’ve already waited to wake you up. I need to cook so we can eat, and we need to pack too."

"What time is it?"

"Six Ale’clock. At least let me get up, please."

I shift to free her side that I was holding. I lie back down the moment she gets up and moves out of my sight. I sigh in displeasure, feeling only the warmth she left behind. I clutch the pillow, hoping it can replace her presence.

"You’d better not fall back asleep."

"Or what?" I challenge.

"You don’t want to know."

I chuckle lightly. I focus on the screen where a series has replaced our movie, which must have ended a long time ago. I recognize Grey’s Anatomy. I used to love watching this series, but that was before I started studying in the field.

"What are we eating?" I ask.

"We have some pasta left. I was planning to make bolognese. Does that work for you?"

"Hmm..."

"And if you would bring your butt here to give me a hand?"

"You’re asking a lot."

I still get up to drag my feet to the kitchen under her laughter. I lean against the counter to watch her prepare. She smiles at me and gestures for me to come over.

"Here, turn the meat if needed."

She leaves me in front of a pot filled with meat and onions cooking. I look at it with a panicked expression when she takes out things to set the table.

"What do I need to do?"

"I just told you. Just turn the meat," she laughs. "I’ve already seasoned it. You should be able to handle this without me, right?"

"I’m not sure," I joke.

"Helpless."

"Only because of you."

"Oh yeah?" she raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You’re lucky, huh?"

"From what I see in front of me..." she says, looking me up and down. "Not really, no."

I part my lips in shock. It’s been a while since she’s scolded me like that, even if it’s in jest. She laughs while approaching me.

"Don’t forget to turn the meat."

I regain my composure while stirring the pot under her watchful eye. When it’s ready for her, she pours the tomato sauce and takes my place to mix everything together.

"A real princess," she teases with a shoulder bump.

"I’m more of a burden, really."

"What?" she giggles.

Her eyes settle on me when I stop answering. I meant what I just said. It’s how I feel. She doesn’t say anything and tastes her sauce with a spoon. Then she puts a lid on the pot and lowers the heat. I stay where I am while she throws the spoon she used into the sink. It’s at this moment that I feel her eyes on my back. I head towards the table to avoid her, but she blocks me against the counter before I can get there.

"I thought we had moved past this stage of feeling bad."

"Don’t think less of me."

"Hey, it was a joke. Look at me."

I turn to face her. She’s closer than I expected, but I don’t let myself be unsettled.

"It’s the truth! I’m just a simple burden you’re dragging behind you."

"No," she sighs. "You’re much more than that, Ona. Alright? Get that idea out of your head, okay? You might be a little princess, but I will always support you."

I lower my head, nodding slightly and biting my lip. Why does she always have the right words to reassure me? I let myself fall into her arms that she just opened for me.

"Come on, go sit down. I’ll handle the rest."

I do as she asks while keeping an eye on her. She heats the pasta and joins me shortly after with the dishes. I serve the drinks while she fills our plates. We enjoy our last moments together by chatting a bit. The conversation turns to what we might do with Mapi next week. It looks like she’s decided to host us. After dinner, I help her clear the table before we return to our rooms. I pack my suitcase with reluctance, making sure not to forget anything.

"It’s not the end of the world if you forget something, you know," she says, leaning against the door frame.

"That’s true, but it would bother me."

"We need to leave. Is everything okay for you?"

"Yep..."

"Don’t make that face, you’ll be back next week," she teases.

"Hmm... Let’s go before I hide under the bed."

I roll my suitcase to the living room where hers is already. I take one last look at the apartment before she turns off all the lights and locks the door. With a heavy heart, we take the elevator to her car. This weekend was amazing. Way too amazing. I don’t say anything during the drive back. She stops after a while, and I realize we’ve arrived at the place where I joined her on Friday night.

"You’ll need to walk the rest," she says softly.

"Yeah... Thanks for the weekend."

"It was a pleasure. Is everything okay...?" she asks uncertainly.

"Yeah," I repeat. "Good night,  Lucy."

"Good night to you."

She gives me a smile that I return weakly. I get out of the car and grab my suitcase before watching the car drive off into the night. I finish the walk to the reception where the old secretary is waiting for us. This very warm woman wishes me a good week. I continue to my room where Alexia greets me as soon as I drop my things. She bombards me with questions about my weekend. She’s so much like Mapi with that behavior. The only difference is that she doesn’t force me to talk about it. I pretend I need to take a shower to escape, as I didn’t have time to shower at  Lucy’s after my nap. I manage to get into bed just before curfew. That kept me from having to talk, as I know Ale wouldn’t want to deal with the supervisor on duty. I wouldn’t want to either, given the weekend I’ve had. I think  Lucy would have saved the day, but I can’t always rely on her. She already does so much for me, and I need to adhere to the rules. In complete silence, I search for sleep, which is elusive after my long nap.

Monday, January 11; 2:20 AM - Ona and Alexia’s room

I startle awake, the duvet thrown off me. I’m seized by a sudden suffocation. I blink several times to understand that the light is already on. Alexia gets up and comes to me. I can’t catch my breath and feel sticky with sweat again.

"Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare."

I start to tremble under Alexia's caresses. Please, anything but this... I place my head in my hands to prevent the panic attack from getting worse. I flinch when the bedroom door opens to reveal someone I don’t recognize. It must be the night instructor  Lucy told me about. It's the first time she’s intervened in our room, and she doesn’t look very pleased.

- What’s going on here? she asks sternly.

- She’s having nightmares; it’s not the first time, Alexia explains.

- Br... Bronze, I manage to say. Call...

- Do you want me to get Bronze?

I nod faintly as I struggle to breathe. It feels like my head is going to explode. All I hear are hissing noises making me whimper and close my eyes. I bury my head in my arms to lessen the violent dizziness that’s overtaking me, but it makes it worse. I’m forced to pull it out to try and get some air. When I open my eyes again, I see Alexia trying to talk to me, but I can’t make out anything. She looks very worried and desperate. The minutes drag on until Bronze arrives in the room. It’s as if time had paused. I must look terrible with my face soaked in uncontrollable tears. Alexia immediately gives way to my supervisor. Her first instinct is to grab my head in her hands so that I only look at her. Her lips move, but I still hear nothing but unpleasant hissing. I pray that she understands my state as I desperately cling to her shirt. She lets me cling to her when I pull her close. Her arms simply wrap around my neck as I whimper against her. Her reassuring scent quickly fills my lungs. I close my eyes to savor her caresses that I can finally feel. There, she’s all I needed to feel reassured and safe. She stays as long as needed for me to calm down and return to reality. I start to hear her soft whispers again, and it’s at this moment that I realize I’m completely sprawled on her. My grip on her shirt slowly loosens as I understand that I’m safe now.

- I’m here; I’m not letting go, she repeats.

I take in all her words until I’m overcome with a sense of guilt. I start crying again.

- I- I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I... I stammer.

- Hey, shhh. It’s okay, alright? Calm down. I’m here now.

I close my eyes and bury my face a little further into her neck. I take in all the security she offers. A terrible headache comes over me, forcing me to pull away slightly from  Lucy. She loosens her grip slightly, understanding my intention. I try to make sure she can’t see my awful face. She doesn’t take it well and grabs my face to examine it with a worried look. I break our eye contact to look at Alexia behind her, who seems terrified. I panic when I feel  Lucy trying to get up. She smiles gently.

- I’ll be right back, I promise.

I trust her and release her against my will. She comes back shortly with a glass of water and a pill. I take it without a word, reminded of my headache. She sits back on the edge of my bed and runs her thumbs over my cheeks.

- We need to find a solution. I’ll have to talk to Wiegman in the morning.

I give her a difficult nod of agreement. I know she would do things differently if she could. She sighs, running her hand through her hair and staring at the door. It’s closed, probably to keep the whole floor from being disturbed by my fault. I lower my eyes to the glass I’m holding, but I look up immediately when  Lucy stands. I hold her back with my eyes.

- Stay with me... Please.

- Ona... she sighs. I can’t do that.

- I won’t be able to fall back asleep without you, I whisper, lowering my head.

I know this in advance. I’ve gotten used to something I shouldn’t have. I look at her when I don’t get a response. Her eyes linger on Alexia before settling back on me. I bite my lip, dreading her response.

- Alright, she cracks with a sigh. I just need to talk to the other instructor first, but for that, you’ll have to let me go.

She looks at where I’m holding her, and I immediately release my grip.

- Go back to sleep, Alexia. And I want your silence about what’s going to happen tonight.

With those words, she exits, taking care to leave the door open. I don’t like that she’s threatening Ale, but she risks a lot by agreeing to my request. I collapse onto the bed and look at my roommate, who was already staring at me.

- You scared me to death! I really didn’t know what to do this time! Luckily, Bronze came. I really couldn’t have calmed you down like she did! she rushes out.

- I’m sorry you had to witness that.

- Blake, I told you to go back to sleep,  Lucy, who has just returned, says.

She closes the door behind her. Alexia is still very intimidated by her, which makes me smile a little.  Lucy is so cold with her at the same time. She approaches my bed and grimaces, probably noticing the size. She sighs and turns off the light.

- Alright, move over, she whispers.

I comply by shifting to the side of the bed. I feel her slide in behind me, covering us properly before placing her hand on my stomach.

- We seriously need to find a solution, she grumbles in a way that only I can hear.

Luckily, it’s dark, and she can’t see my smile. I snuggle a little closer into her arms, pulling the blanket up to my neck. As usual since this weekend, she caresses my stomach to calm me, which works perfectly. She whispers goodnight before I close my eyes and fall asleep again.

[television-overload]

of our own making: beginnings

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 1/2 - puzzle pieces

[Read on AO3]

A/N: True to my word (for once) here's a fic set in my "of our own making" universe, picking up right where we left off in the chapter before the epilogue! If you haven't read "of our own making," you might be a little lost, but I can't stop you from reading it anyway. The second part will be posted tomorrow <3

This is it, the thing she’s scarcely allowed herself to hope for. Mulder—all of him. As a friend. As a partner. As a husband. Now, a lover. 

Her family.

“Your brother’s an idiot,” he says into her mouth, startling a huff of a laugh out of her before he devotes himself entirely to the kiss, giving his utmost care and attention to the fullness of her bottom lip.

She smiles and pulls back just long enough to look at him, his shining, tear-filled eyes and radiant grin making her stomach do somersaults.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, cupping his face between her hands.

His fingers brush her tears away, leaving only happiness in their wake.

And she kisses him again.

-.-.-

His awareness of his surroundings, at the moment—though usually rather fine-tuned—is limited only to the soft lips beneath his own, and the echo of I love you, too in his ears. He almost doesn't hear the crescendoing whimpering sounds coming from out in the hall, but she does.

“I guess we should have known that was coming,” she says with a small smile, brushing his hair from his forehead and settling her hand over his cheek to stop him.

At some point, they had wound up reclined on the bed, her hair fanned out over the pillow behind her. His head falls limply into the crook of her neck in defeat, as if he could hide there for just a moment more before their daughter’s complaining turns into full-blown tears.

“Maybe if we stay quiet, she'll…” He trails off, freezing in place. Scully follows suit, turning her ear to the door that sits ajar. It's silent. They wait, neither daring to make a move as they listen to see if the noises will continue, but they don't. It stays blissfully quiet as they both subconsciously hold their breath. The interruption gives him an idea.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispers after a moment, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips, as if testing to see if one tiny peck on the lips might disturb whatever peace their daughter is currently enjoying in her bouncy chair in the hall. “What do you think of me doing some redecorating in my room?”

He runs his hand up her side in a gentle motion, then back down, repeating this pattern like it’s second nature.

“Mm,” she hums, lost in the sensation of his touch. It's new, but at the same time, it's as old as their trust in each other. It’s been there from the very beginning, from the moment his fingertips grazed her back and declared her markings to be mosquito bites.

“I'm thinking some light pink for the walls,” he continues, looking at her intensely to gauge her response.

This gets her attention. “Pink, Mulder?” she asks, a crease appearing between her brows. He resists the urge to smooth it with his lips, laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming down at her. “And I've heard they make these tiny little beds for babies. Cribs, I think they're called?”

Now, his meaning cannot be mistaken. He watches Scully's face as her brain connects the pieces of the puzzle, and her expression turns to one of surprise. “Mulder—”

“I mean, if you don't have any objections, that is,” he says, walking back his offer just a little. Has he been too forward? Too presumptive? The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her. If she needs her space—

“Mulder…” she repeats his name again. And then she's pulling him close, her arms wrapped around his neck. He settles on his side on the bed, pulling her with him and not letting go. She buries her face in his chest, and he has an inkling that her motive might be to conceal another round of tears.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, grinning into her flaming red hair.

She springs another kiss on him in answer, and his heart gives a flutter.

This time, the cry from the hall is sharp, and Scully pulls back again, leaving Mulder to chase her lips as she grudgingly separates herself from his embrace. 

“I have a catalog you can look at in the cabinet,” she says as she gets up from the bed, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye as her lips curl up in a smile. “No hot pink. And no Teletubbies.”

She walks backwards slowly through the door, her eyes never leaving his. As soon as she's out of his sight, Madeline’s cries instantly quiet. 

Mama's here, baby girl. 

Mulder flops back onto the bed, an irrepressible smile adorning his face as he stares up at the ceiling. He can still feel the imprint of her lips on his, her hands in his hair, on his cheek. 

He wonders if he should send Bill a thank you card. Scully’s phone still lays where they had left it on top of the bed spread, mercifully silent.

He knows they haven't heard the last from the eldest Scully sibling, but they have at least earned a brief period of peace.

She loves him, and he loves her. And what everyone else thinks? 

Well, he doesn't particularly care.

-.-.-

Stepping out of Scully’s room feels like entering a parallel dimension. Fifteen minutes ago, he was a man desperately in love with his best friend, silently pining for her while coparenting the child they had adopted together. Now, things have changed. He’s seeing everything in a whole new light. There’s a lot still to be defined, yes, but things are different. Noticeably so.

That’s not his best friend over there feeding the baby a bottle. Well, it is, but it’s also his wife, who it turns out also loves him. Go figure.

There’s a photo of their wedding on the mantle. They put it there for when the representative from the adoption agency came to do a home visit, but she’d kept it up. That meant something, now that he knew. Now that the truth behind their fake relationship had been revealed, and it wasn't as fake as he'd thought.

She smiles at him as he comes to sit beside her on the couch, neither of them saying a word. He gets the sense that she’s thinking along the same lines as him, wondering what this will mean for the plans they have made. Nothing has to change, does it? Some part of him had always hoped they would end up here, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Starting something like this with lifelong ramifications is scary enough on its own. To do it while sleep deprived and in the midst of the biggest life change he’s ever experienced is crazy—although it’s no different than the typical Mulder and Scully level of crazy, he supposes. They’ve always done things in their own way. It wouldn’t be them if it wasn’t.

“Are you—?”

“Have you—?”

They both start speaking at the same time, chuckling awkwardly when they realize what they’ve done.

“You go first,” Scully says, her cheeks reddening as she glances down at Maddie to avoid eye contact.

He clears his throat. “Have you thought about calling Charlie?” he asks, forcing the words from his lips. The last call with a Scully hadn’t gone well at all, obviously, but he has higher hopes for the youngest. It’s the right thing to do, and they’ve already waited longer than they should have. They can’t keep putting it off forever.

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already gotten an earful from Bill,” Scully answers, a frown appearing on her lips. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers coming to rest on her shoulder, massaging there lightly. “Could you burp Maddie?” she asks, starting to pass the baby off to him. “I’ll go get my phone.”

He holds Madeline by the armpits, carefully transferring her to his chest as he watches Scully get up and leave. “You don’t have to do it right this second,” he calls across the room, beginning the steady rhythm of pats on the baby’s back.

“No, you’re right,” she says, breezing back into the living room. “I want to talk to him. Now’s as good a time as any.” Before he can say another word, she’s already dialing his number, curling up with her legs crossed on the cushion beside him.

He feels like an intruder on the upcoming conversation, though he knows he’s almost certainly welcome. And after how the talk with Bill Jr. had gone, he’s not about to leave her to face this by herself again, though he doubts they’ll have a repeat performance of what had happened before.

She sits so close to him, he can feel the warmth of her body. He can hear with perfect clarity when Charlie’s voice comes across the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Dana.”

On his shoulder, Maddie lets out a burst of air, relaxing into his hold. Scully flashes him a small smile.

“So,” Charlie continues, the silence lasting just a little too long.

“I have a feeling you know why I’m calling,” Scully starts, her posture growing tense. “Has Bill spoken to you?”

Her fears are confirmed in the sigh that comes across the line next.

“Yeah. Yeah, he has,” he answers.

Scully settles back into the cushions of the couch, her shoulders slumping. “Charlie–”

“I've been wondering since Christmas what you guys were actually up to,” he says, just the barest hint of laughter in his tone of voice. “I feel like I can die happy now finally having an answer.”

She sighs, running a hand over her face in relief that he seems to be joking rather than taking it the way Bill had. “Well, don't do that. Your niece would like to meet you.”

“Niece, huh?” he asks. “Nice. Bill couldn't even tell me her name, if you can believe that.”

Mulder could. Mulder could definitely believe that. His heart broke for Scully. 

“It’s Madeline. Maddie,” she answers.

Mulder wonders what time it is, wherever Charlie is. He sounds tired. But then, so would Mulder if he’d just had an exhausting conversation with Scully’s older brother, so he really couldn’t fault him for that.

“Please tell me you gave her Mulder's last name,” Charlie pleads. “That would really send Bill over the edge.”

Scully bites back a smile, and it sends a thrill right through him. He’d never get tired of hearing her say their daughter’s full name aloud. The honor of her passing on both his sister's name and his last name is one he'll never be able to repay, no matter how much he may try. 

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” she confirms, suppressing a laugh at the way her brother cheers.

“Yes! Oh, Dana, have I ever told you that you're my favorite?” he says. “Melissa would be so proud of you.”

Mulder watches as her eyes turn wistful, seemingly focused on something thousands of miles away. “Thanks, Charlie,” she says, biting her lip. “I wish—” The next words seem to catch in her throat, but Mulder understands, and he knows Charlie does too. He holds out his hand, delighting in the way she seamlessly slips hers into his palm without even looking. She tries to finish her thought, but it isn’t necessary. “You know, I wish she—”

“I do too.” Charlie speaks softly. 

The line falls silent for a moment, the two siblings lost in the memory of their fallen sister, and Mulder lost in the memory of his. 

“She told me about Mulder once, you know,” Charlie says eventually. “Years ago.”

Mulder shifts, intrigued. 

“She did?” Scully asks.

“Yeah, after you were…” He trails off here and whistles an eerie, spooky-sounding tune rather than finishing his sentence.

Mulder grins, and Scully rolls her eyes. Predictable like the tides in the ocean, both of them are.

“She told me she'd just met our future brother-in-law,” he continues. “I didn't think she was serious. Just another of her wild predictions that doesn't come close to coming true. When I saw you both at Christmas, though…”

“I'm sorry we didn't invite you,” Scully interrupts him.

Mulder can almost see the younger man waving off her apology on the other side of the phone. “Nah, I've been to a fake wedding before,” he says nonchalantly. “You seen one, you've seen 'em all.”

Scully shakes her head, her eyes filled with mirth instead of the sadness that had been there before. For a few moments, they sit in comfortable silence, thankful to Charlie for being his usual, understanding self. 

“Bill was pretty worked up, though,” he adds after a pause, “yelling about a “sham marriage” and all that.”  

Scully sighs—frustrated, but not surprised, by Bill's continued behavior. 

“But it isn't, is it?” Charlie asks knowingly.

Scully’s eyes flick up to meet Mulder’s, and he gives her a small smile and a nod, his fingers reaching for hers on her lap. 

“No. It's not,” she answers breathlessly, swallowing back some emotion. Tears prick at Mulder’s eyes too, and he bows toward her to press a kiss to her forehead. “Turns out we're really bad about lying to ourselves out of some misguided fear of being open with each other,” she adds.

Charlie gives an exaggerated gasp. “No, you?”

Scully closes her eyes and sighs, her lips curled up in a smile. Mulder gives her fingers a squeeze.

“I'm sorry, Charles,” she says.

“Hey, just invite me to your next wedding, ‘kay?”

Now, that's an idea…

-.-.-

The rest of the day is spent looking after Madeline, marveling at her tiny features and trying to catch some sleep whenever she does—a task that Mulder, notorious insomniac, finds impossible. Scully insists he try to rest, though, and only when she puts on some kind of chick-flick period drama as background noise does he have any success. He conks out right on her shoulder before Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy even appears on screen, his jaw hanging open slightly in his sleep.

She watches him for a moment, noting every freckle on his skin, the slope of his nose, the flop of hair hanging over his forehead now that his hair has started to grow back out. Maddie lays tucked away in her pack ‘n play already, swaddled in a pink blanket and snoozing peacefully.

She could sit like this forever, Scully thinks, listening to the even breaths of the two people she loves most in this world; But unfortunately, reason must prevail. She can almost hear the parenting class instructor’s voice in her ear reminding her to sleep when the baby sleeps, so she dutifully reaches for the knit blanket on the cushion beside her, and drapes it over herself and Mulder. 

He won’t mind, she remembers with a smile as she curls into his side, tucking her feet underneath herself. Since this morning, he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her, personal space apparently a thing of a bygone era. They could live in an apartment half the size of this one, with as close as Mulder had stuck to her all day. His hand was practically glued to her lower back, even when she was just putting away dishes or preparing formula for Maddie.

He seemed to revel in this newly sanctioned element of their relationship, and was taking full advantage of it at every possible opportunity. Not that she was complaining; She was as guilty of it as he was, if not more so. For years, she’d had to resist the temptation to hold him. There had to be a limit to the friendly touches they could bestow, or they would’ve been forced to acknowledge that their feelings were anything but platonic.

But now, they’ve broken free of those limitations. He is hers, and she is his. In every possible way.

She sighs, leaning her cheek against his warm shoulder. The piano music coming from the TV is barely audible, but as her eyes drift shut, it relaxes her. In his sleep, Mulder shifts, nestling deeper into the cushions. His head lolls to the side, landing on top of her head, and she feels him exhale. The picture they must pose is like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly fitted together. For the first time in her adult life, she feels complete.

She has all she needs right here. 

-.-.-

After dinner, and a sponge bath for Madeline that leaves her less than thrilled, Scully sends Mulder off to take a shower while she puts the baby to bed.

“Let’s get you all warm,” she says to Maddie as she lays her down on the changing table. She grabs an infant-sized diaper and puts it on her with practiced ease, smiling at the sound of water running and Mulder humming on the other side of the wall.

That's her husband.

“Daddy has a nice voice, doesn’t he?” she says conversationally, maneuvering Maddie’s arms and legs into the onesie. “I’ll spare you from mine.”

Before she zips up the pajamas, she bends over and tickles her tummy, pressing a kiss to her baby soft skin.

“All clean after your bath, hmm? Doesn’t it feel nice?”

Madeline blinks up at her, apparently deciding whether or not to forgive her for the cold and wet first experience in the baby bathtub. She had been cranky in the last half hour, even before the bath. It’s definitely time for bed.

She fights sleep for as long as possible, draining her bottle quickly and then crying inconsolably until her exhaustion wins out and her eyes close. Scully watches her, her face relaxed in sleep, and can hardly believe this is her life. 

She rocks her for a few more minutes, listening as the shower eventually turns off in the bathroom. A muffled swear sounds through the wall, followed by the clatter of several objects hitting the floor. Her collection of lotions, if she had to guess. Not breakable, at least, but to be fair to Mulder, they were in a spot that was just asking for them to be knocked over.

With one last glance back at Maddie, who is mercifully still asleep, she slowly rises from the rocking chair. Taking extra care not to jostle her in the transfer, she places her in her bassinet, watching as her chest rises and falls evenly with every breath.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door pulls her from her reverie, and she feels her heart give a lurch. She pulls herself away from Maddie’s bassinet, her stomach fluttering with butterflies as she approaches the doorway. Deep breaths, Dana. It’s just Mulder, she reminds herself.

Her hand clasps the doorknob, and she twists it, pulling the door open. At the sight of him, her lips curl into a smile, and she feels all traces of nervousness melt away.

He’s looking at her with that boyish smile of his, his hair all spiky from the shower. Droplets of water bead on the tips of his hair like early morning dew, every so often dripping onto the soft gray t-shirt he wears. Each one leaves a mark where it lands, absorbed into the fabric.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

He has the pillow from his bed tucked under his arm like he’s ready for a sleepover, and he fiddles with the hem of the pillowcase, waiting oh so patiently for her next move.

She makes it.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulls him inside, walking backwards with him slowly as he grins at her.

He kicks the door shut behind them.

-.-.-

Tag List: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @is-on-its-way @limnsaber @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @pookie-mulder @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[thornfield13713]

As someone who has never seen Buffy, that answer was extremelly ominous. I'm both deadly curious and afraid to know what happened there that required an actor to go to therapy. Was it a rape scene? It sounds like it was

It was a sexual assault scene, yes. One put in deliberately to stop people from shipping a wildly popular ship. It did not work, partly because it was pretty obvious what the actual purpose was (right down to the judgemental dickhead there to go 'see! see! this is what happens when you go for bad boys!') and it wasn't narrative, and partly because of the overall context of the scene: that this was the culmination of a season-long arc of a poorly-negotiated BDSM relationship with a lot of consent play and no-means-yes stuff involved (I will die on the hill that, in-universe, if these two had had a safeword, That Scene would have ended as soon as Buffy said it), and that Spike's reaction to realising that she really did mean her 'no' this time, after a full season of this, was absolute guilt, horror and self-disgust and immediately going off to go and restore his soul (vampires in this universe are soulless, it's a whole thing), in order to make sure that he would never, ever do that again. Which, in a show where almost every member of the main cast has committed sexual assault at some point and the narrative brushed right over it, honestly had the opposite effect to what was intended.

It put a lot of people off the pairing entirely, and it's entirely reasonable for that to be a dealbreaker, but the reason it wasn't for so many of us is simply that this was such a transparent manipulation on the part of Joss Whedon (who has a way of getting very judgmental about fans who don't interpret things just the way he does, and actors who dare to have opinions on the characters they've played for six seasons) in order to do specifically that. By the by - one of the reasons it was so traumatic was that the way the scene was explained to James Marsters was a lot tamer than the way they ended up actually filming it, when he got the script and came to the showrunner with concerns both about how in-character the scene was, and presumably about his own boundaries. Hence that comment about never knowing what they're going to make you do. So, Whedon lied to his actors to get this scene filmed, causing at least one of them serious trauma. That this is not the worst of his offences really should tell you everything.

If you are thinking of getting into Buffy, I should probably warn you now that consent violation is sort of a running theme, and one that's often handled far more lightly than it deserves. Which is both more explicable and more disturbing now that we know what Joss Whedon was getting up to backstage. There are some genuinely excellent episodes, also a fair few stinkers like Seeing Red (also featuring: one of the most iconic Bury Your Gays moments of the early 2000s!) and Pangs, which has aged like milk that was already off when you bought it. But if you have triggers around consent and sexual assault, you might want to give it a miss, because while Seeing Red is the most extreme example, and generally loathed even within the fandom for its treatment of two beloved characters (Spike and Tara), I won't pretend that sexual assault doesn't come up far more often than is comfortable, and often in a context where it is not recognised as such.

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

PART TWO

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. Dear readers, I'm back. With a significant time jump, Harry, Draco, and others who were once children are now teenagers, almost adults. More mature themes will be portrayed in this fanfic. Come and see how Y/N navigates her new life as a maternal figure for Draco while trying to help Sirius and Harry move forward with their lives. Enjoy the read.

FINAL CHAPTER CHAPTER TWENTY

Four years later, you are arriving home with groceries, preparing to make Draco's favorite lasagna; he should be coming home soon. He just got his driver's license. As you approach your house, you spot a brown-haired boy with glasses, not believing that it could be who you think it is.

"Harry Potter, what the hell are you doing here?" you exclaim. Despite what you say, you're not angry, but rather pleasantly surprised. You quickly go over to hug Harry. He immediately embraces you, trying to help you keep from dropping the grocery bags.

"Extreme times call for extreme measures. That and bringing you personally the invitation to your wedding," Harry says, his voice sounding deeper. He's grown up so quickly. But you're concerned about the tone of his voice.

"Why are we in extreme times, and who is getting married? I hope it’s not you. If you want, you can stay with us. You don't have to get married; in fact, I encourage you to run away from any marriage," you say, reassuring him that he can find a home and refuge if needed. For heaven's sake, what have Lupin and Black been letting this boy do? Now that he's so close to you, you notice that he seems tired and thinner.

"Sirius was arrested, and I didn't want to disturb Lupin. In fact, Lupin is the one getting married. And it won’t be to Sirius; he's marrying his new girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks. Lupin asked me to mail the invitation, but since my godfather got into trouble, I thought I’d come in person. It was quite a trip, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way back to Hogwarts. What do you think?" Harry looks at you with a pleading expression, as if he’s feeling lost without you. You’re left confused by the many pieces of information.

"Step-mom, you won’t believe what happened. Professor Lewis dared to give me a bad grade on that video we made dancing to 'Wannabe.' He said it wasn’t artistic enough," Draco says, still not noticing Harry. "What the hell are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy exclaims, surprised to see Harry for the first time in four years. Harry looks a bit uneasy, while Draco appears angry.

"Hey, Malfoy. I know you're angry with me. Your last message made that pretty clear, but this is bigger than both of us. I need you and Miss Y/L/N to go back to Hogwarts," Harry says, almost sounding guilty about something, which makes you wonder if he and Draco have some unresolved emotional issues going on.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here, but leave. We're not going with you, not even to the corner. Stepmother, I'll wait for you inside," Draco says, all pompous, as if he's too proud to show how glad he is to see Potter. Malfoy goes into the house, and you look at Potter with a lot of compassion.

"Dear, let's go inside. I'll make lasagna. Fortunately, Draco and I will be on vacation for the next few weeks. I'll help you with Sirius and try to give you a chance to improve your situation with Malfoy. Now, let's go in," you say, seeing Harry beam with happiness at your words. It seems that after four years, it's time to return to Hogwarts.

"For what reason are Potter's problems going to make us change our vacation plans? We were supposed to go to Ibiza," Draco grumbles as he and Harry set the table. You’re focused on preparing dinner, determined not to burn anything. Last time Draco's complaints distracted you, you burned a perfectly good homemade pizza. You’re not about to make that same mistake again.

"I’m not thrilled about spending time with you either, Draco. But Miss Y/L/N knows I’m lost without her. If you're so eager to avoid me, stay here and learn to live on your own. It might do you wonders to stop thinking only about yourself and consider others for a change," Harry retorts while setting the plates on the table with a certain aggressiveness. You listen to everything like a piece of furniture, silently, without interfering in their issues.

"Oh, get real, Potter. My stepmother has no obligation to save you from the mediocre life your godfather stuck you with. In my last letter, I told you to move on with your life and stop following Sirius like a little puppy, and you replied that I wouldn't know what it's like to love someone enough to never give up on them, even if I tried. And now you dare come to my house, trying to take my guardian with you and ruin my vacation—drinks, insane shows in Ibiza, the whole lot. You selfish idiot." Draco retorts, raising his voice while carefully placing the cutlery and glasses on the table. Therapy has worked wonders for him—he's learned to use his mind, not his fists.

"I said I don't need you coming with us, Malfoy. If you want to go to the beach—which, as far as I know, you hated the idea of—then go. Is it so hard for you to see that this has nothing to do with you? Or with whatever happened between us?" Harry says, placing the jug of lemonade on the table, while Draco sets down the salad bowl. They glare at each other, as if ready to hurt one another with just a glance.

"It’s clear that you both have a lot to catch up on. But as the adult here, I think I need to make something explicit," you say, taking the lasagna out of the oven and carefully placing it on the table with oven mitts. "Harry, not only will I help you with Sirius, but if I see he’s being negligent, I will request legal custody of you. Draco, it’s not and never will be optional for you to come with me and Potter. Stop grumbling and accept the inevitable. And also, dinner is ready." There’s a heavy silence from both young men as they sit down to eat the salad and lasagna.

"I don’t want to abandon my godfather. If I can ask you for anything, it’s to help him be for me what you seem to be for Draco," Harry says, his voice low and almost tearful as he finishes a piece of lasagna. You look at him with understanding, imagining that Sirius must be the only one right now making him feel part of a family. However, Draco lets out a somewhat disrespectful laugh, and you shoot him a disapproving glance.

"Sorry, stepmother, but it’s just too funny that he wants to make demands when his life is falling apart. He should be grateful to be under your protection. None of his beloved parents' friends can give him the affection he needs, so he comes here begging you to rescue him and turn that drunk Sirius into a functional adult. It makes me laugh," Draco says, looking directly at Harry. There’s something distinct about the way they interact now; instead of fighting each other, they’re arguing by using each other’s feelings.

"I never should have told you in those damn letters about my situation with Sirius, you jerk. Want to gloat about having a better guardian than mine? Go ahead. That doesn’t make you any less empty inside. And it makes sense for her to be your guardian and show you what love is, because that’s certainly something you know nothing about," Harry says, standing up and placing both hands on the table to assert some dominance. Draco looks at him as if he’s actually enjoying Potter’s boldness, which undoubtedly hit a nerve. Without saying much, he stands up from the table, maintaining eye contact with Potter.

"I hope my stepmother can fix your loser godfather as soon as possible, so I never have to look at your face again," Draco says, looking firmly at Harry as he steps away from the table. He then looks at you. "Stepmother, I'm going to pack my suitcase for our trip; have a good night," Draco tells you, and you gently nod your head, allowing him to go to his room.

"You two still know how to get under each other's skin. Harry, I believe you and Draco need more time to reconnect, but don't be cruel to him, and don't take his harsh words too seriously. You’re both still young. Now, let me show you the guest room. Draco won’t admit it, but he insisted we have this room ready just in case you ever came to visit. While you and Draco rest, I’ll handle the details so that we can leave for Hogwarts by tomorrow," you say calmly, fully aware that both Harry and Draco are shaken by their reunion. Gently, you run your fingers through Harry’s hair, ruffling it softly. He then hugged you tightly, as if he had missed you. You embrace him in return, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. At last, you can help the boy whose life was shattered by your father.

"Thank you, Miss Y/L/N, I knew I could count on you," Harry murmurs softly, snuggling into your arms. "You’re safe now, Harry," you reassure him. Then, you lead him to the guest room, offering him one of Draco's pajamas and a few items he can use. After making sure he’s settled, you leave to take care of the necessary arrangements for your trip. First, you buy the tickets, then contact your lawyer to check on Sirius's situation, determined to secure his release. Once you've handled some more details, you return to the dining room to clear the table, only to find that Harry has already taken care of it, loading the dishes into the washer. Draco would never have done that.

It's not easy to fall asleep knowing that the next day you'll return to a place where so many traumatic memories occurred. Yet, somehow, knowing that Harry and Draco are safe brings you a sense of peace, making you feel as though nothing bad can harm you. The next morning, you rise early to wake Draco and Harry, urging them to have breakfast and get ready for the journey ahead.

"Potter isn't going dressed in those rags he came in, is he?" Draco remarks as he sits across from Harry at the table, eating the pancakes you've made and drinking his orange juice. Harry, who is having toast with eggs and bacon, pauses to glare at Malfoy, clearly irritated by the comment.

"First of all, you should worry more about your own clothes than mine. Your pajamas are so tight, I felt like I was suffocating. And how do you even move in that outfit? You’d be more comfortable wrapped in bubble wrap." Harry responds, showing Draco how the pajamas cling to his body. In fact, the pajamas didn’t even fit properly—there are tears along the sleeves, and part of his stomach is exposed. Draco studies Harry for a moment, and you could swear he gave a slight smirk, not out of amusement but for some other reason. Or maybe it's just your imagination.

"Draco, see if any of your clothes are in a bigger size than those pajamas and give them to Harry to wear. Harry, I apologize for the silly way my little one speaks. Both of you, once you finish breakfast, get ready so we can leave," you say as you rise, finishing your coffee and heading off to get dressed, leaving the two of them to finish their breakfast together.

So, you climbed the stairs to your bedroom on the second floor of the house. After a few hours, you and the boys had already arrived at Hogwarts, reaching there by early evening. Your lawyer had informed you over the phone that he had successfully secured Sirius's release. He warned you that Sirius would now be under your care and that he would still need to appear in court for a hearing next week. You agreed to take responsibility for Black, just in time to hear the lawyer mention that Sirius had been asking about you. The scoundrel had found out that you were coming and that you were the one who paid for both his lawyer and his bail. The boys slept through most of the trip after they finally stopped bickering with one another.

"Potter, you don't need to carry my suitcase. Stepmother, tell him that just because he has muscular arms and a toned body doesn't mean he has to carry my luggage." Draco says, wrestling with Harry over his own suitcase. You are only a few steps away from what used to be the Malfoy manor, now renovated to be just Draco's house, and therefore yours as well. Harry bursts into laughter when Draco nearly trips in the tug-of-war over the suitcase.

"I want you to know that this was just me being polite. Nothing to do with my toned body. But thanks for the compliment, by the way." Harry grins as he releases Draco's suitcase, leaving him stumbling from the sudden shift. "Miss Y/L/N, I'll carry your bag. That ungrateful guy can deal with his own heavy luggage." Harry smiles and takes your suitcase from your hands, carrying it for you.

“I don’t know about you two, but I need a good bath,” you say, feeling the weight of the day. “I think we can order some pizza, maybe watch a movie together. Harry, don’t worry, I arranged for someone to bring over some clothes in your size. No more borrowing from Draco. And each of you will have your own room, with your own bathroom. Yes, Draco’s family was that wealthy, Harry. But now’s not the time for financial discussions.” You hold only your purse, watching as Draco and Harry walk side by side, carrying the suitcases. Before either of them can respond, the three of you are startled to find Sirius Black standing right in front of the former Malfoy mansion, waiting.

“If it isn’t the happy little family. Didn’t think I’d show up here, did you?” Sirius says in a cynical, almost malicious tone. The boys, who had just moments ago seemed to be getting along, now tense up immediately. You meet Sirius’s gaze with a hint of anger, feeling the shift in the air. Without saying a word, you pull the house key from your bag and hand it to Harry, keeping your eyes fixed on Sirius.

“Harry and Draco, I want you both to go inside the house. Don’t worry, Sirius and I will have a little chat, and we’ll join you shortly. But for now, I need you to go,” you say in a serious tone, watching the boys closely. Draco hesitates, clearly wanting to speak, and so does Harry.

“Stepmother, we’re not children anymore. We can stay here and defend you from this bearded troglodyte; you don’t have to face him alone,” Draco says, gently holding your arm but struggling with his suitcase. Harry steps in, helping Draco with the suitcase and turning to you. “We’ll be inside,” he murmurs, sounding slightly downcast. He likely understands that you and Sirius need to have a serious conversation. Practically dragging Draco and the suitcases, Harry manages to open the door and enter the house with Malfoy. Sirius, for his part, tried to make eye contact with Harry, but it didn’t happen.

"Turned my godson against me, have you? Is this how you make your triumphant return here?" Sirius sneers as he descends the steps towards you. You stand your ground, unwavering.

“As if I needed to turn him against you. You’re doing a fine job of being a terrible guardian all on your own, my dear. And I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to me. Remember, I got you out of prison and ensured your godson was taken care of. I’m not asking for your gratitude, knowing you’re too ill-mannered for that,” you retort, stepping even closer, locking eyes with him, your anger clearly visible. Sirius stops in his tracks, taken aback by your boldness but still unwilling to back down.

"As if everything you do isn't just to atone for your father’s sins. Playing house with Draco, taking care of Harry, getting me out of prison—it’s all just to ease your guilt," Sirius says, crossing his arms defensively. For a moment, it feels like the years have melted away, and you're right back to that same exhausting argument. Four years, and he’s still stuck on this. Deep down, you pity him. His inability to move forward, to let go of the past, is stifling him—and those around him. You stare at him, a mix of frustration and sorrow flickering in your eyes, realizing that while so much has changed, his bitterness hasn't.

"You won’t hurt me by digging up my old guilt. It'll take more than trying to wound me with my father’s mistakes. And to be clear, my intentions are none of your concern. What is your concern is that I’m filing for full custody of Harry. You’ve proven yourself unfit to care for him. A boy who needed a father figure has become your caretaker. As of now, I am his temporary guardian. And if you want to remain in his life, you’ll need to improve," you say, your tone calm but firm, watching as Sirius's expression shifts. You can practically feel him unraveling, though he tries to keep it together. He paces, frantic and restless, his frustration and disbelief bubbling to the surface. For what feels like several long minutes, he doesn’t say a word, just stalks back and forth, unable to process the reality of your words.

“What do you want? Damn it!” Sirius yells, his impatience spilling over as he glares at you. You meet his gaze with disapproval, taking a deep breath before responding.

"I want you to be a good man for Harry. Someone he can look up to. I did my research on what’s been happening in your life. You lost Lupin, drowned yourself in alcohol, even gambling. You were fired from Hogwarts. You’ve been arrested more than once this year, for God’s sake. You assaulted someone in a bar, got caught driving drunk. You’re lost, Black. I know things have been hard for you, but you need to get it together. For Harry.” You hold his gaze, even as he shifts uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes. Shame is creeping in, and it's clear he knows that what you’re saying is true, even if he can’t admit it.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make you drop this ridiculous idea of taking my godson from me. But don’t think for a minute that means I want anything to do with you again, or that I’m going to play along with your fantasy of a normal family with Draco and Harry,” Sirius says, his tone dead serious. You can’t help but laugh—loud and heartily—as if it’s the best joke you’ve heard in years.

“Excuse me, but you must think you're the best man in the world. Honestly, I’d be more interested in having a relationship with a fine bottle of wine than with you. Now that we've cleared that up, let’s go inside before you say anything else ridiculous.” You give Sirius a light pat on the shoulder, then turn toward the house. He follows after a brief moment of hesitation, his expression sour, like someone who’s been forced to eat something distasteful.

[darklinaforever]

So now, just because I'm not 100% comfortable with the change from Michael to Michaela, does that mean I'm spitting on the actors and causing them distress ?

Or that I will sign weird petitions ?

You're sick at this point, and are going to extremes that have nothing to do with it, just to probably give yourself higher morals.

And if that's not it, why would you go so far as to say things like that ?

I have never expressed or felt hatred for the members of the Bridgerton cast, it's ridiculous.

Not even for Michaela's actress.

And I will not tolerate anyone daring to say the opposite.

So cut your bullshit after a while.

My god, I'm not even one of those people who are completely / 100% against the Michael to Michaela change.

Like I said :

Bonus : Or they could just do a spin-off about an invented main LGBTQ+ couple navigating the Bridgerton universe.

Another bonus : Part of me is clearly also excited to see what the Fran & Michaela romance will bring, and I have also already said this in other posts.

What's your problem people ? I've already been called homophobic, and now it leads to the fact that what I say would also be racist ? But at what fucking time actually !?

All because I'm not 100% comfortable with the gender change of a male book character who's been around for years, going from Michael to Michaela in Bridgerton.

No, but people are crazy...

I would have the same reaction of not being satisfied, for any other type of character ! You assure me the gender of a character (no matter what it is) and then change it for me in the adaptation, well that's stuck in my mind. I want them to remain generally as such in their adaptation.

Same for the type of couple !

If you present me with a queer couple to whom I am attached, I want them to remain generally as such in their adaptation. If you present me with a heterosexual couple to whom I am attached, I want them to remain generally as such in their adaptation.

For what ? Well because over time, years for some, an image was built in my mind for these famous fictional characters.

And I don't see what's wrong with seeing them generally respected in their adaptation, including their gender.

It has nothing to do with being racist, homophobic / queerphobic, or the fact that I don't want to allow sapphic women a chance to see their love up in lights...

The last case particularly makes me laugh :

So even of course for accusations of homophobia / queerphobia :

Even comments that could apparently be racist... 😑

I still remember that I am a bisexual woman of color ! Just for information !

People calm down a little, it's really getting ridiculous...

And again, not only is there gender change but also what bothers me is that the core of Fran, Michael / Michaela and John's story now seems to have changed, based on the final minutes of the season 3 concerning them having been presented to us. And that bothers me too.

I wasn't expecting a 100% faithful adaptation, because Netflix's Bridgerton never was, but I at least expected that the heart of my favorite book in this saga would be respected a minimum, especially knowing that it is generally also the most popular among readers, even those who basically don't like books, and that is unfortunately probably not the case according to the last episode of season 3, and yes that me disturbs and disappoints me and I have the right to be so without taking my hatred in the face.

But that's not why I say, as some claim, that the season on Fran will necessarily be good and deeper than the book, absolutely not.

I simply said that it would be different, right down to the very heart of the story, and that once again, yes it disappoints me a little. But yet again, I never claimed that the season about Fran would be less good or profound than the book.

I literally already said in another posts that I thought it would probably still be well written overall, regardless of the story they tell and that the actors would do their job very well and have good chemistry together. 'screen.

At this point I have nothing more to add. Insult me ​​if you want, it's not my problem if you're stupid.

I will just continue to block the haters. And if you continue to come boasting that you cannot be blocked like some other anonymous person, realize that you are dedicating part of your time to simply trying to piss me off, that it's quite pathetic and therefore that your life must be quite meaningless as a result and I pity you.

But from now on I will ignore you. Because a debate with people who are deliberately closed off is useless.

[gothamusing]

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE (2024) PART TWO. a collection of memes derived from the deadpool and wolverine movie, for roleplaying purposes. feel free to edit as you see fit. do not steal. (18+).

i know how to fuck people up for money, but you, you, know how to save them.

they call me the merc with the mouth. they don’t call me truthful timmy, the blowjob queen of saskatoon.

you know what, you’re a fucking joke.

i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life.

you will never save the world.

you couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper.

i wish i could say you’d die alone, but it’s one of god’s best jokes that you can’t die, except that’s on all of us!

i’m gonna fight you now.

you dirty bitch!

i take it all back, the honda odyssey fucks hard.

oh, we’re just getting started.

i don't like you.

and who’s this succulent reminder of my own inadequacies?

i can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.

it’s a good thing i don’t give a fuck.

it’s like pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.

people like us don’t go quietly.

let’s get the fuck out of this place.

don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar.

you made it out alive?

look, there’s strength in numbers, all right?

i know what it means to feel self-doubt.

dick head here, talk to him about team up. then he came down with a little case of the deads.

if he survived that, he is praying for death.

where i come from, we call that suicide.

i’m sick of this shit. i'm sick of hiding.

let’s face it, our world’s forgot about us.

i ain’t know my daddy, but i’m sure i shot out of his dick ready.

you're all fucking dead.

my god, read the room.

i’m not looking for company.

i got to have a life because of you.

trust me, kid, i’m no hero.

i couldn’t have them thinking i wanted to be there.

this suit’s all i got to remind me of who they were.

we won’t pull this off without you.

where'd you get that little beauty?

oh, this is gonna be good.

you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?

you just make sure people know what happened here today.

when you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?

some motherfucker’s still trying to ice skate up hill.

you shouldn’t have done that.

you are an interesting one, aren’t you?

you’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down.

that’s not all you did, is it?

i can silence all those voices.

i've got you.

either you kill me or i kill you. both wonderful options.

oh come on, mr. pg-13 except the last one.

why are you like this?

i know your brother.and as much as i wanna fucking kill you, every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you. he would not let me stand here, and watch you die.

my brother loved you.

if he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.

they’re gonna make him do this till he’s 90.

you put all these bullets in my belly and i’m gonna find out why.

you don’t have to stick your fingers in me.

jesus, just ask sometimes.

we had an agreement.

oh, i hate you so much.

why was thor crying?

you tried to kill me.

you come for the king, you better kill the king.

you had to go and piss on my side of the fence, and now the fence must come down.

don’t worry, i’ve called some friends to make sure were not disturbed.

what’s cafe gratitude doing here?

oh, that's funny. i can gently tap the fourth wall too. the proposal.

the fuck was that?

bitch, you think that’s what i do?

i take it they’re not friendly.

i’d love to get in the mix, but i have low bone density and i have to keep my face safe.

when i want your opinion, i’ll take wolverine’s dick out of your mouth.

i think it’s been steadily great since endgame.

what are you talking about?

uzi time, baby.

i think i'm hit.

you did that on purpose.

listen to me, gorgeous. how long does it take for you to regenerate?

you really are god’s perfect idiot, aren’t you?

how dare you, you insensitive son of a bitch.

how was i supposed to know he doesn’t regenerate? i’m not a medicine woman.

i’m gonna get you to safety.

hey, why are we stopping?

listen to me. you're gonna live.

i don’t think he’s gonna make it.

i could taste his final thought. he was so afraid. but he died a hero.

he died from murder, you dumb fuck!

what’s the wind resistance on those blowjob handles?

sorry, i'm just a catty bitch when i'm jealous.

all right, let's do this. maximum effort.

the mask is really intimidating, huh? it’s like batman except he can move his neck.

if you’re not gonna swallow, spit it out.

trust the laws of physics if you don’t trust me.

you heard that asshole upstairs. even if we pull this off, we’re dead, permanently.

you didn’t ask for any of this.

i lied right to your face.

say hi to your friends for me.

i can’t hear you over all the noble sacrifice.

why are you fucking doing this?

sorry, i’m just stalling. i think i’m nervous about dying.

for the first time in my life, i am proud to wear this suit.

there’s nothing you or i can do to bring them back now.

he has risen, babygirl!

we’re doing just fine, you piece of shit.

what the fuck is happening here?

i was just doing what you don’t have the guts to do.

you look damn good in that suit.

i'm so sorry.

i wanna show you something.

i could eat.

you know the avengers discovered shawarma?

what are you gonna do next?

i’m shaking like an angry vibrator.

everyone wants to matter.

give me the fucking dog.

i did it for you.

i know you don’t want me, but i did it for you.

turns out, i am the world’s saving type.

i’m tired of these absolutely vile rumors that i got (blank) killed.

holy shit, girl, you crazy.

gotcha, fuck face.

[thefoxtrot008]

Chapter Titles! Part 2!

And here we have it! There are a LOT of them, and they are sporadic. So, here we go! Enjoy!

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

I'm a passenger princess!

Let's consider the real threat. Me.

You can't blackmail your way out of this one.

I wouldn't be worried about it

The comeback

You said I was dead?!

An unexpected demand.

Unfortunately, it's a secret mission for a reason.

Get your feelings sorted out!

I've got to put on a face.

Right back to where we started. The beginning.

It would be a good exercise if you do it.

Houston, it looks like we're not going back home.

You should know this by now. The lies and the betraying are first nature to me.

Undo the brainwashing

I payed the price

I'll have you know, I retracted my statement.

Oh, shockingly, I'm not here to threaten you.

You dare interrupt my speech?

Hats off to you

My talents are required elsewhere. Good luck to you though

The breakout

Turned a new leaf

The lines we are willing to cross

The eye, the blood of an enemy and protection

Not to be trusted

You can't have them!

The accidental leak

We wanted for four hours

Cat's out of the bag - the transfer

The script reveals all the secrets

This is an emergency?!

Call me if you need my help

The normal life.

Forget the prophecy.

Don't say it was an accident. It wasn't and you know it.

But it all comes true eventually, doesn't it?

The takeover

Exposure - the good kind

Watch me

Scared straight

The one thing that's never been done before - I DID IT!

Strawberries, cakes, brownies, cookies - it's a party!

Dance with me?

Let's break the rules.

Wait, we're married in the future?!

I never wanted or asked for your help!

You can handle this on your own.

A beer, dragons, and a good old catchup

I died. For reals this time.

The (worst) dance-off ever to save the universe

Here's what we're going to do.

Information I didn't ask for, but got instead

The sabbatical weekend

Oh, sure. Because that will even it out.

I said to stay in the car!

You wanna get outta here?

It's curtains up.

The boat

Can you not do that?

I'm the new owner of the company now.

Didn't see that coming, did you?

That's my girl!

This is a joke right?

The security detail

There's no way this mission can fail.

I've come up with every possible way that something can go wrong. It's one of my best qualities.

And you're so paranoid, old man

Just being careful

Letting go

We're not friends anymore

You're getting close no?

When are you going to get it?!

How do I put this?

But honey, it's for the kids

The 100 files on my desk

Dancing with the devil

A party every week

That was a nice call.

You know their history.

The Bumpy Elevator Ride.

You think you can make this up to me with flowers?

It's not illegal, if we don't get caught

You're going to regret coming here

You can't touch me

Written off completely

The warning

No, let's confront the truth, instead of hiding behind it

That's rich coming from you

The hypocrite

I can make a few calls

The new plushie

The return of the sleep

The disturber

I'm still mad at you

Beg for my forgiveness and I suppose I can forgive you

Pillow forts, cookies and milk, and plushies!

Okay, maybe it's exactly how it sounds

That's practically your mantra isn't it?

And this princess has her fairytale ending!

And that's a wrap! This was originally supposed to be 50 chapters, but I had to keep going. So, here's 100 chapter titles. There was a fine line here between using dialogue and actually doing chapter titles. So. Enjoy!

[shintin]

Glory-Hole

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot (A cut from Gunpowder Dreams fic)

Summary: Trapped in a mafia's clutches, you embark on a daring escape from the relentless grip of Vash, the enigmatic boss. However, freedom comes at a price as you face the unforgiving consequences of your defiance. In this thrilling tale of survival, navigate a treacherous world where alliances shift, and shadows hold secrets. Can you outwit the formidable Vash and break free, or will you succumb to the merciless retribution that awaits?

(For more details, read the original story linked above.)

Word count: +6 k.

Genre: explicit smut (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, dub-con, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, unprotected sex, biting, etc.

Notes: I just wanted to write gunplay smut.

Disclaimer: The gunplay scene is inspired by the books I've read.

Song Recommendation: Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

Back to the master list.

As you sat motionless, a realization gripped you: escape from this house was an unattainable feat. He was smart, but the scariest part was your inability to anticipate a single one of his thoughts. You felt like a dumb rabbit while he, as cunning as a fox, remained one step ahead.

"You're not touching me," you hissed, your voice wobbly and rife with unshed tears.

"What you gonna do if I do?" He directed his gaze toward the ceiling and the pipes. "I'm glad it's the dead of night, and this room is almost soundproof. So, you won't disturb anyone's peaceful slumber."

Driven by instinct, fear propelled you to your feet as you hurriedly made your way to the door, frantically grasping the handle and repeatedly tugging it up and down.

Open!

Please, open!

As you wrestled with the doorknob, attempting to force it open, a sturdy steel arm suddenly encircled your waist and lifted you off the ground.

"NO!" A piercing scream erupted from your lips as you kicked futilely at the space, fiercely resisting his grip.

"Oh, yes, love," he growled, swinging your body towards the wall.

You grunted from the impact, leaning your back against the wall; this time, you used it as leverage to kick against the bastard of a man. "Let me go, you fucking creepy-ass fuck—"

"Keep talking, and you'll just make it worse."

You screeched, out of breath and growing weaker, as he pinned your flailing body against the wall, rendering you powerless.

"We had a deal, didn't we?" Vash asked in a panting tone.

A tear spilt over your lid. And then another and another until you were on the verge of sobbing again. "We had, but—"

"Don't cry, love," he cooed. "It's going to get so much worse."

His breath skated over your cheek as he pressed himself further into your body, just like in the previous encounter. Towering over you, his larger frame enveloped you completely until all you could see, feel, and smell was him—his warmth, the distinctive scent that was uniquely his, and the way his black-clad body surrounded you.

"I like you scared," he whispered, sending shivers down your core. "I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for imaginary Gods to save you."

You felt the touch of leather on your face, and you flinched away. His fingers delicately traced a path from your cheekbone to your hair, gently tucking stray strands behind your ear. "I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably."

"You're sick," you snapped, doing just that. You were shaking from head to toe, and you couldn't seem to stop it.

“You think your pleas will only arise when your life is at stake, but you are mistaken," he grunted, letting out a deep, mocking laugh. "In due time, you will beg for my touch, craving it desperately."

"That'll never happen," you hissed, glaring at him with all your might. Or at least you thought you were. The dim light emanating from the ceiling lights shadowed his eyes. It felt almost like being far-sighted. Your face was so close to something, but clarity evaded you. The shadows were a part of him. He carried them around.

"It's time to punish you, and I've thought of the many ways I could do this," he said, ignoring your jab. It only infuriated you more that he found your lack of consent so inconsequential. So… worthless. "I'll be nice this time." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a deep growl of warning, "But only if you reciprocate, love."

Your teeth audibly snapped together, the sound punctuating the air and drawing yet another amused grunt from him. Your pride took a hit, and you wanted to knee him in the balls for it, but you couldn't lift your leg an inch as you tried.

"You freak! What are you going to do?" you spat out, the stutter of your words in sync with the beat of your heart. His searing breath brushed against your cheek as you felt the gentle glide of his lips tracing along your jawline. You swallowed but nearly choked from how dry your throat had become. Those lips descend to the column of your neck, skittering along until he paused on the spot right below your ear.

"I'm gonna play with my toy," he declared right before his teeth clamped down. Your back arched involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in your nerves, sending misfires to your brain. All coherent thoughts escaped from your mind, leaving behind only primal instincts to guide your actions.

But, somehow, as if he was electrocuted, he distanced himself. His gaze shifted downwards towards the collar of his shirt. The cross was there, concealed on his chest. His eyes changed momentarily, remorseful, maybe disgusted by what he had become. As if he was lost, struggling to find himself, but instead, his eyes found you—the one with the answers.

You wished you could show him hatred, but seeing your pleasure, he groaned, his teeth piercing as his tongue lapped at your flesh. Your mouth opened, and a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth did the same, drawing in deep like he was drinking the essence from your body. And then, with a lingering sensation of pain, he withdrew, his teeth grazing your skin as he released his hold, leaving behind a stinging reminder.

Your hands pressed into his chest for stability or to push him away. You were not sure. Though your question was quickly answered when instinct coerced your hands to curl, gripping his shirt tight and anchoring yourself to him as if he was your lifeline. When in reality, he was the one killing you.

Severe shivers wracked your body when he licked a wet path with his tongue, descending from your neck towards the juncture where your nipples resided. He paused, and it felt as if your body teetered precariously over a sharpened blade. You held your breath, the anticipation rattling your bones. And then he was biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from your chest. He did this, over and over, leaving behind a trail of bruises that marked his territory along your neck and across your shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away. "Good girl," he finally exhaled, his own voice airy. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You wanted him to hate it as much as you should've. "You like this, don't you?"

"I…ah," you panted, trying hard to conceal the depths of your desires because you were revealing more and more as he went further. You were fucking seconds away from reaching out and grabbing his cock through his pants and begging him to fuck you since you hadn't been touched by a human for a long time, let alone a man, and this thing in front of you had the power to make you momentarily forget everything, despite being the very reason for your need to escape reality. Then something occurred to your mind.

You couldn't explain why you did what you did next. You would ask Gods later. But at that moment, you were so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that you reached up and bit his tattooed neck. Hard, and you didn't care, just bit harder. Maybe you wanted to hurt him back, give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel whatever you felt.

Regardless of the reason, he didn't take kindly to it. His hand wrapped around your throat, exerting pressure as he forcefully pushed you back, simultaneously tearing himself away from your body. He was squeezing tightly, but you couldn't care less. You felt justified. If he killed you here and now, at least you could say you left one last mark on him.

He growled low, a sound of frustration and an unnamed emotion that eluded definition. "I'm beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I'm just going to have to do better."

Before you could react, he hoisted you up, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Fucker!" you snapped, your fists pounding against his back as you thrashed your exposed legs. You were not a potato.

A sharp smack to your ass was his only response. "Love, the wind can do more harm than what you're doing."

"Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I'll sure to grab your ugly face this time."

"Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, we both know this face is making you wet," he retorted, amusement coloring his words. Snarling, you resented his fucking unruffled calm. And because he was not entirely wrong. No, dumbass, he was wrong. He must be wrong.

More curses flooded out of your mouth, but they were cut short when he dragged your body down his front until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was cradling you to his chest. Oh, fuck this. You lifted your hands to scratch his face, maybe do a little eye-gouging, but instead, you just squealed. He swooped you backward, your stomach bottoming out as he set you on the bed, flat on your back. Your robe came undone, leaving you inadequately covered when he hovered over you, his arms positioned on either side of your head as he braced himself over you. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes. "What a gentleman! Letting me look at your obnoxious face as you murder me," you mouthed off, forcing the words through your tightened throat.

You really needed to shut the fuck up. But you couldn't seem to stop yourself. Apparently, when you were in a life-threatening situation, all you could manage to do was make it worse. While some might perceive it as fearlessness, you could only assume it as an act of sheer stupidity.

Balancing himself with one hand, he reached behind him with the other. As you prepared to unleash more insults from your mouth, his arm emerged, revealing a tightly gripped gun.

Another audible tick of your teeth later, you were back to being choked silent with fear.

"I told you not to run away. I told you to follow the orders," he stated, his tone bled dry of emotion. "Typically, I would choose to crack open your skull and forcibly implant the words in your brain, but it seems you require a different method to learn your lesson."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you rushed out, your eyes widening as he pointed the gun at your chest. "I-I'm really, rea—"

"Shh," he hushed. "You're not sorry yet, love. But you will be."

A myriad of thoughts ran through your head on what you could possibly say to get out of this. You were sorry clearly, wasn't good enough. "You're going to shoot me?"

Your bladder threatened to explode, and knowing that you might die in a puddle of pee brought tears to your eyes. A bewildering cocktail of emotions engulfed you. Fear had gripped you tightly, its icy tendrils coiling around your heart, as you found yourself trapped in this fucked up situation. Yet, amidst the suffocating grip of fear, there was a grotesque sense of fascination. You couldn't deny the perverse allure that came with the feeling of being trapped, as if a part of you savored being confined, even as it elicited a thrilling sensation. WHAT? What the fuck was wrong with you?

"You gonna taste this gun one way or another," he responded, his tone dripping with impatience. He punctuated his response by dragging the gun down through the valley of your breasts. The weapon continued its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your robe's tie. "Will you take the bullet or the gun?" As he inclined his head, his neck tattoos stretched, emphasizing the presence of the pulsating veins that wound their way towards his enigmatic mind. Meanwhile, the small golden loop on his left ear playfully winked at you while he patiently awaited her response.

"Are you fucking serious?" you panicked, your hands gripping the ends of the tie tightly, the fabric moist with sweat. He must be kidding, right?

"I was going to take it easy on you, but when you act like a rabid puppy, you leave me with no choice but to tame you," he said, tracing the tip of his gun along the edges of the robe. "This is your last chance, or I'll do as I see fit."

Your lip trembled, and a single tear slid down your temple. "Please, don't do this."

He cocked a brow, and the act was damning. He appeared so damn unimpressed with your pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first. You had to survive, didn't you? You had to endure long enough to witness this man's demise with your own eyes, didn't you? It couldn't hurt that much, could it? Just focus on counting, fixating your gaze upon the cracks in the wall, and listening to the faint chirping of crickets emanating from the pipes.

You gulped and answered, "I-I'll…"

"You'll what? I need you to be loud and clear."

"Y-your…your gun…" you stuttered, words all dropping dead on your dry tongue.

"What about my gun?" he inquired, sliding the weapon beneath the tobe and directing it towards your bellbottoms. " Say it, love. Utilize that sharp tongue of yours that knows how to hurl curses."

With your eyes tightly shut, you released your grip on the tie, your hands trembling. "I... I'll... I'll take the gun."

"Take off your robe," he ordered, moving back a little. "Now!"

Sniffing, you finally listened. Hooking your thumbs into the robe's belt, you undid the tie. You fought the urge to cover yourself. Because you knew that the act of hiding would bring him greater delight than being almost entirely naked before him. He dug the thrill of conquering through struggle, and you were determined to deny him that win. You were only able to slide it a little before the muzzle of the gun got in the way.

He took the hint, grabbed the robe, and harshly moved it aside. More tears followed suit as you stuck your thighs together.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

You did as he said; your gaze got tied with his. Yet, as you stared into his eyes, you noticed something unexpected. No hatred, resentment, or even lust reflected in them. Instead, it was a vacant look devoid of any deeper meaning. It dawned on you that violence was his only language, his sole response to the world around him. He had not learned any other way to navigate life. Perhaps the only bright spot in his existence had been his beloved, cruelly taken away.

Maybe, but maybe in a parallel world, you thought, he could have been a different person—a better person, surrounded by love and family. In that alternate reality, you might have looked at him with a second glance, for his eyes, the deep azure pools, his lips, and his face were reminiscent of something celestial, qualities that angels themselves would possess, not those cast out from heaven.

Vash's touch shocked you back to reality, causing you to startle, as if you were about to leap out of your own skin. You had to beg your bones to stop shaking.

"Next, your hands," he commanded, jerking his gun to emphasize his directive. Reluctantly, you moved your arms away from your body and let them drop onto the sheets with a huff.

"Stunning," he murmured, his eyes tracing over the curves of your body. He leaned over you again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on your shoulder. "Do you know what these mean?" he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to a different spot on your skin.

You shuddered beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across your skin. You didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind. "Those marks," he stated with a sense of ownership, "signify that you belong to me."

The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing your flesh as he moved down towards your breasts.

"Don't—"

His teeth pierced the nipple of your left breast before you could finish your futile plea. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he left another mark on your skin. "Now, whenever you see these, you'll remember me," he said, claiming your body for his own.

Once satisfied, he moved to the other nipple, leaving his own hickeys on your it. And all you could do was just take it.

When your body was well and abused by his teeth and tongue, he lifted and forced your thighs apart. You strained against him, but it only hurt you in the end. He was too strong. With a firm grip on your waist, his clothed forefinger traced the delicate crease of your groin, starting from the juncture of your thigh and trailing downward towards the very center of your being.

Before his finger reached your clit, he tantalizingly ran it up and down your engorged vulva, coming perilously close to your pussy. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt deeply ashamed as you realized your body was responding to his touch. You wanted to cover your face because you knew he was feeling your body's betrayal.

"You're drenched," he rasped out, his lips still wet from his saliva. The sweet Vash with kind eyes had vanished entirely.

"That's called discharge! Your stupid ass wouldn't know that!" you snapped, hoping your lie would shoo him away.

He responded with a smile. "As much as I hate to say this to you, I'm no stranger to a woman's pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me."

Your eyes widened. So this fucker had slept with women too? It seemed he had explored every possible avenue. Disgust curled your lip as you retorted, "Last time I checked, most girls weep because they're upset. Maybe you should take a hint."

He let out a chuckle. "Love, that's exactly what I'm doing."

With a firm grip, he spread your legs apart, baring your pussy to him, where the arousal glistened from within. He muttered a curse under his breath as his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of your being. Another tremble of your lips had you biting down on the traitorous flesh.

With one finger still positioned on your pussy, he raised the gun to your face with his other hand. You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. "Calm down," he reassured you, his tone strained. "I just want you to suck it."

It took several seconds for his words to register. To process that he didn't pull the trigger and you were not dead. As the comprehension dawned, your eyes flew open, and you shot him a fierce glare. "Why the hell—"

He tapped the gun's tip against your mouth, effectively cutting you off. The remainder of your words dissipated into thin air as he glided the gun across your lips, almost as if he was painting them with lipstick.

"Suck," he ordered, his tone deepening with finality. Closing your eyes against more tears, you opened your mouth and obediently opened your mouth, allowing him to guide the gun between your teeth. You squeezed your lids tighter as you twirled your tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

"My good girl," he said, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snapped.

Your entire body locked when the cool metal slid against your clit. You flinched against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon. A wave of pure terror washed over you, and it took all your strength to keep from full-on sobbing.

Holding a gun to your head was far less intimidating than it being held between your legs. A gunshot to the head would bring instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.

He leaned in, close enough for his warm breath to caress your core. You raised yourself, yearning for a clearer view. At that moment, he met your gaze, peering up at you through his long, thick lashes, his perfect blue eyes sparkling with delight.

As you parted your lips to question what he was doing, he stuck out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto your pussy.

"Seems like you can never be too wet, can you, love?" Sitting up, he traced circles around your entrance with the gun, the metal slipping against your skin.

What if he shoots you mistakenly?

"Oh, my God, please do—" This time, your words were cut off as he pressed the gun past your folds. Just the tip, but enough to close your throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.  

He laughed cruelly. "Don't hold back. Moan if you want."

You'd snap at him if you weren't frozen solid. You couldn't look away. Helplessly, you just watched him push the gun inside you, your rounded eyes barely processing what you saw and felt. Everything so fucking surreal.

Slowly, he worked the gun inside you, eliciting both pleasure and pain. You clenched your jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. You were determined not to grant him the satisfaction.

He gradually worked the weapon halfway in before retracting it to the very tip, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath. However, that respite was short-lived as he buried the entire barrel deep within you. Your hands clenched the sheets as you sucked in a sharp gasp and let your head fall back, unable to bear witness any longer, drained of the strength to endure the sight.

This was so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.

As the gun pulled back and penetrated you once more, a noise did slip through as a wave of pleasure rocked through you. FUCK!

"Good girl," he breathed. "Now open wider, love." His free hand nudged against your thigh. Without a thought, your thighs instinctively parted further. Another praise, but you barely heard it over the beating of your heart.

"I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it clings to my gun when I slide it out—exquisite."

You bit your lip, but it wasn't enough to hold in the forthcoming moan. Or the one after that. You could hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucked you with his gun, and shame filled you in response. The embarrassment nearly overrode the fear. But neither was more potent than the pleasure your body was compelled to submit to.

When he angled the gun in a particular way, he hit the spot inside you that sent your eyes to the back of your head and an unchecked moan to slip free. He growled in response, further fueling your arousal. Your back arched as he skillfully continued to target and stimulate that pleasurable area.

Your hole grew impossibly tight, biting into the gun barrel when his gloved hand gripped your thigh in a bruising hold. Your heart jumped when he leaned closer but only clamped his teeth onto your inner thigh. You cried out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphed into a moan, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body as he hit that spot again.

His mouth sucked your thigh, and his movements quickened until you felt the familiar stirrings of an impending orgasm settled low in the pit of your stomach.

"Please," you begged but didn't know what for. He relented, briefly tearing his mouth away, only to clamp down again, this time lower but still frustratingly distant from your center. Too far away. Sadly far away.

"Tell me what you learned, love," he demanded, looking up at you, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight made your heart drop deep into your belly, right to where the gun was driving into you.

"Not to bite you?" you guessed, your voice trembling as if you were high. He answered by biting your thigh in a punishing grip. You cried out, the pain blinding. He loosened his jaw, allowing the pain to blend with pleasure.

A primal, guttural sound slipped out as he thrust the gun deep. "Are you going to make me ask again?"

You opened your mouth, but no answer came out. Your silence allowed you to hear his warning loud and clear. He cocked the gun.

"Okay, okay, fuck," you relented with a terrified hush. "I-I learned not to run away from my cage." Those words brought tears to your eyes because uttering them aloud made you feel truly trapped by this man.

"Who owns your life, love?"

You closed your eyes, resenting the lie on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill forth just like the tears streaming down your face. "You," you whispered, the bitter taste of the words clogging your throat.

A battlefield raged in your body.

One part of you craved his touch, longing for him to make you come. Meanwhile, another part of you harbored a dark desire, wishing for him to turn the gun upon himself and fire it.

You glanced downwards at him and noted how he was staring at you. And you had the terrifying realization that he saw through your deceit and didn't believe your lies.

"You have ten more seconds to come, love. No more chances after that," he warned before nipping at your thigh again. "Rub your clit."

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was allow this man the satisfaction of making you come and, even worse, helping him do it. In your mind, he didn't fucking deserve it. And though your body was strung tight with desperation for release, your mind rebelled against the idea.

"Now," he shouted, his eyes blazing with something carnal and dangerous.

Muttering a curse, you reached down and twirled your fingers over your clit, too scared of the potential consequences. If it was between orgasming and getting shot, you were going to have to choose the option that would cause the least damage.

"Good girl," he whispered. It took two more thrusts of the gun before you were propelled over the edge, your ass shooting clear off the ground as the orgasm ripped through you. You were screaming. You could feel the sound vibrating the muscles in your throat and turning it increasingly hoarse. But you couldn't hear it. Not when your entire being was consumed in fire and ice, and you could only see a blissful heaven.

The gun worked inside of you faster and deeper, drawing out the orgasm until you were literally begging for it to come to an end. He ripped the weapon out of you, and your thighs snapped shut instantly, sealing off the remnants of your shameful orgasm.

You were left a shuddering mess from the aftershocks as the waves of pleasure subsided. Meanwhile, his body towered over you. Through your half-lidded eyes, still jerking from the little shocks, you glanced up and met his gaze. His face broke into the broadest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you noticed he had dimples.

He had fucking dimples.

He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And you wished you'd never seen it. Because something inside your heart was being torn apart, and it felt like fear, it tasted like panic, and you didn't know how to understand the image in front of you.

You didn't want to see Vash like this. You vehemently refused to perceive him as anything other than a monster. This wasn't right. Your body was full of rage, humiliation, and shame—you knew this. But it was like your brain couldn't process those emotions, so it was just choosing to feel nothing at all. Was this what trauma did? Knowing that you had been violated, yet your body opting for a state of numbness instead?

The silver cross sprung from his shirt, diverting your gaze to the scar it adorned. "Lick this clean," he said, placing his gun onto your bared breast. "I can't use this when it's dripping your cum."

Like a magic trick, he pulled his body back, and every heat you had in your veins disappeared. With one last lingering look, he stood up and turned his back to you, his hands probably adjusting his pants. Then he began to walk leisurely toward the wall, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Not even a passing glance was spared in your direction. Probably you didn't exist for him anymore. He had taken what he wanted, reducing you to nothingness.

Men.

As he neared the worn-out brick wall, his hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette. With practiced precision, he placed it in the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he reached for his lighter, or perhaps it was merely a figment of your imagination. Anyhow, he poised himself to ignite the flame, preparing to immerse himself in the disgusting cloud of smoke that would soon envelop him.

You moved without thinking, your hand wrapping around the sticky gun. You would never lick this shit. You stood on your feet, not caring about covering yourself. The second he realized what you'd done, he backed away, raising his hands in surrender—the stupid cigarette dangling between his lips.

You pointed the gun right at his fucking head, and all you wanted to do was blow it off. All you wanted to see was his brain exploding beneath the bullet. Because you were not looking into the face of the man who could easily steal your heart under different circumstances. You didn't see him at all. You only saw a faceless man who took what he wanted from you, and you let him. But now you wanted him to fucking burn for it.

Tears built in your eyes, your vision blurring. The gun was vibrating from how hard your hand trembled, but he stood close enough that you'd strike accurately. Whether the bullet hit his head, his throat, or his chest, you didn't care.

"Love," he whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the sweet but stupid, stupid and stupid whisper out of your head. You didn't want to hear it.

"I haven't done anything to you." You voice cracked. "How can you hurt me like this?" Your eyes burned from the tears welling up. And within seconds, they spilt, running down your cheeks. It seemed like orgasm had pushed your feelings out with itself.

And he seemed to realize it too because a subtle change reflected in his eyes. "I asked you to stay away from trouble," he murmured, his voice so soft. "Why don't you listen to me?" He bared his teeth, his own ire flashing in his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"

"I do!" you shouted, thrusting the gun at him. You sucked in a sharp breath as a sob climbed up your throat. He nodded slowly, a glimmer of understanding replacing the anger that had once flamed in his eyes.

Deep down, you knew better. You knew he wasn't angry with you. He was angry because he was helpless. Hopeless. A goddamn lost cause. Because he would never be the same, and he knew that. But what he didn't know was what to do with it.

A sob escaped your throat, but the rage persisted. He slowly stepped towards you, like approaching a frightened animal with vicious teeth. His eyes didn't stray from yours as he advanced, and you were so close to slipping back into that paralyzing hold he had on you. Then he was right before you again, pressing his lips into the gun barrel.

"Does this make you feel powerful?" he murmured.

Another sob broke free, but you didn't lower the weapon.

"Does this make you feel free?"

You scowled but couldn't muster the courage to respond. You couldn't articulate what it made you feel—you just knew it made you feel something. You stared at the gun in your hand, at the smooth, heavy metal, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed the way it nestled within your grip, like an extension of your body. It didn't frighten you anymore.

You could stand still in this moment forever.

"What you seem to have forgotten," he snarled, "is that I am already a dead man. I died months ago. So go ahead, pull that trigger, love. End the remaining fragments of my existence. I am nothing but a hollow vessel."

You broke and screwed your eyes shut against the flood of tears, but it was like putting a flimsy piece of paper over a bursting pipe. Agony etched across your face, consuming you completely. "I don't want to be here," you choked out, barely getting the words out before a gut-wrenching sob tore through your trembling lips.

"Let me help you—fuck love, just fucking kill me," he bit, his voice breaking. He opened his mouth, and the barrel slid in. His lips tightly closed around the gun, his eyes staring at you, begging you.

Pull the trigger.

It wasn't fair, but it was becoming harder and harder to look at Vash and blame him, too. You were beginning to revert to that weak, thoughtful part of yourself that was convinced your life wouldn't be such a goddamn shitshow if your father didn't come barreling into it.

But no! You would no longer let your emotions get in the way. You were supposed to play this game by its own rules. So if it were your turn to shoot, you would do it.

No hesitating. No understanding. Just pulling this little trigger.

Click.

To your dismay, there was only a vacant stillness, a blackhole that swallowed your hopes and replaced them with a rising tide of unease. Your chest resonated with the thunderous cadence of your own heart, the loud thud filling your ears as you refused to accept the defeat. Ignoring the gnawing doubts gnarling at your mind, you pulled the trigger again and again and again.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of the emptiness mocked your growing desperation.

A cold sweat bead on your brow as you stumbled backward, your body shaking with disbelief. Your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the gun, and when your gaze met his face, your world unraveled further into a maelstrom of darkness. His lips contorted into a wicked grin, now devoid of the innocence and sadness he pretended to have. The sight sent a tremor scurrying up your soul, your skin prickling with a nauseating blend of aversion and revulsion.

"You taste fantastic, love" Vash's voice slithered with a perverse delight as he savored the moment, his tongue caressing his lips in a vile display. His hands, tainted with malice, raked through his disheveled hair. Then with an ear-splitting crack, he twisted his neck, relishing in the discomfort he inflicted upon himself. "You hate me enough to try pulling the trigger four times?"

Your blood ran icy as his words seeped into your consciousness, a sting as bitter as poison. Suffocating the room, his laughter took on a haunting quality, a symphony of evilness. Each note of his amusement revealed the true nature of his depravity, shattering the fragile illusion of triumph you once held.

"Did you really think I'll leave you with a loaded gun?" Then as if to prove how simple-minded you were, he reached into his pocket, extracting the sixth bullet with a perverse flourish. He presented it before you, a diabolical offering that sealed your fate. The weight of that one extra little bullet pressed down upon you, an oppressive force that smothered any remnants of hope.

"Game over," he declared, his voice dripping with finality, each syllable a nail in the coffin of your aspirations. The room contracted around you, a claustrophobic arena that confined you to this sleepless nightmare. "You've got balls."

Your eyes snapped up, your mind working quickly to fit all the pieces together, and he was gaping at you, staring at you in a way that was entirely foreign to you, in a way that said he was utterly, absolutely amazed. You were not sure if he was proud.

But the fact that the gun was empty the whole time was a kick in the gut. No. It was a gun in the cunt.

"It… empty…bullet…" Stuttering, you turned to look at the bed, sheets still wet from your heinous climax, and then yourself, every inch of your body bare to his disgusting gaze.

Fingers coiling like vipers ready to strike, Vash extended his arm, reaching closer to your slumped figure. As his hand reached you, he guided it downward with deliberate precision, his touch a phantom of sweetness. You remained motionless, your body as still as a fragile porcelain doll, your spirit hollowed out by his relentless torment. You offered no resistance, Your limbs heavy with acceptance. It didn't have a meaning anyway. This was his playground, and you were nothing but a worthless pawn.

The room held its breath, like you when you thought his fingers were headed for your hole again, only to find them closing around the gun with an ironclad grip.

He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, "You're far too naïve. I would never take even the slightest risk of losing my favorite toy."

Your eyes got shot closed, your lips pressing on each other as he planted a kiss on your temple and walked out without any more words.

You opened your mouth, and you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately. Just so you could escape this feeling. No. You wanted that gun loaded with bullets to turn it on yourself.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

I know this one-shot kinda doesn't make sense, but I'd be damned if I hadn't done it.

[snowflakesstrawberrymatcha]

Night Ocean Sea with Stars

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Montague x fem!reader

A/n: I'm currently sick so I'm going to write so I don't have to worry about not posting enough.◇ Plus, sorry for not posting for 4 days...

Request: None

TW: None

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The beach stretched before us, a vast canvas where the ocean met the sky. Montague, with his tousled hair and dreamy gaze, stood beside me, his silhouette framed by the warm glow of twilight.

We walked along the shore, our bare feet sinking into the cool, wet sand with each step. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the beach was both calming and electrifying, a symphony that echoed our unspoken feelings. I glanced at Montague, who was lost in a reverie, his eyes reflecting the deep hues of the sea.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid to disturb the moment.He turned to me, a soft smile spreading across his face. “It really is. But nothing compares to this moment right now,” he replied, gesturing with an outstretched arm to the endless expanse around us. “The ocean, the sky… and you.”

A blush crept onto my cheeks as I met his gaze. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as the sky transitioned from dusk to twilight. Each moment felt suspended in time, as if the universe was conspiring to keep us here forever, on this perfect beach.

Montague picked up a smooth, flat stone from the sand and tossed it into the water. With a flick of his wrist, it skipped across the surface, dancing in rhythm with the waves. “Do you think we could skip stones like that?” he asked, grinning.

I laughed and bent down to find a stone of my own. We took turns, each attempting to outdo the other, our laughter ringing out into the crisp evening air. The friendly competition was a comfort, a way to keep our minds occupied while our hearts whispered secrets we dared not say.

After the stone-skipping contest, we settled into the sand, the cool grains sifting through our fingers. I looked out at the ocean, the horizon stretching infinitely, and then back at Montague. “What do you see when you look at the ocean?” I asked.He pondered for a moment before answering. “I see possibilities. The vastness reminds me that there’s so much out there, so much life and adventure waiting just beyond the waves. But I also see a deep calm, a place of peace where I can escape from everything.” He paused, turning to me, his expression more serious. “And I see you. It’s like… it’s like being part of something larger, something beautiful.”His words took my breath away. As the sky darkened, stars began to twinkle above us, their light reflected in Montague’s deep brown eyes. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a mixture of comfort and excitement. This connection we had—this unspoken bond—felt as eternal as the ocean itself.

“Montague,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “I—”But he stopped me, placing a finger against my lips. “Let’s not rush things. We have time, and tonight is magical. Let’s just enjoy it.”

And so we sat in silence, side by side, our fingers brushing against each other occasionally as the waves continued their gentle caress against the shore. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling safe and cherished. The world around us faded away as we became part of that perfect moment, filled with love, warmth, and the sound of the ocean whispering secrets only we could understand.

As the last remnants of the sun disappeared, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and stars, Montague gently turned his face towards mine. “You know,” he said softly, “I think I could stay here forever, just watching the ocean with you.”“Me too,” I replied, my heart swelling with joy. “With you, I feel at home.”

Montague smiled, and in that moment, I knew that this love story with Ocean Sky was just beginning. And as the waves continued their timeless dance, I understood that everything we needed was right here, beneath the vast expanse of the universe, just waiting for us to embrace it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

[traineecryptid]

NPSS Weibo Q&A (20240831) Part 5

This is a Q&A session held on Weibo. People will tag their questions with the hashtag #南派三叔藏海花在线答疑# (#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#) and NPSS will look through the tag to pick some to answer. The event started at 1500 hours on 2024 August 31st.

Folder with screenshots and big compilation google doc is here. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here.

1634

Q: Sanshu! I really need to know this, does Xiaoge shave?

A: Don’t you think it’s a little weird if he doesn’t shave?

1635

Q: Shu, why did writing ZHH affect your mental state like never before? (But this is also the time where everyone thought that your writing was in top condition.)

A: It’s the emotions and scenes. If I can’t write out the scenes, at most I’ll have a headache. But I have to sacrifice myself for the emotions.

1637

Q: Shu! I want to know if Yucun Wu Xie returned to the “Dragon’s Backbone, come quickly” moment in the beginning, what would he do?

A: He has to go. Else, he’ll lose even more.

1638

Q: Can the Scorpion Team be reassembled in the later episodes?

A: Scorpion Team is in the story after this.

1639

Q: Sanshu, will Haixing grow up to become a very powerful adult in the future?

A: She will. But she will also have her own worries.

1643

Q: You seem to understand fengshui very well.

A: I knew how to write it the most when I didn’t understand it. But after understanding it, I dare not write it anymore. I’m afraid that writing it will disturb the dragon’s veins.

1643

Q: Shu, at the moment when Wu Xie knew about Xiaoge’s backstory, if Xiaoge was right in front of him, what would he say to Xiaoge? What would Pangzi say?

A: Buy wine. Wine. Wine. Drink some, drink some. Pangzi, is there food in the fridge? Go take a look.

1647

Q: Is Wu Xie satisfied with his current condition? Does he have any regrets?

A: Do you know that once a person is satisfied with their condition, they would start to be afraid and collapse from the nice things. Little satisfaction is greater than big completion. Never ever live in a condition where you’re satisfied with yourself. Because after that, it’ll be the pain of losing everything.

1650

Q: Shu, Xiaoge had obviously saved them. How did you come up with Zhang Jiuri and Zhang Nian’s turning point where they hate Xiaoge?

A: Keep watching. That’s key.

1658

Q: What do you think about the saying “even if it sucked, at least a Heavenly Palace”? Do you plan on remaking Heavenly Palace?

A: Yes!

1658

Q: Xie Yuchen wanted some shares of the eye disease research. Will Hei Xiazi’s eye disease get better?

A: The more patents he gathers, maybe there will be a chance to get better.

1829

#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A# Let me say this to everyone. There are a lot of you who don’t allow comments or only restrict comments to your followers yet you keep @-ing me nonstop. I don’t know what this means. I’m really— I wrote a long reply but then I can’t post it. It’s really maddening.

1831

Q: (T/N: original question was deleted but according to the comments…) Didn’t you say that you’ll keep answering questions? Where did you go? A: I went to take my food delivery.

1840

Q: Last year you said that Wu Xie smelled like peaches. So, what does Menyouping smell like?

A: The scent of distant mountains brought by the wind.

1841

Q: Shu, don’t the Iron Triangle’s Pangzi deserve a trophy for his awareness? Something like “The spiritual middleman who touched everyone’s hearts in the DMBJ universe.

A: Once you understand Pangzi’s importance,  you’ll understand a very important part of this story.

75 questions (or well 75 posts now!) I'm really sleepy today so pardon the mess of the grammar and what not. But I will do a double update today.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 0.5

"so eager to be in a headlock again?"

"only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

The next day started similar as the previous one. Soyeon slept in and while groggily making her way to the kitchen, she caught Yoongi in his training room. This time, however, not swinging his blade through the air. This time he was simply sitting there calmly, cross-legged and with eyes closed. He was meditating.

She didn't know what to do yet again, say good morning to him or leave him be. Then again, he might've already heard her considering his sensitive ears. So not knowing what to do with herself, she froze in front of the door. About to step back and leave him alone when she heard him laugh under his breath. His eyes still closed.

"Are you stalking me again?"

She scoffed, crossing her arms. She dared to take a step closer. "I'm not. I just wasn't sure if I should disturb you."

"You're not." He eventually opened his eyes, greeting her with a small smile. "Come, join me."

She blinked startled before making her way to him. Sitting down in a similar position to his.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breathing."

Watching him going back to his previous state, she followed his instructions. Silence taking over once again and they sat there, focusing on their breathing. Until she got bored of it.

"And then?"

"Nothing, just clear your mind and take in your surroundings."

She felt an unintentional laugh creep up her lips. Clear her mind? Her mind would never shut up and not not think about random things.

"You wanna let me know what's so funny?"

"The part about clearing my mind actually, that's very funny," she muttered, "It's funny because it's impossible."

He simply hummed, not saying anything. She frowned, unsure of whether he understood what she meant or not. She adjusted her position then and closed her eyes yet again, trying following his words. Clear her mind and focus on the surroundings. But all she heard was.. silence. She tried focusing more. Wait, there was another sound beside her own breathing after all. It was very faint. Was it his breathing?

She also heard a buzzing coming from far away. Wondering what it could be. An insect outside?

Soyeon became frustrated after awhile.

"Yoongi? Can we maybe train again?"

"We're training right now."

She sighed, seeing she wasn't getting far with her requests. "Yeah, but it's not the type of training that helps me.."

"It actually does. It trains your senses to notice small shifts, like when someone is approaching you."

She didn't miss the lopsided smirk tucking on his lips, making her face flush when getting reminded of how close their bodies were the previous day. Even if it was just for a short moment. The mere memory of it making her breath unintentionally faster. She wondered if he was able to sense even that.

Inhaling sharply, she decided to calm herself again and screwed her eyes close. Going back to trying meditating.

Between zoning out, thinking about her stomach rumbling since she hadn't eaten breakfast yet and actually meditating, somehow time managed to pass enough for Yoongi to eventually stay up, indicating that they had meditated enough.

He held his hand out for her. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please!" she smiled and accepted his hand, pulling herself up. She hesitated letting go, lingering a little bit longer in the feeling of his firm grip. "But can we actually repeat yesterday's exercises later?"

He cocked a brow and she wondered if she'd overstepped when he bit back a chuckle. His eyes flickering to her neck then back to her brown irises, gleaming.

"So eager to be in a headlock again?"

Her mouth curved into a lopsided smile. "Only if it's by you."

She didn't know what she was doing, but she did it anyway. Because whatever this chemistry was between her and Yoongi, she wanted to know if he felt it as well, the way she did.

Seemingly taken aback, he exhaled through his nose. Huffing out a soft chuckle when holding her gaze with an equal amount of tension, something in his eyes shifting into something darker. Wordlessly, he turned away then and headed out.

She had taken him so off-guard, he hadn't expected her to be so upfront but then again, it hadn't been the first time. Being like this from the moment they had met. It was in Soyeon's nature being direct, but never in a desperate or obnoxious way. Rather in a charming, captivating way. Bewitching him every damn time like an amateur.

It reminded him of the couple he called friends and their way of wrapping others around their finger with ease to get what they wanted. However, he doubted Soyeon had the same selfish intentions when doing it. And he wondered if this implied that she actually meant it, the way he did whenever his thoughts slipped out of his lips.

Soyeon inhaled deeply, having been once again left breathless from their intense staring contest which he interrupted by just leaving her standing there. Causing her to question her actions. Perhaps she had misread something after all and went too far.

Perhaps all he wanted was to just help her because he pitied and felt sorry for her and nothing more. Perhaps she had only imagined those chemicals moving between them.

She dragged out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.

Perhaps she should let it go, this bubbling feeling that was developing in her heart when being close to him. It was probably better.

»»»

"So.. may I ask..?" Yoongi spoke up while taking a bite of his food.

For some reason, seeing him cook made her always realise that he was indeed just human, too. Just like her. It might seem irrational, but before he had seemed way ahead of normal standards to be considered a basic human. But watching him doing something as basic and normal as cooking, was fascinating and intriguing. Reminding her that even retired thieves needed to do it in order not to starve. He had cooked the previous day as well, with her offering her assistance as she'd felt awkward only sitting there and let him do everything. Yesterday he had declined her offer. Today he had accepted it, much to her surprise.

Maybe it was his way of assuring her that he didn't avoid her, despite his previous action after her little flirt back leaving her with this impression. She wasn't sure. But at least their food tasted great.

Soyeon perked up from her bowl, slurping on a noodle and quickly swallowing it with an inquiring look. "Hm?"

"You obviously don't have the necklace with you," he pointed out, taking a bite from the meat, "Is it back in the place you rented? Should I go fetch it?"

She shook her head, taking a sip from her water to help swallow down the food. "No, it's not," she explained, making a noise that was something between a sigh and a laugh, "I was smart enough to put it in a locker of the national bank right when I arrived here. Otherwise they'd have surely already got it."

He nodded, taking another bite. "Yeah, that was smart."

Hearing his approval made her feel better about her decision, considering she hadn't been entirely certain about it actually being smart.

They continued eating in silence, finishing everything in no time. Yoongi being surprised about how much a tiny person like her was actually able to eat. Although her refusal to even touch vegetables, as if she was a child, made him internally laugh.

"Ah, the sun is already setting?" She glanced at the clock on the wall. 6pm. She hadn't noticed time flying like this. But that was what happened if you woke up at noon.

She walked closer to the large window, spotting pink cotton-candy clouds in the distance, buildings unfortunately blocking the whole view. "Quite a pity you can't really enjoy it in the city," she mumbled more to herself, but it still caught Yoongi's attention.

He briefly looked out, catching what she meant, before going back to checking his phone. No new messages from Seokjin so far. "If you want you can go up to the roof," he mumbled then absentmindedly as disappointment washed over him about the lack of news. Hearing her gasp lightly. "We can just go up there?"

"Technically no, but I often do," he grinned to which she giggled, a lopsided smirk spreading over her lips. "How naughty. You're a real criminal after all."

Her witty remark made him genuinely laugh. "Guess all the years with the two dorks rubbed off of me."

So he showed her the way up and how he used the pick-locking skills he had learned years ago from Jimin to open the door along with an old brick to keep it open. And Soyeon couldn't help but feel worried about possibly getting caught but also excited and thrilled of doing something forbidden, even if it wasn't a big deal. It was silly in a way, but perhaps he was the reason for it.

The sun hadn't set completely yet. Allowing her to still catch some of the pink clouds before they'd turn bluish and eventually become invisible in the dark sky.

She folded her arm, nearing the railing. There were a few taller buildings around them, but from the rooftop they didn't block the view as much. Revealing a mesmerizing skyline standing in a darker bluish shade against the pastel sky.

And she smiled to herself.

It was ridiculous but this right now along with the fact she was able to sleep in, felt like a mini-vacation to her and she didn't want it to end. She didn't want to face the harsh reality. Not so soon at least. She enjoyed her little time-out. Away from her stressful life and job back in Seoul, away from those strangers chasing her down the streets, away from everything.

She glanced over her shoulder then, spotting Yoongi having sat down a little further away. Observing her dark curves against the disappearing light.

She walked over to him then, silently taking a seat next to him. Their arms brushing against each other.

Both had their legs angled towards their bodies, resting their folded arms on them and simply admiring the deep orange that had replaced the pink and the chirping birds in the far distance along with passing cars.

"I realised I still don't know much about you," Yoongi thought out loud then. She peeked at him. "What do you wanna know?"

"Anything."

Her eyes lit up. And she did her best to keep her face from beaming with excitement, keeping it calm and collected instead.

"Well," she began, musing about what facts to tell him as there wasn't anything special or interesting in her life otherwise. "I was born in Seoul. I got a younger sister.. I'm actually a songwriter, when I'm not running away from mysterious guys."

"A songwriter?" He was seemingly intrigued by this piece of information.

"Mhm, yeah. I write songs."

"What songs?"

"Mainly pop, a bit hiphop."

She heard him hum beside her, finding the bits of information interesting as he hadn't expected it. His irises lifted into the darker becoming colours of the sky. Wondering if he had ever watched the sunset up there before. He couldn't recall it. Usually, he wouldn't go up there too often and only at night when the atmosphere was bearable. "You know, perhaps in a different life, I'd be a music producer as well," he blurted out then in a moment of sincerity.

Soyeon's head snapped towards him at his sudden confession, her eyes widened astonished. "Really?"

"Yeah.. if it wasn't for my father and the family tradition, I might've had a very different life.. Then again, I met Jimin and Taehyung in this one, so I don't regret the life I have."

Her features softened and a smile spread over her lips while listening to his other life. A life they might've met as well. The thought of it comforting her somehow. And she felt content. She got to see a small glimpse of his inner world and thoughts and this satisfied her a lot. She wanted to know more as he wasn't the only one curious. She didn't know much about him either after all.

"How did you meet your friends exactly and ended up a thief yourself?" This question haunting her curiosity ever since his doctor friend had mentioned it to her.

"It's a long story."

"Good thing I got time."

He could feel her grin on him and he laughed dryly. Keeping his stare fixed on the scenery. "Curious cat, huh?"

"A little," she shrugged, unapologetic about having been caught, "But I get if you don't wanna tell me."

He didn't see a reason not to tell her as they were apparently opening up more to each other, with felt terrifying but also satisfying.

"I met Jimin when he broke into our family residence, trying stealing a precious sword," he began then, the memory of it making him laugh now, "I caught him in the act and was about to challenge him, when he made me a proposal I couldn't refuse." He paused. Reminiscing the old memories from a decade ago always made him feel some type of way. Nostalgic. When they had been young and more naive than now.

Soyeon didn't push him to continue, believing he'd do it on his own if feeling like it and thankfully he did.

"He offered me to be part of his team. I obviously refused first. But then he offered to help me uncover the truth behind my uncle's passing.." Soyeon tensed at this, sensing a heavy-weight laying in his voice.

"Why? What.. what happened to him?" she carefully asked. Hoping not to intrude. She observed his head leaning further back. Staring up at the dark blue that was spreading from behind them.

"He was murdered."

His tone was flat, almost monotonous, but she could tell it still upset him. The light provided from their surroundings was becoming dimmer and darker, but it was still enough to recognise his features. And the pain in his eyes.

"That's awful, I'm sorry, Yoongi," she whispered, feeling bad for even asking and having him to say it out loud. Without thinking much, her hand covered his laying next to it. Giving it a light squeeze before letting go again, realising it might be stepping too far again. Although Yoongi liked the feeling of their hands connected, even if briefly. "I shouldn't have asked. It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it."

"Don't sweat it," he muttered, shaking his head. He lowered his gaze. "It's been over a decade. I'm over it. It's just.." He paused, dragging a sigh. It had been so long since the last time he'd talked about it, if he had ever talked about it. He wasn't even sure anymore, he couldn't recall it. So speaking it out loud now felt weird, but quite liberating in a way as well. As if he could just spill out this dark feelings and lift that junk from his heart.

"My uncle was the one who always supported me the most. I love my father, but he was rather strict. My uncle and I were very close to each other, so when he passed, I felt lost and upset. I wanted revenge, but I didn't know how."

"And Jimin knew how to find the culprit?"

"He.. had his ways. He always does," Yoongi explained in a way that made her even more curious about this friend of his. "So he and Taehyung helped me and after that I decided to join them. Not out of gratitude though."

"Why then? You weren't a thief after all."

She felt him shrug against her arm. "I didn't have anything holding me back home. And I grew to like them. There was a sense of genuine camaraderie with them and besides, I liked how carefree they were in choosing what they wanted to do."

"Makes sense."

"Does it?" he wondered.

She nodded, remembering he probably couldn't see her. "It does."

And he smiled at her words.

"You know," Soyeon said then, lightly furrowing her brows. "I think even in a different life you might've met them. Even in a life you didn't come from a family of swordsmen but were free to choose becoming a music producer and they hadn't been thieves either, even then you guys would've met somehow. If it's meant to happen, it happens either way."

"So you believe in destiny?"

She blinked, never having realised that this way of thinking could indeed count as believing in something greater like 'destiny' or 'the universe', although she wasn't sure if she'd indeed put such a label on it. "I don't know, I've never thought about it this way," she truthfully said, "I don't think everything happens for a reason. Only some things."

Yoongi hummed at her explaining that mind of hers, the depth of it making her even more attractive.

He wasn't sure if he believed in destiny himself, but he liked to believe that no matter the kind of life he had, that his friends would be along with him.

"I should tell you something," he said then. The seriousness of his tone made her look at him. And he was struggling, the sudden shift in mood being unprovoked but necessary. "Remember I asked Jimin about your necklace and he said it looked like 18th century european jewelry?"

She nodded. "I remember that."

"He also said something else that I didn't tell you about."

Swallowing, she waited for him to continue as a queasy feeling spread inside her.

"He said that it looked quite precious, around 250,000 euros worth."

"Two hundred.. fifty thousand?"

"Yeah, that'd be over 364 million won worth."

She almost choked on air when hearing that amount of money. Her mind trying calculating the zeros in that number. "W-what? Then how.."

"Yeah, how did your grandfather obtain such a jewelry?"

Soyeon was staring at him bewildered. She knew the necklace must have been worth something, otherwise those guys wouldn't be after it, but never in a million years would she have expected it to be worth this much. "I-I don't know."

Yoongi carefully studied her shocked and utterly confused expression in the dim light, deeming it to be genuine and not fake. Unless she was a better actress than Arabella.

"I asked a friend of ours who's an interpol agent to do some further research on it. Maybe he'll give us some answers.."

Her brows furrowed. "Interpol? Aren't you guys wanted by them?"

"Yeah, but he's alright," he simply stated, "Besides, they can't get us here in Taiwan."

She hummed, her gaze falling to the cold ground. Wondering why a detective would help a thief. Then again, he and his friends didn't seem to be the ordinary kind. "Let me know if he finds anything. Okay?"

"Of course."

"And thanks for.. for all this. You didn't have to get this involved but you still did for some reason."

His glance rested on her eyes for a moment more. Studying every curve and line of her frame in the fainter becoming light. "You don't deserve going through all that alone, without even knowing the reason. And I can help, I got some experience of situations like this after all."

His words warmed her, his empathy truly touching her. But at the same time it pierced her heart. She felt disappointed it was simple pity that made him do it and nothing more. Still, she smiled softly at him, meaning her words. "I knew my gut was right, you're a good guy after all."

He shook his head, his eyes falling. "I'm really not.."

And she wondered why he thought so low of himself when in fact, he was even more than good. Going constantly out of his way to help her without expecting anything in return.

"Then why are you always so nice to me?"

"Isn't the reason obvious?"

Her breath got stuck in her lungs for a second. There was a reason she hoped was the real one. A reason that would explain all those countless little moments between them. When he held her gaze or when he touched her. However, she didn't dare speaking out loud in case she had been mislead by her own feelings after all.

Her gaze slowly went up, meeting his already laying on her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. God, those lips.

Her mind went completely blank, allowing her feelings guiding her as she grabbed his collar, pulling his face closer to hers. Finally doing of what she'd dreamt of ever since encountering him that night. She might regret it later, but she did it anyway.

She kissed him.

Their lips catching each other as his moved purposely and gently against hers. His hands wandered to her hair, holding onto her nape, bringing her closer to him. As close as possible, deepening the kiss. Noses touching each other's cheeks.

He knew it wasn't right, there being far more important things happening they needed to focus on besides their immature desires. However, there was also a voice telling him that perhaps it was alright after all. That perhaps, for once, he could give in as well. That he didn't have to always be the logical thinking one.

Especially considering the sparks he felt tingling on his skin whenever he laid his gaze on her. Catching her sharp eyes also looking at him. She had him under her spell from the moment she'd turned around on that street and it was adorable to see how oblivious she had been to that.

Breathing heavily, they eventually parted. Foreheads shortly resting against each other and she dared to open her eyes. Realising her hand was still clutching his collar she loosened her grip and glanced up at him, seeing him already staring at her.

"That wasn't the reason actually," he breathed and there was the hint of a grin in his eyes. He was teasing her, again. "Try again."

And she pulled his lips right back to hers.

»»»

next chapter: 0.6 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[singstaircase]

Everything I have written

Jude Bellingham

• Can we became we? (marriage of convenience, fluff, crack)

→ part 2

• If I'm with you, I can make it (marriage of convenience, fluff)

Pedri

• Walking into your dagger for the very last time (childhood friends to lovers, angst, betrayal)

→ part 2

Dominik Szoboszlai

• If there's something after hell, I'll meet you there (cheating, angst)

Kylian Mbappe

• Do I Dare Disturb The Universe? (fluff)

Lewis Hamilton

• Come what may (x olympian reader, social media au)

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

HMMM okay this is hard

Meet Me Where You're Going - I love this fic okay. It's my baby. Nano nearly killed me, but by god did it WORK. It also got me a tvtropes page, which makes the part of me that's a middle school girl for eternity proud as hell.

she does pretty well with fiends from hell - I poured my heart and soul into this Buffy fic and I met WONDERFUL people via this fic, so like. light of my life and all that.

do I dare disturb the universe? - this fic was just... weirdly soothing to write? I loved exploring a Cass-solo fic, and it was also very cathartic to write a fic genre I'd always loved but never felt like I succeeded in writing; fics where a character is alone in an unfamiliar world, and has to make a new home.

These Twists and Turns of Fate - listen. I think, in hindsight, this is a fic that I could only have written at the time I wrote it. It's a fic that changed me as a writer to write, and it's a fic that represents a lot, not just to me, but to a lot of other people. And I'm so, so found of it.

Zugzwang - listen. this fic is the DEFINITION of self-indulgent. it's brainwashing. It's a winter soldier AU. It's StephCass. It's over the top. But hey, this is self-love, so like. why not love my self-indulgent bullshit?

[shewritesinblackink]

The horizon of Dawn - a walking dead universe fanfic - part 2: guts

twdxf!oc!

part 1,

ao3 link on the masterlist post :)

Eventually one day Dawn was allowed to join Glenn on a supply run in the city. Other people wanted to go as well; Andrea, T-dog, Jacqui and Morales. Shane wasn’t so pleased with that, even less when he heard Merle was going too. But knowing Merle would be there to keep an eye on the newcomer calmed him a little. As the group took off toward Atlanta, the rest of the camp got back to their usual chores and whereabouts.

Everything went well in the city until Glenn came back with a new guest–  and a herd of geeks. Andrea drew her gun to the guy’s face and Dawn noticed that the blond woman hadn’t removed the safety. Everyone started to talk to make her put the gun down, but she was angry. So angry at the stranger for rigging the dinner bell, angry because she was panicking, because she thought they wouldn’t be able to get out of the city. It was so easy to fall into a panic state. She eventually stopped, dropped the gun and T-dog tried the radio again. But nothing but statics.

“Maybe the roof. There we’ll have better reception.”

A few seconds later they all heard gunshots, and Andrea sighed.

“Is that Dixon?”

“What is that maniac doing?” asked Morales, really concerned.

They all started to run to the staircase, taking two steps at a time, trying to go as fast as their legs would allow them. They opened the roof’s door in a big clang! and disbelief washed over them at what they witnessed.

“Hey Dixon! Are you crazy?” T-dog was the first to speak, raising his voice over the gunshots noises. Merle was propped one foot on the edge of the roof, aiming at the walkers below with a sniper rifle, hitting every target. He left out a laugh when he heard T-dog and kept firing at the flesh-eaters below them.

Andrea let out a groan. “Oh jeez.”

“Hey! Y’all be more polite to a man with a gun uh! Just common sense.” His heavy southern accents eating the syllables more than Dawn ever heard– not that the man spoke a lot at camp though. She observed him, how he held the rifle, how he didn’t miss a single target. He was trained, well trained.

“Man, you’re wasting bullets we ain’t even got!” T-dog was getting impatient but Merle only laughed more, readying himself to aim at another target.

“And you’re bringing even more of them down our ass! Man, just chill!”

Dawn looked down toward the streets, where black masses were moving slowly, growling in the distance.

“hey! Bad enough I've got this taco-bender on my ass all day.” he said pointing toward Morales,  “Now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so, bro. That'll be the day.” His face was distorted in a mix of rage from being disturbed whilst in the middle of his little therapy-shooting session, and a smile that would tell you a lot of stories if you’d only dared look at it.

“That”ll be the day? You got something you wanna tell me ?”

“T-dog, man, leave it.” Morales said, sensing the storm about to strike.

“No.” T-dog seemed ready for whatever furry would unleash on him.

“Hey, it ain’t worth it. Relax.”

Merle looked right into T-dog’s eyes, stepping toward him, licking his lips like a predator ready to eat his prey. He’s far from being relaxed, thought Dawn. 

“Ye wanna know the day?”

T-dog nodded, “Yeah.” And Dawn knew it was going to get bad.

“I’ll tell you the day, M.Yo. It’s the day i’ll take order from a nigger.” Merle spat down the word and then really spat on the concrete floor. T-dog’s face was tense from anger. “Mother..” but he couldn’t finish his sentence as the two men broke off into a fistfight.

“Hey, woah cut it out, man!”

“Dixon, that's enough!”

Everybody yelled at the redneck to stop punching T-dog, who was now lying on the hard floor, receiving rageful hits on the face. Merle’s knuckles were red from T-dog’s blood, but he kept going. again and again as if in a trance.

Dawn watched, glued to her spot, not daring saying anything or doing anything. She knew that Merle had a temper, she saw him argue with Shane more than once since she’d joined them, and she’d suspected him, just by how he held himself and how he behaved, that he was some kind of racist and sexist redneck. But she’d thought with the end of the world he’d at least contain his feelings and be better. What a mistake. And today’s interaction only confirmed it.

“Stop it! Get off him!” Andrea screamed, almost hysteric.

And as if Merle heard Andrea’s pleading and was considering it, he stopped beating the man on the floor, his fist still in the air. But all of a sudden there was a gun in his hand, pointed at T-dog.

Everyone inhaled sharply, taking a step back, holding a hand to their mouth. Andrea cried out, “Oh no, no, no, please!”

Merle got up suddenly, looking at his crowd like a proud rooster taking in his little audience.

“All right, we’re gonna have ourselves a little powwow, uh? Talk ‘bout who’s in charge.” He threw a wicked grin, “I vote me.” his voice was now calm and collected as if he hadn’t been beating the shit out of another man a second ago. “Anybody else? Democracy time, y’all! Show off hands, uh! All in favors, c’mon!”

With the gun still in his hand, he continued on until every hand was raised. Nobody had dared resist him considering how unpredictable he was.

“Okay, that’s good. Yeah, real good. That means i’m the boss, right? Anybody else?”

The stranger that Glenn had saved only moments prior had been oddly silent until now, he took a step closer behind Merle.

“Yeah.” Before Merle could register what was happening to him, the stranger hit him with a pipe and handcuffed him to another pipe screwed to the roof.

Dawn watched in bewilderment.

“Hey! Who the hell are you man!?” the redneck started to frantically move his wrist, trying to get free from the handcuffs. He started yelling and kicking like a newborn. pathetic. He better regain control of himself if he wanna be freed.

“Officer friendly,” the stranger cocked his head to one side, ���Look here, Merle. Things are different now.” He knelt to be at the other man’s level, but stayed far enough so he wouldn't be kicked at or grabbed. “There are no niggers anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

Merle only spat in response, “screw you, man.”

“I see you make a habit of missing the point.” He got up, adjusting his cop’s belt with his holster. Only now Dawn registered the man’s outfit. He’s a cop?

“Yeah well, screw you twice.”

Clearly Merle was in no state to be spoken to. His head still red, flush from the fight against T-dog, his chest lifting heavily and his handcuffed wrist jolting from time to time.

“Ought to be polite to a man with a gun.” The cop took a step back, cocking his gun, mimicking Merle’s words. “Only common sense.”

“Ye wouldn’t. Yer a cop.”

“All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that.”

Rick’s glare was focused and steady, his hand still holding the gun, his finger itching for the trigger. 

“What are ye gonna do now? Arrest me?” Merle laughed loudly but the stranger walked away, snatching Merle sniper on the ground at the same time.

“Hey that’s my stuff! If I get loose, you'd better pray… Hey you hear me you pig!”

“Yeah, your voice carries.” the cop mutters.

The others, still in shock, regroup toward the man in the cop uniform, throwing uneasy glances at the handcuffed redneck.

“You’re not Atlanta P.D. Where you from?” Asked Morales.

“Up the road a ways.”

“Well, officer friendly from up the road a ways, welcome to the big city.” Morales welcomed the newcomer, offering him his hand to shake.

Few moments later Merle had seemed to calm down. His eyes were closed and his head lifted downward. T-dog was seated on the floor not far from the redneck, he was adjusting the radio’s channel to try getting a clear signal. But his words were lost to the statics. The hard sun of the afternoon was harsher in the city than at the quarry, reverberating on the concrete’s roof of the building with nothing to cast shades or take cover under. Sweat had formed on Dawn’s forehead and she wiped it with a cloth from her back pocket as she silently thanked herself for braiding her hair that morning before going.

“It’s useless. Stop wasting the battery.” The young woman said to T-dog after hearing him curse. He threw her a look she didn’t really know what to do with. She sat up beside him, but not too close. She didn’t quite feel comfortable enough around these people yet.

“How’d you expect to get out o’ here then?” The woman only shrugged before Morales came in.

“How’s that signal?” 

“Like Dixon’s brain… weak.” the white man threw the finger to T-dog, who did well to ignore him.

“keep trying.”

“Why?” asked Andrea, “that’s useless, there’s no one.”

“It’s up to us to find a way out.” said the cop, his hand on his hips.

“Good luck with that.” Merle's words were ignored but he kept talking, making comments toward Andrea. The woman ignored him and they all started to search for a plan to get out of the city unscathed. Jacqui seemed to know quite some useful things about old buildings and how they were built so they all headed for the machinery in the basement, where the boilers and pipes were.

Everyone got assigned a job but T-Dog and Dawn. They stayed on the roof, waiting.

Don’t they trust me? I could be useful.

“Anybody out there? Hello? Anybody copy? I'm hoping to hear somebody's voice 'cause I'm getting sick and tired of hearing mine.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us. Why don't you knock that crap off? You're giving me a headache, boy.” Merle looked up to the two people seated in front of him.

 “Why don't you pull your head out of your ass? Maybe your headache will go away.” That made Dawn laugh silently but apparently Merle caught her.

“What’s so funny suga’?”

The look she gave him made him shut up for a moment before he scoffed to himself and returned to his half-asleep state.